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The first thing Kyojuro registers is warmth – molten and smoldering. The sheets cling to his skin, creating a suffocating feeling that shoves the man to consciousness. His eyes crack open, burning against the pale street light filling in the room. Shadows slide over the duvet, offering a comforting overlay in the early hours of the morning. Kyojuro scrunches his face, inhaling the scent of lavender detergent and sleep.
Mid term season was upon him, which meant stressful nights filled with cold coffee and grading twenty two page papers. It was a headache in itself, not to mention the destruction it wreaked on his sleep schedule.
With a hiss of breath Kyojuro rolls over. Blue hues of artificial light swathes the sheets and a tuft of pink hair that sticks out from them, contouring and shadowing Akaza’s snoring form. The sight draws something quiet and tender from him.
Akaza had always been a hard, fitful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, accidentally hitting Kyojuro in the face on more than one occasion in the fit of a nightmare. Sometimes he'd wake in tears, confused as to where he was. Kyojuro would rub his back with warm palms smoothing away the tension. He’d whisper soft assurances. “Your ok” he'd say and sometimes Akaza would scoff, shoving away the offer in favor of solitude. Other times, he'd succumb, grasping Kyojuro's shoulders like a lifeline. His tears soaking through the cotton of Kyojuro's shirt. The sight made his chest hurt, unable to understand in true detail the horrors that plagued Akaza's memories.
Rarely did Kyojuro see him in such a relaxed state, his face softened and almost boyish under the blanket of sleep. Akaza murmurs something incoherent, rolling over to display the toned curves of his back as he pulls the sheets with him and nearly off the other. Kyojuro huffed a small chuckle. Perhaps it was Akaza’s job as an ICU nurse that allowed him to sleep this deeply.
With a low rumble Kyojuro tucked himself into the warm body next to him. Chest pressed to the others back feeling the soft rise and fall of Akaza's breathing, till his own heart learns the same pace. The warmth acts as a balm, chasing away the bitter cold, remnant of the fall season. A warm Akaza, in their warm sheets, bodies pressed snug together.
From a quick glance at the digital clock on their nightstand, Kyojuro gathers it’s at least half past midnight. Meaning he had just a few more hours of blessed sleep before rising for a full day of grading and classes.
As he adjusts again, Kyojuro becomes aware of two things.
The first being Akaza has lost his shirt in favor of tangling himself into two separate blankets. A common occurrence given his sleeping patterns and Kyojuro’s own body temperature acting as a human heater.
The second being, he was achingly hard. A nuisance at the moment.
He huffs a sigh as he feels his cheeks warm at the newfound sight. He and Akaza had only had sex a few hours prior before tangling themselves together on the messy sheets. Breaths intermingling in a sated haze. It had surprisingly only been two rounds, both Akaza and Kyojuro's stamina was admirable, though usually they would make it to round three before one tapped out.
Well, at least for an hour before going again...
And again.
Kyojuro is careful to not move too much, both for his sanity and Akaza's sake. it's not like he exactly wants to violate Akaza as he sleeps, in fact Kyojuro would rather die than do so without prior agreement.
Which unfortunately, he did not possess. Kyojuro encircles Akaza's slim waist within his hold, careful to avoid pressing his hips to Akaza's backside. fingertips trace the steady rhythm of his chest. Every inch of him feels alive —back flexing, warmth radiating through skin. He can feel the ridges of his ribs, muscle toned from hours upon hours of training into the late hours of the night. He can picture it clearly. Sweat glistening down Akaza’s shoulders, past the dimples on his lower back as he goes through the movements of each meticulous Soryu form. Each motion is a quiet temptation that makes Kyojuro's throat run dry. Akaza’s Face, flushed and breaths heaving, as Kyojuro slides up behind him to get a taste, tongue dancing across the nape of his neck. “Kyojuro” he’d moan, voice low and unsteady. Eyes fluttering shut in the wake of deliberate touches.
Akaza exhales quiet, broken sounds, head falling back against Kyojuro’s chest.
Lips and skin all encompassing and wet
Such a soft look on his face and an even softer resolve as Akaza becomes pliant in Kyojuro's hold. breath catching as their movements fall into rhythm, lips brushing, lingering. The taste of sweat and warmth, the sound of quiet surrender filling the space between them.
Shit
Kyojuro's mind was running wild. The heat felt stifling under the sheets as he gazed down at Akaza. He could wake him up, now there was an idea. But when Kyojuro thought about waking up his husband for something so trivial, a sense of guilt overtook him. It's not like sleep was a common thing for Akaza, working twelve hour shifts back to back with barely a break had truly wrecked his sleep schedule. Something Kyojuro had worked hard to restore to a normal pattern. So, with the will of a saint, Kyojuro carefully rolled onto his back, yet again staring up at the ceiling fan as it circled endlessly.
He could slip away to the bathroom to deal with his issue, however knowing himself, that may take quite a while and if Akaza were to wake and find Kyojuro vanished he'd be rather concerned.
Kyojuro feels arms sliding across his abdomen as Akaza rolls over in his sleep drawing the other closer. His cheek finds rest on Kyojuro's shoulder, soft even breaths filling out the quiet atmosphere.
A leg drapes lazily across Kyojuro’s hips, pulling their bodies together in a tangle of shared heat. Pressing firmly against his hard length. The contact sends a slow pulse through him — part longing, part restraint. He dares not move, afraid to break the spell, but every heartbeat draws him deeper into the pull of it: the scent of Akaza’s hair, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the soft weight of him nestled there.
Sweat beads on Kyojuro's forehead as he hones his self control back, sliding his gaze to Akaza's sleeping face. Thick lashes flutter as he sleeps giving him an almost ethereal quality. A Characteristic Kyojuro had come to associate with him ever since first fighting the man. Akaza was an enigma of sorts. When they sparred, the air became tense with the crackle of unspoken tension. A crazed look would take over Akaza’s eyes as he aimed each punch, each kick, all done with unrestrained fervor. It made Kyojuro feel like prey, during those moments, witnessing first hand the power Akaza wielded, all performed with a crazed smile begging for more. More of him, more of the fight, more of everything they shared. And Kyojuro would always give it. Always.
He'd give everything for the long sparring sessions, for the quiet intimacy of evening walks, for Sunday mornings spent tangled in sheets, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence. Akaza looking out the window as rain pattered on the metal gutters overhead. The stoic calm that overtook the man as he cracked his knuckles while reading, eyes narrowed in focus. Or Akaza’s perpetual whining, feigning annoyance as Kyojuro would interrupt his reading by pressing kisses to his temple, cheek, maybe even his neck before the latter swatted him away. testing the line between protest and surrender. Other times, he melted into it, leaning closer, pressing into Kyojuro with an intensity that made their hearts beat in tandem…
Which drew Kyojuro back to his present problem as Akaza pressed even closer, his breaths tickling the junction of Kyojuro's neck and shoulder. Of course the man was unaware of the slow tortuous thing he was creating, as he tossed and turned in his sleep shifting more of his chest to Kyojuro's side. However, that didn’t stop Kyojuro from damn near losing his mind as he struggled to keep himself still. Slowly but surely, Kyojuro began to think through his earlier idea with an open mind.
Perhaps, it wouldn't hurt to wake his husband, just this once.
With practiced ease he repositions himself on his side facing Akaza, taking care to not jostle the other too abruptly. Kyojuro smiles as his other arm draws up the sensitive knobs of Akaza's spine, an action that has the man suck in a deep breath and jolt closer to Kyojuro's chest even in sleep.
Oh, it's a reaction that Kyojuro quite enjoys. He let his fingers drift again, slow, deliberate, teasing along the line of Akaza’s back. Another gasp escapes, soft and ragged, lips parting as Akaza’s lashes flutter. His body trembles beneath the light, tantalizing touch.
And yet, he remains asleep, blissfully unaware of each gentle stroke, each whispered press of knuckles and lips, drawing him closer, inch by shivering inch, into Kyojuro’s orbit—a quiet, consuming dance of sensation that leaves the air between them heavy and charged with unspoken longing.
“Kaza..” he murmurs palm dancing up his back, tracing the familiar ridges of old scars with the utmost care. He treats Akaza as if he’s fragile, a generosity that Akaza had never experienced prior to Kyojuro. Living his youth on the streets had not been kind to his mind, much less his body.
Even now, looking at the thick bands of scar tissue sent Akaza’s stomach lurching. He found their forms grotesque, winding every which way, creating a perverse map of pain, etched into his very soul. Many days they would ache, phantom pains would flare along those scars, sharp reminders of old wounds, winding their way to his scapula and spine. On those days Kyojuro would take care in smoothing the tension away with warmth and patience that made the aches almost bearable.
He’d often comment on how beautiful they were. Much to Akaza’s chagrin who would huff in quiet disagreement. You're lying he’d say, A scowl adorning his face at Kyojuro’s compliment. But Kyojuro's opinion never wavered. To him, each scar was a testament —of survival, of courage, of the love Akaza so closely guarded in his heart. It had taken years for Kyojuro to see even a glimpse of that unguarded vulnerability. The sentiment had a quiet warmth bloom in his chest. Adding on to the already persistent heat in his gut as he maps out the scars with his hands.
“Akaza…” Kyojuro murmurs pressing light kisses to Akaza’s temple and cheek. All the while slipping his leg between Akaza’s pressing it firmly upward in a grinding motion. It elicits a soft grumble from the man as his brow furrows.
Akaza turns his chin up, soft hair grazing warm skin and Kyojuro takes advantage of the new angle, pressing more kisses to his neck. Goose bumps rise in the wake of Kyojuro as his tongue traces nonsense patterns, little nips following in their wake. It makes Akaza squirm at the sensation, slow to be pulled into consciousness. Kyojuro shifts his knee back and away causing Akaza to shift forward. As if he's chasing the sensation.
“Sweetheart” Kyojuro mumbles and Akaza finally stirs, eyes flickering open. He blinks slowly, akin to a cat as his eyes adjust to the sight before him.
“Kyojuro?” His voice sounds like it's been ripped up by gravel and god if Kyojuro doesn’t find it intoxicating. Though now that he thinks about it, just about everything involving Akaza is intoxicating. Akaza shifts his gaze down, looking in between the two of them.
With a jolt, Kyojuro feels Akaza's hips shift, rolling in a fluid motion that makes Kyojuro's head spin. Their breaths hitch as Akaza slides his hands up Kyojuro's abdomen, before bunching his fists tightly in the worn cotton tee adorning Kyojuro's form. He huffs a curse, hands gripping Akaza's hips in an effort to ground himself, stopping the onslaught of stimulation.
“Your insatiable”
“Mmh ... .your one to talk” Akaza shifts closer, legs trapping Kyojuro in tender embrace as they wrap around the others back.
“Can I?” Kyojuro rubs circles into Akaza's hips, thumbs ghosting the dramatic dips of his naval line. His hands feel divine, calluses creating an enticing friction, stirring warmth in Akaza's gut. His breath shutters as he ducks his head, forehead pressed to Kyojuro's broad chest. The man lifts his knee up, using his grip on Akaza to control the movement of his hips. Slow circular motions that create delicious pressure. Kyojuro can feel hands pulling his hair taught as a low-pitched curse escapes Akaza's lips as the action. He places delicate kisses to the others hairline, as Akaza becomes pliant puddy in his hands.
“Yes…hah, be quick about it” Akaza breathes, a touch of desperation, lacing his words as Kyojuro controls the torturous movement of his hips.
He beams against Akaza’s forehead, pressing a chaste kiss to the other temple. His hands drift south, through sparse pink hair before dipping below the waistband of Akaza’s boxers, properly taking hold of the man. At the first touch it’s like Akaza lights up, nerves sensitive from sleep. Every touch of lips, bite to his clavicle or twist of Kyojuro’s wrist amps him up just a little bit higher, soft airy moans escaping him as Kyojuro's callused thumb massages the head before pushing his thumb down hard on the slit.
Akaza whines, muffling the noise in Kyojuro's chest as he grasps onto Kyojuro’s shirt, pulling the cotton taught in a firm grip. Kyojuro can feel the tremors in Akaza's arms at the touch and so he repeats the motion. Slow strokes up and down complimented by harsh nips to Akaza’s lip, neck, and clavicle, leaving marks in their wake. The idea of such marks remaining visible for days makes Akaza shiver, his cheeks burning at the thought.
Normally they move faster than this, biting kisses followed by borderline violent stripping of clothes and Kyojuro enjoys it. Taking advantage of Akaza’s weak spots to land harsh bites before smoothing them with his tongue. But he thinks he may like this pace just a tad bit more. The harsh lines of Akaza’s brow softened by both lust and sleep. His eyes wanton and almost shining in the dark. It allows Kyojuro to truly appreciate all of the man, scars and all. Beautiful, Kyojuro thinks, gods he’s beautiful.
His other hand drifts to Akaza’s nipple circling the nub til it pebbles up. He can feel Akaza’s heart beat picking up as the man lets out harsh breaths at the contact. Face scrunched up as he pinches the nub lightly with his thumb and pointer finger on an upward stroke and that has Akaza’s shaking in his hold.
“Oh– gods..” a hand slides back into Kyojuro’s hair pulling at it, though Kyojuro can’t say he minds. He wants to mouth at those pink nubs, wants to make Akaza cry out from it. But most of all, he wants Akaza to feel good, to unwind at his hands, wants to run his hands up his back as he thrusts inside him, make his knees turn to jelly in his hold—
“Kyojuro” he whines hoarsely a quality of urgency laced between the syllables “please, no more teasing” Kyojuro snickers, earning him a well placed flick on the forehead.
“Ow”
“Hurry up then”
And with that Kyojuro continues, mirth and affection reflected on his face as his hands slide to Akaza’s backside, kneading the sizable curves there. Akaza rises up, capturing Kyojuro’s lips in a searing kiss, attitude forgotten in favor of nipping Kyojuro’s bottom lip before sliding his tongue in. It’s a sloppy, heady thing that leaves Kyojuro warm all over, breathless. It’s exhilarating, the way he licks at the roof of his mouth, purging the oxygen from Kyojuro's lungs. But at the moment he can’t find it in him to care, as his mind becomes dizzy. So he ignores it, not wanting to pull away from Akaza’s enticing mouth until stars cloud his vision. He gasps, turning his head as he feels Akaza hands trace over his shoulders, placing a kiss on the large sensitive scar marking the anterior side. Kyojuro pulls back slightly, reaching back into their bedside dresser, an awkward angle that has his bad shoulder tingling with pain. He scrambles blindly through the drawer as Akaza leaves sloppy kisses on his neck and chest, hand snaking down to palm Kyojuro through his boxers. Kyojuro startles at the motion, knocking his arm against the top of the dresser before finally finding the lube. Akaza suppresses a soft snicker at the motion, earning him a bite to the neck. Akaza hisses at the act.
“Your so petty sometimes”
“I’d say you're worse, remember Shinzugawa’s party” Akaza remembers it quite well and the thought of it is enough to bring a slight redness to his cheeks.
“do not bring that man up right now”
And at that, Kyojuro laughs against Akaza's lips, flipping the cap open to squirt some of the lube onto his fingers. He rubs them together, warming up the gel before tracing his fingers down the cleft of Akaza’s ass. It sends a shiver up the man's spine, a soft gasp escaping kiss bitten lips.
“All good?”
“Yeah” he glances up at Kyojuro, eyes glassy, before burying his face into the others shirt at the intrusion of the first finger.
Despite going two rounds prior, Akaza is tight which becomes rather apparent as Kyojuro works in a second finger, scissoring them in order to ease some of the tension. Akaza’s body arches instinctively, muscles tightening as a breathy sound slips past his lips. Kyojuro’s hand moves with a new rhythm, every subtle shift drawing another shiver from him, each touch grounding and electric all at once.
A slow Drag in and out, he bends his wrist slightly ensuring he bottoms out with every pointed thrust. The friction is addictive in itself, Thick fingers spreading him has heat rising in Akaza as he slowly crumbles, feeling powerless to Kyojuro's ministrations.
As Akaza tries to keep it together, Kyojuro adds a third finger, feeling the others' walls flutter at the intrusion. Muffled cries escape the man's lips and Kyojuro can feel him shaking as his hand claws at Kyojuro's arms. The pleasure rises, thick and slow like honey within Akaza. The harrowing heat builds up and outward, warming him to his core as sweat beads on his forehead and tears fill his eyes. At the crook of Kyojuro's fingers, Akaza’s eyes widen as he arches into the touch, his body trembling with need as he captures Kyojuro’s mouth in a desperate, hungry kiss—swallowing the moan that threatens to escape.
“Kyojur–” The end of his name is lost as Kyojuro crooks his fingers again, jamming the pads of his fingers into Akaza’s prostate. It sends sharp and boreline painful sparks of ecstasy through his body assaulting his nerves. Perhaps It's a bit cruel, but he can’t help it, watching the way Akaza's face contorts to the onslaught of stimulation. It's addictive, the blush staining the man's cheeks and ears. Tears streaking down his face as he fumbles over his words, nonsense syllables falling from his mouth like water from a faucet. It’s almost pornographic, the pink of his lips, hooding of those blue eyes, not to mention the movement of his impossibly small waist. The sight alone stirs something deep in Kyojuro, a craving he can’t quite suppress. Drawn closer by that irresistible pull, he leans in, his breath warm against Akaza’s skin before his teeth graze the edge of Akaza’s earlobe in a teasing nip.
“Fuck!”
“Your beautiful” Kyojuro murmurs into his ear, fingers inside him slowing to a slow grind. It’s too much, it’s not enough. Akaza’s skin burns beneath Kyojuro’s touch, every brush of his fingers igniting sparks that spread like wildfire. The warmth between them deepens — a rhythm, a pull. The curl of Kyojuro's nimble fingers, magic of his tongue on him, touching him, inside him. He feels full, full of Kyojuro’s strength, his life, it's overwhelming. The intensity of it all leaves him trembling, torn between desire and disbelief, unable to comprehend how something so powerful could also feel like love.
“Shut…hah…up” he breathes, labored pants fanning across Kyojuro’s cheek as the latter continues the leisurely, agonizing pace, pushing in and out. Watching, devouring Akaza with his gaze. The mans fucked out face slowly growing more and more impatient with every grind of Kyojuro’s fingers, every slide of his hand up his spine.
“If you don’t hu-hurry the fuck up I’ll- mmhm- kill you” Akaza levels with a glare, though his actions tell a different story, betraying him through the slow sinuous roll of his hips, matching the deliberate rythm of Kyojuro’s hand.
“Mmm you wouldn’t” Akaza feels Kyojuro’s smirk against his forehead as he removes his fingers, swiping them on the sheets before taking a hold of Akaza’s hip in a tender embrace.
Akaza’s breath stutters out in a hiss as the feeling fades. He leans in, pressing his face to Kyojuro’s neck, drawn to the warmth there, the scent of firewood and cinnamon wrapping around him like a promise. As with everything he does, Kyojuro’s touch is gentle—steady, and achingly kind. That very tenderness once unsettled Akaza, a softness he didn’t know how to trust, didn’t think he deserved. But time has a way of wearing down even the sharpest edges. And now, in the quiet moments between heartbeats, Akaza has learned to let it in—to accept the love freely offered, to rest in it without fear. To find peace, at last, in Kyojuro’s arms.
Kyojuro starts to press in, feeling Akaza tense in his hold. His hands move in slow, patient circles along his hips —rough palms tracing warmth into skin, easing the first flickers of tension. When he leans in, his mouth follows the same quiet rhythm, pressing tender, lingering kisses over Akaza’s chest and neck, each one carrying a quiet kind of reverence.
“So good…so good for me” Kyojuro murmurs and fuck if it doesn’t send Akaza’s reeling, eyes squeezed shut to endure such a remark. As Kyojuro bottoms out he feels full, so fucking full he may burst. Despite all their years together he’ll always be caught off guard by the sheer girth of Kyojuro, a delicious burn spreading as he slides in. The fit ignites sparks of euphoria within Akaza, making his toes curl and legs lock around the latter as his cock presses snug to his prostate.
He can hardly breathe, each inhale permeated with Kyojuro— his scent, feel, touch it’s intoxicating. Every brush of his fingers, touch to his back blooms sweet pleasure that leaves Akaza dizzy, drunk on the sensations.
They lie there, tangled together in the dark, bodies aligned in rhythm as they adjusting to each other, as if it's their very first time all over again.
When Akaza lifts his gaze he’s taken aback by what meets his eyes. What greets him isn’t just a face, it's a look that steals the air from his lungs. Love. Trust. A quiet, devastating kind of care that slips beneath his skin and leaves him feeling weak. Too weak. So he ignores it in favor of subtly rolling his hips in search of more. It draws a low sound from Kyojuro, something between a warning and a groan.
Before he can move again, strong hands find his waist, halting him. The grip is firm, unyielding. Akaza’s lips curve into a faint, knowing smile as he meets Kyojuro’s gaze — sharp and tender all at once, eyes darkened by want.
“Don’t…mmmh…tell me after all this preparation your…ngh…chickening out” Akaza’s smile turns predatory before clenching so hard, that Kyojuro sees stars, wheezing as he bows his head into the junction of Akaza’s neck and shoulder. He gathers himself with a small chuckle moving his head to see Akaza’s face.
“Very well then” is the only warning Akaza gets before kyojuro pulls out only to thrust back in at an angle ripping a yelp from the other as he pounds mercilessly inside. It’s a slow, deliberate rhythm, each movement measured, so deep Akaza feels fit to burst nails biting into Kyojuro’s back as they climb higher together. The world narrows, every brush of skin, every pulse, magnified, spiraling toward an inevitable peak. Kyojuro doesn’t ease up, driving forward with quiet insistence. A haze settles over Akaza’s features as those pale pink lashes flutter, eyes rolling back at the onslaught of it all. All Kyojuro can do is look into the other's face as he bottoms out, again and again. The tight squeeze of his body feels like it was made for Kyojuro as he swallows the others cries of pleasure in a fervent kiss.
Gasping for air, Kyojuro leans back, admiring that fucked out face on display. God does Akaza look perfect. But it was his eyes—those eyes—that stole everything from Kyojuro. light and gleaming beneath heavy lashes, they held a depth that felt otherworldly, pulling him in like a siren's call.
“D-don’t– don’t stop” Akaza keens legs feeling like jello as he desperately tries to hold on. The pressure is building, they both can feel it, honey sweet pleasure mixed with the sourness of denial, of not yet. Tension rises and Kyojuro eats it up.
Kyojuro seals their mouths together as he thrusts harder, making a blubbering mess of the man he holds in a firm grip. Akaza is everywhere, around him, the steady weight on top of him, the harsh scratch of nails on his back. Kyojuro can’t get enough, he doesn't think he’ll ever be able to get enough.
He continues the torturous rhythm, Kyojuro’s at his limit and he knows Akaza is too based on the harsh squeezes around his cock as the man melts in his arms, soft sobs echoing to Kyojuro’s lips. He hears the resounding pleas of his name, mimicked back to him in that sweet vibrato. Tumbling from Akaza as if he can’t control it, as if he's mad with it.
Kyojuro runs his hand up Akaza’s spine one last time before he feels the other let out a shuttering breath. It's the only warning that he is given before he feels Akaza lock up boeing towards him, chest to chest, eyes teary and mouth agape as his orgasm rips through him. It’s perfect, it’s torture, it’s everything he needs as he bites hard into Kyojuro’s neck. A cure, a promise perhaps.
The effect is instantaneous, the dual pleasure and pain finishing Kyojuro off as he cums inside Hips flush against Akaza's ass as he lands chaste kisses to the man's lips and cheeks, tasting the saltiness of the others' tears.
Kyojuro can hear his heartbeat in his ears, catching his breath as he takes in the sight before him. Akaza lies boneless, sated from his own intense orgasm. His skin glistening with sweat as his chest heaves putting the toned muscle on display. He begins to squirm in Kyojuro’s hold as the man looks down to see he has sustained an iron grip on the other's hips.
“Shit….m’ sorry, are you ok?” Kyojuro lets go as if burned, his brows are turned up in a worrying gaze that Akaza finds endearing, frightfully so.
“M’fine…just peachy” his voice slurred with exhaustion and contentment. Akaza’s hand rise clumsily, brushing Kyojuro’s cheek with a fond, dazed smile. The sight makes Kyojuro's heart squeeze as he massages the other's hips, thumbs tracing nonsense patterns into bruised skin. He cradles Akaza’s head to his chest, feeling the latter's breaths even to a steady rhythm—warm, real, alive. Street lights reflect the messy state of the two and Kyojuro realises perhaps a bit too late that they should clean up, maybe take a shower if Akaza is awake enough to stand.
“Akaza…” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. Kyojuro waits a heartbeat, savoring the quiet, before lifting the other’s chin with a gentle touch. Akaza’s eyes remain closed, lips parted in soft, even snores, and Kyojuro can’t suppress the warm, fond laugh that slips past him at the sight.
Carefully, he pulls the sheets up around them both, cocooning their small, shared space in quiet warmth. Akaza stirs slightly in his arms, nuzzling into him as if seeking the comfort that Kyojuro is more than willing to give. Time slows around them, and the simple closeness feels endless.
As sleep begins to claim Kyojuro too, his last thought is a simple, unshakable truth— How did I ever become this lucky?