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When Barok woke up that morning, Kazuma had already left the bed.
That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, given how his lover was much more of an early bird than himself. Without haste, Barok stood up, changed his clothes, and washed his face before going downstairs.
He found Kazuma outside, practicing with his sword. He hadn’t noticed his presence yet, so Barok simply stayed there for a while, watching him. Finally, Kazuma looked in his direction, bringing his practice session to a halt.
“Good morning,” said Barok.
Kazuma furrowed his brow. “You should have said something if you were there.”
“I was simply enjoying the sight.”
“Flatterer.” Kazuma smiled, then indicated his sword with a movement of his head. “Want to join me?”
Barok shook his head. “I will just watch for today.”
“Are you sure? Don’t complain if your skills get rusty.”
“Not everyone is as energetic as you this early in the morning.”
“Is that so?” Kazuma sheathed his sword. “Some mornings, you seem pretty energetic to me.”
“Don’t you even start.”
Kazuma laughed, then approached Barok, hugging his waist. “Poor Lord van Zieks, so tired and feeble…”
“And perpetually tormented by his wicked apprentice,” added Barok.
“How terrible.”
“Indeed.”
Kazuma relaxed against his chest, slowly letting out his breath. Barok simply held him close for a moment: no matter how much time passed, those gestures of affection always brought a warm feeling to his heart.
“Are you hungry?” asked Kazuma.
“Not much. I can wait until you are done.”
“Alright. Just give me a minute, then…”
Barok nodded, then reconsidered that previous offer. “I have changed my mind. May I join you?”
“Of course. But, before that…”
Kazuma cupped Barok’s cheek with a hand, then stood on the tip of his toes, kissing his lips.
“Alright, I have fully recovered my strength.” He took a few steps back. “Ready when you are.”
That man could be so adorable at times… Barok didn’t comment on it, though, taking his own training blade—not as sharp as their actual ones—raising it as Kazuma did the same.
After so many sparring sessions, it was hard to catch the other off-guard. They were too used to each other’s fighting style, to the point of being able to predict almost every move, making those training sessions feel closer to a dance than a duel. The friendly competition only added to the feeling: each time their gazes met was enough to fill Barok’s chest with a fiery kind of excitement he would never find crossing blades with anyone else.
While focused on his stance, however, Barok couldn’t help but pay attention to Kazuma’s movements: that Japanese style, mixed with some habits he probably acquired after so much time fighting alongside Barok. It was unique, always swift and precise… Beautiful, like the man himself.
“As I thought…” Barok said.
“Hm?”
“You really are a gorgeous sight.”
His words caught Kazuma off-guard. “Wha—”
Taking advantage of that opening, Barok disarmed him. The action brought him more satisfaction than it should: Kazuma was usually the one using those tricks against him, so it was nice to have the chance to repay.
“How unusual, for you to be this easily distracted,” said Barok.
Kazuma simply looked at him in disbelief for a moment. Instead of admitting defeat, however, he swiftly reached for Barok’s arm, grabbing it, lightly twisting it so he would let go of his sword; then, he turned around, pulling Barok, throwing him over his shoulder to the ground.
It happened so fast that it took Barok’s mind a few seconds to catch up. Kazuma crouched by his side, a smug smile on his face.
“You should never lower your guard like that, my lord.”
And, in an instant, Barok’s mind was filled with nothing but sinful thoughts. Unaware of the reason for his silence, Kazuma’s expression was slowly taken by concern.
“Barok? Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
“No…” said Barok. “Only my pride.”
Kazuma chuckled. “I think your pride could use a beating, sometimes.”
“There is no end to your impertinence, is there?”
“I could always make it worse.”
Something in his words picked Barok’s interest. “How so?”
Kazuma got over Barok, straddling his hips; then, with a slight grin, he leaned down, kissing him. Barok rested his hands on Kazuma’s hips, closing his eyes, appreciating the moment while it lasted.
They briefly broke the kiss, and Barok opened his eyes, meeting his gaze.
“Are you sure you want to lower your guard in front of your opponent?” asked Barok.
Kazuma offered him a half-grin. “I think I’m fine with that.”
Barok returned the smile, pulling him close into another kiss. Kazuma giggled against his lips, and Barok melted into that feeling, aware that there was no way he could win against that man in moments like that.