Work Text:
Nezumi came out of the door, hit with that particular whiff of a long day in the office and strong perfume. Nezumi beamed with a certain coyness as he looked at himself in the hallway mirror before interrupting Shion's late home arrival with nothing else than his presence.
"You're late, your Highness." Nezumi remarked, but there were no hard feelings. It was a usual thing for Shion to stay working extra hours.
"I know. I'm sorry. There was this meeting about a new foreign policy, and—wow." Shion stopped in his thoughts immediately, out of breath, which had nothing to do with the rush he took from his car to the main door. He was mesmerized, unable to convey a single coherent thought, flapping his hands as if that would help to draw a concept, an idea, or anything to say.
Nezumi stood there, giving him the space and time he needed. But that sly smile wasn't helping the city's Mayor with his thinking process at all. Nezumi giggled, beginning a walk toward Shion, sliding his hands around the light blue lace covering his chest. "Do you like what you see?"
"IF I LIKE IT?!" Shion technically shouted, having to put his fist over his mouth. Shion was, somehow, feeling insulted by the question. He loved it. He was fascinated by it; he was thunderstruck. His speech was malfunctioning; he was still undecided about where to put his hands, and Nezumi kept coming closer and closer. Should Shion have his eyes on Nezumi's eyes or the hips bouncing side to side in his direction—damn it?
Nezumi stood in front of him, close enough to feel their warmth outspreading their bodies when their gaze met. Nezumi could see Shion falling into pieces. No, no. Shion was melting with awe. Such a powerful man brought to his knees by his lover in lingerie; if it weren't them, Nezumi would have laughed at this out-of-a-book scene. But Nezumi was feeling admired—adored—in control, and empowered. Nezumi was half naked, but he wasn't feeling exposed. He much felt his entire body reverberate with vulnerability, but that was okay.
"Can I... Can I touch you?"
Because it was Shion, Shion was safe. He wouldn't ever abuse him; Shion wouldn't dare to use all his power to get something out of Nezumi or anyone. He had asked gently what Nezumi thought about lingerie, and never did he force his desire to see him in such a revealing fabric. Shion didn't use any persuasion technique to manipulate this moment to happen. Shion had asked Nezumi about his comfort, which became Nezumi's encouragement to begin exploring a possibility that had been half-asleep for years in his head, ever since he wore Ophelia's costume for the first time.
Back in the days when he performed out of necessity and not out of passion, if Nezumi had been the only one to know he was wearing lingerie under his costume, he would have still felt threatened, liable for his stupidity to give in to such fantasy. Nezumi would have felt torn apart by the public's pricking eyes.
But that night, when Shion asked for consent to touch him, even though they'd been in a committed relationship for years, Nezumi couldn't have felt happier to explore his femininity under eyes that were also unveiling him, but with a gentleness that was turning Nezumi's cheeks into pink roses. Oh, yeah. Nezumi felt like the first flower to bloom in spring when Shion opted to touch the crook of his shoulders and neck first than any other part of his body. Nezumi felt unique, tended to, seen for what he was and not for what he was wearing.
The kiss was unrestrained, and Nezumi's arms embracing Shion had been the most natural thing to do. Nezumi's heart fluttered when he was pushed against the frame of their bedroom door.
This defenselessness was something he didn't wish to share with anyone else but with him—Shion—the safest person he's known.