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Kiyoi had given him permission before. Explicitly . He said it was okay to touch, to hug, to kiss, to make the first move. But… to just hold him like that, to feel the king that rules over Hira’s being as if it was nothing, it’s not something he should do.
But he wanted to. It’s something that has been growing over the years, clearly. The want to touch, to hold, grew within Hira every moment they were together. Hira’s so desperate to touch. And yet, the morals he had and the belief that he can’t touch a god-like Kiyoi remain in him, except when Kiyoi is the one who wants him to.
Kiyoi did tell him he wanted it, though. Kiyoi liked him—as unbelievable as it is.
So, shouldn’t Hira claim what’s his?
Turmoil boiled over in Hira’s head. They were both watching a drama together in the living room, with Kiyoi leaning back and Hira beside him, a hand resting near his camera just in case he finds his lover with an expression he wants to record in pictures. His other hand... it sat a few milimeters next to Kiyoi’s. The need to take it in his, it’s there, burning inside of Hira’s body, almost making him feel guilty about how much he just wanted to touch his hand.
Usually, whenever he and Kiyoi spend time together like this, Hira always has his eyes glued on him. No matter what they were doing, he found his eyes travelling and then fixated on his beautiful lover. Not this time. He’s unusually focused on the drama they’re watching, hands flexing and fidgeting, searching for warmth that could only come from the person sitting next to him.
Hira decided to test the waters by shifting his weight just a bit so his hands would get pushed closer to Kiyoi’s. They bump, and Hira’s heart stopped. Kiyoi didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Only their pinkies were touching. Hira could feel how warm Kiyoi’s hand was already. He lifted his pinky finger agonizingly slowly, building up his courage to give in to his desires, to hell with godly restrictions. His finger dragged over Kiyoi’s and then hooked them together. That made Kiyoi look down at the spot where they’d intertwined.
Hira’s heart hammered against his chest. Kiyoi moved his hand and unhooked his pinky from Hira’s. Hira was ready to let out a string of sorry s when Kiyoi turned his hand, facing up, thumb gently colliding with Hira’s pinky. Hira took a sharp breath. As slow as before, he slid his hand, finger by finger across Kiyoi’s palm and clamped their hands together. Kiyoi sighed sweetly, moving closer to lean his head on Hira’s shoulder. Hira grasped their hands a little bit tighter. He couldn’t help the smile taking over his lips.
---
Would a hug be too much?
Kiyoi was the one who liked hugging first. When Hira’s cooking, when he’s washing the dishes, when they’re asleep, Kiyoi would be the one to take Hira in his arms.
But today, he hasn’t.
Kiyoi was out early and back late, rehearsing for his current drama. After a shower and dinner, they spent time together in the living room. Kiyoi alternated between reading his script and scrolling on his phone, and Hira sat next to him, working on some editing. Kiyoi was wearing his white fuzzy sweater tonight. He looked so soft. Hira wanted to hold him.
He didn’t know how to start, though. Even if he puts the guilt of touching a god aside, in the end, Hira’s just shy . The thought of making the first move on a guy as hot as Kiyoi made his head spin and his heart pound (even though Kiyoi was his boyfriend and even though he’s initiated way more intense things than just a hug).
Their relationship isn’t like a normal relationship; that Hira knew for sure. And it didn’t evolve as a normal relationship would have, too. At the start, Hira would never initiate anything with Kiyoi (when he had full control of himself, that is). But, slowly, throughout working up the courage to only reach out to hold his hand first—a thing they don’t usually do, in fact—the pedestal he put Kiyoi on was slowly lowering. He didn’t feel guilty anymore about touching Kiyoi, and that developed a new feeling swimming around Hira’s heart, growing little by little. Hira had a crush on Kiyoi.
Of course, Hira had always liked Kiyoi from the moment he entered his line of view. Hira had always thought of Kiyoi as someone beautiful, determined, and irresistible. He thought the world of Kiyoi. However, the feelings he had were more along the lines of adoration — respect towards a king. Now, it was closer to desire . Hira had always desired Kiyoi, too, but not quite in this way. Not in a way that makes Hira want to hold him, to stroke his hair, to caress his cheeks, to yearn for him in a way that a lover would. Not a peasant to a king or a servant to a god. Just as a lover to his other half, a person to a person .
Hira’s heart was still pounding in his chest, and his head was still spinning a little, but he swallowed it all down and moved closer to Kiyoi. He quickly wrapped his arms around Kiyoi’s torso, hiding his face in his back. He was right; Kiyoi’s sweater is soft.
Hira heard a sharp intake of breath. Kiyoi was probably— no, definitely surprised.
“Kazu?” Kiyoi called out to his boyfriend, who in turn just pressed his face slightly deeper into Kiyoi’s sweater. Hira answered with a simple muffled ‘mm’.
Kiyoi was annoyed. Hira should have asked first. Maybe he shouldn’t have hugged Kiyoi in the first place. Clearly, he was focused on reading his script, and Hira was definitely a distraction.
Then, Hira felt fingers (partially hidden under his sweater's paws) graze his own hands, interrupting his negative line of thoughts. Kiyoi’s arms wrapped around his own, warming him even more. Kiyoi leaned back into Hira, sighing contently. Hira slowly smiled against Kiyoi’s sweater. He tightened his arms around Kiyoi ever so slightly. They stayed like that, with Kiyoi continuing to be on his phone and one hand still holding Hira’s. It felt nice. Unbelievably nice. Given the comfort holding Kiyoi brought him and the late hours that were approaching, it didn’t take long for Hira to feel sleepy, struggling to keep his eyes open. His arms loosened around Kiyoi over time. Kiyoi must’ve noticed it since he put down his phone and called out to him.
“Kazu.”
Kiyoi sounded so sweet. Hira couldn’t resist lifting his head to meet the source of the voice. Hira’s chin bumped into Kiyoi’s shoulder, his face meeting his lover’s. Much to his surprise, Kiyoi tilted his head to give a small peck on his cheek. His brain felt fuzzy. The skin that came in contact with his boyfriend’s lips felt like it was burning.
“I’m tired. Wanna go to bed?”
Hira nodded, and Kiyoi smiled. The actor got up first, lending a hand for Hira to take as he got up after.
---
Over time, Hira had completely mastered being able to touch Kiyoi without the guilt of soiling something holy burning in the back of his mind. Little by little, that guilt had been replaced with want ; they wanted to hold Kiyoi in his hands, to feel Kiyoi’s fingers intertwined with his. Now, he’s able to just touch Kiyoi whenever he’d like, as a normal boyfriend would. It’s not that often since Hira was still not used to initiating anything with Kiyoi in the first place, but it’s a start.
The times when Hira does initiate things is at times like this when Hira was preparing breakfast on a normal lazy morning when it was on both of their days off. Kiyoi had offered to help, and despite Hira’s protests, he grabbed the bowl filled with eggs and started whisking anyway. Spending time with each other had been second nature to both of them. They could be cooking together in the kitchen, doing their own thing in the living room, or lounging around in the backyard. Everything they can do while staying within a few feet of each other, they would. It only felt right to linger in the presence of each other.
As Kiyoi set the bowl of beaten eggs, his and Hira’s shoulders bumped together. Kiyoi smiled, looking at the result of his hard work.
“I guess cooking could be fun after all.” Kiyoi turned to Hira.
“Mm.” Hira mirrored his boyfriend’s expression, reaching his hand out to place it lightly on Kiyoi’s waist. He leaned in towards Kiyoi, and without the guilt of touching a king, without the fear of Kiyoi turning away or pushing him, he kissed the man he so dearly loved. He’s gentle with the way he’s slowly moving his lips and patient as he waits for Kiyoi to return the kiss. He did eventually, almost melting into Hira. After a sweet minute or so, the sausages Hira was cooking started to sizzle. He quickly pulled away from Kiyoi, focusing on the sausages to flip them over, seeing that they were already slightly burnt. Kiyoi laughed.
He only registered his actions once he took the sausages out of the pan. He realised that he just kissed Kiyoi as if it was nothing. As if he wasn’t sharing his kitchen with the man he cared for the most, as if his hand wasn’t just holding the most attractive man’s waist. As if he wasn’t pressing his lips against the softest, prettiest lips Hira had ever seen on a man, the closest thing he could imagine to what a godly being’s lips would be like.
Because it wasn’t like that, Hira understood. It wasn’t like Hira was staining a holy being or daring to touch a king whom he wasn’t worthy of. It was just Hira showing affection to his boyfriend, someone equally as human as Hira. And it felt good. It felt right .
…Is it bad if he wanted to do it again?
Hira turned off the stove, sneaking a glance at the man beside him. Kiyoi had a hand—engulfed in his sweater sleeve—up to his mouth while he inspected the bowl of beaten eggs on the kitchen counter. Now that he was aware of what he wanted, that he wasn’t caught in the moment and wasn’t under the spell of Kiyoi’s enchanting smile, he was hesitating. As usual. And he continued doing what he recently learned to do, push through without letting his thoughts stop him. He started with a hand reaching out to Kiyoi’s elbow, fingers just barely touching the sleeve. But Kiyoi felt it and tilted his head towards Hira. The hand on his mouth lowered and revealed those pretty lips Hira loved so much. With his heartbeat so erratic, he stepped closer to Kiyoi. He closed the distance between them ever so slowly, giving Kiyoi all the time in the world to back out if he wanted to escape or deny him. He didn’t. Kiyoi waited for Hira’s lips to land on his again, his hands wrapping around Hira’s torso this time. Hira could feel Kiyoi smile against him. It felt so right.
---
Kiyoi hadn’t expected that. The hand on his torso, the softest kiss on his lips — it all surprised him. And it made him so happy that it’s almost embarrassing.
Early on in the relationship, Kiyoi knew that he had to be patient. Hira was... well, he’s strange, to say the least. He put Kiyoi on this imaginary throne that made him almost untouchable, which didn’t make sense to Kiyoi at all. Shouldn’t you want to touch your boyfriend? Why did he keep insisting that he can’t, when Kiyoi is right there , as equally eager to touch as Hira might be?
It didn’t matter, though. Kiyoi had chosen him to be his lover, and if it takes some time for Hira to warm up to him, he doesn’t mind (he did, but he could brush it off). And warm up he did. Kiyoi remembered the first time Hira had innocently reached out. Sometimes, he would even replay that moment once or twice in his head when he had to be away from Hira for a while.
It was a normal, quiet night like all the other normal, quiet nights. Kiyoi had been lazily watching the drama on the television until Hira’s finger brushed against Kiyoi’s on the floor. Kiyoi felt him hook his pinky. He couldn’t believe it though, because it just wasn’t something Hira would do . So he looked down at their hands to check. And he was right. Hira, who never even dared to touch Kiyoi’s hand (other than when he grabs it to kiss his knuckles), had barely intertwined their fingers together. As embarrassing as it was, Kiyoi’s heart fluttered. He wanted more. So he flipped his hand around, palm facing up, waiting to be taken. And Hira took, pushing his palm against Kiyoi’s, fingers slipping in between his own. Kiyoi was surprised how such a small gesture could make him so happy. After that night, Kiyoi would purposefully sit next to Hira. His hand would always linger close to him, just in case Hira was craving to hold it again. And Hira would reach out, again and again.
On another night, they were sitting together right in the living room. Kiyoi focused on reading his script, making sure to keep his right hand free since Hira was sitting next to it. An hour or so passed, and Hira was supposed to have taken his hand in his already. He hasn’t, though. Kiyoi’s hand was getting cold. He thought about grabbing Hira’s hand first, since now Kiyoi knew that Hira wouldn’t yank it back or sputter something about his hand being dirty or sweaty or any other excuse. Kiyoi never got the chance to, though. Hira had suddenly hugged him from behind, startling him a little.
“Kazu?” Kiyoi had called out to his boyfriend, wondering if something was wrong. But Hira just hummed, and Kiyoi felt more pressure on his back. And god , did it feel so nice. The warmth radiating from Hira had spread to Kiyoi’s whole body, right down to his toes and fingertips. Kiyoi held onto the hands on his waist, chasing that warmth. Hira’s hug was so gentle yet firm that Kiyoi felt contentedly safe in his arms. He carefully leaned back into Hira. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling too widely.
The funny thing is, Kiyoi never complained about the lack of hugs from Hira. He was content with giving hugs first or cuddling in bed. But now that he’d gotten a taste, he hoped that Hira would do things like this more often.
Hira had almost fallen asleep while embracing Kiyoi. So, Kiyoi called his name to gently wake him up. Hira sleepily perched his chin on his shoulder. He looked so cute . Kiyoi couldn’t help pressing a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. He invited Hira to bed, determined to continue cuddling him until they both fell asleep. That night would be the start of many more warm hugs Kiyoi would receive from Hira. They started very suddenly, as if Kiyoi had to be trapped in order to be held by Hira (as if Hira’s hugs weren’t the only thing that gets Kiyoi through the day sometimes). But gradually, Hira’s approach became more relaxed, until he would simply slide closer to Kiyoi, lying his head on Kiyoi’s shoulder and lazily wrapping his arms around Kiyoi. It took so long for Hira to become this comfortable around Kiyoi, and Kiyoi was so proud of him. That pride burned inside Kiyoi whenever Hira made a move towards him.
The longer their relationship went on, the more Hira would do things that surprised him. The kiss Hira gave Kiyoi this morning was one of them. He was just spending a nice morning with Hira, joining in on the cooking just to be in his space. The hand that found itself on Kiyoi’s waist was familiar and pleasant. The kiss, however, came without a warning. Kiyoi stood still as he processed what had happened. Hira right in front of him, Hira’s hands pressing firmer into his waist, Hira’s lips planted on his. It took a moment, but Kiyoi managed to return the kiss.
It’s so sweet. And comfortingly warm. And Kiyoi thought that he didn’t need to eat the breakfast they’d prepared because his whole being was already so full of the fuzzy feeling Hira gave him with the kiss. He thought he didn’t even need to eat anymore for the rest of his life, only needing Hira to give him sustenance through the little romantic gestures that he does. His thoughts were cut short by the sound of sizzling and Hira suddenly pulling apart from him. He laughed when he looked at the sausages in the pan.
It’s horribly embarrassing to admit it, but Kiyoi had always loved it whenever Hira kissed him. He’s known this since the first time he ever got to (not including the sorry excuse for a kiss he gave on the day of their graduation). The sad thing is, kisses had somehow only become part of their ‘nightly routine’. Outside of that, Hira wouldn’t kiss him just because he could, just because Kiyoi was right next to him. The rare moments that Hira would kiss him just to kiss him was only when he was in the middle of some grand romantic gesture, like that time Hira brought the two of them to their old high school.
Kiyoi’s hand rose to his lips, hiding the small smile on his face. He was stunned—and incredibly happy. His eyes were glued to the bowl on the kitchen counter, trying hard not to give away how giddy he actually was, because who gets that happy over a kiss from their own boyfriend? Apparently, Kiyoi did, since his heart was pounding so loudly, and he couldn’t even remember what they were doing before Hira had kissed him.
A touch to his elbow interrupted every thought that was flying around Kiyoi’s mind. It was gentle, inviting. His heart was beating impossibly faster. He looked at Hira, his entire body involuntarily frozen until Hira’s lips melted him again . Delighted to death and willing to keep it to himself until then, Kiyoi wrapped his arms around Hira’s being, drinking in his affections.
The innocent kisses didn’t stop on that day. In other random, quiet moments, Hira’s lips would be drawn like a magnet, with Kiyoi’s face being the polar, landing on a brand new, untouched spot every time. His temple, his forehead, his cheek. Kiyoi still couldn’t believe that Hira would casually kiss his cheek now. He had watched Anna’s dramas before, where the schoolgirl she plays gets extremely excited by a simple kiss to the cheek. He understood her now. It’s embarrassing, and Kiyoi would rather die than let Hira know how ecstatic he gets over a kiss on the cheek .
But everything Hira does makes Kiyoi excited. Nervous. Giddy. Whether it was the excessive praise, the prolonged stare Kiyoi could see in the corner of his eye, or the sudden camera shutters that came from his camera that was aimed directly towards his face, Kiyoi loved every single way his boyfriend would show affection towards him. Now, Hira had developed a new way to show his affection. Another thing for Kiyoi to love.