kakyoin noriaki

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—it's a quiet morning.

It's morning. You're awoken by sunlight. Too early. You turn around and see your love, awake as well. Your irritated expression shows. A chuckle follows.

Smooth hands cradle your face, deep violet eyes staring into your own. Warmth and an indecipherable emotion shine in those eyes. The face they belong to crinkles slightly, half-amused and half-pleased. He, the one casting you a look of love, leans forward and red fills your sight.

He laughs. You laugh.

The red is a curiously long bang that he tucks away behind his ear. And he leans forward again, resting his forehead against yours.

An Eskimo kiss.

"Good Morning," his voice is husky and sleepy.

You back away from him, teasing, "Your voice stinks."

Before you can roll out of bed, his arms snake around your torso and reel you into an unescapable embrace. You pull at his arms to no avail.

His breath tickles your neck and you squirm. "Stay with me," he mumbles.

And you do.

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