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Nanami pushes the door to your apartment open sometime in the evening, pocketing the spare key you'd given him and announcing his presence aloud. He takes a moment in the entryway, heaves a particularly heavy sigh, attempting to take the stress away with it, reminds himself he's no longer working.
The thought does little to quell the tension in his chest compared to the deep inhale he takes, and the scent that it carries. Sweet, rich, a hint of vanilla. It warms him from the inside out, and the thought of seeing you after a long day is enough to pull him from his tiny slump and bring him to take his shoes off, placing them neatly by the door and making his way down the hall. It was enough to bring him to your place and not his own after all, not being able to wait long enough for another scheduled date. As soon as he'd gotten off, you were the first and only thing on his mind, and before he knew it he was on his way to you, not having had enough time between putting thought into action to let you know ahead of time.
He was getting more and more selfish every day, because of you. And for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to care whether that was a positive or negative impact.
Nanami finds you in the kitchen, humming along to the tune playing softly in the living room, surprised that he hadn't even noticed it in the background until it came from your lips. You were at the sink, scrubbing a large metal mixing bowl, swaying a little to the beat, clearly not having heard him come in or his announcement at the door but pausing when you feel his presence admiring you from the entry to the kitchen.
There was no way in the world this could have a negative impact.
Even in your pajamas and a cute little apron you were stunning, and he could have definitely watched you do menial tasks all day.
The way your face brightens as soon as you turn to face him, eyes sparkling and warm, so warm and beautiful and looking like home, a soft exclamation of his name falling easily from your lips, could make any man fall to his knees.
So he steadies himself by closing the distance between you as if you had some sort of magnetic pull in your smile, settling himself in your outstretched arms, still wet and sudsy because you were too excited to see him to remember what you were doing, but he doesn't care, just melts in your embrace and feels his entire being relax.
"Oh, honey," you sigh into his chest, squeezing his waist, wet fingers clutching at his back beneath his suit jacket, leaving dark patches on his shirt. "Long day?"
Nanami only grunts in response, unable to form words at how pleasant you feel around him, how comforting, as if he'd just fallen into his warm bed with freshly dried sheets - no - this was infinitely better.
You rub his back soothingly, feeling a pang in your chest at seeing your lover so thoroughly worn. You hadn't expected to see him, and you were more than happy that you had, but it hurt more than you could explain to see him like this. You knew how much work he always took on, how seriously he took it, how much of himself he put into it, though he refused to disclose any specifics. You still worked at the office you met in, but he hadn't gone into detail about where he began after his resignation. You always pressed him for details - why he had that cut on his cheek, the bandage around his hand, that bruise - but the serious look he gave you always made you bite your tongue, knowing he must have had his reasons and choosing to respect them. That hard look in his eyes was too sorrowful for you to press him further.
You hadn't been together long, but you couldn't help how deeply you cared about him, as little as you knew about his profession. There was something in him that you were drawn to, adored, compelled to hold tightly to. He could open up when he was ready, and you'd be by his side, as long as it took.
For now, you hold him, wishing with all your might to be able to take the exhaustion from under his eyes, the tension from beneath his shoulders. You look up at him, nudge his cheek with your nose to get him to look at you from where his face is pressed into your shoulder. You giggle at the way his glasses are slightly askew, his hand automatically reaching up to straighten them before going back to its rightful place around your waist. "I made cookies." You beam up at him, bright as the sun and twice as warm.
He nods, can't help the corner of his mouth turning up as he hums. "They smell good." Looking at you now, he notices the little patch of flour marring one of your cheeks. He can't help leaning down to kiss it off, either.
What was happening to him? This ball of warmth in his chest, the pleasant hum constant under his skin when he so much as thought of you, much less held you like this, in your little apron and pajamas and flour on your cheek, powder all over said apron, probably all over his suit now - sweet aroma permeating the air around you, radiating in hot waves from the oven.
You just stand there for a long moment, content to gaze at each other, until his smile grows, and mirrors your own, and you giggle, sweet and lovely. Your soapy hands are dry by now, and you shift a little to push his glasses up over his forehead, to prop them up at the top of his head, heart skipping a beat at the unobstructed view of his eyes, staring intently at you. The fondness in them brings heat to your cheeks, makes you reach up to meet his lips, finally.
Nanami tightens his hold on your waist but his kisses are languid, unhurried. He savors your taste, the sweetness on your tongue telling him that you must have snuck some cookie dough as you made it, chocolate chips too, as he licks at the roof of your mouth, suddenly hungry for more. You hum, pleased, nipping gently on his bottom lip when you pull away, catching your breath with your forehead pressed against his and your fingers splayed absently across his chest.
"Welcome home, Kento," you say quietly, breathless and utterly irresistible, and then look down bashfully, as if you hadn't just squeezed the remaining life out of his heart.
His reply is a muffled groan into your mouth, long fingers tilting your chin up towards him, basking at how pliant you are, how accommodating, when his tongue slides between your lips once more.
The little “oh!” you gasp out between his kisses when he easily deposits you onto the edge of the sink behind you is the most adorable thing he’s ever heard, he’s sure. And the sound that comes from deep within your throat when his fingertips dig into your thighs on either side of him as he kisses down your jaw, your neck - divine. Your hand finds his tie and he groans, low and delicious, when you wrap it around your fingers and force him back up to your own lips, sighing against him.
It isn't long before your kisses increase in fervor, rapidly growing in heat. Without pulling apart for too long you manage to help him shrug his jacket off, deft fingers undoing his tie. His belt comes next, and your cheeks flush at his amused chuckle when he sees how eager you are. You hook your heels loosely behind his back as he kisses a trail up from your collarbones to your jaw, practically salivate in anticipation when the sound of his zipper cuts through the air and you dip your hand into his trousers, cupping at the growing bulge underneath. His hips buck into your touch, slowly, and when he meets your eyes, there's a dark glint in them that sends tingles between your legs.
"Kento," you breathe against his ear, taking the lobe between your teeth and giving a gentle tug.
"Hmm?" The low hum of his voice rumbles through his chest and makes you giddy.
"Let me take care of you." You pull away, kissing the tip of his nose before plucking his glasses off his head and setting them gently on the counter beside you. You hop to your feet and nudge him to your previous position, and though he raises a questioning brow, he stays silent, eyes going slightly wider when you drop to your knees in front of him.
You grin devilishly, looking up at him through your lashes when you grab him by the hips and press your lips to the center of them, right over his clothed cock, and his expression changes to one of amusement, underlined fiercely with desire. It's quite a good look on him, you think, but then - you think everything is.
Nanami thinks the same of you, wants to commit the image of you on your knees for him in your ridiculous little apron to memory and never think of anything else. He reaches down to cup your cheek lovingly, and you lean into his touch, not missing the way his cock twitches beneath you when you kiss it over the fabric again, earning you a satisfied groan and those wonderfully long fingers sliding into your hair, keeping it out of your face so he can admire your beauty, watch every expression. You peel the waistband of his briefs down in one motion, releasing him, and if you weren't salivating before you definitely were now.
You take a moment to admire him, licking your lips in appreciation at the sight before you. He was already fully hard, his cock standing large and proud against his abdomen with a slight curve, leaking precum at the tip. It made your heart swell that, among other things, you had the ability to do this to him, to affect him so intensely. Nanami all but preens under your predatory gaze, touches his thumb to your lip fondly.
You kiss the head of his cock then, wasting no time and wrapping your fingers around the base just as you swirl your tongue around the tip, savor his taste, bittersweet but not unpleasant. You lick a stripe up the underside, finding a prominent vein and adding pressure to the line of it, and your breath catches at the hiss it elicits from above you. You try your best to coat him generously in your saliva, dragging your tongue from base to tip, before wrapping your lips around the head and sucking gently. When you bat your lashes up again, you note with pride that his head has fallen back, the hand not in your hair now gripping the edge of the sink, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips.
Relaxing your jaw, you take his cock fully into your mouth, appreciating the weight, tongue laving steadily underneath and hand fisting what you couldn't reach. You pull back, and bob your head back down, until he hits the back of your throat, making his hips stutter involuntarily, your thighs rub together hungrily.
You hollow out your cheeks and fondle his balls with one hand, the other twisting around his base, his own fingers clutching at the roots of your hair. His quiet groans are music to your ears, so addictive, and his restrained, erratic thrusts into your mouth only making you eager for more, more, more, and you can't help but moan into him when he praises you under his breath, voice low and close to breaking. It spurs you on, makes you yearn to take him deeper, deeper, until your lips just barely touch his pelvis and drool drips down your chin; there is nothing you desire more in the moment than to watch him unravel right under your nose - the thought sends another gush of wetness out of you, and you're certain your underwear is beyond salvaging.
When your jaw starts to ache, you release him with a soft pop for a momentary reprieve, only to nip at the skin on his hip then lick languidly along his shaft, sliding just the tip of your tongue all around the head, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes, hazy with lust.
To your surprise, he takes your hand then, and pulls you to your feet. "Bedroom," he commands, mostly to save himself.
Nanami Kento is the strongest man you know, but he could have sworn his knees were about to buckle.
You watch, crestfallen, as he stuffs himself back into his pants, but nod, swiping at the mess on your chin before reaching up to give him a chaste kiss. Nanami holds you in place with a large hand on your jaw, doesn't shy away from deepening the kiss though you taste like him. Barely breaking apart, you let him scoop you up and maneuver you towards the general direction of your bedroom, tearing your apron off at some point along the way, hardly registering when you reach it, occupied as you were, but soon enough, your back hits your mattress and you sit up to look at him when he pulls away, breathless with desire.
Nanami is all sharp angles and thin features but when he takes off his shirt, one slow button at a time, the lean yet sculpted muscle ripples beneath his skin and you can't help but stare, your jaw slack and eyes glazing over with need . Your arousal flares when you reach out to touch him, trace your fingers along the lines on his abdomen as he slides his shirt down his shoulders.
It takes you a moment to realize that one of them is bandaged tightly, wrapped from the shoulder to the top of his chest, and you flinch, looking up at him with questions dancing in your eyes, concern on your brow.
Another injury he hadn't disclosed, and you wonder how long he's had it, how much pain he's in. Granted, you hadn't seen him….undressed..in quite a bit, and he wasn't one to talk about things that bothered him often, but he didn't act hurt at all, hadn't even winced when you'd squeezed his torso enthusiastically, so happy were you to see him.
Nanami takes your hands in his, kisses the center of your palms before setting them over his shoulders as he slots himself between your legs, his eyes soft, amused smile playing on his lips. "It's okay, baby," he says after kissing each of your cheeks, his breath hot against your skin. He thinks it's adorable that you worry over him so much, though it pains him to have you so concerned. "It's not serious; I'm okay."
"Kento…?" You can't help but worry, your fingers ghosting over the rough fabric of the bandage, afraid to touch it fully.
He meets your eyes again, and the sincerity in them makes your breath hitch. "I'm okay, darling." Large hands squeeze at your hips reassuringly. "It's not painful."
You bite your lip as you consider him for a moment, but nod once more. "Please tell me."
"Later," is all he says before his lips are on yours again, and with the insistence of your arousal pooling in your abdomen, you don't have the strength to continue arguing.
You do your best to shimmy your pants off without breaking the kiss, smile against his lips when you feel his hands encompass yours and help you slide the pesky garment down your legs along with your underwear until you can kick them off, too impatient to be graceful about it. He pulls away to trail his lips along your jaw and give you a moment to breathe, chuckling against your skin.
But then he slides his thumb along your folds - easily, as you're positively dripping with need - and he might as well have stolen your ability to breathe again.
You whine when he moves away further, the heat of his body over yours waning when he sits up on his knees, but he only readjusts to watch you when you gasp out his name, back arching slightly when those lovely fingers find your clit and pinch lightly. His index finger traces your folds once, twice, gathering your juices before dipping into your entrance, and he relishes your needy little moans, can't help but lean down to kiss at your open mouth, bite at your lovely lips. He thrusts his finger in to the last knuckle, gives you a few pumps until you're practically begging for more, then adds his middle finger, thumbing your clit all the while and making you keen at the stretch, at the constant pressure on your sensitive bud.
"So beautiful," Nanami murmurs against your forehead, and the intense adoration in his eyes makes your automatic denial at the phrase die in your throat before you can even say it.
Your fingers find purchase on the broad expanse of his back, partly on the bandage around it, but before you can feel guilty, he's crooking his fingers right into the spot that blurs your vision, makes you see stars. "Ken-to!" you manage between shallow breaths, feeling the pleasure build unbearably fast, his fingers pumping even faster.
Nanami smirks, a small, lopsided little smile that you don't see often, and you only have a second to appreciate it before he's moving down, down past your still-somehow-clothed chest, down past your stomach, to wrap his lips around your clit, never once pausing his fingers. Your shoulders fly off the mattress in response, a high-pitched, breathless "ah!" ripped from your mouth. He needs only flick his tongue over your swollen bud, curl his fingers just so, and he has you swiftly tumbling over the edge, your walls throbbing helplessly around his digits as pleasure overtakes your senses, your fingers clutching desperately at the sheets beside you, eyes squeezing shut and thighs quivering around him.
Nanami marvels at how gorgeous you truly are, lost to sheer bliss. As he licks his fingers clean, savoring your sweetness, kisses a trail up your stomach, between your breasts, dragging the hem of your shirt up with the tip of his nose, he understands finally why making love is so often a subject of art, why eroticism is so captivating. He wishes for a moment to have chosen to be an artist, to capture your beauty in every intimate way, not just when you're lost in pleasure.
Perhaps when he retires, he thinks to himself.
At the moment, there are more pressing matters.
For example - though you're still catching your breath, you're sitting up only enough to tug your shirt off the rest of the way, finally exposing your chest to him, then reaching down to shove his pants down weakly, your eyes still shining with hunger, not fully sated. With another breathy chuckle, he tilts your chin up to him, that sinful smile blooming on your lips and making his heart race, just before he covers it with his own. "I'm here, darling," he hums as a gentle reminder to your insistent hands pulling his pants down his thighs, basking in your attention, your impatient desire for him, more than pleased that you feel the same for him as he does for you. He decides to take pity on you and take his pants off fully, ridding himself of his underwear simultaneously before returning to you.
The way your hand instantly connects to his cock has him smiling as he thrusts into your fist, kisses you slowly. You pull him close with one hand on his shoulder, then shove it down lightly until he gets the message and lays on the bed with his back against the headboard. You're straddling him in record time, arms wrapping around his neck and mouth meeting his in a deeper kiss, tongues dancing together. You reach between your bodies to stroke him, pressing his length to your folds and breaking away to sigh shakily as you rut against him, whining at the hot pressure.
When you decide you can't take it any longer, you sit up on your knees and line his cock, now fully coated in your slick and his precum, up to your entrance, both of you gasping sweetly at the stretch as you finally, finally sink down on him, slow and steady. “Fuuuuuuck, Kento,” you groan in a drawn out gasp, lungs constricting like he was pulling the air from them through his cock when you’re fully seated, his hips flush with your own. You’d never get used to it, never get used to how impossibly good it feels for him to fill you so perfectly that the thought alone made you want to weep.
Nanami leans forward, gives you a soft kiss, fingers gliding up from your waist to your chest, splay out across your ribcage, thumbs finding your nipples with ease. He greedily swallows up your quiet, satisfied little moans at his ministrations, kisses you deeper and deeper still, insatiable, until you’re clawing weakly at his chest and whining for him to help you move, your legs still too shaky from your previous orgasm. “I’ve got you, darling,” he assures you softly, large hands sliding down your body, making sure to touch every inch of you he can on his way and leaving goosebumps on his trail, only to close around the supple flesh of your ass, give your cheeks a sound squeeze that, for some reason you can’t quite place, makes you giggle.
He laughs along with you, soft and breathy and sweet, in complete opposition to the way he kneads your round flesh in his hands, grinning innocently when you reach up to press your lips to the tip of his nose. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders when he pushes you up towards him by the firm grip he has on your bottom, guiding you as you sit up on your knees, slowly, regaining your strength, until only the head of his cock remains inside you.
When you sink back down on him, in one fluid motion, it’s all on your own, and takes him by surprise, a sharp gasp falling from his lips. It makes your heart somersault, the way his eyes widen slightly at you, how the tips of his fingers dig deeper into your flesh, pulling you closer though there was no possible way you could be any closer.
You find your rhythm eventually, unhurried, rocking your hips deliberately, his hands guiding you, supporting you as you work towards your peak once more. Your fingers find the roots of his hair, tug lightly to elicit a grunt, and he lets you pull his head to the side for access to the smooth column of his neck, only spurs you on with a heavier groan when you lick at his Adam’s apple, drag your tongue over his pulse, nipping gently at his skin. You bite and suck at his neck and chest (despite the bandage) with abandon, eager to taste the salt of his skin, elicit the precious little sounds he makes deep in his throat, always making sure to press your lips over each mark in a silent, loving apology.
You pull back eventually to admire your handiwork, licking your lips in appreciation. He’s beautiful, you think, the most beautiful man you’ll ever know, had the absolute blessing to be on top of, or under, or any which way he so pleased. You trace the lines on his cheeks with a finger, marvel at the sharpness of the bone beneath them, at the intensity of his eyes, usually so fierce and calculating, and right now, they’re just as focused, but trained only on you, the dark gray shining with affection. The usual part in his hair is nowhere to be seen, blonde locks in disarray from your needy fingers, stray strands framing his angular face so nicely. You trace some of the marks you’ve made across his chest, one shoulder, along his neck, strangely proud at the contrast of the flush of them to his otherwise pristine skin, though you frown minutely at the bandage over his shoulder.
You could stare at him forever.
There had been something on your mind for quite a while now. Every time you looked at him, even thought about him, butterflies threatened to burst from your chest. Your heart swelled when you were with him, when you spoke to him; and when you parted, you missed him almost immediately. Every time anything happened you found yourself wanting to tell him, wanting to hear his comforting voice.
You were in love with him, that was sure. Completely enamored, infatuated.
But more than that, you loved him, every part of him, with every part of you, every fiber of your being. And you have yet to tell him.
You feel the words bubbling up in your chest, ready to burst with the emotions only he could coax out of you. You hold his face with both hands, rolling your hips with intent, before enveloping his lips and swallowing up the moan that simmers up in his throat. You only break apart when Nanami starts thrusting up into you, meeting you halfway, and the head of his cock undoubtedly brushes your cervix, making your jaw fall slack and your back arch, effectively interrupting any and all thought.
“There, baby?” Nanami asks gruffly, taking the opportunity of your chest pushing up towards him and nipping at your breasts, his hands like a vice around your hips, holding you in place to take over.
You can only nod, speechless as you feel yourself almost painfully near your climax, and he continues snapping his hips up into you, aiming for that particular spot, one of his hands shifting to rub firmly at your clit.
“Come for me, darling,” Nanami murmurs against your collarbone, low and breathy and wonderful, and his voice, along with its command, goes straight to your core. He pinches at your swollen bud, aggressively hitting the spot within you that makes you keen, and you’re gone, vision going white as you reach your peak once more, singing a high-pitched but broken melody of his name as pleasure crashes through you in waves, overwhelming you from head to toe.
Nanami grits his teeth as you squirm in his lap, tensing as he dangles on the precipice of his own release. His grip on your hips is bruising, and you writhe and clutch at his hair for dear life as he shoves you down onto his cock, your fluttering walls beckoning him over the edge. He continues fucking you resolutely through your orgasm, prolonging it to the best of his ability, until you clench so irresistibly around him, tug particularly hard at his hair, and he’s coming with a growl, deep and throaty, making you shudder pleasantly as his cock throbs within you, signaling his release. You grind against him weakly as he continues thrusting, though his strokes are erratic, less powerful; whimpering at the feeling of him filling you so completely, thick spurts of cum painting your inner walls.
Once he’s stopped moving, his head falling back against the headboard as he catches his breath, chest rising and falling along with you, you reach up to plant a kiss to his cheek, rest your head on his shoulder, hold him close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, feeling warm and sated, breathe him in, eyes falling closed, and he buries his face into your hair, squeezes you fondly.
"I love you," you whisper into his skin. It comes naturally, as easily as if you'd only taken a breath, yet your heart fills with glee to have said it out loud.
Nanami shifts to kiss the top of your head. The weight of your words is not lost on him. "I love you, too," he says simply, but inside his heart feels like it's about to burst, a grin threatening to split his face. He cradles you in his arms for a long moment, content to stay like that forever, breathing you in and letting your words settle into his soul, his heart pressed against yours, thrumming in tune with your own.
But he knows how tired you must feel.
He takes a deep, steadying breath, moves to lay you down gently, and pulls out of you, hissing quietly at the loss of your heat. He can't help but watch, mesmerized, as his seed slowly spills out of you, biting back a groan. You reach for him instinctively when he pulls away, and he smiles, kisses a line up from your hand and up your arm until he reaches your giggling face, and reassures you he'll be back shortly.
You sneakily turn on your side as he leaves, unabashedly admiring his form as he plucks his underwear out of the abandoned clothing on your floor, pulls it over his perfect, perfect frame. You bite your lip, stifling a hum of appreciation, count your lucky stars that you were blessed with him, with everything that's brought you to this moment.
Nanami returns with a warm towel and sets to work on cleaning you up carefully, whispering praises into your skin, in between soft kisses that warm you inexplicably. As soon as he finishes you catch his wrist and pull him towards you, and he can't deny you if he tried. With a small smile, he wraps you up into his arms, and you settle into the broad expanse of his chest, draping a leg over his and melting into his touch, mold yourself to his body.
You look up at him, can't help but smile widely when you see he's already looking at you, his gaze tender, doting. "How are you feeling, my love?" he asks, his voice like honey to your ears.
My love.
It fills your chest with warmth, makes you giddy beyond belief. You squeeze his waist, press your lips to his shoulder, overflowing with affection. "Perfect."
"Perfect," he muses. One of his hands taps a silent rhythm into your hip. "Quite fitting for you." He firmly believes you're the closest to perfection anyone could ever get.
Roses bloom on your cheeks and you look down, suddenly shy. Your eyes catch on the white fabric still wrapped tightly around his otherwise naked torso and you trace your fingers along the lines of it, quiet for a moment.
Nanami senses your hesitation, knows what you'll ask, but stays silent, waits patiently for you, taking your stray hand in his and lacing your fingers together, brushing his thumb over the back of it soothingly.
"What happened to you?"
Now seems like the perfect time. You'd laid your heart bare to him, given him everything you were capable of, all of your trust and care, and more. It's only fair he does the same, and so, so much more.
So he tells you everything. Knowing there was a chance you wouldn't believe him, a chance you would be afraid of the ugly, unreasonably cruel truth of the world you live in, and in turn be afraid of him . Knowing your possible disbelief could cost your relationship, could cost everything that mattered to him.
But he has faith in you. He's seen it in the way you look at him, the way you smile at him. The imperceptible way your shoulders relax every time he smiles back. The way your eyes sparkle so brightly as you speak to him about anything, everything. The familiar press of your lips against his, the way your body moves to tell him the things you can't say out loud. You've done so much for him, to him, with him, all because you'd already believed in him all along.
You've loved him so wholly, even when you knew almost nothing about him, from the very beginning.
Nanami watches you closely as he speaks, studies you like it's the last time he'll ever see you. Because in everything, there is always the small chance that things don't go the way they're intended to.
You'd rolled onto your stomach, not meeting his gaze, chewing on your bottom lip as you take it all in, unmoving. You're quiet for a long time, just letting him speak, and for even longer when he's finished, processing.
Silence stretches for what seems like hours to Nanami, and he prepares for the worst, can already feel his heart beginning to wrench and slowly start to dissipate into nothing.
But finally, you move, placing your hand flat on his chest, over the bandage, over his rapidly beating heart. When you look up at him, finally look into his eyes, yours are shining with unshed tears that you quickly try to blink away.
And he can't stand it, can't take seeing you cry, and he doesn't care if you're about to break his heart, he has to hold you. He crushes you to him, blood rushing through his ears, so he can barely hear you say, "I love you, Kento."
It's only then that he realizes he's been holding his breath.
It comes out in a rush, tension suddenly leaving his body like air from a ruined balloon. His grip on you loosens, and you wriggle in his embrace to lay on top of him, raised up on shaky arms to look down at him.
When you see the obvious relief on his face you frown, clearly already over with your initial emotions of acceptance and shifting to being slightly annoyed. "Did you really think I'd give up on you that easily after I just told you I loved you?"
Nanami doesn't have a reply, just purses his lips, guilty.
"That's kind of idiotic for such a smart man."
He lets out a surprised laugh, releases the rest of his worries with it. Your face softens, and soon, you're smiling into a kiss, covering his face countless times in them. "I love you more," he says before the last one, which ends on his lips.
"Please be more careful," you whisper when you pull away, your breath ghosting over his jaw, eyes averted down to where your fingers trace the edges of the bandage. "You have to come back to me."
Nanami tilts your chin up to him in that way you adore, his smile so devastatingly lovely and full of promise it makes your heart skip a beat. "Always." He leaves out that he's been doing that all along.
"Kento!" you yelp nearly an hour later, when you've come out of the other side of your most tender revelations yet, and he's on top of you again, leisurely kissing his way down your body.
Nanami looks up from your chest, clearly puzzled at the urgency in your tone.
You would take a long moment to marvel at how adorable he is if the sudden thought that occurred to you weren't so pressing. "The cookies," you gasp in horror, bolting upright and effectively displacing him from you before grabbing his shirt from the corner of the bed where he'd tossed it and pulling it on, then making a beeline for the kitchen.
Nanami finds you staring dejectedly at the baking pan you've set on the counter, close to weeping. You're gorgeous even like this, with his shirt hanging off your shoulders and only hinting at the curves of your body he knows so well, and your hair all tousled, it's really unfair. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, rests his chin on your shoulder, and examines the contents of the pan. They honestly look fine to him, just a little too dark around the edges.
"This is all your fault," you sigh, but there's a teasing lilt to your voice that makes him grin as you melt into his embrace, press into the warmth of his skin.
Granted, they didn't look absolutely terrible, because you'd turned the oven off by the time he came in and….distracted you, but they were definitely still burnt around the edges and on the bottom and way too crispy for your liking. You prod helplessly at them with a spatula, before sighing again and scraping them off the pan, struggling slightly to move with Nanami still attached to you - who playfully does nothing to help ease your movement.
You make to throw them out, but his hand flies out to stop you, and before you can protest, he's picked one up and taken a bite.
You wince at the too-loud crunch when he chews, turn in his arms to study his face. You can't decide if he's a menace or the sweetest person on earth when he shrugs, hums approvingly, and finishes off the rest of the cookie without issue. "They're completely fine."
"Don't lie to me now after everything, Kento."
"You made them, so I'll eat them," he explains simply. "It was my fault, after all." He picks up another one, and you try to wrestle it from his grip, to no avail. He easily catches both your wrists in just one hand, dangles the dessert in front of your face before taking another bite, uncharacteristically mischievous.
You can't deny the way it makes your skin heat up, your heart rate starting to pick up at the playful glint in those pretty eyes. You decide to change your tactic. "Can I taste?" You blink slowly, lick your lips.
Nanami narrows his eyes at you, and you can practically see your thoughts mirrored in them. He leans in, releases your hands so they can curl into his hair, press into his bare skin with intent.
When you slide your tongue into his mouth, he tastes even sweeter than you'd imagined.