Day 6
Theme: Fingertips.
Sense of Touch
Part Two
One finger trails another down the base of his companion's spine. The shiver he gets as his reward, draws a smile to his face. He can't help but feel elated that a breath follows—something akin to a sigh. Whether it's intentional or not, he doesn't know, but he takes pleasure in the response nonetheless.
"I was sleeping," the man draped down the length of his body murmurs.
"I saw that."
A small sound of indignation filters into the silence of the room and the man lets out a harmless, "Stupid beansprout."
"I didn't know just that would wake you up," he goes on, his arms embracing the body resting over him. His fingers continue to tease down his exposed back, wrapping around long strands of black hair. He finds it fascinating, feeling the muscles twitch—sensitive to his ministrations.
"Well it did." The sleep laced voice is almost pleasant—well, pleasant for him anyway. They are still basking in the calm aftermath of a union that should have been considered abuse from the way they went about it. There will probably be bruises somewhere in all that, and he is still trying to think of excuses for his probable limp.
It's a hazy kind of feel-good. They lay chest to chest, simply breathing in each other. There is something oxymoronic about it, but complaints aren't being made. He is content just feeling the smooth skin under his fingers. The body pressed flush against his stirs a bit and he feels lips against his neck. It sends a delightful tingle up his spine. This causes him to press his nails into the man's skin, gently raking them up his back.
"You're asking for another round, beansprout."
A delectable murmur passes his lips, "is that a threat, BaKanda?"
"No." Teeth rake across exposed flesh and a growl reverberates along his throat. "It's a guarantee. It's your punishment for waking me up."
"Punishment, hmm?"
"I hope you've thought of an excuse."
"I'll think of something," he whispers, fingers teasing along the defined muscles. "I have til morning, don't I?"
He shivers at the smirk he's given before his partner's lips cover his own, parting only long enough to speak promise filled words, "if I give you that much time for coherent thought."
Suddenly he's grateful that his partner is a light sleeper.