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It’s not the thunder that wakes Shoma up, but the sensation of Stéphane petting through his hair.
“Hey,” Stéphane whispers. “Did the thunder wake you up too?”
It takes a moment for Shoma to register Stéphane’s words. His brain is still foggy from sleep, and the light touch of Stéphane running his fingers through his hair makes him want to lean into the touch for more. “Ah, no, but I’m awake now,” he says before lightning illuminates the room for a split second. The boom of thunder that sounds a few seconds later makes him jump and Stéphane curses quietly beside him.
Stéphane makes a shushing noise and shifts closer to Shoma. “I’m here, I’m here,” he says and continues to card his fingers through Shoma’s hair, gently stroking along his scalp. “It’s alright, we’re alright. Just a little bit of thunder.”
The low rumble of Stéphane’s voice beside his ear is a soothing, calming thing. Shoma settles and nestles against Stéphane, smiling as he feels Stéphane’s breathing tickle his hair.
“It’s raining so hard. I don’t think it’s stopping anytime soon.” Stéphane says. The sound of rainfall grows until it sounds like a deafening roar. Although it is hard to see outside, the rain must be a downpour.
It is a good thing, then, that Shoma is inside and snuggled up with Stéphane in their bed together.
Unabashed, Shoma turns to press his face into the crook of Stéphane’s neck and breathes in deep. “You smell good,” he murmurs into Stéphane’s skin while taking another breath, letting Stéphane’s scent wash over him.
Stéphane giggles. He shifts closer to Shoma until there is no more space between their bodies. Under the covers, he searches for Shoma’s hand to hold and then brings their hands together. He uses his thumb to stroke the back of Shoma’s hand with small, back and forth gestures.
This too, is a soothing, wonderful thing. To have his hand held by Stéphane under the covers while they listen to the thunderstorm outside.
“What were you dreaming of before I woke you up?” Stéphane asks.
Warmth. Shoma was dreaming of being enveloped by a warmth so welcome and gentle that he could float in it. Warmth like the easy warmth that Stéphane emanates. Warmth that wraps around him and cradles him like the way Stéphane’s hugs do.
“You,” Shoma says simply. He nuzzles into Stéphane and smiles when he feels the light tickle from Stéphane’s stubble rubbing against his skin. “Your warmth.”
Stéphane makes a soft noise in his throat. “Oh, Shoma. Come here.” He turns on his side so he can tug Shoma into the expanse of his chest. He brings his arms tight around Shoma. “Is this alright?”
Shoma doesn’t think that he will ever get tired of being held by Stéphane like this. Being so close to Stéphane that he can hear his heartbeat and feel his breathing. “Yes.”
“Do you think you can fall back asleep like this?”
“Mhm,” Shoma hums, already beginning to slip into sleep. To exist in Stéphane’s embrace is the closest that Shoma thinks he can come to being cocooned in love in its purest form.
“Good. My warmth is all for you, my precious Shoma.”
The last thing that Shoma remembers is the sensation of a kiss being pressed to his forehead before he returns to his dreams of gentle warmth, warmth all for him.