it’s never in grayscale to begin with. ( what a time to be alive! at the ween hours of the morning with the dew drops still dripping, sun peeking, and a permeated nightly chill still lingering. he’s so tired, he’s awake. the hours breed thought; like, i love you, and i can use the early hour clarity to think of more ways to appreciate you. ) ‘ never said you were, ‘ he chides. his voice titters almost paternally and, for once, he’s not intentionally patronizing the boy. the floorboards creak beneath his pivoting weight, tightly-coiled body attempting to get comfortable ( there’s a particularly stiff aching in his spine –– perhaps the biggest downfall to his insomnia ) and it’s not a sound he’s unused to. the sound of a lonesome soul and his restless tossing and turning –– now it’s almost homely, with dust-inflated sunlight highlighting shirabu’s ears. he feels so warm, overflowing with it, and every inch of their skin that touches, burns in the sweetest ways possible. ‘ i’m just saying you should sleep or else your schoolwork is going to suffer –– and you wouldn’t want that, would you? ‘ eita is well aware that shirabu won’t fall for such bribes, but he’s hoping the truth behind his reasoning will actually do good in convincing the boy to catch some shuteye. ( despite however amusing it is to watch shirabu’s head bob back and forth, eyes fluttering and snapping open the moment he catches himself dozing off. ) gently, as gentle as he can manage with his lumbering limbs and calloused fingers, he drags his hand through shirabu’s hair. the action leaves his arm crooked uncomfortably, wrist almost appearing broken with how bent it is and he was right –– shirabu’s head pins his bicep down like an anchor –– but he strokes his boyfriend’s hair dutifully.
he can practically feel the irritation simmering out shirabu’s pores –– instinctively, it makes him grin, and that’s just simply how they work. there’s too much broken glass between their teeth and every kiss is another weeping wound. but somewhere along the lines hurt mended into something of hunger and how overcome was he with longing! shirabu’s thunder in his ears sounds so honeyed now and his glare liquifies eita’s internal organs until he’s but a functioning pile of affection and mush. and he bites too; equally, they eat each other. ‘ i hardly think you’re in any position to be making demands, shirabu-kun. ‘ far and few between does he use honorifics –– if there can even be anything honorable in the way that syllable slips, like silky molasses, off his tongue. it isn’t an honor. it’s a jest and he uses the edge of every letter to mockingly slice deeper and deeper underneath shirabu’s flesh until he’s fingering rose-blood and bone. as if to prove his point, he rolls until shirabu is groggy and half asleep on his back, caged between eita’s locked elbows. ‘ but do tell how you’ll ––- give me a taste of my own medicine, you said? ‘ he snickers and lovingly plops a peck onto the boy’s pillowy lips. he thinks about how he’d like to sink his canines into that plush lower tier but he is, surprisingly, kind at heart and not willing to tease his tired boyfriend like that.
plus, it’s no fun if shirabu isn’t awake enough to fight back.
he drops the brunt of his body weight down onto shirabu’s pliant ( only because the boy is much too sleepy to properly complain ) one and reveals in the way their hip bones mesh together like two pieces of a puzzle. ‘ i’m only cooking breakfast if you offer me something in return when you wake –– and believe me, there’s certainly something i want. ‘ the knife tip of his pupils cut pointedly to shirabu’s bitten raw lips and the way his shirt has ruffled in their shifting. eita’s own shirt –– a plain white muscle tee –– is more off than on, and it’s slipping down his shoulders and up his abdomen. ‘ if i get you, i’ll cook you any damn thing you want, princess. ‘ point sufficiently proven, eita slides his body, inch by agonizing inch, off shirabu until they’re laying side-by-side. comforter, thick cotton and stiflingly hot, in hand as so to pull it up, cocooning himself with it and throwing what’s left over shirabu’s head.
