Work Text:
Hurt.
Your head, mostly, but it shoots down into a paralysis of the rest of your limbs; sure, you physically can move, but everything feels far too heavy to actually do so. Painkillers lie on your desk, just across the room, but even that feels like a monumental task in the midst of your exhaustion. So you stay still, curled on your side and hidden from the world under heavy blankets. Eyes closed, whining softly each time the pressure behind your forehead pulses; maybe you’ll just die here.
…Or, maybe you won’t.
You jolt as a sudden sensation brushes your forehead. There’s a brief moment of panic, but then it trails down your cheek, warm fingertips rough against your skin; slowly, you blink open your eyes, and distantly recognise the orange blur in front of you.
Right. Your boyfriend.
“Hi, princess,” he murmurs, voice thankfully soft; your fragile brain probably couldn’t handle anything more. You give a confused little sound, and he smiles. “You mentioned feeling sick earlier, stopped answerin’ your phone, so… thought I’d come check on you. Hope it’s not any trouble.”
If you could speak coherently right now, you’d be rushing to reassure him, it’s not any trouble and he may as well be an angel in disguise for coming like this in your time of need; as it is, you shake your head softly, leaning into the hand which has fallen to cup your cheek. He smiles, “alright.”
A moment passes, and then the touch to your face leaves. Your whine is overshadowed by Akito’s low chuckle, and the sound almost dispels your disappointment. You watch rapt as he approaches the desk, gaze landing on the discarded painkillers. “Oi, you taken these recently?”
“Uh… hour or two,” you mumble, eyes falling shut again. The quiet of footsteps approaches, and there’s a quiet rustling. Something nudges at your lip.
It takes a moment for the sensation to register; a pill, and when you don’t open your lips to take it, Akito’s callused fingertip tugging your lower lip down. You whine softly, but accept the medication and swallow it. Akito’s hand lingers a little longer than it needs to.
He kisses your forehead after a moment, murmuring a quiet, “good girl” as he climbs over you onto the bed.
You don’t have time to think before you’re surrounded by warmth, blankets tugged up so that Akito can slip under them. A heavy leg is hooked over yours, arms slipping around your midriff and sneaking under your shirt, warm breaths against the nape of your neck; you almost whine, shuddering as you press back into his embrace. Vibrations pass into your spine as he chuckles.
Relaxing into him is so easy. Callused hands press against your stomach, gently stroking up and down and caressing your sides; scratches and scars catch against your skin, a gentle reminder of just how real this all is. His chest rumbles, humming quietly, the song familiar yet aimless, simply there to soothe you. He squeezes. Not once does it cross your mind to try to escape his grip. Time passes, syrupy and slow as you sink against the affection.
Your peace is broken eventually. A sharp pain shoots through your skull, all the way down your spine; you flinch, curling into yourself. Your boyfriend follows you, pressing close, “y’alright?”
Hesitantly, you shake your head; the simple movement makes you dizzy. “Head– hurts.”
Akito tugs you impossible closer, cooing softly. “I know, baby, it’s okay.” A soft kiss is laid to the base of your neck, “want you to focus on me instead. Think you can do that for me, princess?”
You nod. Truly, there’s nothing you’d want to focus on more, if you could fill your mind with only Akito you would. There’s a soft hum of approval, hands on your stomach creeping ever so slightly upwards; lips land on your neck again, intent obvious.
The kisses soon grow into little nips, pulling your mind away from your pain in favour of the pleasurable sensation. All it takes is an approving mumble (you’re going to be in pain anyway, it may as well come from him) for the intensity to increase tenfold; a sound drags from your throat as sharpened canines scrape your skin, warm breath beading moisture onto your neck.
You sink into the sensation. Each bite leaves blood pulsing under red marks, soft sounds escaping you; not once do you think to be embarrassed, not with how sweetly he’s treating you. Each point of contact– more or less all of you, with how closely you’re pressed together– burns pleasantly, bodies intertwined until the honeyed warmth is all you can think of.
Focus on me, focus.
He doesn’t make it difficult.