Goro had a bit of a tell that Ramona had never noticed before.
Up until that evening, she had not noticed when his fingers would drag across her palm when she released his hand, almost as if he were hesitant to let her go somewhere he could not follow. She had not noticed when his hold on her tightened and her shirt bunched in his fists each time he had his arms around her, in those rare occasions that he deigned to ask for a hug. She had not noticed when his eyes softened and slid shut when her hand fondly made its way through his hair.
Now, a couple of months into their poorly-defined relationship, as they lay together in the quaint living room of his dingy and cheap apartment, it was clear as day. She suddenly could not believe she had not noticed it before.
Goro Egawa was touch-starved.
Considering the circumstances in which she found him, lost amongst the sea of faces in a virtual dating app, self-congratulatory movies about financial investment and casual D/S sessions being the only outlets for his confusing emotions, such a thing does not come as a surprise. Rather, she feels disappointed in herself, as she should have paid more attention to it.
It was around the time that the New York Stock Exchange finally closes for the day, and Goro emerges from his home broker station for a snack and fresh air for the first time since coming back from the office. Mona had been casually lounging on the sofa, reading a book and listening to relaxation music on her portable dock station, when he passed through and suddenly decided to join her.
Well, not quite. It is more precise to say that he collapsed with exhaustion and then proceeded to ignore her half-hearted protests when he landed on her.
After a little adjustment and a whine of disapproval from the invader, they both lay side by side, pressed into the faux-leather. There is not much room for two adults in it, but the arrangement works, somehow.
As she settles in, accepting the fact that she will not be moving until he decides to let her, her eyes become drawn to the man beside her. He is calm and his features are relaxed, a very unusual sight. She drinks in every inch of him, the way his dark hair sits around his head, the gel he rubbed on it earlier that morning not fixing it in place anymore, the rhythmic movement of his broad chest against her side, slowing down from the busy day, the flexing of his tense neck when he readjusts his head against the cushion. For a moment, she simply watches in adoration.
Her hand softly falls against his chest and slowly ventures upward, towards his shoulder. The man tenses when her careful fingers ghost over his neck, but only for a moment. Then he calms, sighing as her hand finds its way to his nape.
He blinks slowly and lovingly glances down at Mona, before steeling himself in token resistance and reprehension. He raises an inquisitive brow at her, demanding satisfaction on what she is doing to him, as he is wont to do, but the moment her fingers work their way into his hair, he gives in to the sensation and ignores any objection he might hold. He leans into the touch and visibly relaxes, a quiet, almost inaudible whimper leaving his parted lips.
Ramona spends a considerable amount of time combing her hand through his hair and watching gleefully as Goro unwinds beside her, unknotting his tense muscles and yawning slightly, not unlike a stray cat that found a loving home to stay.
Time goes on and the city outside the window grows quiet, the restaurant in the ground floor of the apartment closes for the night. When her wrist begins to ache and she pulls her hand from his strands of hair and gunk, he whines in petulance, a single self-serving noise from his throat, communicating his profound dissatisfaction without the use of words, which would be difficult for his proud self to elaborate properly in this situation.
She chuckles at his childish behaviour, moving her hand to his thin cheek and gently tracing it with her fingertips, leaving a trail of goosebumps through where her touch runs. A barely noticeable pink tints his pale skin through his entire face and ears, and it makes her feel oddly proud. Slowly, she runs her hand down his cheek until her fingers fall away at the sharp line of his jaw.
"Don't stop." He bemoans, quietly, demanding something that he does not quite understand. "Please."
She complies with his small demand and does not turn still. She continues to map out and explore his emaciated expression, marred with tiredness, tracing every detail with timid fingers. Her hand once again eventually finds its way back into his mop of dirty hair and he sighs when she brushes the dark strands away from his forehead.
"I like this." He notes. "I like you."
Ramona breathes a quiet laugh and smile, her hand ghosting over his jaw. "I'm glad. We are dating, after all, so I was kind of hoping you liked me."
"No." The man says quietly, almost pouting. "What I meant is that I like being here with you."
Goro turns his head ever so slightly to the side and his lips find her palm. He hums contently as he presses a gentle, barely-there kiss to her hand.
"It's quiet, peaceful. I used to think that this was a waste, that any time that I was not pursuing the next big break on the stock market was a waste." He chuckles bitterly. "I thought I'd grow bored of you. That your music and your incenses and everything you would start to grind my gears, would get in the way of my life."
Ramona smiles, tickled by his candid reflection on himself, and kisses him on the forehead. "My sweet baby, you're a bit of a fool."
"I guess I am." He reflected. "I'm glad that I was wrong."
Her hand brushes against the base of his neck and her grin widens when she notices that the upper buttons of his shirt are undone. It was only just enough to put his collarbone on display, but it is what she needs to amuse herself, engaging in light teasing.
Slowly, timidly, she leans forward and leaves a lazy kiss against his shoulder blade. Goro mewls and rests his head back against the cushion, giving her access to his neck. Though the gesture is simple it means more to her than it first presents. It is a sign of trust, of vulnerability, things that are hard-won with his man, that took her much comprehension and goading to get to this point, and it is something that she wears with pride.
Her lips softly ghost his neck before she begins to press soft kisses to his jaw. He leans into her and, when she pulls away to move into the next spot, he chases her touch, following the ups and downs of her head with his own.
He moves further down the sofa so he can bury his head into the crook of her neck. His spiky hair, still smelling of mint, tickle the end of her nose. With the advantage of the new position, she softly kisses his temple and he melts into her side, content to let her have her reign over him.
Minutes pass and a comfortable silence settles over them both. Ramona can tell that Goro is not asleep, despite the slow rise and fall of his chest. He is still awake, probably because he is a picky sleeper, but also because he wants to seize the opportunity and perform his own ministrations. His hand are, so, tracing patterns against her shoulder and his nose is nuzzling against her throat.
Mona closes her eyes and soaks in the rare moment in those few months. This was his way of displaying affection and adoration, his budding idea of intimacy, fostered by the new experiences that they were living together. In a sense, it was a microcosm of their conjugal life, and she loved it.
It was gentle, quiet, soft. It was allowing himself to be vulnerable with her. It was simply being, and in it, it was wonderful.