Sparring — Kinich. possibly suggestive(?) at the end
Your back hits the dirt with a soft thud, both wrists pinned above your head in Kinich's grip. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice your weapon skittering across the floor, settling uselessly beyond reach. If Kinich notices too, he doesn’t show it — his gaze is completely trained on you.
Even as you lay there for a few seconds, unmoving, your deep, labored breaths hardly even out, and your muscles continue to burn from the exertion. Yet, the hunter above you appears almost…unbothered.
If anything, he looks energized, a light flush dusting his cheeks as multicolored eyes stare into yours — the obvious contrast between your states makes you frown.
“Not fair,” you huff. “You don’t look tired at all.”
Kinich chuckles, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “And you look like you’ve been to the Night Kingdom and back,” he teases. You resist the urge to kick him.
“But I was closer this time,” you press, looking sulky. “We’ve been training for ages, I must have improved!” An unceremonious grumble leaves your lips.
Kinich thinks you look cute like this, your hair parted messily around you and an almost childish pout adorning your face. It reminds him of what little youth he was able to afford in his own childhood, but he quickly pushes that thought aside. It's easier to forget those things when he's with you.
“You have. You simply need to practice more,” he states, not unkindly. You’re about to complain that, at the very least, he could praise you a little more for your efforts, but Kinich is always one step ahead. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. That effectively shuts you up.
“You’re doing so, so well already,” he murmurs, voice barely a whisper (Kinich always seems to know exactly what you want, for some reason). You figure there must be a rather shocked look on your face, because Kinich chuckles smugly before fully slotting his lips against yours. This time, he kisses you with a little more fervor, grip on your wrists long forgotten as his gloved fingers glide down your body with familiarity, making you squirm.
It isn’t until you’re panting again that he finally pulls back, a knowing smirk on his lips.
“You think you can take another round?”
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