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“…Hey. Hey, look at me. It’s okay.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”
He doesn’t meet your eyes, even as you take his hands in yours and plant a kiss on the back of each one. When you first met, you never thought he’d be the kind of person to communicate so many emotions through touch, but you know him better now. A squeeze to your hand means I love you, his head on your shoulder is I want to go home, and when you kiss his wrist, you mean to say I’m here, you’re safe.
You hope the action is comforting, that it affirms in his mind that you’re not going anywhere, regardless of what happens next. You wait for him to speak again, but when he doesn’t, you take it upon yourself to break the silence.
“I’m good with anything you want to do, whatever makes you happy. If you want to stop here, that’s perfectly okay with me.”
His eyes finally meet yours, unreadable pools of obsidian that always seem to confound you at the worst of times.
You sigh.
“…We really don’t need to do this, not if you don’t want to. I can set up a movie, and-”
“No.”
The conviction in his voice surprises you. And even though he’s still shaking, just a touch, the resolve is clear in his eyes.
“I don’t want to stop. I want this, I want this with you. That’s the one thing I’m sure of.”
He reaches for your hands again, and as his features settle into a wry smile, you can see every trace of insecurity buried deep in his heart. It surfaces only now, only for you, and the thought makes you want to take him into your arms and never let go.
“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he murmurs, playing with the pads of your fingers with his thumb. “And I’m just afraid I’m going to make a mistake. S’all it is, really…”
The sheepish look on his face as he trails off makes your heart flutter.
“I swear you don’t know what you do to me,” you whisper, ruffling his hair. You sigh.
“Kiyoomi, you don’t have to worry about any of that. We’ll figure it out together. I’m just happy to be here with you right now, right at this very moment. In our bed, in your arms, especially when you’re so warm and cuddly.”
To prove your point, you wrap your entire body around him and pull him down to the mattress, grip loose enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. His familiar weight on top of your body is comforting, it always is, and as you rub soothing circles into his back, you say the first thing that pops into your head.
“God, I’m so lucky to have you,” you whisper. “I love you so much.”
You feel his body relax in your arms as he nuzzles his face into your warmth, and you giggle when his curls, still damp from the shower, tickle your cheek. Once he’s comfortable, he just lies there on your chest, still and quiet… like the biggest, most adorable housecat you’ve ever seen.
Eventually, so much time passes that you suspect he’s fallen asleep, but that turns out not to be the case.
Not at all.
You’re caught off-guard when soft lips suddenly brush against your neck, light as a butterfly’s wings. And then, not a second later, they press into your skin with a little more purpose, a little more want.
You wish you could see his face right now, but that would mean pushing him away from your body. And with his lips on your neck growing more and more insistent, that’s not a sacrifice you’re willing to make.
“Mm…” you groan, shutting your eyes as you pull him impossibly closer. When his tongue pokes out to wet your skin, your breath hitches ever so slightly, but given what little space lies between you two, he hears it loud and clear.
You feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, and the warm breath that hits your skin when he chuckles makes you shudder.
“You’re cute like this,” he murmurs, pressing another chaste kiss to your neck before pulling away to look down at you. His pupils are blown wide and his curls are slightly tousled, but the relaxed grin on his face puts your heart at ease.
“Hmph. I’m pretty sure that’s my line.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Really? You think I’m cute?”
“All the time.”
“Even now?”
“The fact that you were so worried about doing a good job for me tonight is one of the most adorable things that’s ever happened between us.”
You expect him to blush, or crack a smile at the very least, but instead, his brows knit together in a frown.
“…You’re pouting, Omi. Why are you pouting?”
“…I mean, I like that you think I’m cute. Most of the time, I like it.”
“But…?”
“But not tonight. I don’t want you to think I’m cute tonight.”
The corners of your mouth twitch up.
“Oh? And what would you prefer instead?”
His eyes darken.
“I’m sure you can use your imagination,” he whispers, and the roughness in his voice makes you shiver.
His lips are on yours a moment later, and though it starts soft and sweet, it quickly devolves into something sloppy and hungry and earnest. You can barely catch your breath as he feeds into you, tasting every corner of your mouth with the same fervent desperation that he had during your first kiss. Just like back then, you let him take the lead. You’ll follow his pace, because after all, there’s really no need to rush.
Ironically, he doesn’t make you wait long.
A tentative hand slips beneath your shirt and thumbs at the soft skin of your waist: a silent question. He pulls back from your lips, panting slightly, and as he rests his forehead atop yours to look deep into your eyes, you revel in the warmth of his body, in the feeling of his heartbeat against your chest. It’s such a beautiful, intimate moment, you think, being so close to him. But beneath the hunger in his eyes lies the slightest trace of doubt, and more than anything, you want to wipe it clean away.
“All good?” you whisper.
“Mm-hm,” he replies. “Is it okay if I… can I keep going?”
“I’d really, really like that, yes.”
He smiles, and with that, the last trace of doubt is gone.
He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. I love you.
“I love you, too,” you say.
He kisses you again, and everything else just seems to fall away.
It’s a few hours later when Sakusa finally collapses on top of you, sweaty and red and panting. You’re sure he’s a minute away from crawling into the shower, but for now, his eyes are glazed over with euphoria.
You imagine you look the same.
Just before you can complain about his broad chest crushing your shoulders, he wraps you up in his arms and rolls onto his back so that you’re lying on top of him. You prop your chin up on his chest and peer down at him with a mischievous smile, pressing featherlight kisses on both his collarbones as he strokes your hair lovingly.
“How are you feeling?” you ask.
“Good. Really, really good.” He sits up to plant a kiss on your forehead, then slumps back into the sheets with a light thump. “What about you?”
“I feel terrific, thanks for asking.”
“You really mean it? I was okay?”
And his voice is so small, so different from the man who’s been doing unmentionable things to you for the past few hours that you just want to laugh.
(You don’t, obviously. It would ruin the moment.)
“More than okay,” you say instead, reaching up to cup his face in your hands so that he’s forced to look at you. “You were perfect. You will always be perfect to me, Kiyoomi.”
A mixture of relief and adoration crosses his face as he sits up to surprise you with another kiss.
You take his hand in yours and squeeze. I love you.
“I love you too,” he whispers, and when he squeezes back three times, he means to say:
I love you too much for words. Till the end of my days, I will love you.