The first time it happened, Omi said it was strange but endearing-- sort of like Ken himself. After joining him in bed one night, Ken happened to notice, of all the random and curious things to notice, that Omi had cute ears. Ken just couldn't quite resist the small curves framed by strands of auburn blonde hair. With a fond smile, he leaned over and placed a kiss on the ridge.
He'd never meant for it to snowball from there, but the cruel irony about noticing anything was that you never failed to notice it again. From that point on, every time Omi curled against his body under the sheets, Ken's gaze automatically shifted to the ears-- yep, still cute-- and about twice a week, he just couldn't help himself. Sometimes he blew on them. Sometimes he kissed. Sometimes he ran the tip of his finger along the edge. Sometimes, if he was really feeling playful, it was the tip of his tongue trailing a wet tickle. Always Omi moaned and whined, swinging his pillow against Ken's face and complaining about the lost sleep and what a tease Ken was. Though Ken felt it worth pointing out Omi only sometimes went right back to trying to sleep. Of all the things that could be said about this bad little habit he'd developed, that it was fruitless was not one of them.
He knew it was something of a nuisance for such an overworked and generally sleep-deprived person, and was likewise glad that Omi seemed willing to tolerate it by and large. However, one fateful night, Ken made the critical mistake of teasing him awake on the eve of a big exam, and defending it as a good luck nibble just hadn't won the points he'd hoped.
Even so, it had sounded promising when Omi suggested he take a shower that next night. That usually meant sex came next, and after the stress of the exam, well, that sounded like a good reason for expecting it to Ken. So when Omi handcuffed him to the showerhead, Ken thought it was a joke, and he teased him for being impatient. But when Omi explained the time-release mechanism on the water flow, Ken began to worry about his compromising position. And when Omi told him he'd be back for him at 2, Ken erupted into protest. This was completely uncalled for!
Omi stuck his tongue out, left the bathroom, and Ken braced himself for three hours of discomfort, all the while contemplating how he was going to act towards the little punk once 2 A.M. came around.
Ken also had to contemplate just which half of Omi's trick was worse. The showers sent bullets of cold water down his naked body, stealing whatever warmth he'd managed to collect in the three to ten minutes since the last one. The Three-To-Ten-Minutes part was the other half: Ken never knew exactly when that spray of water was going to switch on, leaving him only able to wait in dread for its inevitable arrival. Tick, tick, tick, tick, until the moment it doused his body, and any chances of nodding off against the wall along with it. Three dozen reminders of how it felt to be jerked from sleep, all in the form of the most infamous cure to untimely sexual urges known to man. Omi's sense of poetic justice was fucking perverse.
Ken had no problem with poetic justice in and of itself. Spending a night waking up to nibbles at his ear would have been fine, and possibly even led to an adventure in helping Omi get rid of that extra energy. The problem was that this was not justice. This was pure Evil. It was past time to sleep, his body hurt all over, he was freezing cold, and all because Omi got pissy about a display of affection. Understandably, Ken was right grouchy by the time Omi returned.
He wrinkled his eyebrows and opened his mouth as Omi slipped through the door, fully prepared to launch into a strongly worded rant. There was just one little snag: Omi's face. His eyes drooped, the corners of his mouth turned down, and he looked at Ken from a head half-lowered like a scolded puppy. Ken worked his jaw a moment and finally managed, "You look tired."
"I couldn't sleep."
"You couldn't sleep..."
"I missed you. I'm sorry, Ken-kun."
Omi unlocked the handcuffs and handed Ken a towel. Ken snatched it a little harder than he'd meant to-- and immediately felt a twinge of guilt at the flinch it caused Omi. He rubbed himself dry, sighed, and threw the towel in a wad against the wall. "So can we go to bed now?"
"Un."
He ought to go sleep in his own bed after a stunt like that. Let Omi deal with the consequences of his choices and just miss him a little longer. Maybe he'd think twice before he did something like this again. It was a terrible thought Ken owned to the darker half of his personality, but it wasn't one he listened to. He led the way to Omi's bed and climbed under the covers. When Omi hesitated, Ken took him by the hand and pulled him in with him. He ignored Omi's whining that he was cold; he held him close and never explained why. And when Omi drifted off just minutes later, Ken continued to lay awake, watching his lover sleep and reminded too plainly of the raw vulnerability Omi harbored in spite of his commanding role within the team. Like every other human on Earth, Omi needed someone to love him. Ken didn't mind being that someone.
With a wry grin, he leaned over and placed a kiss on the ridge of his ear.