As usual, Asami hands were too deft, too fast and too sinuously graceful across his skin for Akihito to realize what was happening.
It was accompanied by Asami's soul-warming hum; this deep gravel from the pits of his humanity that said Asami was the closest to happy that he'd ever be in this life.
Of all the things Asami could do to him in bed, Akihito would never have expected this. And, they did a lot of things. However, that hum and those dexterous hands, the nimble fingertips across his skin that usually engraved their mark left no trace this time. Oh, how Akihito wished they would just this once.
The feather light ministrations continued, driving him to the point of insanity, because of all the things that Asami could do to confuse him, this was fucking it.
Sex was straightforward, hell; even their words were straightforward enough now that they both knew where the other stood.
Dawn split through the lazy gap that Akihito had left in the curtains as he'd shut them in his haste to get to bed with Asami last night, that slice of warm morning sun shed no light on this indecipherable mystery though.
More touches, more satisfied humming. Was Asami satisfied that they hadn't even gone to sleep last night? Or was he satisfied because of what he was doing right now?
That was the thing with Asami, if he were an open book to Akihito, the writing would all be illegible anyway. Maybe that's why Akihito wouldn't ever figure out the silent words that Asami wrote on his back in the early morning hours of their sleepless nights.
Goodness knew he'd damn well tried; he'd lie on his side as Asami scrawled his own language across his back, he'd made out letters here and there, but whether Asami was deliberately fast, or whether Akihito just couldn't understand, he didn't know.
Like everything in this relationship of theirs, maybe his understanding would come when it was time. Asami did his Asami things, and only when Akihito was really ready would he learn to read what it all meant.
That's what he hoped anyway, like hell he was going to give in and ask, because if there was one damn thing Akihito did know after all this time, Asami was a show and not tell kind of person.
He was showing Akihito something with this, and so he'd figure it out by relaxing in the sound of Asami's all encompassing hum, and he'd concentrate on the whispers on his back until he finally learned the language Asami was carving in his skin.
And, maybe one day if he was lucky, Asami would put it down in pen and paper for him anyway.