NB: This is sort of crackish. But I flatter myself and think it's cute too.
This isn't a request, really. Just the answer to an idle musing.
It's uncommonly late or unconscionably early—even by Akari's standards. Insomniac he may be, but even he can't stifle a yawn as the first tendrils of nectarine light break through tiny laboratory windows.
He's exhausted. Hirato was particularly gamesome last night. He rarely complains about the other man's… libidinal generosity, but something about leaving a lightly dozing captain in a fall of rumpled sheets sends a trill of jealousy through his veins. If only scientists were afforded the same luxuries as feckless airship commanders whose only utility is the aesthetic sort.
He's being unfair, he knows. It's just that he's incapable of marshalling very much give-a-damn at present, especially since Hirato is squarely to blame for his current predicament.
Crystalline eyes appraise Hearty's shaved skin in a darkened lab. The lights are turned off; he'd rather not have any curious Tower personnel discover the nature of this covert project. He squints and reaches for coffee without shifting attention. The rabbit-like creature is fast asleep. Akari's mouth curls slightly as he watches his pet twitch in its slumber. Hearty is adorable when he's not demonstrating affection with claws and teeth. As is Hirato, the blond realizes. And now he really has to stifle a grin.
He applies experimental ointment to the animal's side, feeling a bit on edge. Please let this work, he thinks desperately. Please. Promises are offered to non-existent gods: He'll refrain from firing anyone today if he should succeed.
Genius researchers don't titter in victory; they leave that to puerile red-haired idiots. Even so, the temptation to whoop in elation is almost overwhelming. Almost. Instead, Akari re-inspects Hearty's color, confirms (again) that the bruises he suffered from a subordinate's mishandling are no more, and decides that the furball deserves food more appetizing than flavorless pellets.
That night, he's ambushed by his insatiable lover. Hirato skillfully makes short work of his clothes while attempting idle conversation. Akari's long suspected this is the captain's version of "How was your day, dear?"
"How was work?" It's a rumbling purr.
Suspicions confirmed. Akari smiles. "Extremely productive." He then awaits the inevitable.
"Wait," Hirato stops his ministrations and reaches for the lamp on the nightstand, peering at exposed porcelain flesh under dim light. "What did you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"I marked you last night." He leans in to nuzzle the sensitive skin at the corner of the physician's jaw. "Here." Soft lips settle behind his ear. "Here." Those lips harden as they suck at the base of Akari's neck. "And here." Hirato pulls away, violet irises clouded in confusion.
"Yes you did. Very visibly so, and that is precisely the problem."
"They're gone."
"Don't sound like a disappointed caveman," Akari scolds. "You're incapable of following simple instructions, so I resolved matters myself."
No further words are exchanged, yet the brunet's proclivity to mark his bedmate hasn't diminished one whit. If anything, he's more enthusiastic.
"I've developed an ointment that dissolves bruises. These efforts are futile."
Teeth scrape along the blond's collarbone, sending his fingers scrabbling down the other's muscular back. "Hmmm," Hirato's lilt is all too telling. "Exactly how much of this wonder drug have you developed, doctor?"
Before Akari can curse the oversight, his tongue is rendered useless.