Quiet.
A door left unlocked. A yawn, fumbling fingers.
Still darkness holding silver moonlight that spills itself onto the floor, the walls, the bed. The splayed form of a sleeping boy whose chest rises and falls, rises and falls with slow, steady breaths.
A cold breeze. It seeps in from invisible spaces, ruffles mussed strands of ash-blond hair. The boy stirs, mumbles without words, sleeps.
Goosebumps. Padded footsteps, socked feet. A breath held.
Calloused fingers on young hands that reach to brush the boy's cheeks.
A sigh, a head turned, a tired body that leans in - yearns for touch. Gentle.
Soft.
A pliant shape. A collection of lines smudged, edges blurred; a hot boy with no heat. The aftermath of quelled fires.
He should be warmed. Wrapped in strong arms. Held until sizzling embers rekindle between bodies.
Till then, he waits. An empty vessel spun from lost façades and erased boundaries, he waits. To be filled by tender touches, whispered words, kisses ghosted against skin. Across scars seen. Unseen.
Ah, he's soft. So soft. So easy to mould.
Fingers entwine, legs tangle - another boy joins him in bed.
His mouth finds skin; trails along smooth planes and old wounds, makes taut muscles tremble under lips that pour silent praise. Reverent affection. A salve.
He lingers at the hollow of his throat, tastes the hummingbird heartbeat.
His.
A possessive streak. Sharp teeth bruising. Pale skin with red splotches blooming.
Shame that follows the sudden urge to claim.
A kissed apology, and then soft sounds teased from the sleeping boy as he wakes. His lashes flutter, delicate. His eyes open, warm pools of sunset red. He wraps hands around the other boy's waist. Pulls him close, chest to chest.
"Ei."
A sleep-sweet voice that murmurs his name. A hushed call. An offer, perhaps a plea.
Cheeks brush. Breaths mingle. Eager mouths meet; let tongues dance together.
Careful touches, loose moans, a heat that spreads.
A need for air.
He looks into bright eyes and at glistening lips, still parted - still searching for his.
Perfect.
A caress. He slides a hand over the chest of the boy who was asleep but is now awake.
A fragile heart beats fast beneath his palm; belongs to a soft boy made softer by his touch. Defenseless, surrendered. Just for him. All for him.
Emotions surging, welling, spilling. Words that must be said.
"Katsuki, you're-"
A pause. A lull to gather courage.
"You're perfect." Whispered words that tumble from honest lips.
Rose-coloured cheeks, wide eyes, a mouth that opens to protest -
Silenced by a kiss. Deep.
(The darkness will embrace the moonlight and watch two bodies make softlove.)
A/N:
feel free to come at me with criticism, because in retrospect i have no idea wtf this is
*promptly cowers under bed*
takes a peek into the light and hopes there's someone out there who liked reading it
*resumes cowering under bed*