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Everyone has their own preference and everyone can definitely set their standard of a lover they wish to have. And you? Oh, you have your own preference too. Long hair. Thick muscular arms. Chiseled abs. Soft spoken but can dirty talk. Gentleman striped with a little mischief. Creative in love making. Inked skin and piercings but not too much. Flirtatious and loud with his love. Bold and possessive.
You think it’s hot and exciting, but to Nanami? It’s just a typical image of a bad boy who always gets in trouble. A complete antithesis of his gentle, responsible, reliable, and practical self. He thinks a sweet angel like you shouldn’t be with someone who will only taint your innocence. Yet somehow, lately, he sees himself sinking in the abyss of insecurity.
When he looks at himself in the mirror, he doesn’t see a man who pampers you with genuine and healthy love but a vanilla man you’d get bored eventually. The person you’d leave because he only speaks softly and knows nothing about dirty talk. How does someone even do that? He only sees a good man who follows rules and routines, thinking that eradicating your bad habit of sleeping at 4 in the morning just to finish a book is for your own good — it is but you’re a grown adult now, not a kid to be chided for sleeping past their bedtime. And oh, he only sticks with missionary. Romantic for some who love to stare at each other when making love, but for Christ’s sake, you want to ride him sometimes or be railed. Tattoos and piercings are just out of the question. Those are just frivolous attempts to look interesting when truth is it makes someone look rebellious and chaotic. A sore in the eye.
He prefers to love you in silence. He doesn’t need to brag. He wants you for himself. As long as you feel loved, that’s what matters. But you must be thinking he’s not proud of you or he doesn’t love you enough to not cross his boundaries for you, don’t you?
Nanami stares at his reflection in the mirror like it offended him as he wipes off the excess of water on his chin with the towel. He just brushed his teeth while you, like every other night, are engrossed in another book.
He heaves out a sigh and tosses the towel to the rack nearby. He props his hands on the cold sink, eyes roaming on his reflection from his broad shoulder to the subtle veins snaking his muscular arms to the faint contours that highlight his abs. Not bad. At least, he has that to offer.
When he exits the bathroom, his gaze fixates on you, peacefully leaning against the headboard, a book in your hand, and legs tucked under the blankets, while he makes his way to his side of the bed.
You look so cozy in there. Would it be so bad if he suddenly ounces on you and worships your body with his lips and hands?
He lounges next to you. Just watching you like this is enough to soothe his fatigue, but looking at you also reminds him of his own failure to be the man you have always dreamt of. But you’re too engrossed in what you’re reading to even notice the intent in his eyes or the flicker of vulnerability on his face.
His attention shifts to the book you’re holding when you quietly flip the page. Yesterday, you’re holding a thin book with a cute cover. Tonight, you’re holding a thicker one with a man and a girl. Not just a man but half of his body is a… snake body? Nanami’s eyebrows knit. Sometimes, he just doesn’t understand the books you buy — but he still buys it for you anyway. He loves seeing the sparkle in your eyes after all.
“New book?” he murmurs. A soft groan escapes his lips as he shifts next to you. He leans closer, his hair tickling your shoulder as he peeks at the page. His eyes only capture a few words, but he sure regrets doing it.
Hemipenis.
Cock.
Pussy.
Fuck.
Fingered.
Too crude. Too obscene. How can you even read those with a straight face?
A deep shade of pink tinges his ears at the thought but before you could even notice, you’re already cradling his cheek and pressing a kiss on his temple. You hum in response.
“You’re sleeping already?” you mutter against his temple before your lips trail slow, sloppy kisses down to his cheek to his jawline. So sweet and so gentle for someone reading a book scribbled with filth.
Nanami’s heartbeat quickens at that very action though. The sudden contact of your lips against his skin sends shivers down his spine. He buries his face at the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose nuzzling on your skin.
He loves your kisses so much. It’s one of his favorite things whenever he gets home from his tedious day at work, but years of not being touched by any woman’s lips like they’re worshipping every patch of his skin makes the warmth foreign. Even when you’ve been dating for a year by now. Unlike him, you have always been bold with your affection. You always make sure he doesn’t only feel it every time you say your ‘I love you’s’ but you show it by your constant kisses, caresses, and embraces; and it melts him every single time.
“Baby,” you call softly. You chuckle when he remains silent, knowing how he’s caving in from bashfulness. Isn’t he so adorable?
Your slender fingers thread through his golden hair, the tips gently brushing his scalp. He indulges himself at the comfort of it. He needed that badly after a long day of bearing the pain of being away from his beloved while dedicating long hours to being a salaryman instead of the husband who will coddle you day and night.
You chuckle at how he melts in your touch, making him bury his face harder on your neck. He thought he hid his flushed face well but not the burning ends of his ears. The sight only makes you pamper him with more kisses on his face. You just love doing so as much as he loves receiving them.
But once you start the war of kissing, Nanami is not one to back down. He starts kissing your neck as well. That earns a hum of satisfaction from you. The book in your hand slips on the mattress and snakes to his nape instead. You tilt your head back with a soft smile, giving him a better access to your neck.
He doesn’t need words to understand. In fact, you just gave him the perfect opening of his plan for this night: to give you a taste of what you’ve been hoping for — a creative make love session. Well, if you consider anything but missionary as creative. He’s still threading through this path after all.
His palm slides on your thigh and stops on the hem of your red silk dress that rides up on your hip now. The kiss becomes sloppier as he kneads the supple skin like a starved man. He snakes his hand to your waist, pulling you closer.
“Kento,” you hissed when he suddenly nips on a sensitive part of your neck and soothes it with his tongue, sucking it to leave a mark that’ll probably linger for days. It’s not a protest or a complaint for the quick pain he inflicts, but a praise to what he’s doing. After all, it's not so often for Nanami to take it upon himself to be this intimate.
Nanami exhales sharply through his nose as he carries you to his lap, guiding you to straddle him. His grip tightens around your waist, so tight that you can feel the mark even without lifting your dress. You tug his hair harder, your mouth agape and eyes shut. A soft moan leaves your lips and that only stirs up his hot kisses on your skin, boosting his ego. It tickles his heart how you’re reacting to him; how his actions bring you to trance.
His hand slides down just a fraction underneath your lace underwear. Just there to touch, testing the water. Waiting for any hint of protest.
You chuckle knowingly. If he only wants to make out, his hands will still anywhere decent on your body. He never asks through words, just through touch and kisses.
That’s how you find yourself bent over the bed, clutching the messy sheet to anchor yourself because you’re so close into losing your sanity. His slender fingers wrapped around your neck; the other’s splayed between your bosoms, fitting there like everything in your body were created to fill his empty hands. His lips trailed kisses on your shoulder blade to your neck, his teeth nipping on your kiss to mark what’s his.
It’s messy and senseless. His gentle demeanor has been gone the second you kiss him back eagerly before you find yourself in this situation.
And his cock? Oh, it’s been inside you, pounding with brutal thrusts. The tip hits you deep enough to make you cry out of pleasure. He has never seen you this desperate and messy. With that mouth agape and eyes gone with irises? Oh, you are so beautiful and so ruined by him. That boost to his ego only fires up the flame he never knew hides inside him.
The second you both collapse on the mattress, skin glistening in sweat, the release still dripping on your stomach and on his cock; Nanami immediately searches for your body. He pulls you by the waist and you scoot closer out of will. Your head lays against his chest where you can hear his heartbeat still racing while catching your own breath. You settle in his arm like you belong there. You do. Ever since his heart starts beating for you.
You look up to him and notice his eyes are closed. It could be that the deed is just too intense tonight that he’s trying to calm himself now, but you’ve been together for quite a long time to pick up the cue on his silence.
You didn’t point it out. Not yet.
You let the exhaustion wear off for a while, just tangled on each other, cherishing the moment and indulging yourself in his embrace. His arm cages your waist, his hand gliding on your thigh and squeezing occasionally. He loves how every part of you completes his and how your warmth soothes him.
His face buries on your neck and he pushes you back to the bed, casually kissing here and there and punctuating it with murmurs of I love you from time to time like a prayer. You let him do his thing while playing with his hair.
Moments like this after making love are ordinary to both of you. It’s either the peaceful quietness that follows or gentle whispers to each other’s ears. But something in his quietness feels off.
“If I’d get a tattoo,” he suddenly murmurs on the hollow of your throat, making you stop mid-stroke to his hair. His warm breath ghosts over your skin and his thumb stroked your hipbone mostly to soothe himself as the silence stretches.
“Would you recommend some… minimalist designs?” His voice dwindles in every word. You even see the flicker of grimace of disgust on his face. The thought alone is already a betrayal to his own principles.
Minimalist or not, the very thought of having his skin inked is like openly accepting bacterias on his skin. But that also confirms your suspicion. Something fishy is going on with your man.
“A tattoo?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Baby, that’s not you — I mean—” A soft chuckle escapes your lips but the confusion lingers. “I don’t mind if you’re aiming for a change but, baby, you hate tattoos.” You even emphasize the word hate as if to remind him the reality about himself. “So, what’s with the sudden change?”
Nanami dives back to your neck, kissing again. Of course, you’d confront him. What does he expect? This night must have been surprising to you and he can tell from your eyes that you’re suspecting what he hopes you will not suspect.
“Baby.” Your voice comes out mellow as you cradle his face, coaxing him to meet your gaze.
He does pull away from your neck but only to take your hand and presses a kiss on your knuckles. There it is. His subtle way of veering the subject to something else, begging you to just drop it.
“Kento.” The affection lingers in your voice but there’s no doubt about the underlying inquisitive tone.
“Just thought it’s nice.”
Before you can oppose, he captures your lips with a gentle kiss while cupping one of your breasts. But no, you won’t give in. You kiss back for a moment just to let him think he wins, until you push him by the shoulder, gentle but commanding. You prop yourself on your elbow.
“What is it, baby? I’m happy that you’re suddenly trying something out of your niche, but…” You heave out a sigh and cradle his face. Nanami shuts his eyes and leans into your warmth for a second before kissing your palm. He really has no intention of telling the truth, does he? So, a scowl creeps on your face.
“Don’t lie to my face, Kento.” Your voice sounds sterner now. “Something feels… off with what you’re pulling. I mean, that position? And you’re really going hard with it. Now the tattoos.” You raise an eyebrow, pausing for a moment to see his reaction only to get nothing. “That’s so out of character of you, love.” Your eyebrows arch in worry. But he only closes his eyes and nuzzles in your hand, firmly refusing to speak the truth.
“Oh, you wanna do it the hard way, huh?” You narrow your eyes as a playful smirk stretches on your lips.
You sit up instead and cross your arms, leaning against the headboard bare. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, refusing his presence. Nanam isn’t fazed by the act at all. He just stares at the back of your head, still propped on his elbow, waiting to hear whatever card you’re pulling to make him talk.
“Fine. No blowjob for a month.”
A scoff leaves his lips in an instant.
“As if. You’re the one who always asks to taste it,” he retorts as he sits up next to you.
You turn to him with a loud gasp, a deep shade of pink spreading on your face. Well, that… you can’t deny. It’s true that it’s mostly you who ask for it — who admits that she misses the feeling of it inside her mouth; who craves the way it slides in her throat. But you have to win this to get him to talk.
“Well, just because you don’t ask doesn’t mean you don’t like it at all! I can tell just how desperate you are whenever you pull my hair, you know?” You puff your cheeks and look away in embarrassment.
Nanami’s face mirrors the blush on your face. He scoffs as if offended by the fact just to mask the shame of being exposed and turns on the opposite side as well. He just hopes his face doesn’t look as flushed as it feels.
An awkward silence crackles in the air until your drastic sigh cuts through the quietness.
You cast him a look, eyes at the back of his head, fingers drumming against your arm as you collect your thoughts and think of how to even convince this man. Perhaps give him a nasty reward? Nope. He's not that weak. Verbal assurance won’t make the cut either. So, what else is there to offer to get him to talk? You came up with nothing. So, you hug your knees against your chest, chin resting on top of it as you fixate on the wrinkled sheet on your toes.
“You don’t have to pretend around me,” you murmur. “ You feel so far away when you do.”
Nanami clenches his jaw. The confession is like a stab to his heart. He didn’t realize his facade of being wise and reliable is creating a distance between you two. Although he knows that you mean every word and it guilts him to hear that, a part of him still believes you’ll laugh it out. Just the thought of him admitting it out loud cringes him already.
He’s a grown man. A grown man, who has always been composed with a strong mindset, getting insecure over some things he thinks are rebellious and silly — childish even. Of course, you’d laugh, right?
You won’t.
But the fear gets the best of him and you feel it seeping from his body. So, you scoot closer and hug his arm. Your cheek presses against his shoulder. That alone is enough to console him. To tell him that you’re there to lend him an ear. To remind him that you got his back on whatever dilemma he is going through. Your thumb strokes his skin.
Nanami exhales through his nostrils along the heavy weight that’s been settling on his chest for days.
“It’s this… stupid insecurity of mine,” he starts reluctantly. The scowl on his face becomes visible to your eye the second he turns his gaze ahead of him, refusing to meet your eyes out of shame for confiding this. If it weren’t for the deafening silence, you won't hear him at all.
He still thinks what he’s about to reveal is childish.
“Heard you with your friends talking about standards in men,” he murmurs.
That reminds you of the day when you were in the garden with your friend, conversing about life when one of them suddenly asks about everyone’s ideal man. Nanami just came by the kitchen to grab a drink — water, to be specific; but he got tea instead. A tea that has been bothering him for a week by now.
He runs his fingers through his locks aggressively, causing some strands to stick out. The blush on his face that spreads through his ears becomes more evident. He hates doing this — being confronted. He’d rather eat shards of glass than admit how he feels small even though you never fail to show him how deeply in love you are with him.
A soft smile creeps on your face and grabs his hand. His gaze softens just a second. He expected you to be disgusted or annoyed or angry. That is far from how he expects you to react, but he doesn’t resist this time. He watches you lace your fingers with his and stroke the back of his thumb.
“Baby, look at me,” you coax in a mellow tone. When he refuses, you cradle his face and force his hazel eyes to meet yours. But although his face is on you now, his gaze darts somewhere else.
You stroke his cheek to soothe him somehow and to collect your thoughts at the same time. You have never taken him as one to be insecure because in your eyes, he is perfect. You can never ask for more because he’s just all that. How do you even make him see himself the same way?
“I bet you skipped the part when I said that was before I met you?”
Finally, that catches his attention. You flash him another smile.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream of being with someone who is like that. But like I said…” You let go of his hand to cradle his other cheek. “That was before you.”
You pause for a moment, gaze roaming on his face. From his narrow hazel eyes that always speaks of serenity and security but now speaks of insecurity; to those dark bags under his eyes which you presume are from the sleepless nights he spends for worrying over this dilemma; to his sharp cheekbones that you love to stroke every now and then; to his sharp and slim nose; and to his scowling scarlet lips.
“I just never cared about any of those ever since I got you. The second I fell for you, I fell in love with everything about you.”
“Liar.” His scowl deepens as he averts his head. That is the most absurd thing he ever heard of.
You force his face toward you once more — still gentle when he expects you to be mad by how he’s constantly refusing you right now. Your grip on his cheek tightens, scared that this conversation will leave him doubting your relationship if you didn’t pursue him enough. “I love your hair in this color and in this length. I think it’s majestic.”
“It’s dull.”
You shake your head in response. His eyes narrow, searching for any hint of deceit but only sees sincerity, determination, and surprisingly — understanding. That’s just who you are, aren’t you? Always compassionate despite his defiance.
“It matches your eyes and it’s just as beautiful, comely, exquisite, ravishing, charming, divine, splendid, enthralling, mesmerizing, enchanting—”
“You’re exaggerating.”
You chuckle but still continue anyway. “Point is, it’s like you were born with royal blood with how ethereal you look like.”
A sharp exhale escapes his nose. His frown softens when the statement finally registers in his head. Somehow.
“Your sweet lies are not making this any better. It’s not even just about the stupid hair or the eyes.”
“Well, I love how gentle you look. Forget about the tattoos or the piercings. I love how flawless your skin is. If baby colognes have a face, you are their face.” It is an honest opinion, really; but it only earns another exasperated sigh from Nanami.
That’s the thing with his walls. He is so used to being a tough guy that peeking inside his younger self is so hard, especially when his pride gets the best of him.
He wraps his fingers around your wrist and holds your hands on his lap, stroking it and feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse.
“Though I must say your everyday look gives off an expensive perfume vibe.”
“I’m not good in bed.” His sudden admission catches you off guard, making you lift your eyebrows. The soft laughter dies down as your smile morphs into agape.
“I stick to this — what do you call that? Missionary?” And the way he says the last word is full of disdain and disgust.
“Baby.” You titter, unsure of what to say. You were too focused on the surface that you didn’t realize this is also about his performance.
Though missionary isn’t that bad, you don’t want to hurt his ego by admitting that you do want to try something else. But this is something you should talk openly to him, right? You tell him what you want and he tells you what he wants, so no boundaries will be crossed and you’ll enjoy each other in a way you wish to enjoy.
Before you can make up your mind, Nanami already sees through it. He heaves out a sigh and hangs his head low.
“You don’t have to lie.”
“No, baby, it’s not what you think.”
“Please, let’s just—”
“It’s fine, Kento.” You grab him by the arm before he could lie down. “It’s completely fine.” Panic laces your voice this time — desperate even, despite the attempt to sound gentle, which actually fails.
There is no way you two are just sleeping on this — especially that he’s going to shut his eyes while doubting himself. You can’t stomach that. Never.
“You’re not satisfied with me. That’s the truth.” His attempt to go to sleep is just as stubborn as your attempt to restrain him.
“Kento, will you look at me just for a second?” Your voice raises a bit in desperation to keep him up at this point. Your fingers tighten around his arm. Not too tight to hurt but tight enough to hinder him from avoiding the subject.
He just rubs his eyes with his thumb and middle finger before looking back on you, frowning, while he’s propped on one elbow.
“You are good in bed — just know that, and missionary is fine. But I do admit that I wanna try new things sometimes. I just never asked because I was worried about you, alright?” Your words come out in haste to explain as fast as you can in case he decides to shut his ears after hearing the compliment because no compliment is getting through his head at all, isn’t it? You stroke his arm and take a deep breath. Your free hand holds his.
Nanami just watches in silence, waiting to hear more. Maybe something that will actually assure him that he is enough for who he is aside from the compliments that all sound like a lie to him. The frown has been on his face ever since this conversation started, so you can’t read him anymore.
“I was worried that you might find it extreme and I don’t want to put you in trouble for doing something for me that you aren’t comfortable at all.”
“I will do anything for you. Anything.” Every word is stern, like a vow he’d keep for the rest of his life. It is a vow he’d keep for the rest of his life.
“That’s why I’m sorry.” You pause for a second to finally breathe. Just a bit. For now. “I should’ve talked to you instead of concluding on my own. But never think for one second that you’re not enough because you are. I just wished for something new. With you.”
And that’s the main point, isn’t it? You can explore with him, not explore another man.
His quiet sigh speaks the weight of his mind as he rubs his palm over his face. When he sits up again, he buries his face on his hands and rests his elbows on his knees. Your arms tangle around his waist in an instant, pressing a kiss on top of his shoulder. It lingers for a moment before placing your chin on top of it.
“It’s just stupid. I never cared about these before. I don’t even like those at all.” He finds it absurd honestly — to suddenly want the things he never likes or wishes.
“Forget about that standard, Kento.” You turn his head toward you. “You are my standard now,” you whisper.
Tears suddenly welled up in his eyes. It’s not the words alone that touch his heart but the way you say it with those fervid eyes laced with desperate plea to believe you.
“I’m being silly, am I?” His voice is barely a whisper, laced with diffidence. As he’s about to wipe off his tears, your thumbs are quick to catch the tiny drops of his tears.
You shake your head in response and chuckle softly. Not of tease but of amusement. “I just find it adorable.”
The scowl on his face returns quickly. The flicker of vulnerability morphs into sharpness instead, making you laugh even more.
“There is nothing adorable about someone’s insecurities.” He runs his hand through his hair and looks away but you don’t let go of his face.
“I can’t help it.” You chortle. “You’re always calm and composed. Whenever you’re stressed over something, you don’t break down. You’ll just find the solution.”
The tension in the air gradually fades. You dry his tears off, but the redness in his eyes and nose linger. You sigh once you finish, your hands sliding down on his to hold it instead, stroking his knuckles. Until his arms fly around your waist and carry you to his lap instead. You straddle him, arms hooked around his nape while scratching the back of his head. His face caves into the valley of your bosom.
You can’t help but smile at the display of fragility. He threads his fingers on your hair, mirroring your gentle motion on his. It’s a habit of his that consoles your worries, but tonight it’s to soothe the chaos in his head. The scent of minty shampoo wafts in your nostrils as you kiss the crown of his head.
“I’m just glad you stopped playing the tough guy tonight. I’ve always been thinking how to break that facade, you know?”
“There is no facade,” he hisses but there’s no real bite to it. “Just… self-control.” He presses a kiss on your pulse before nuzzling back to the space between your breasts..
You can’t help but snort at his facade once more. It’s already obvious but he will never back down. He’d rather cut his tongue than admit it.
“It’s suffocating you, baby.”
“Suffocating?” His eyebrows draw as he looks up to you. He pulls you closer and his hands settle to your sides to stroke it. “You think not fussing over something — I don’t know — trivial? Petty? Is suffocating?” Nanami scoffs. “As far as I know it’s called emotion regulation.”
“Mhm?” You raise an eyebrow. “You sure it’s emotion regulation?” You roll your eyes playfully as you air quote the last two words before dropping on a low voice. “Not emotion torture?”
“Please. “ He rolls his eyes on you. He rolls his eyes. On you. He rarely does that but when he does, you can’t tell if you should be amused or offended that he’s better at it.
Your smirk turns agape. Your palm swats his chest which he immediately clutches against it, pressing your palm to where his heart is beating in steady rhythm.
“I’m just saying that you’re bottling your emotions so much that it’s turning into self-destruction. You can tell me the most petty thing to exist and I will never think of less of you, Kento.”
“I know.” His thumb traces your cheekbone, so slow and so gentle as if he’s holding a porcelain before gliding on your bottom lip. You stare at each other, gaze roaming on each other’s countenance, committing each feature to both your memories.
“And yet.”
“I just…” His breathing stops for a second and so does his finger on your lip. Once he takes a sharp breath, his arm circles around your waist once more. Before he buries his face against your neck, you catch a glimpse of blush on his face.
Once again, all that confidence vanishes in his body. He can’t meet your eyes anymore.
“Women don’t need to ask. Men should—”
“You’re not a mind reader.” It comes out mellow which matches the way you stroke his nape.
You smile at him when he stares in silence, disbelief and confusion flickering on his face for a second before shifting back to his neutral face. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. That’s not what the women in his office say or the women in social media who post about romantic relationships. At this point, he can’t tell anymore if you are lowering your standard to level on what he can offer or he’s just surrounded by wrong resources.
“You heard me, Kento. We don’t always know everything. Sometimes we just need to talk it out.”
“Right.” He strokes the side of your waist as he drops his gaze. “Talk it out,” he echoes not to tell you he understands but to remind himself once more.
“Come here,” you coax as you cradle his face. But before he could even move, you’re already leaning in to capture his lips on a gentle kiss.
Nanami is quick to respond but the gentleness gradually turns into a deep and fervor one. He mirrors your hand’s placement as a sharp exhale escapes through his nostrils when he tilts his head, a string of saliva connecting your lips for that brief moment. The second he dives back in, his tongue darts out, licking the seams of your lips. You capture his tongue, sucking it for a moment as you tilt his head back, claiming dominance on the kiss. Your tongue dances with his in burning passion, creating a sloppy sound that only ignites the heat seeping from your bodies.
He pushes you gently to the mattress, hovering you without breaking the kiss as his hand finds its way to your thigh. Your arms slide around his neck, one hand stroking his nape while the other tugs on his hair. Not too hard. Just enough to make his breath hitch at the slight pressure. But that slight pressure pushes him over more. So, he kneads your thigh once — hard enough to leave a mark. Then suddenly, he lifts your thigh and wraps your leg around his waist
A low groan escapes his mouth. You swallow it as you lock your other leg on him. You pull him closer and there you feel his cock pressing against your stomach — hard . The sudden contact sends shivers down your spine.
But Nanami suddenly pulls away just a fraction from your face. There is a deep blush from his neck to his entire face. His ragged breath fans your lips, eyes fixated on it as his thumb strokes your temple.
You don’t say anything. You wait for him to blurt his thoughts while stroking his forearm, breath mingling with his.
“I… I want to do what you read in those books,” he mutters breathlessly.
You cup his cheeks, eyes roaming around his flushed face, as you register his words in your head. The small frown doesn’t go unnoticed but whether it is to mask the timidness of asking to venture into this foreign concept with you or just the habit of frowning, you can’t tell for sure.
“Tell me what to do.” It isn’t a request but a demand. At least he tried it to be. The deep shade of pink on his skin only deepens and the flush has spread on his ears now.
You can tell that he is crossing his own boundaries to please you. The very thought of even trying this is enough to send shivers in his spine, but that addendum is enough to tell you that he’s determined to thread further on this vulnerable state of love with you. Even when his voice echoing in his head gives him goosebumps.
So, the night goes on with you two trying to do new things you’ve never done before, satisfying most of your fantasies despite the hint of awkwardness on his actions as he tries to get a grasp of it, until your bodies collapse on the bed.
The second he drops beside you, he immediately finds your waist as if a few seconds of his arms being empty will pain his soul. He guides your head onto his chest and secures your waist in his embrace, cradling the back of your head with the other hand.
His chest rises and falls heavily which rhythm matches yours as you both catch your breaths.
“How was it?” he mutters on the crown of your head, assessing once more to take note in his head. He’s been at it ever since he asks you to tell him your fantasies. He hasn’t even breathed properly yet.
His question earns a weak chuckle from you.
“Give it a rest,” you chide but there’s no real bite to it. In fact, you’re still laughing as you tilt your head up to press a quick kiss on his lips before resting back on his chest.
“But let me tell you something.”
“I’m all ears.”
You snort at how attentive he sounds and how immediate his response is. He is always attentive, but right now, he sounds like a kid being lectured over some science project that if he fails to do properly, he will never graduate.
You smile at him, fingers grazing on his jawline. “I just wanted to say…” You pause for a second just to take note of that evident frown on his face like he’s expecting something worse already. A bad review perhaps? His gaze is sharper than usual. Assessing. “That I’m in love with your soul.”
His chest ceases its motion for a moment and once it starts moving again, it slows down this time. The frown softens just a bit but it’s still there probably to mask how your confession flutters him although the way his face burns says otherwise.
“And that is what I think that makes this a true love.”
“You’ve been reading too many of those romance books. You’re starting to sound like one.” He turns away his head, his face painted like a tomato. He’s still not used to every time you speak to him that way.
“I’m just saying that I twisted my standard for you — the real you — because that’s how deeply in love I am with you rather than falling for the notion of a man I created in my head that I wanted to love. So, no more overthinking with those ideals, ‘kay?”
There is a deafening silence for a while before he gives you three long kisses on your forehead. If you don't look closely, it will seem as though he’s dismissing the topic like someone indifferent would do. But to you who have known him for quite a long time now, you’ve come to realize that the silence followed by three long kisses is his way of saying I love you whenever you have this kind of conversation and he’s too timid to respond. After all, he isn’t much of a talker. He tends to love you in the silent way.
You don’t push him further anymore. You just seal it with another kiss before snuggling back on him. Nanami’s arms, thumb stroking the dimple on your lower back, sometimes on the side of your waist. He is so desperate for your warmth that letting you slip away even just for a second will drain the life out of him. Insatiable. But that’s the closest thing you can get to him admitting that he appreciates your love and assurance.