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Karasu hummed, pressing soft kisses against the tender flesh of Hiori’s abdomen, eliciting small huffs and giggles from the other midfielder. The two lay on the couch, Karasu shifted down to where his upper body lay on top of Hiori’s legs and his head rested on his tummy. Who knew someone could feel like home? Soft, comforting, welcoming.
His kisses traced down to Hiori’s thighs, lifting up the black cotton fabric of his shorts a little to reveal the supple flesh under them. Muscular from all the years of training, Karasu loved the fact that Hiori had bigger thighs, planting a firm kiss to a variety of scars etched into his skin, some aged older then others.
Hiori’s gaze was heart-heartedly watching the movie, repeatedly shifting back to look at Karasu with a chuckle or a hum. Such a calm cool-headed beauty. As much as Karasu portrayed himself as a laidback unaffected guy, he knew if the positions were swapped that he would’ve folded like a lawn chair. How could Hiori maintain his composure?
“Can’t get enough of me, can ya?”
Hiori chuckled lightly, playfully kicking him with the side of his foot.
“Oh shut it!” He cawed “Don’t act like yer not enjoyin’.”
“And what if I am?”
Karasu retorted by pawing at Hiori’s side, evoking a squeal from the other as his sensitive flesh was attacked mercilessly, or tickled. It was so adorable the way Hiori squirmed, he loved to poke and prod at him like he was some bop-it toy. Sure, he’d earn a hard kick or slap from Hiori afterwards, but seeing him squeak like a dog toy was so amusing.
After a minute, his hands lowered once more, focusing back on worshipping the god before him. As his lips moved continuously down Hiori’s leg, admiring each muscle, he couldn't help but think he was so lucky. Karasu thought of himself as underwhelmingly average, he’d covered it up with a facade, sure, but he knew deep down he was nothing special. He was upset by ordinary things, yet fascinated by ordinary things. But Hiori? He wasn’t ordinary. He was out of this goddamn world, heavenly. An angel on this earth, the embodiment of beauty itself.
A nail traced down the fair skinned flesh of his leg, focusing on the area right below his thigh and above his knee. Sculpted muscle, his tendril continuously running through how they would curve and flex with every movement, fascination on his face. Karasu could have sworn Hiori was sculpted from marble, sitting in a museum. He looked like some sort of Greek god, had the build for it too. So beautiful.
He crawled up, his grubby little hands shifting their attention to Hiori’s chest, his head now level with the sadist. A finger hooked the fabric of Hiori’s sweater under its grasp, pulling it up yet not off, exposing Hiori’s chest and tummy. So so so pretty. He was so slim, yet so toned. If Hiori wasn’t bare in front of him, he would’ve never guessed he’d have rock hard abs or muscular sides that built up like colosseum arches. Two thing scars etched under the flat muscle of the sadist’s chest, pretty. So so so pretty. Every part of Hiori. Just stunning. Karasu pressed a kiss against the scars.
Hiori let out a little chuckle, a hand raising to cover his mouth as he giggled out of pure instinct. Something funny had just been said on the television, two characters doing a gag. The way he laughed, so light and airy. Words that glided like a figure skater over ice, like leaves in the windy autumn air, like the feeling of cold ice water going down your throat. Such a pleasant sound,
Karasu had never been much of a music person, but Hiori had the kind of laugh that was simply melodic. Even when the boy laughed with his whole heart, when he and Karasu stayed up playing games, or when Tabito would crack a joke that Hiori and him would just keep adding on, it still managed to be so musical. If it were an album, you bet Karasu would’ve bought every CD.
Karasu huffed, shaking his head with a smile as he lay his head down on Hiori’s chest, enjoying the warmth that emitted directly onto Karasu. Sleeping on a cloud, that's what he imagined. Such tender flesh, rock hard abs that still managed to be the comfiest support for Karasu’s torso. God, how could one be so perfect?
Hiori’s hand idly reached into Karasu’s hair, a singular fair toned finger curling a section of Tabito’s hair around it. Karasu had started wearing his hair down more, a mixture of not being bothered to gell it up and the fact Hiori preferred it virgin. When it was down, it became significantly longer looking, with a mullet-esque look, but Karasu’s lack of a haircut was probably contributing to that as well. He’d ought to get it trimmed.
The moment Hiori’s finger began to play with the other’s hair, Karasu swore he’d melt like ice over putty. He wanted nothing more but for Hiori to hold him close as he melted like putty into his bodyheat, Karasu nudging Hiori’s free arm.
“Tabi’ ?”
Hiori chirped up, looking down at the other with those big beams.
“Gimme yer arm, dumbass.”
Karasu grumbled, wrapping the other’s arm around him with no resistance. The warmth was addicting, a soft purr escaping the taller. As much as he enjoyed having Hiori wrapped up in his limbs like a Christmas present, he too enjoyed being cuddled and held. Who , really? Especially in the arms of the warmest, softest, prettiest man in the world. He extended his head slightly to kiss Hiori’s fingers, especially his ring finger which was dressed nicely with a diamond and silver wedding band. Courtesy of the world's best husband, himself of course.
Home. He was home. Home was sitting on the couch with his loving husband while they watched shitty romcoms. Home was how they’d huddle up in the office and play video games till the sun rose. Home was when Hiori and him argued over what colour to paint the walls. Home was Hiori. Home was Yo.