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“Come here, you’re going to get sick if you leave your hair like that.”
Tsukishima patted the space in front of him, grabbing a dry towel from the side.
Koito, hair dripping from their dip in the onsen baths, moved to sit directly in front of Tsukishima. As he knelt onto the tatami mats, his head had dipped down but not before he caught the giddy smile on his superior, and boyfriend’s, face. Koito knew better than to let his hair freely drip after a shower, he definitely just wanted Tsukishima to pamper him.
Tsukishima brought the towel up to start rubbing it through the wet locks of navy purple hair. Koito closed his eyes in bliss, leaning into his touch. He focuses on drying Koito’s hair but his eyes flicker back to the relaxed look he had on his face. His shoulders were slack, his guard was down. His hair was silky and smooth when clumps of strands would break free from the damp towel to brush against his knuckles.
Tsukishima wanted to put the towel down and tangle his fingers through his hair, tug out any forming knots that may have entangled themselves during the drying process. When they started this thing, this thing being a relationship that was built on love and trust, not on servitude and loneliness, Tsukishima began to fear.
Fear that he would fall back into habits formed by and molded for a man that presented himself as his savior that required his whole life’s worth and loyalty in order to repay him in return. Fear that he would compare their relationship to the only one, from years, decades, ago, that’s ever made him truly happy. Tsukishima feared that when Koito’s hair would slip through his fingers it wouldn’t be the same as her’s.
He was relieved to hear that he was wrong. He felt like he could finally relax and relish in the feeling of a new sensation, fresh yet familiar, but not familiar enough that it felt like he was longing for something he could never get back.
Tsukishima smoothed the towel down, slipping his hands, seperated from scarred skin by a fluffy towel, and rested them on the sides of Koito’s face. A pair of gorgeous eyes that almost reminded him of a young-aged wine looked back at him. He briefly wonders if Koito’s eyes will darken to a reddish color with age.
Koito brought his hand up to gently wrap his long, slender fingers around his wrist, yet he made no move to remove the hands framing his face. “You have very gentle hands.”
Tsukishima's relaxed posture tensed up, and he pulled his hands away, abruptly so. “I don’t think so.”
He looked down at his hands. His hands were short, calloused, scarred. They were nothing like Koito’s hands, taken care of with nails that were always well kept and trimmed consistently. While they had formed callouses from being a swordsman, his hands were soft from being taken care of by a variety of skin products Tsukishima couldn’t even begin to try and understand the way they worked.
“I like your hands.” Koito took back one of his wrists, twisting them around to place his own hand against them.
Tsukishima stared at their aligned hands. His fingers were thicker than Koito’s yet the elongation of his palm and fingers nearly engulfed his own.
“These are hands that protected me.” They were hands that had pointed a pistol towards him at one point. “They're the hands of a man with self control.” If it weren’t for Koito he would have killed a man,, his lover, and their unborn child. “Your hands are strong and comforting.” Strong enough to kill his own father.
Koito’s fingers moved through the gaps and filled them, interlacing their fingers together. “You make me feel safe.” Koito took a firm hold of his hand and brought their conjoined hands up to his face.
Tsukishima felt his heart jolt when Koito placed a soft kiss, demure and subtle, on the bumps of his knuckles. Prickles of heat began collecting at the tips of his ears. “These hands? I’ve killed many with them…” He reasoned weakly.
Their hands were placed down in Koito’s lap, still gripping tightly on his hands, the man scooched forward. “So have I.” Koito leaned forward, capturing Tsukishima’s lips with his own.
Their knees grazed against one another, Koito’s free hand gently brushed the backs of his fingertips over his cheekbones. The kiss was supple, a slow dance of their lips swaying in time with the notes of a silent song. Just like their hands, their lips were different. Koito’s lips were smooth with balm and Tsukishima’s lips were chapped and bitten.
When they pulled away from each other, Koito kept his eyes trained intently on his. “I’m not that naive. I like to think I know you well enough that you’d never hurt me.”
Koito lifted himself up to his knees, he loomed over Tsukishima’s smaller frame and pushed him down on his back via a hand on his chest.
“Koito—“
“Say my name.” He uttered, his voice reverberated lowly and it sounded huskier. “I like it when you say my name.”
Koito shifted himself so that one of his knees fitted itself between his thighs, making Tsukishima’s bare skin slip out of the confines of his yukata. A hand placed itself on the side of his head and everything around him was suddenly focused solely on the man above him, as if that wasn’t already the case.
Tsukishima swallowed thickly, the heat from his ears traveled to his face and down his neck. The intensity of Koito’s gaze made him feel like he was being studied, like Koito was taking note of the tiniest shifts in his expressions, the different shades of red splashing over his pale skin.
“Otonoshin.” He says breathlessly, like saying more than just his name would have left him completely gasping for air.
Koito smiles at him and Tsukishima feels like he could melt into the floor. Soon, his face turned into target practice for Koito’s kisses. There was nothing Tsukishima could do but take it, let himself be desired and wanted —although he may not feel like he deserves it.
He could still hardly believe this was real. That someone young, handsome, full of juvenile energy like Koito could ever want and love someone like him; a broken old man with nothing to brag about to his name. It shouldn’t be allowed for somebody that came from a rich but loving family to love someone that was born from a sickly mother and lived through hell at the hands of a social pariah of a father.
Yet here he was, being showered in a bountiful of affection from a man he didn’t deserve. Tsukishima felt his heart battering against his chest. The heavy weight of each kiss Koito planted on him, from the corners of his mouth, tracing over his jaw and down his neck, felt almost overwhelming.
Extremely overwhelming.
Before he knew it, tears welled up in his eyes and Tsukishima had to gently push Koito’s lips off of his broken, tainted body.
“Hajime?”
Tsukishima squeezed his eyes shut. Was his heart too old to take all of this…this devotion? Devotion that was directed towards him?
“Hajime, what’s wrong?” Warm hands cupped his cheeks in a way so cautious it made him feel as fragile as glass.
It wasn’t until Tsukishima opened his eyes did he realize just how hard he was breathing. He felt kind of pathetic. Did he grow sensitive? To cry from just a few kisses?
But it wasn’t just a few kisses. It wasn’t some routine that gave off the illusion of meaningful intimacy that would forever remain empty. This wasn’t foreplay that would lead into stress relieving sex meant to take off steam.
If there’s one thing about Koito Otonoshin, it was that he wore his heart on his sleeve, sometimes even in the worst of circumstances. For Koito, even if against his will, it was easy for a mask of fake obsession to dissolve into the face of a man who wants to protect the people he loves from the very person willing to sacrifice all of those people in a high of adrenaline, grief, and power.
In this situation though, Tsukishima’s not delusional enough to think that the tenderness of his touch and his sincere words were attempts to slip him under a spell of subjection. Koito doesn’t have the heart to do that. Rather, he has too much of a heart to even attempt such a thing.
Through all of his actions, all of his words, Tsukishima knows Koito is spilling out his feelings in its purest and rawest form.
“You don’t think you deserve this.” Koito says, with a kind of finality that seemed as if what he was saying was factual.
And it was.
Tsukishima sniffled, letting his tears be thumbed away with care. He didn’t know when he had last cried. He’d like to say it was the day he realized that lies could be as tangled as her hair once was. He couldn’t say he knew for sure, from that moment on the pain from an explosion ripping the skin off of his abdomen felt stronger than any emotion he could possibly experience in the years after that. Did he cry when he forced himself to let go of her? He, honest to god, couldn’t tell you.
Koito was kissing him again, kissing at his tears, tasting the salt left on his cheeks.
“I love you.”
Tsukishima made a strangled noise in the back of his throat but he was quickly shushed.
“I love you so much.” He whispers, like he didn’t want anyone but Tsukishima to hear him. Not in shame, but because he felt like Tsukishima was the only one who deserved to hear them directly from his mouth.
This moment wasn’t for anybody but them.
“You’re so beautiful. I love your body. I love your scars. I love your eyes, the lines underneath your eyes, and your cute, adorable little nose.” Tsukishima felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips, almost involuntarily, when Koito placed a chaste kiss at the tip of his nose. He scrunched his nose up, a blush sitting heavily on his cheeks, and Koito couldn’t help but giggle.
“See, you’re so cute!” He smacked an exaggerated smooch on his cheek and Tsukishima rolled his eyes, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.
“Stop. You’re so embarrassing.”
Koito leaned down to give yet another kiss, this time on his lips. Tsukishima could feel the shape of his grin pressed onto his own lips. With each time they pulled away, they couldn’t help but steal a couple more kisses from each other afterwards. It was clingy, it was overwhelming, all true in Koito fashion.
“You love me for being embarrassing.” Koito snarks.
He swung himself to the ground next to Tsukishima, laying on his side. Their bodies were flushed together and Koito wrapped his arms around him to bring them impossibly closer, further entangling their legs.
“Sure.” Tsukishima sighs, nuzzling into the exposed skin of Koito’s chest.
He felt a kiss being pressed down on the base of his head and he decided it was time to slip into bliss. Be a little selfish.
“I love you, Hajime.” Koito whispered, his voice slightly muffled from having his face pressed against shaven hair.
His senses buzzed with the feeling of Koito’s dark skin filling in the corners of his eyes, the scent of fresh soap, cinnamon and honey lotion engulfed him, the sound of Koito’s breathing purred into his ears. For all his sleepless nights, filled with night terrors, tossing and turning, Tsukishima felt safe in Koito’s arms.
“I love you too, Otonoshin.”