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He wakes between one and two in the morning to someone lifting his arm to crawl underneath. He knows, without opening his eyes, that it's Hisoka, his perennial bedpartner and... not-quite-lover-but-more-than-friend. He adjusts sleepily to let Hisoka snuggle up to him, tucking his lower hand under his cheek and resting the upper arm over Hisoka's shoulder, slowly stroking his fine, fluffy hair as he immediately starts drifting back to sleep, warm and content.
He rouses again sometime before four, the room grey with the first hint of sunrise. His shoulder is starting to ache, and so he tries to shift position without waking Hisoka. Normally, that would be incredibly easy since Hisoka could probably sleep through the apocalypse, but he must be on the light end of a sleep cycle, because he stirs as well.
At first he just nestles deeper into Azuma's arms, burying his face in Azuma's bare neck and tangling their legs together, but he doesn't fall back asleep right away. Which would be odd, for him, except Azuma knows exactly why not.
Hisoka pulls back a little, blinking silently at him. His one visible eye, drained of color in the near darkness, scans Azuma's face for a second before he leans in and touches his soft lips against Azuma's. Light and ticklish at first, but quickly growing warm.
He pushes himself up on one elbow, hand pushing slightly on Azuma's shoulder, and Azuma obligingly flops onto his back so Hisoka can climb on top of him. He does, supporting himself on a knee between Azuma's legs and pushing him down into the bed, kissing him intently. His kisses start to become needy and a little messy, as they always do, slipping his tongue purposefully into Azuma's mouth even when their lips are barely touching, like he's savoring the sound of his tongue sliding over Azuma's.
Azuma doesn't dislike that. It's kind of dirty, kind of sexy, and feeling this wanted always leaves him a little breathless. The feeling redoubles as Hisoka's hand leaves his shoulder to push shamelessly under his shirt, sliding over his sleep-warm skin.
Hisoka's hands have softened during his time at Mankai, the calluses gradually fading away, but they're still deceptively strong, and the scars on them haven't disappeared. Two of the fingers on his right hand are crooked from long-forgotten injuries, the back of the left marked with what appears to be an old burn. Azuma loves them. He loves them even more when they roam over his body, loving even if they're not exactly gentle.
He takes advantage of his own hands being left free to slip them under Hisoka's shirt in return, exploring as much of his compact, wire-hard body as he can reach. Hisoka pulls away to tug his loose shirt off over his head, giving Azuma tacit encouragement to touch him, and brings his mouth down to Azuma's throat instead of his lips.
Even without looking, his sensitive fingertips find a few familiar scars on Hisoka's chest and back, twisting areas of thin rippled skin, and he traces over the ones he knows don't hurt to touch.
They've never really needed words between the two of them, both perfectly happy to convey their feelings in silence with their bodies. Azuma can't be sure, but he thinks Hisoka knows what he means when he touches his scars like this. Each gentle stroke of his fingertips is a quiet prayer at the altar of Hisoka's body, one repetition in a litany of praise for being here with Azuma now. You survived this, his fingers say. Thank you.
It isn't long before Hisoka wants Azuma's shirt off as well, not waiting for him to remove it but tugging it off himself and returning the adoration of Azuma's hands with a little not-so-gentle worship of his own. Azuma melts under the firm attention of a strong hand on his chest and open-mouthed kisses laid against his bare throat.
Hisoka's hands always gravitate to the softest parts of Azuma's body, and this morning is no different. The hand that's not busy supporting his weight eventually moves from Azuma's chest to his stomach, going from squeezing to caressing him, before inevitably moving on to his ass and finally his thigh. He smiles and lifts his hips to pull his pajama pants off, and breaks into a chuckle as Hisoka's forehead drops to rest on his collarbone, devoting all his focus to feeling up Azuma's now-bare thighs.
It's no secret that Hisoka loves soft things. Azuma is just happy that he seems to count.
Eventually, Hisoka sits back on his heels, tugging down Azuma's briefs until he lifts his hips and slides them the rest of the way off himself. He slips his hands under Azuma's legs and pulls, and Azuma obligingly lets himself be posed with his calves up and knees together before those hands disappear from his skin again.
It's not entirely dark, but Azuma still can't tell exactly what he's doing until he hears a soft puff of breath above him at the same time as something hot rubs against the back of one thigh. He covers his smile with one hand, reaching for the delicate rosewood box at the head of his bed with the other.
He's not sure what the client who'd gifted him the box some years ago expected him to do with it, but he hopes they'd be okay with its current fate. It holds an assortment of small things ranging from scrunchies and lip balm to earplugs and tissues and, of course, lube. He hands the last item to Hisoka, who silently accepts it, popping open the cap.
He's pretty sure he knows by this point what Hisoka has in mind, and even more sure when after the cap clicks closed his ankles are pulled sharply over one of Hisoka's shoulders, an arm wrapped around his knees. He drops his head back to the pillow with an aroused huff of a laugh at the hot, slick sensation of Hisoka's stiff cock sliding into the soft narrow space between his thighs. It feels dirty in the best way possible, messy and one-sided.
He squeezes his legs together slightly, making it tighter, and Hisoka momentarily closes his eyes in pleasure, lips parting. He can't help but smirk a little at that, pleased he got such a cute reaction.
It doesn't last forever, though. Soon Hisoka leans over him a little more, not quite folding him in half but pushing his knees to a slightly tighter angle, putting more of his weight into it, fucking hard into the softness between his thighs.
He keeps watching Azuma's face as he does, giving the distinct, irrational feeling that he can see Azuma better than Azuma can see him. The heat in his expression is obvious even so, and it makes Azuma feel so incredibly, overwhelmingly wanted.
It brings to mind other images, intense memories of Hisoka being on top of him but spreading his legs instead of holding them together, thrusting down into him with the same absorbed look on his face and the same insatiable hunger in his single clear eye. He bites his lip with a little pang of desire in the pit of his stomach, and perhaps unconsciously, Hisoka mirrors it.
He reminds himself he doesn't really want to deal with that right now, but part of him still deeply wants Hisoka inside him. Maybe later, he tells himself. Maybe tonight. It's so early in the morning and tonight feels so far away, but he knows he'd need to devote more time to it to really enjoy it.
And it's so cute how badly Hisoka wants him right now, quick and dirty at four in the morning, holding Azuma's legs firm against his chest with one arm, his fingers digging hard into Azuma's thigh as his thrusts begin to speed up. Cute, not to mention hot.
He reaches down and gently prises Hisoka's other hand from its vise grip on his hip, threading his own long slender fingers between the shorter, sturdier ones. His hand is squeezed tight in return, Hisoka letting out a quiet sigh of breath and closing his eyes again. The motion of his hips becomes erratic until finally he comes, hot, between Azuma's thighs and across his stomach.
It's only then that Azuma realizes he himself is almost uncomfortably hard, his body thrumming with need, and is fully expecting to just deal with it himself once his partner inevitably passes back out. He's pleasantly surprised, then, as Hisoka props himself on one elbow again, kissing him and dragging a hand almost absentmindedly through the mess on his stomach. Okay, maybe that part isn't pleasant surprise so much as vaguely disgusted arousal.
Hisoka gives him a rough, messy handjob with way too much lube, squeezing him tight and kissing him open-mouthed the whole time like he's trying to eat the quiet little noises he manages to coax out of Azuma's mouth. As if his soft moans taste sweet.
Then he passes out, leaving Azuma to clean himself up. Not that Azuma really minds, honestly. It's hard to be mad at him when he's this cute.
When that's done, he curls around Hisoka in the bed, feeling sleep already starting to drag him under again as he pulls Hisoka's back against his chest, arm wrapped securely around his waist. As he presses a kiss to the back of his neck, he thinks to himself how lucky he is.