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There’s a warm feeling Servant can’t quite place when he regains consciousness. Warm and and hazy, his eyes immediately close the same way it was a moment ago. He knows the routine of aftercare by now, and now boneless from the rough fucking he’s effectively unable to communicate against the gentle fingers combing through his hair, or the hands taking care of washing him off of his sweat and grime.
There is never much noise from Servant after their little games, save for the occasional croaks and whimpers from the dozing. It’s cute, Hajime thinks, because it’s the very few times where the white haired boy is actively (albeit silently) pressing against him for more of his touch, more of the kisses and more of the safety guaranteed in his arms that he wouldn’t have allowed himself or would have continued denying and fighting Hajime.
He let’s Hajime take over when he’s no longer able to on his own. He lets himself be vulnerable willingly.
Servant is still out of it, apparently having dozed again as he’s quiet and pliant when Hajime rinses him off for the last time. He’s picked up gently, treated like a glass doll, gently wrapped in a towel and placed to rest in the cushions of the couch while Hajime brings out clean bedsheets to change.
By the time he does regain consciousnesses though, Servant realizes he’s not in the tub, but on the couch, wrapped in a towel and buried into the soft fabric. He’s tempted to go back to sleep again. There was no point in trying to help. His legs were still jelly and they might just give out if he dared to even stand.
(He’d have beaten himself up for his uselessness if the feelings of haze wasn’t making him feel so mushy. He doesn’t want to risk another scolding from Hajime either.)
He’s not stable on his grasp of time yet either, because he doesn’t actually know how long it took Hajime to make the bed, or how fast he did it. All he knows is that Hajime is picking him up in some kind of princess hold, and pressing him down gently into the sheets. Opening his eyes doesn’t particularly feel like a pleasant option.
There’s a tap on his thigh, just two fingers tapping twice on his leg that indicated him to sit up, hands grasping at his boyfriend after the giant black hoodie belonging to Hajime was on his form. Both hoodie and undergarment on, Hajime just presses a kiss against his temple, taking his own water soaked shirt off before joining the white haired boy in bed.
It’s warm when they cuddle under the sheets, limbs tangled together tightly. Servant, for once, is already out like a light, worn out from pleasure and bliss, and Hajime simply presses a fluttering kiss against his lovers eyelid as a quiet goodnight.
(When Servant wakes up first in the morning, he looks at the boy next to him, dead asleep, and kisses him on the forehead, as a silent thank you for the night before)