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Summary
"the pattern of gentle, feathery kisses brings you back to memories of sunday mornings or late afternoons spent at the beach, basking in the sunset glow and each others saccharine, and the bite of kise's nails dragging along the line of your scalp makes anticipation cloy in the back of your throat. the actions hold enough substance on their own, filled to the brink with adoration, but the way kise interlaces innocence and purity with raw need and mischief is deadly. he paints your skin with warmth and wakes the butterflies in your chest only to sink his teeth into your flesh later, turning you inside out purely out of curiosity and selfish desire to have you fall apart in his hands.
it's him in every sense - sweet and chaste in such mesmerizing ways that you could almost miss the impish spark."
ryouta comes home to you struggling to sleep without him.