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Limbs entangled is both you and your boyfriend’s favorite way to wake up.
You roll over, breathing in the deep scent of Zanka. Sandalwood with light hints of jasmine and citrus softly caress your senses along with golden morning light that streaks through the window of your shared room.
Your eyes focus on Zanka. His eyes are closed and his face soft with the vulnerable fragility of sleep.
His breathing is slow and even.
The sunlight is beginning to creep nearer to him, threatening to awake him from his unconscious state.
He shifts slightly and a stray lock of ash blonde hair falls and catches onto his eyelashes.
You frown slightly, wanting to brush it away. However, you think against it, knowing that he’s a light sleeper, so instead you let him rest.
Being able to see Zanka in such a calm and tender state is a privilege that you know to be careful with. The stories that he would tell you about his hellguard past in brief, reflective moments between the two of you makes you that much more determined to allow him moments of carelessness.
An odd sadness latches onto the bottom of your heart as your eyelids fall.
In a state between boredom and sleep, you decide to attempt to match your breathing with Zanka’s.
This, though, resulted in only you out of breath and still bored.
You decide to slowly begin to detangle from your intertwinement.
The concentration that you adopt from steadily shifting your legs from his and rolling from his arms allows his waking up to slip by you.
You’ve extracted yourself fully and sat up when, suddenly, a sleepy Zanka’s left arm wraps around your stomach.
“Zanka?” you whisper, trying not to wake him more than you think he is.
“Yeah?” he says, voice thick with sleep and face still pressed against the pillows. He opens one eye to look at you through his unfairly long lashes.
“What are you doing?” you say, giggling slightly. Even after being with him for a while, every time he does something sweet it's as if you’re doing all of your firsts once again.
“Stay with me,” he says, still half asleep. You giggle again as he turns to look at you fully through heavy-lidded eyes. You adore the ephemeral moments between slumber and waking when he’s extra sweet.
“Shh, you’re dreaming, go back to sleep..” You say teasingly, pressing a finger to his lips. His slender fingers are lazily tracing circles on your stomach, moving to feel the bones in your hips and pressing down on them.
“I must be dreaming with such a beautiful girl on my bed” he starts getting up and pushing the blanket off of him. You’re red in the face at this point with his sweet talking and the adoration that you got from his hands.
The blankets pool low around his hips exposing his abs and the waistband of his boxers. Your eyes dance shamelessly across his muscles. However, after a moment you force your eyes to meet his instead of drinking him in.
“Stare much, creep,” he says playfully, tilting his head. A crooked smile paints his face along with his tousled hair that sticks straight up in some parts and looks molded to his head in others while simultaneously jutting in every which way.
“Gosh, I’m just admiring you,” you begin to scoot closer, “can I not reap the reward of all of your hard work every day?”
It’s Zanka’s turn to blush.
“Hmm, what else can I do to adore my charming and delectable boyfriend?” You turn to face him and bring your arm up to run your fingers through his hair, attempting to tame the mess.
“Delectable?” he asks, a bit put off by the word, “Ain’t that like, for food or sweets?” his eyes switch from your arms to your face as you work.
“Who says you aren’t sweet?” you say smoothly, bringing your hands down to his face and cupping his jaw. You begin planting tender kisses on his lips. You pause to look into his eyes while holding his face.
You plant kisses along his jawline pausing here and there to whisper soft praises into his ears, making him redder and redder. You pause temporarily, looking at the rat's nest that sits atop his head.
“God, Zan, your hair is really a mess,” you say with a frown. Zanka returns your expression in hurt
“I thought you said my bed head was hot?” He brings his hands up to attempt to fix the mess. This was to no avail though, as his severe cowlicks prevented anything from moving except for in unnatural directions.
“Yeah, but usually it isn’t this bad,” you try to use your hands to smooth down one part while fluffing up the other, “I mean, how does your hair even stand straight up like this?” concentration is the only thing you feel; it has really never been this bad before.
You notice how much Zanka’s eyes are on yours. He hasn’t said much, is he hurt by your remarks?
“Oh,” you frown again and take your fingers from his hair, “It’s really not that…bad…kinda” you cock your head to the side, momentarily stopping your efforts.
He takes the fleeting moment to trap you in his arms and fall back onto the plush blankets.
You let out a small shriek from the unexpected—but not unwanted—touch. Zanka is usually one for passive physical touch more often rather than temporal moments of super lovey-dovey stuff.
You don’t get much alone time being a cleaner, so you’ve both settled for Zanka having his free hand on you whenever he can. You on the other hand go out of your way to get Semiu to give the two of you more breaks so that you don’t have to settle for quantity over quality and can just be a couple.
He plants kisses onto the top of your head as the two of you get situated once again. You’re glad he’s gotten so much more comfortable with you.
Your arms wrap around his midsection and trace lines into his back while you look into his eyes lovingly.
His hands are wrapped around you underneath the shirt you’re wearing.
The two of you sit entangled once again in each other’s warmth and love. Zanka begins to trace your fingers along the grooves in your ribs and spine, his calloused touch moving all along your back and sides.
“Wait, flip onto your stomach,” he says, suddenly prodding at the serene quiet.
“Why?” you complain, stretching out the last vowel, “we were just getting comfortable.”
“Just trust me, I swear it’s nothin’ you won’t like.” He says reassuringly.
“Okay, fine.” you fold under zero pressure.
You detach from his form and flip next to him, turning your face away and closing your eyes, feigning upset at him.
“Oh come on, don’t give me that bull, [Name],” he says teasingly, poking at your side and making you squirm.
“Whatever, I was comfy” you say, making sure the frown is audible in your voice. Your resistance is set aside as soon as he protests, though, with you turning your head back with a lightheartedly insolent smile.
He hums knowingly before sliding his work calloused hands under your shirt.
The firm pads of his fingers with the slight scratch of nails on your back make you immediately relax.
His slender fingers glide across your skin with practiced precision. An odd sound leaves your throat and you immediately sit up in disbelief.
Zanka immediately shoots up in worry.
“Woah,” you say, dumbfounded, “on who did you learn to do that, because you’ve never done this to me,”
“Did ya like it?” he asks earnestly, “or should, stop? Or was that too much, sorry, I’ve only ever-”
“I mean, yeah, I'm like drooling right now, but where did you learn that?” you say quickly, cutting him off from his spiraling tangent.
He chuckles, features softening realising that you’re fine, but you remain stone faced, determined not to show any more weakness.
“Okay, good, ya scared me for a sec,” he looks away from your firm gaze, beginning to talk to the ceiling, “I learned it by myself,” he brings his hand to the back of his neck.
“Whenever Kyouka would push me ‘specially hard in training, like the days she would shoot at me or somethin’, I’d do that to my arms to soothe myself.” As his explanation went on your face dropped the nonchalance.
“Oh, Zanka..” you frown and engulf him in an enormous hug. Your fingers gently stroke through the mess of his hair in what you hope to be a soothing manner.
“No, no, stop,” he pushes you off of him and grabs your shoulders, “don’t do that, I’m fine right now,”
He holds on to you and seals you silence by giving you a quick and loving kiss. You’re surprised since he is usually very reluctant to give this much true affection as you’ve learned that he associates it with weakness.
“I wanna give it a new meaning,” he pauses, thinking for a second before continuing, “not self soothin’, but something for you to like about me” he avoids your gaze sheepishly.
You lift your palm to cup his jaw. You trace your thumb across his cheek and he leans into your touch, dropping his arms from your shoulders.
“Okay, please continue, that was really great.” you say with a shy smile as you begin to lie back down.
Zanka returns your smile and waits for you to lie down. He stays sitting up as his hands find their way back under your shirt.
His fingers press lightly on your smooth skin, releasing tension that you didn’t know that you were holding; hard callouses and a gentle touch are a really great combination.
Instead of focusing on your muscles to soothe you, Zanka focuses on the curvature and divots in your vertebrae, tracing circles around each bone that protrudes against the skin.
He doesn’t neglect the other hollows either. It feels as if he’s grounding himself using your body, as if it hasn’t stopped being self soothing, but he’s just changed the way that he implements it.
His hands find your shoulders and his palms dig the tension in the muscle away in your upper trapezius. While his palms work at the muscle, his fingers rub along your collar bones.
His nails dig into the bone at different spots for brief seconds. The sensations are new, but not unwelcome.
To end the massage, he pokes his fingers into your sides, making you squirm.
You say his name in between laughter and attempts to move his hands. Your eyes catch his face and realise his expression isn’t lighthearted. He looks like he’s realising something while watching you writhe under his touch.
Woah.
This is new.
His eyes move from your body to your face.
In an instant his hands are on his face, attempting to hide the blushing mess that he’s been reduced to.
“Zanka, what was that?” you ask, slightly out of breath.
“I, uh,” he looks just as lost as you are, “I don’t really know,” he says slowly, raking his hands through his hair and then looking at them.
“Huh,” you brush off the awkward moment by wrapping your arms around him and kissing him.
His hands grip at your waist as you bring your bodies closer. Your lips dig into one another as you begin feeling intoxicated with passion.
Your tongue traces the seam of his lips, asking for an invitation into his mouth. He gladly obliges, opening his mouth as you both engage in a practiced dance. Finding a rhythm almost immediately, you are locked in an embrace of heated ardor.
Zanka’s left hand finds its way to your hair. He pulls slightly on your hair before pressing soothingly into the pain. This continues for a while, wistful actions making time blur.
Zanka’s teeth bite down on your lower lip unexpectedly, making you flinch back.
“Sorry, was that too much?” Zanka can’t decide which of your eyes to look at, and it’s cute watching him switch between left and right.
“No, not at all,” you say breathlessly, noticing that Zanka looks just as flushed as you feel.
You glance away from Zanka’s gaze for a second, but unfortunately, your eyes land on the clock.
12:00
“Shit,” you start to distance yourself from Zanka, but he pulls you back, “Zan, Semiu is gonna have our heads if we don’t get up soon,”
“Oh c’mon, what’s ten more minutes?” he says pulling you back in for a kiss.
“The difference between us being alive and dead, let’s go,” you say, once again detaching yourself.
Zanka just refuses and wrestles you back into the sheets. His head rests on the surface of your sternum as he holds your arms at your sides, rendering you powerless to get up. He however, looks incredibly comfortable.
“Ugh, whatever, fine” you relax, realising that you’re not leaving anytime soon (not that you particularly wanted to in the first place).
“Hmm, that’s what I thought,” he says smugly. You roll your eyes at that while also guiding your fingers into his hair and beginning to play with it.
The world stills as your heartbeats sync and your breaths align.
But like everything peaceful, it must come to an end.
Suddenly, one harsh knock raps on the door and you feel Zanka stiffen.
“Good morning, lovebirds!” Enjin says slamming the door against the wall as he comes in with Riyo and Rudo on either side of him.
Zanka practically leaps off of you and stands at attention, Lovely Assistaff basically materialising in his hands from how swiftly he grabbed her.
At the same moment, you sit up cross legged and slightly embarrassed at being interrupted during such a private moment.
“Lovebirds?” Rudo asks, eyes popping at the sight of the two of you.
“Did you seriously not realize?” Riyo asks, smirking knowingly.
“Well, we have a lot on the agenda today, so you should put some clothes on and chop chop!” Enjin says enthusiastically.
Enjin and the others left, but not after flicking the lightswitch on and leaving the door slightly ajar.
Zanka puts his head in his hands and sits down on the bed with Lovely placed gently next to him.
“I told you we should have gotten up,” you say, poking Zanka with the tip of your index finger.
“Did they seriously all have to go with Enjin?” he mumbles through his palms.
You groan, anticipating the teasing that you will have to endure from the rest of the cleaners.
“Okay, you heard him, let's get up,” you say, dragging yourself to your feet and walking to your dresser for your uniform.