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Oikawa Tooru is beautiful.
His skin is flawless, beautifully pale and soft to the touch.
It's really not a surprise that he gets scouted to be a model, shortly after finishing college. That face was practically made to be seen and appreciated by the masses. He deals with it well, smiles burning his face easily, but Hajime always prefers him like this - face clean and clear, no make-up, in the hazy light of morning.
Hajime notices his beauty more than ever under the soft glow of the sun.
It’s not the beauty that everyone else sees. No, his beauty isn’t in his wide, bright smile. It’s not in his flawless hair, or perfectly constructed outfits. It isn’t in the way that his skin is able to catch the light in just the exact right way-
Okay, no, wait, wait. All those are things about him that are beautiful, but they’re not the things Hajime sees. It’s not the beauty that made him fall in love with him, and it’s not the beauty that keeps him falling more and more in love each and every day.
Rather, it’s the way his nose scrunches up when he tries to curl deeper into a cuddle, leeching all the warmth he possibly can from Hajime. It’s in the way his hair looks in the morning, after a good, slow round of sex, slightly wispy and so soft that Hajime could run his fingers through it for hours. It’s the way that his skin feels , the way the light reflects off it, so soft and gentle and inviting.
It’s in his tiny birthmarks littered across his back that only he gets to touch.
Hajime blinks awake, first, as always. Tooru has never been a good sleeper, and since he stays up later, he usually sleeps in as long as possible. He doesn’t even stir when Hajime shifts on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.
That's fine, though - it gives him ample time to appreciate.
Tooru is fast asleep. He had a long flight after being away for an entire week for work. He's facing away from Hajime, lying on his stomach. As he sleeps naked (a habit Hajime cannot break him of no matter how hard he tries), his back is completely exposed, skin so soft and delicate and so tempting to touch.
So Hajime does just that - he touches.
He moves slowly, so not to rouse his lover, starting low on his back. He lets the pads of his fingers touch him carefully, moving across the smooth plain of his exposed skin.
His fingers find the first one, which is snug just to the right of his spine, deep down in his lower back. Hajime presses into it - the first of many tiny star-shaped birthmarks that litter Tooru’s back.
He moves slowly. Time is something they have in spades, after all. They’re no longer two teenagers too afraid to admit how they feel, dancing around each other in fear of breaking what they have.
No, now he can really and truly call him his lover.
His fingers trace up, delicately navigating the skin that is more familiar to him than even his own. He finds the second birthmark, which is located right along his ribs.
Hajime continues his ministrations; he traces to the next birthmark, which is straight across his back, then continues upwards. He touches each and every one of Tooru’s twelve star-shaped birthmarks scattered across his back, finally ending right below his left ear.
He loves mapping out his birthmarks. It feels like connecting the stars to his favourite constellation.
Finally at his destination, Hajime leans forward and presses a tiny kiss to that final birthmark.
It’s his favourite one, after all. It’s the only one he gets to see all the time and plant kisses on whenever he feels like it. It’s never covered by any article of clothing (only the occasional scarf), not to mention he has a very sensitive neck.
Tooru shifts under his touch, letting out a slow breath.
“Good morning,” Hajime mumbles. He presses another kiss to that birthmark before drawing back, allowing Tooru to flip over.
He does so leisurely, stretching out languidly before turning over. He breathes slowly, expression still hazy from fatigue. Brown eyes blink up at Hajime, slowly, eyelashes pressing delicately into his skin with each one.
“G’mornin’,” he mumbles, still sleepy. “Do we have to get up?”
Hajime hums before shaking his head. His fingers find Tooru's soft brown hair, gently massaging his scalp. Tooru leans into the touch. “Nope. Day off, remember?”
“Good.” Tooru smiles in that soft, delicate way reserved just for Hajime, and slides in closer to him. His hands slip out, one curling underneath himself, the other sliding around Hajime.
He scrunches up his nose in that adorable way, trying to get as close as possible for cuddles, and Hajime falls in love with him all over again; the same way that he does every day.