The unintelligible French - unintelligible because Mu, unlike Kouen, didn’t speak or understand French - was a soothing sound to wake up to. Mu had absolutely no idea what Kouen was talking about, or to who, but it was a melodic language spoken by the person that he loved the most, so it was still one of the most beautiful things that he had ever heard. He sounded calm and relaxed, though, so it must be someone he knew and trusted. Absently, as he listened to the flowing words in the deep voice, Mu ran his lips along the hipbone he could feel underneath the skin where his face was buried; Kouen was sitting up in bed, and with Mus arms flung around his waist his pajama trousers had slipped to give Mu perfect access to press kisses to warm skin.
He felt a hand in his hair, threading through it, tangling in it, grasping and gently tugging. Mu drew in a breath, pulled Kouens scent deep into his lungs.
“À plus,” is one of the few phrases that he knows, most of all because even Kouen sometimes uses net-speech in his texts, and @+ is one of them, when he says bye for now. And judging by the sounds - and the lack thereof, in terms of speech - he hands up, finished with his current conversation. There is the sound of the phone being put back down, and then there is the rustle of fabric and slide of skin. Kouen slips back down under the sheets, lies so he faces Mu, and when he presses a slow kiss to Mus lips his beard tickles Mus skin. Though he hears and feels the rasping of beard of stubble when he slides cheek against cheek to give him a nip on the ear. “I need to get going soon,” Kouen says, but doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, when his hand slides along Mus bicep. “This got something to do with the sudden language switch?” Mu asks, imitating Kouens unrushed pace in the slide of hands along Kouens back. Kouen hums in acknowledgement against Mus neck. “Some business in Nice, with Hakuei.”
“She’s stealing you from me again?” Mu pouts, but laughs. Kouen huffs, catches Mus face between his hands, rubs his stubble with the pads of his thumbs, and dips in to kiss him. “You know she always returns me. Enough of that now.” Mu nibbles at Kouens lip. “Mmmm, I guess I’ll have to savour you in the meantime, hmmm?”
“I guess you’ll have to.” Kouen huffs again, at the sweet, beastly grin on Mus face. “I’ll just gobble you up whole,” the large man says, voice filled with mischief. Kouen shakes his head, releases Mus face in favour of burying his fingers in his hair, and Mu enjoys the kiss that seeps the warmth of a sunny day into his still half-awake body, slow and steady, to the beat of the heart in his chest and that underneath his palm.