Midorima hangs over Takao in a manner that, when combined with the heavy look in his eyes, could easily be misconstrued as predatory.
"We really have to fix that bad habit of yours," Midorima growls.
Takao lightly drags his fingers down the side of his torso, tracing against muscle and resting just at the edge of his hip—one of Midorima's sweet spots.
The lights are off but the wide terrace window and the midday sun are more than enough to illuminate the two of them. Their bed is stripped of all sheets save for one. And the same goes for their clothes—the air conditioner is broken, and the room, unbearably hot. This summer has been near treacherous so far with blackouts and temperatures nearing record highs over the course of the last month alone. Midorima makes a mental note that there appears to be a second benefit to using natural light during the day (instead of running up the electric bill as his boyfriend is inclined to do): Takao's bare skin looks even more beautiful in sunlight.
A bead of sweat hangs off of Midorima's bangs, ready to fall at seemingly any provocation. Takao's eyes fixate on the drop threatening to splatter on him as he feigns a look of ignorance.
"What bad habit?"
Midorima brings his hand up to push his bangs back. Small flecks of sweat hit Takao and he breaks the acted look to smile as he licks at the drop that hit his upper lip.
"You know damn well what habit," Midorima snaps, though it isn't a real one. It lacks the bite Takao knows to expect when Midorima's actually annoyed, though that may just be the way summer heat makes his boyfriend sluggish. Midorima glances over at his left shoulder, gesturing at the point he's trying to make. The wide span of skin that leads up to his neck is covered in red, oval marks—they vary in size and color from small and almost unnoticeable to wide and deep red.
"Oh, do you mean the biting?"
"Yes. Of course, I mean the biting—don't play with me."
Takao laughs. "But you like it when I play with you, don't you, Shin-chan?" Takao's eyes are daring him to deny it. Midorima relents in the form of his own glare softening into a mere serious look, which seems to make Takao even more pleased with himself. "And you like it when I bite you," he whispers, raising himself to lick at the bruised skin. A small shiver runs through him at the salty taste of it.
"It leaves ugly marks, Takao." Even as he says this, Takao can feel Midorima lowering himself, leaning into him and making it easier for Takao to lap at him.
"I think they look nice on you."
"They're unseemly."
"And hot."
"They could bring up questions from my coworkers."
Takao laughs outright at that statement. The notion that Midorima would ever be in a shirtless situation with any of his stuffy, medical colleagues is absurd and just the idea of anyone ever catching a glimpse of his shoulder when his uniform is a button-up underneath a lab coat…
"You just want to bicker, don't you?" Takao asks, already knowing he will never, ever get an honest answer to that question. Before Midorima can respond with some sort of denial along the lines of 'I'm simply expressing my concern', Takao nips at his shoulder. When Midorima starts just a little bit but sighs immediately after, Takao's chuckle settles into a fond smile.
"They let everyone know you're mine," Takao says to him in that tone he only gets when he's truly trying to convince Midorima of something. Gentle and cloying; sensual and heartfelt.
"Hmph." Midorima's eyes narrow but he fails to frown as he often does when he actually disapproves. Pulling off his glasses, he lowers himself further and licks at Takao's lips before kissing him. Takao moans in obvious approval and Midorima mumbles against his mouth, "How juvenile."