Work Text:
Thoma carefully lays the man whose face is tinged red on intricate silk sheets.
“Young master, you need to be more careful, it’s not like you’re unaware of your lightweightedness,” he says, brushing sweat-damp hair off the man’s forehead like it’s second nature.
Ayato places a clumsy hand on the blonde’s stubble. “I know.” He moves his hand to the collar of Thoma’s shirt, and pulls on it until they’re a breath apart. “But liquid courage is the only way for me, really.”
Ayato makes sure to comb Thoma’s hair out of his temples before meeting chapped lips on dreams.