Hello everyone!
It's been a while since I've updated anything. I'm currently working on multiple things, but in the meantime, I thought I'd upload this little nothing I wrote for someone a while ago.
Please enjoy!
Kaito was neither an early riser, nor someone who stayed in bed til noon. His schedule was a mess, and so was his sleep cycle. So there were times when Heiji had to drag him from under the sheets at three in the afternoon, and times where he was fully awake at four in the morning.
It took Heiji some time to get used to it, the way Kaito wore sleep deprivation like women wore make up, the way his manic wakefulness in the middle of the night stirred up awe in Heiji's chest, rather than fear or worry.
But eventually, they began taking turns in collapsing tiredly on one another's shoulders, in carrying each other to bed.
Somehow... Kaito put all these oddities into every part of their everyday life, and they've never lost their luster.
And it all leads to now. Heiji wakes for the umpteenth time on his own, with the bed a little bit colder. The smell of his lover still lingers on the rumpled sheets, as a reminder. Heiji doesn't need to close his eyes to see it, the way Kaito was lying on his side with his back towards him.
He lingers on the bed a little longer, takes in the cool morning air, the light just barely there. He turns his head towards the clock - 4.30 is painted with glowing green. He chuckles, and takes a few more seconds before he gets up.
Where could Kaito be, he wonders. He could already be working on something - then he's either in his workshop or perched on the couch in the living room. He could be just watching some movie, too - that would also lead him to the living room. If he's restless, he could be out for a jog or down in his workshop again.
The faint smell of tea lures Heiji to the kitchen in the end.
Kaito stands in front of the window. The morning light, still so frail, barely there, paints his body with shadows, suggesting more than it actually shows. Then again, Heiji has always been good with figuring things out without being shown.
Not that he needs to figure out much. He can draw out the rest of that delicate nape from memory, the slight curve of the spine...
He blinks.
Kaito isn't wearing anything.
It's easy to walk up behind him, to take his cup of tea with one hand and hold him close with the others. It's even easier to rest his lips against his neck, where his pulse beats like the heart of a little bird. To bite down when Kaito chuckles like he knew.
He lives for mornings like this, he finds. When the world is too sleepy to be chaotic, and it can be just them, them, them. To taste tea on that sweet tongue, and tease out a dozen moans and whimpers as he takes him, slowly, gently, relentlessly...
And when they collapse together, it feels perfect.
Kaito is like a delicate artwork, painted by the dawn, soft and pliant in his arms, and he smiles so bright there's no need for the Sun to rise any higher.
So Heiji forgives himself for being too indulgent, for breathing too many "I love yous" against those lips and holding him too close. It's not like Kaito minds.
He has a hunch that Kaito likes mornings like this just as much.