It almost knocks him back out, back into the realm of dreams he just woke up from. The softness in her voice, the grace of her words. Disbelief creeps into his being, and Akaguro hums, quietly, halting every movement, even the breathing in his chest. His arms around her, one beneath the pillow under her head, the other laid over her side, hand placed gently on the small of her back, the warmth of the bed envelopping them both in a sense of rare security. The pale, rosy skin that tints a slight pink at her shoulders and her cheeks is in stark contrast with the deep crimson of his pillows and his sheets, her very being radiating purity and gentle, soft beauty.
Chizome's lips curl into a soft smile, one he reserves for only her, leaning forward with a slow, sluggish move, placing a kiss to her forehead, before leaning back once more to observe the beautiful angel he had somehow managed to steal from the heavens. An angel he had defiled.
❝ If you wish, we may remain here for as long as you'd like. ❞ The hero killer says, his voice raspy and low with sleep and fondness, and his hand moves, ghosting along her hip, up along her waist, tracing calloused fingers along her ribs, finally coming to rest on her cheek, swiping snow white hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear and giving another quiet noise of affectionate approval. His hand moves to tip her chin upwards, leaning in with the expression of an artist falling in love with someone else's creation.
❝ You need only express your desires, my darling, and I will be at your service. ❞ His voice drops to near a whisper, tone smooth and yet gravelly, and Chizome indulges in his own dreams for a moment, letting their lips meet in a tender, adoring kiss.
This, he cannot replace, not with violence or bloodshed, nor with any other feeling. He cannot replace the way his heart flutters for only her, and by god, he would never want to.
