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For Thee, relationships weren’t ever something that involved commitment. It was all transactional, something to scratch an itch. Flash his credit card, book a suite, offer a pretty face the opportunity of a lifetime. One night, just a night, and nothing more. He was gone by daybreak, as there was no need to linger. The itch had been scratched, the craving fulfilled, the longing satiated… for the moment.
He was Theerakit Kian Lee. No kissing, because that was too intimate. They were going to do this his way. No attempts to change the pace, no switching positions, no attempt to overpower him.
Where else could someone like Thee find companionship, if not in fleeting touches and foreign hands, a facsimile of intimacy?
So he would settle for the rotation of strangers, whose warm bodies weren’t his to own, just like how he was of no importance to them.
But with Peach… it was different. Because Peach wasn’t forgettable. Because he wanted Peach to want him.
He thinks he’d die if Peach didn’t want him back. If Peach found him lacking, if he didn’t desire him under all the layers that Thee wore.
“Kian.”, Peach breathes against his lips, straddling his lap. His arms were looped around his neck, pulling him closer and closer as they continued to exchange short, desperate, open-mouthed kisses. Thee doesn’t answer him. Doesn’t know how to.
Peach made him feel naked, laid bare, defenseless. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
“Kian.”, Peach calls again. Thee’s fists gripped Peach’s shirt tighter, his movements becoming less and less coordinated, more and more desperate. Was this what it felt like to be consumed by the flames of desire, reduced to an object of need, whose sole purpose was to chase completion?
Peach’s hands find his shoulders, gently pushing him away. Thee lets out a gasp as their connection is cut off, the flavor of Peach’s lips lingering on his tongue. Caught up in the haze of his scent, something that had previously been elusive… now he was confident in its profile.
Green tea. Wood ash.
“Kian, breathe.” Peach cups his cheek in his hand, tracing the outline of his jaw, swiping the pad of his thumb across his cheekbones. He lets out a fond exhale, humor creeping into his voice. “Excited, aren’t we, Khun Thee?”
Thee lets his head drop onto Peach’s chest, burrowing down to hide his flaming face. The heat spreads to the tips of his ears, which Peach tugged gently, amused. “Your ears are so red.” He ruffles his hair. “Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s cute.”
Thee’s head shoots up in alarm. “What do you mean cute?!” The sudden movement makes them lose their balance. They fall backwards, with Thee’s back hitting the sheets, knocking the wind out of him. Peach braces for the fall and plants his arms on both sides of Thee’s body, landing with an “oof.”
They stare at each other for a few seconds before promptly bursting out laughing. Peach lets himself drop down and settle beside Thee, his limbs interlocking with his. He takes his hand and twines their fingers together, bringing it close to his chest as their breaths steady and his stuttering pulse evens. He breathes in deeply, sinking further into Thee’s warmth.
“You’re crazy”, Thee starts.
“Huh?”
He huffs, “Not cute.” He shifts to face Peach. “My enemies tremble at my name, my subordinates cower to adhere to my demands.” He raises his chin in a practiced maneuver, all haughtiness and pride. “You are the only one who would ever dream of referring to me as such, Peachayarat.”
“Sure”, Peach hums in agreement. He reaches out and teases the singular lock of hair on Thee’s fringe. “But that’s a good thing, don’t you think?”
Thee frowns. Peach holds back a laugh as he explains. “That means I’m the only one who gets to see this side of you. So, you are cute— but only to me.”
Thee fails to smother a large dopey grin at that. He hooks his leg behind his calf and starts playing footsie, giddy at the thought of Peach’s possessiveness. He flips their positions and stares at Peach intensely, with an almost manic, yet tender edge to it. “So I’m your one and only, right?”
Peach pins him back down with a subtle lift of his thigh, rolling them over back to their previous orientation. “For as long as you want me.”
Thee surges from beneath and captures Peach’s lips in another kiss, this time it’s measured, less about intensity and more about feeling, about committing the various sensations of the act to memory. From the clean, woodsy scent of Peach’s soap, the slow, languid glide of their spit-slick lips, and the warmth that pooled at his core— nothing like the previous sharp bursts of arousal that he had become accustomed to. It was steady, sustained… more intentional.
“That’s better”, Peach breathes, before grinding down to the hollow of Thee’s hips, earning a sharp gasp from Thee at the sudden, delicious pressure.
“You know, I’ve seen it before— your tattoo, I mean.” He unbuttons the third button, the fourth, all the way down. Deliberately slow in a way that drives Thee mad.
“Don’t tease, Peachayarat.”, he hisses. He grips the sheets at his side, creasing the smooth linen with the crescents of his nails.
Peach smirks. “Who’s teasing?” He bends down to inspect the tattoo. “It’s beautiful, really… a wolf?” His hand hovers over the artwork, the tips of his fingers grazing Thee’s chest.
“Peach.” Thee warns.
Peach pays him no mind. “Why a wolf, Khun Thee?”
“It represents strength and dominance.” He stutters as Peach continues to trace the lines of the wolf, from its ears to its snout and back again. “I-It shows loyalty to my… pack.” He lets out a harsh breath. His gaze sharpens. “It shows that I claim what’s mine.”
Peach eases the rest of his long-sleeved shirt off his shoulders, admiring the firm, toned flesh.
“So it’s not just a wolf, there’s a forest too?”
Thee nods jerkily.
“And the moon. And a falcon.”
Without warning, Peach’s mouth latches onto Thee’s nipple, delivering a soft bite around the edges, which he quickly soothes with a swirl of his tongue.
“W-what are you doing!” Thee demands.
“What, you’ve never had this done before?” Peach raises his eyebrow. He cups the outline of his pec, reverent. He delivers another swipe with his tongue, the slide audible and amplified by the quiet, bordering on obscene. “For shame. All the women I’ve been with liked that move.”
“Don’t speak of others when you’re here with me”, threatens Thee.
Peach hums, a smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “But I think you like it, don’t you, Kian?”
Thee shivered. The area where the warm, wet heat of Peach’s mouth had been was pebbling, glistening as the night air turned its heat into a teasing sting. “Ridiculous.” He scoffs, though his breath wavered.
Peach pinches the area softly. “So… you don’t like it?”
“And when did I ever say that?!”, he splutters, offended and flustered in equal measure.
Before Thee can protest further, Peach wastes no time closing his mouth over his chest again, alternating between lapping lightly at the bud and delivering broader, flatter strokes over the entire circumference. He bites, he soothes with his tongue. He alternates between one and the other, all while tracing inconsistent circles along Thee’s collarbone.
It was… weird. A foreign sensation. Thee sucked in a harsh breath, struggling to maintain his composure. Without meaning to, he finds his fingers tangled in Peach’s hair, gripping it like a lifeline. He was so turned on that it was painful, desperate for more, yet overwhelmed.
Unbidden, a name falls from his lips. “Peach.”
Peach pauses in his ministrations, meeting Thee’s gaze. “Hmm?”, he inquires, a touch of concern in his brow. “Too much?” Experimentally, his thumb swipes over the tender area, the skin reddened and marked with teeth. Thee hisses and grips his hair harder.
“You’re so sensitive here.” Peach marvels, slightly breathless.
“Peach.” Thee calls again, unaware of what he’s asking for, the words resting at the tip of his tongue.
Neither of them dared to move. Peach’s patience held steady, and Thee’s gaze lingered on the marks, evidence that someone—Peach had marked him.
He feels Peach’s fingers slide along his jaw, prompting him to look up.
“Look at me, and tell me what you want.”
He’s beautiful like this, Thee thinks. The warm light of the lamp casts soft shadows across his face. The gentle tone of his voice makes commands feel almost pleasant.
“Touch me”, he ordered.
“Aren’t I touching you already?”, Peach questions, amusement coloring his tone. His fingers trail along his side, a featherlight tease.
“Peachayarat.”Thee pleaded. Everything within him rebelled at lowering himself to this level, to beg, not take. To not claim as he wanted.
“What does someone say when they want something, Khun Thee?”
“Please…” he whispers. His gaze wavers, tension mounting in his chest. I- I want—
Peach smiles. “Good boy.”
Peach’s fingers drift downwards, palming over the hardness between his legs. Thee’s entire being soars at the touch, at being one step closer to release. His heart hammers in anticipation. Yet Peach’s hand does not move, teasing without pressure. He looks to Peach, expectant, but Peach only smirks at him.
He growls, frustrated. “What are you doing?”
Peach feigns ignorance. “I’m touching you. That’s what you wanted, right?”
Incensed, his nostrils flare. “This is the second time you’ve denied me, Peachayarat. Do not be obtuse, you know what I want.”
“You want my touch, and I’ve given it.” Peach shot back. “Anything more? Why don’t you work for it, Kian?”
Thee keens in frustration, choosing to take matters into his own hands. He grabs Peach’s hand, pressing it forcefully against his groin. The lubrication from his essence makes the slide easy, slick despite the layers of fabric in between. His eyes screw shut, concentrating on one and one thing only— chasing his release.
He hears Peach’s breath hitch, and he opens his eyes, greeted by the sight of Peach’s pupils blown wide, his mouth slightly parted, looking every bit as affected as Thee feels.
Peach’s arousal spurs him on. He redoubles his efforts, grinding against his hand harder, faster, the rhythm of his hips becoming erratic as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. He’s so close, so close—
“Stop.” Peach gasps, breath strangled. His hand stills, resisting the force of Thee’s thrusts. He pulls it back, much to Thee’s chagrin. “Don’t come yet.”
“You tease-!” Having had enough, Thee forcefully manhandles Peach by his shoulders and shoves him down on the bed, the other making a choked sound as his head hits the pillows. His hair is a mess, the dark strands fanning out over the crisp, white linen of the pillow covers.
He looks startled, as if he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. It makes Thee want to ruin him even more.
He descends on Peach like a man possessed, rutting against him and pinning his wrist against the headboard with a loud thud. The impact between wood and bone sends a sharp burst of pain that crosses Peach’s features.
“Take it off!” He takes the hem of Peach’s shirt and pulls it over his head. He then sinks into his neck, inhaling his scent where it was strongest, leaving red-purple bruises in his wake as he bit and sucked on the juncture, his blunt canines almost breaking flesh.
“Kian… ah, too rough.” Peach pushes against his chest subconsciously, spurring Thee further.
“You deserve it.” He flips him over and ruts between the back of his thighs, drawing out moans from Peach, who chases friction from the firm linen, his hips moving in short, aborted thrusts, trying to stave off release on his end.
“Wait”, he pants. “I want to touch you.” He grips Thee’s forearms as he reorients himself to face him, before reaching out to unzip the front of his trousers.
“So wet, you’re soaking,” Peach observes as he eases the erect cock out of the confines of his briefs, watching precum bead at the tip of the angry, purple length.
He cups his hand around the base of the shaft and strokes it languidly until only the tip is visible between his fist. He meets Thee’s eyes, intentionally keeping his gaze as he leans forward to lick the moisture that glistens at the head.
Thee jerks at the combined assault of sensation, the image of Peach between his legs, his cock in his fist, lazily suckling at the head.
Peach smirks at the twitch of interest from Thee. “Y’know, I’ve never actually done this before.”, Peach offers conversationally. “But it can’t be that hard, no? I have one myself, so like tra–
Thee’s patience snaps. He grips the back of Peach’s neck and guides him down onto his length with a sharp, deliberate thrust. Surprise flashing across his face, Peach makes a soft, stifled sound. Thee relishes the sight of Peach’s cheeks, stuffed, stretching to accommodate the girth. “If you’re going to keep provoking me,” he hisses, “You need to start taking responsibility.”
He presses into his mouth again, controlling the rhythm, angle, every movement. Peach gasps, a mix of shock and heat, initially jolted, yet he does not protest. Instead, he follows Thee’s lead, relaxing into the pace, the weight on his tongue, and the salty, slightly bitter taste of him. Thee watches, captivated by his struggle, the way he stutters, yet yields all the same.
Tears gather at the corner of Peach’s eyes, feeling it all a bit too much, all at once. Thee feels the briefest touch across his thigh. Hesitant, almost like an inquiry. For a moment, he slows down his pace. He lets Peach breathe, worried that he had pushed too far, taken too much, scared him away.
Yet a flash of determination glints in those eyes. Peach grips Thee’s thigh to steady himself as he sets his own pace, experimenting with how he uses his tongue, hollows his cheeks, taking more and more of him as he goes. He’s attuned to Thee, intuitively cataloguing his pleasure, what makes him grip his hair tighter, what makes him almost still with barely contained orgasmic high. He compensates for what he can’t take in with his hands, working in tandem with the sole intention to please Thee, to make him let go of his armor and surrender to pleasure.
As much as Thee wants to own Peach, to place him in his pocket and hide him away from the rest of the world, Thee now sees that same feral need reflected in Peach’s eyes. With how he pushes and pushes, how he doubles down in determination to chase Thee’s high— Thee knows. Peach wants him just as badly.
And then he feels it. Thee stills, the grip on Peach’s scalp bordering on painful. Thee tries to pull away, but Peach takes him in deeper, the farthest he can go, and swallows, constricting his throat in a calculated move to make him come.
Thee spills in his mouth with a sharp cry, recoiling as if scorched by fire. His breathing is ragged, looking completely and utterly undone, his pants stained beyond repair with a slick mixture of saliva, his essence, and beads of release that still oozed from his cock.
“Peach, don’t—
He swallows it all down, daring Thee with a bold glance. He sticks his tongue out, showing Thee that he had taken it all. Overwhelmed by the sight of this absolutely insane, beautiful, breathtaking man, Thee pulls him up by the collar of his shirt and kisses him hard, slow, and deep, mapping out the shape of his teeth, the firmness of his tongue, tasting himself in the kiss.
And Peach kisses back just as fiercely, capturing Thee’s bottom lip with his teeth, nipping at the angle of his jaw. His fingers brush against the shell of his ear, the light touch sending a pleasant shiver down his nape. Thee breathes into the kiss, his body floaty and light, before pulling away, a smile lingering on his lips.
With Peach, it was more than desire, more than the burn of arousal or the grounding nature of pain-pleasure. It was the lack of fear as he followed the rhythm— their rhythm, the ever-changing, yet quiet certainty. It was about the reassurance that someone was willing to dance with you, ready to move with you, and be at your side, every step of the way. It’s more than passion, because it was something softer, more precious. The reassurance that your love is matched, step for step.
What kind of heart beats a person’s name?
A heart that is seen. A heart that knows.
— — — — — —
Peach watches as Thee tries to speak, to shape his mouth over words, willing himself to recall dialogues in lakorns—eloquent, flowing, and dramatic. Thee had always been like that, since the moment they met—living his life according to the rules onscreen, where the hero takes their love’s hands and swears fealty and devotion for a lifetime.
But now, all that comes out of him is a shaky exhale, a stutter in his breath as he fails to gather himself, and Peach is so endeared. For all his bravado and his brashness, there lay a sincerity, a mirror to the loneliness that he himself had once felt.
Thee had once asked him how he could make him stay in his sight forever. He hadn’t known how to respond back then, but it’s this— for Thee to meet him where he was, to take him as he is. For Thee to stay.
Peach reaches out to touch his shoulder, a steady hand to center him. He cups Thee’s cheek with his hand and uses his thumb to wipe the corner of Thee’s mouth. He still had that dazed look about him, shaken and clearly overwhelmed. Peach moves to brush through the tangles in his hair, and Thee shudders.
Exquisite— that’s a word that Thee would be more likely to use, but Peach couldn’t think of a better one to encapsulate how Thee looked right now, undone by the quiet tenderness of the moment, vulnerable in ways that few have ever been allowed to see.
Then, Thee takes Peach’s fingers, pressing a soft, trembling kiss to the back of his hand, answering in the only way he can now.
“Kian.” Peach feels his pulse stutter, a flush high on his cheeks brought by the sweet, tender ache threaded with too many conflicting sensations— Thee’s presence, the fact that he was still untouched, still wanting. He should—
“You- you haven’t…” Thee’s eyes are wide, embarrassed as he reaches out but hesitates, hovering.
Peach’s lips quirk up in amusement. “What, you forgot?” he murmurs, amusement threaded with heat. “That good, huh?”
Thee blushes, mortified. “I-
Without another beat, Thee slides his hand up Peach’s thigh, halting just at the seam of his shorts. He looks up to Peach, almost pleading.
“Let me.” The hand trails upward, settling at his waist. He skims the line where flesh meets fabric, fingers teasing the waistband. “As you did for me, let me take care of you.”
Peach can only acquiesce with a breathless “Yes.” He draws Thee’s hand down the waistband, down into his underwear, letting out a pleased hiss as Thee presses down experimentally on the throbbing length.
It really does feel good, to have someone take care of you.
“Tell me how you want to be touched, Peachayarat, tell me how I can begin to please you.”, he says, wide-eyed and earnest.
Peach can only snort fondly, long used to his theatrics. Wordlessly, he guides Thee’s fist to curl around his cock, leading it into a steady rhythm. His breath shallows. Thee takes to the task with the same fervent intensity as he does with everything else.
Thee is far from the first person to have touched him like this, but the intensity makes him burn just the same— because it was Thee, who treated it like an honor.
“Gah.” His grip falls away from Thee’s hand. Thee had already tugged his shorts halfway down his leg. Gooseflesh mottles his skin as Thee pushes his thighs apart, reverent.
“You are stunning”, Thee murmurs, drawing an outline with his lips. “Without equal.” He punctuates with a bite. “You have bewitched me, Peachayarat.” He nuzzles his cheek against the plush softness. “If I were to die here, with my head bowed between your thighs, I would die a happy man.”
“Khun”, he laughs breathlessly. “You’re crazy.” His breath hitches. “But I’m probably crazier because this is actually working for me.”
Thee grins, the same one he always had when he felt pleased. Slightly animalistic. Prideful like a creature that had successfully provided for their mate.
Peach lets himself settle into the haze, this warm, syrupy atmosphere that they had made for themselves. Thee continues to touch whatever part of Peach he can reach, like a devotee at an altar, content to spend hours prostrated in worship of his beloved.
He communicates his pleasure in low hums and light praise, relishing how Thee melted at affirmations— pliant in a way that it was almost comical, even a little unsettling.
Yet it only made Peach love him even more.
Thee returns his attention to Peach’s cock, using his thumb to tease the circumference of the tip, the pads of his fingers skirting along the length. With a sure hand, he uses gentle pressure to keep Peach at the edge, chipping away at his control. The tempo was slow, yet deliberate– drawing him to the edge and pulling him back just before he could—
He felt like a live wire, fragile like glass. Pleasure licked at the base of his spine, on the verge of sparking a flame, but never quite enough to bring it to life— suspended at a precipice, an object rolling along the edge of a cliff but never falling.
“Kian.” Peach takes his wrist to change the rhythm, growing impatient at the denial of release, but Thee swats his hand away.
“Ah ah ah~”, he wags his finger, teasing. Peach can’t help the whimper building in him, torn by the ache of his desire. “I said I would take care of you. No touching.”
“H-how about a performance review then?”, he tried to tease, but the strain in his tone betrayed the breathless frustration that consumed him.
Thee’s grin turns predatory. “It will be taken into consideration, after the service has been provided.”
“Well– ah”, he paused as another wave of pleasure surged through him, only to be thwarted. “Nothing to write about– hff – then.” Shallow, hitching breaths escape him as he punctuates each word. “0/10. The CEO of Arseni should stick to making perfumes.”
“0/10? For shame.” Thee smirks. “You lie, Peachayarat.” Thee thumbs the slit of the head while twisting his grip, making Peach’s hips jerk at the sudden burst of arousal. “But at least your body is honest.”
“Hah–
He closes his eyes, rolling his hips upwards, meeting Thee’s movements with equal force. He focuses on chasing his release, curling his legs around Thee as he thrusts into his fist haphazardly, uncaring of everything else, just–
Peach was right there, on the precipice— so close, so close, so–
As Peach feels the familiar crest of orgasm, Thee encircles the base of his cock firmly, arresting the moment in such a way that what should have been an outward rush was transmuted into something dense and coiling, a fullness at the core of him suspended in animation.
His eyes flick to Thee, brows knitted in confusion. What—
Thee had pulled away from his cock, choosing to pepper his thighs with kisses once more. Even the lightest touch drew shivers from Peach’s body, with every nerve thrumming, raw and resonant.
The heat hadn’t disappeared, still simmering at a back burner as Peach was intensely aware of the fact that this isn’t over— not by a long shot—his cock hardening again in helpless response.
For a moment, Thee just stares, transfixed at the sight of him. Then he lifts his legs, drawing them toward his chest. He guides Peach’s hands to hold them in place.
“Keep yourself open for me, hmm?”
Peach shivers at the intensity, nodding as he realizes he doesn’t know what to expect. Everything felt both too much and too little— like drowning on dry land, with Thee’s touch as his only respite.
The weight on the mattress shifts as Thee settles between his legs, fully in his line of sight, open beneath his gaze.
“Be honest with me, Peach.”
His breath hitches in anticipation, his line of thought cut off when he feels Thee’s fingers circling the ring of muscle.
Thee requests. “If you want me to stop, if you don’t like what I’m doing. Just tell me.”
He replaces his fingers with a flattened tongue. Peach jolts against the wetness, a low but foreign stimulation. Thee alternates between broad, sweeping strokes and light flicks, a tease of penetration against the puckered hole that sent sparks along his spine, his toes curling at the unexpected pulse of hypersensitivity spiraling through him. The area was dripping, so slick that the moisture gathered on the inside of his thighs.
“Haah…”
Eventually, the sparks mellowed into a low, lingering buzz that makes him melt into the mattress. Thee’s hand braces his leg farther, granting him better access as his tongue darts and glides across the opening. The tension bleeds from Peach as he enjoys the act for what it is, novel, a little weird, but ultimately it feels good, kindling his arousal just enough for it to linger.
Thee begins palming over his length again, finding a rhythm between his hand and his tongue. The combined sensations coax a low pleading whine out of Peach as Thee strokes him back to full hardness. Momentarily, Peach hisses at the dryness, stopping Thee, before spitting into his own hand and spreading the wetness over his shaft. Then he guides Thee’s grip back onto his length, urging him to go faster, grip harder.
He’s back at that edge again, that breaking point. His breaths grow shallow as he anticipates the rush, but then Thee draws back that final push he needed, making him whine in despair.
His muscles clench, the fullness peaks, but the pressure simply mounts without resolution, leaving him lightheaded at the bone-deep suffusion that hums through every nerve.
“Kian”, he keens. He grabs Thee, pulling him up to crash their lips together. Peach kisses Thee like a traveler dying of thirst, discovering an oasis after days wandering the desert. He clings to this man, wanting to cover every inch of his body with his, to cleave the two of them together, with a desperation that both wounds and sustains.
“Did I hurt you?” Thee murmurs into his ear.
“Far from it.” He ends up above Thee, cupping the back of his neck as he chases after his lips, moving against him in such a way that their cocks slide against each other, creating a delicious friction that’s somehow enough. Thee ruts back against him, gasping between kisses, letting Peach take whatever he wanted.
Peach reaches down between them and takes both of their cocks in his hand, squeezed together as he tilts his hips just so. He rocks slowly, feeling the tension coil between them and knowing that there was no turning back.
Peach comes undone against Thee, breath breaking with his name. Thee gasps his name back, trembling and unguarded beneath him. Thee stays, his breath syncing with his as the moment settles. Thee’s hand finds Peach’s fingers, threading their fingers together and giving his hand a light squeeze. He holds his gaze, gentle, deliberate, and certain— an acknowledgement, a quiet promise that needs no name.
Peach tastes the salt of his own tears as Thee pulls back momentarily to wipe them from his cheeks. He laughs at the panicked look on Thee’s face before he rolls off of him, settling at his side as his own heartbeat settles, and lethargy creeps in.
Eyes shut, he feels Thee’s lips press against his forehead, featherlight and tender. Thee tucks his hair behind his ear as he whispers sweet nothings that Peach can barely register in his fatigue. He doesn’t have to hear oaths, declarations, or vows— he has felt every promise contained in Thee’s touch, the certainty in his devotion as he had kissed every inch of his body.
————————
Not realizing that he has drifted off, the first thing Peach registers is the warmth of the water. Steam curls in the air, giving his surroundings a soft, unfocused blur. He blinks, realizing that he was half-submerged in a tub, naked.
He turns his head to see Thee in his red robe, kneeling at the side of the tub, the sleeves hiked up his arms as he held a wet washcloth to bathe Peach.
He was concentrated on his task. Tender, attentive. When he notices Peach stir, Thee explains. “You fell asleep.”
Peach grins, amused. “I can see that.”
He looks around the room, noting the lack of guards that typically accompanied Thee as he bathed.
“No guards then?”
Thee dips the towel back into the water, moving from rinsing his chest to scrubbing his back. “It’s two in the morning. It would upset you for me to inconvenience them.”
He smiles. “Good. You’re right.” He shifts slightly to give Thee a peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Besides, I would hate for them to see you in this state”, Thee continues. “No one else is permitted to see you like this.”
Peach only snorts. “So that’s the real reason.” Thee doesn’t confirm nor deny the statement.
“No one’s washed my back for me before”, he sighs at the pleasant feeling. “I like it. It feels nice.”
“Well, now you have me.” Thee pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder. “Any moment that you would desire, I am most willing to do so.”
“Y’know, you’re good at this.” He yawns. “I might have to take you up on that offer someday.” He feels himself drift again, and he tries to fight the fatigue, but he’s so, so tired.
“Sleep, stubborn one.” Thee whispers into his hair. “And dream of me.”