(sure thing ^_^ this took a good while to write, sorry!)

tags: established relationship, trans shin, doctor/patient roleplay, blood kink? blood as lube, fingering, consensual but certainly not safe or sane

Shin’s immune system was as weak as his bones.

As he sneezed for the nth time of the day, an unwanted realization greeted his mind — he would have to call him, wouldn’t he?

His old friends would find his predicament quite silly, too, were they still in contact with him. Or alive, generally speaking. There was no way to know when someone like Sou Hiyori came into the picture, when someone like him put a ring on one’s finger.

It could be rather odd to feel anxious at the prospect of phoning your fiancé, after all. One that would soon move in with you, too. In the depths of Shin’s mind, though, a monster resided: the so-called embarrassment paired with an even worse resentment.

So he had come to rely on someone else to exist and function like a (debatably) healthy human being. Whatever. The idea itself made him nauseous to no end, yes, but he could always sweep it under the rug and proceed to demand cuddles from a literal insane individual who probably had playing chess and manslaughter as his personal favorite hobbies, knowing him — did torturing Shin count, too? He wondered.

As his cold fingers clicked the call button, he couldn’t help but sigh into the mattress. Perhaps shameful would be a better word choice for his dilemma, considering his condition as a Hiyori-proclaimed clown.

Shin liked to think that it was all Hiyori’s fault, somehow, just like how devoted believers sometimes blame their own gods when facing hardships. He was definitely an atheist, though.

“I think I’m sick.” He mumbled, barely registering that his raspy voice sounded concerningly similar to a dying man’s. Cough. “Can you come over?”

Hiyori hummed. It was one of those noncommittal sounds that could basically mean if you killed yourself in front of my very eyes i wouldn’t even flinch, or I would bury you alive with a pretty bouquet of flowers if given the chance, or perhaps even I’m madly in love with you but I can’t be normal about it. Knowing Hiyori, the case was likely a junction between the three.

“Why?” Was the simple question that left his lips, dry and unnerving in the special way he liked to pronounce short responses.

Shin clicked his tongue, unyielding. “Can’t a sick man want some comfort?”

The momentary silence was enough for him — was the other man gushing over the painfully infatuated behavior, or merely laughing about its predictableness? Only time would tell.

The time was approximately two seconds later. “You already find comfort in my presence again, I see. Are you really sick?”

Shin wouldn’t let himself mull over the word again. “I wouldn’t fake illnesses for a man, no, thank you.”

“Ahahah, I figured. No one else would accept you like I do, my love.” Hiyori casually stated, grinning. Shin hated him. “What do you want me to do about it, then? You were sick just a few weeks ago.”

“Bring me medicine.” It was difficult not to cough into his fist as he talked. “It’s already— urgh, just come over, okay? I’m tired. I feel hot, and disgusting—”

“That’s because you are.” The words came as easily as passing comments on the weather. “I’m on my way, darling! Wait for me.”

It was not like Shin had anywhere to go.

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and seven hours later, Hiyori arrived.

Shin’s blurry vision did a terrible job at locating the new guest, lazily moving around in an attempt to be faster than him. Needless to say, he still jumped when someone touched his shoulders and whispered, “Boo!”

He couldn’t believe it worked. The palpable amusement in his fiancé’s eyes told him that the feeling was mutual.

“I’m on my deathbed,” he pointed to his makeshift pillow fort as if to prove a point, “yet you still treat me like this.”

“Oh, my poor beloved.” The shameless man quietly plopped down by his side, crossing his legs in a carefree manner. He did not have a single fuck to give, clearly. “Whatever shall I do to lessen your sorrows?”

Shin started to realize, in fact, that maybe calling him hadn’t been one of his greatest ideas at all.

“Just— what do couples do when one of them gets sick? Do something normal—” Okay, perhaps that was asking too much of a freak. “Ugh, I don’t know. Where’s my medicine?”

Hiyori seemed to be focused on something else entirely, evidently ignoring his wishes. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction, per se, but his silence was worrisome. “Sore throat?”

One of Shin’s eyebrows went up. “Huh?”

“How is your throat?” Hiyori asked, then.

He stared at his creepy, sweet fiancé. If he could choose to have any superpower, it would be professional Hiyori understander — even though he was far more skilled than the average person at figuring out the intricacies of his lover’s behavior.

“Uh, it hurts. A little bit.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Oh, alright.” Hiyori calmly nodded, getting up from the bed and speed walking to the door like one of Slenderman’s unknown descendants. He had an uncanny ability to appear and disappear from Shin’s field of view at will, it seemed.

“Where are you going…?” Shin muttered — to nobody in particular, since no response came — and let out a wistful sigh.

He felt an incoming wave of nausea, perhaps fueled by his fiancé’s sudden departure, perhaps by the light fever making him feel particularly ill and whiny. He was even slightly grateful for having such an asshole partner, at times; a loving and caring man would likely be witnessing his laughable state for hours on end.

Just as he wondered if a ‘are you tired of me?’ or maybe a ‘if you leave me again i’ll hunt your ass down’ text would suffice, a grinning individual unceremoniously re-entered the room.

And he was— oh, oh no.

“No,” with horror apparent in his expression, he nearly screamed, “no— what? The fuck? Get out.”

Hiyori’s ears and brain didn’t agree with the order, unsurprisingly. “Why would I leave my favorite patient alone?”

Shin would probably end his own life in a few seconds and leave him instead. “Hiyori. Why are you dressed like that?”

It was a futile question, of course, because his astronomically stupid fiancé would clearly wear something like that if given the perfect chance.

Hiyori shrugged, looking down at his own clothes as if they weren’t a big deal. As if the black letters spelling Dr. Sou Hiyori, carefully etched in his medical white coat, meant absolutely nothing in particular.

“I’m here to take care of you, of course.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His doctor tutted, of all things — Shin was going to die. “I’m in charge of your recovery, you poor thing. I know what’s best for you.”

“Okay,” he rolled his eyes, unable to retort those absurdities any further, “give me the meds.”

“Sure thing! I almost forgot about that.” The coy little gesture of scratching his cheek was saying the complete opposite. “Do you prefer swallowing a pill, or liquid?”

Weird way to phrase it, Shin thought, but ultimately decided to toss his suspicion away. “Liquid, I think? I hope you don’t mean in a syringe.”

“I would never.” He totally would. “You could be referring to it metaphorically, though. Hmm. Do you even possess such mental capacity?”

Shin blinked tiredly. “What are you talking about, now?”

“About you sucking me off, clearly.” Hiyori stated, disgustingly calm. If his throat weren’t so close to declaring war against the rest of his organism, Shin wouldn’t feel so utterly offended by the suggestion. “Ah, they do say engaging in sexual activities is good for one’s health.”

“Fuck off.” With closed eyes, Shin briefly pondered if there was still any possibility of escaping the inevitable danger ahead. An unstoppable force versus immovable object kind of situation — although Hiyori’s random peaks of Shin-induced libido were anything but avoidable. “Just give me a pill.”

“I’d rather fuck you.” Hiyori raised a finger to emphasize his courteous affirmation. “Well, you see, I’m not trying to take advantage of your current position. I always make sure to take advantage of you, sick or not.”

“Yeah, I appreciate it.” Canceling their engagement wouldn’t be enough to deter his violent urges, but strangling another human being was forbidden by law. Unfortunately.

Hiyori carefully tilted his head to the side, examining him with his characteristic ominous grin — it had grown slightly fonder, though, over the months. “So?”

Shin groaned. “So what?”

The other man stared at his sick partner as if he had just deeply wronged him. “Why aren’t you undressing?”

“You— hah, you really want to…?” Shin diverted his eyes to the nearest wall, biting his lower lip. He could confidently say that he wasn’t in the mood at all, but seeing Hiyori so strangely eager to touch him was… unusual, to say the least.

He tentatively stole another glance at his fiancé.

The white coat contoured his body perfectly well, fitting his form not too tightly, but not to the point that it appeared baggy, either. Shin may have gulped at the sight of a black tie instead of the usual red one, giving him a slightly different look.

Crazy people are always hotter, Hiyori once said to him — over a cringey live action adaptation of a BL novel he had randomly found and insisted on watching together, for some reason —, and despite having initially responded with a blunt ‘fuck no’, Shin was now disturbingly inclined to agree.

As he avoided his gaze at all costs, clothes slowly started to slip off his body. It was awkward to get naked knowing very well that he was being intently watched, studied, and judged by a horny madman who had as many scientific curiosities regarding his fiancé as he probably had with an earthworm.

The thought of engaging in such… shameless acts, in the beginning of their relationship, pretty much bordered on absurdity to Shin. Among a hundred other thoughts, there was one that constantly repeated itself in his mind: That guy’s gonna torture and kill me as soon as I undress. No, he’d do something worse, like— making fun of my old scars, or trying to pierce my nipples non-consensually, or something.

(Hiyori hadn’t done anything that outrageous, in fact. Which, somehow, was even worse. Unpredictable fucker.)

Eventually, he stopped being so anxious to initiate this kind of interaction, realizing that Hiyori was much more interested in messing with living, breathing beings.
Shin’s logic was flawed, perhaps, but not unjustified.

When his final piece of clothing met the ground, a sudden weight was immediately placed on top of him.

“You told me you’d stop pouncing on me like that, you—” He never managed to finish that sentence, feeling something moist and pointy quickly press into the side of his neck. When the old marks were just about to fade, too, he scowled. “I’ll kill you.”

“Try your best.” Hiyori murmured, too engrossed in biting his flesh to care. “If you’re trying to make me hard, that is.”

“Disgusting.” Shin responded, yet still turned his head to give him more space.

He could feel a small laugh reverberating from the other man, vibrating against his skin due to their proximity. Shin helplessly rested his hand on his fiancé’s nape, sighing soundly as his neck gradually became redder.

“Hm? Are you tired?” Hiyori nonchalantly questioned, distancing his mouth from the damaged skin.

“Of you, yes.” He tried to roll his eyes, but that, too, made his headache worse. “Mm… now my neck’s also sore because of you.”

“My prime objective is to make you sore all over, y’know?”

From the satisfied look on that freak’s face, he had totally seen the scornful glare coming.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Aww. And you really shouldn’t treat your doctor like that.”

“My doctor should be in jail,” Shin apologetically rubbed a hand over Hiyori’s, because he wasn’t a strong soldier, “but life isn’t fair, is it?”

Hiyori’s eye twitched in a way that could only indicate that his patience was wearing thin. He kept a carefree smile on his face, nevertheless. “You’re awfully talkative for a sick person. Perhaps I should make you unable to speak.”

Shin’s breath hitched for a second, although he quickly gave him a tired look. “Are you threatening me?”

Hiyori shrugged, no longer waiting before roaming his hands all over his partner’s torso. “Hmm. My answer depends on what would turn you on the most.”

The other man gasped at the contact, staring at Hiyori’s hands in offense as they unashamedly groped his chest — there was nothing for him to grab, really —, yet Shin still found himself miserably aroused.

In the corner of his half-lidded eyes, Shin distantly registered something peeking out of Hiyori’s pocket. He blindly reached for it in curiosity, then, as well as a poor attempt to mask his strong interest in his fiancé’s actions.

“Oh? Who gave you the permission to do that?” Hiyori swatted his hand like an inconvenient fly. “Are you that eager to use this?”

Shin suddenly wasn’t so sure if he still wanted to know what the object was. Hiyori had a terribly large history of buying atrocious sex toys that, quite frankly, should only be sold along with a free wheelchair for the aftermath. “Use what.”

“Now, now, don’t make that face.” Hiyori had the audacity to pout. Shin had a small suspicion that his nausea hadn’t gotten worse because of the illness, just… something else. “It’s not the usual stuff.”

Shin raised a conflicted eyebrow.

A few moments of appreciating the other’s visible cold sweat later, Hiyori gleefully reached for the object in his white coat’s pocket.

At the sight of it, Shin went from slightly drowsy to extremely awake.

“Is that…?” He was a hundred percent sure that his eyes wouldn’t deceive him on this occasion, but making pointless questions bought him enough time to think. “What are you going to do with that?”

That being a surgical scalpel.

“Oh, dear,” Hiyori’s eyes glinted at the sight of the medical instrument, almost as if it were his most prized possession — which couldn’t be the case, since such position had already been occupied by vacant, greenish blue eyes that saw him as their savior and captor. “I wonder.”

Shin was terribly accustomed to his fiancé’s questionable facets and whims, at this point. Therefore, this could only mean one thing: he was fucked, in likely more ways than usual.

He eyed the scalpel with palpable distaste, nearly an instinct; the gradual decrease of other sentiments should be concerning, perhaps, but he had a vague inkling that living with Hiyori would make any individual develop their oddities. He could feel confusion, a little. Curiosity, eagerness. Desire to kick a very specific person.

“Don’t wonder.” He sighed and coughed lightly as a result, feeling cold, cold, cold. “Just do it.”

The words earned him an intrigued hum.

“Are you sure?” Hiyori’s grin used to border on disturbing — or a bit disquieting, at least, akin to that of an eerie but beautiful antique doll — and it vastly differed from its current effect, at least to Shin. In his eyes resided sunlight, as of late. “Ah, why am I asking…”

Why, indeed.

Shin was ready to urge him to get it over with, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar, to simply act on what he wished to do — take what you want, do it.

His eyes were fixed on the blade.

Hiyori wordlessly twirled it between his fingers, entranced by such an attitude.

“You know,” he exhaled, expression unreadable, “you usually play hard to get.”

No, I don’t, Shin’s brain supplies, but his mouth answers with a simple “I know.”

“It’s kind of turning me on.”

Hiyori was pouting. Seriously. “Freak. Stop that.”

“No, I mean it. I feel like a wooden doll right now.”

Shin would not ask him to elaborate. Hiyori probably wouldn’t have a proper response, either. “I know.”

“Do you, now?”

Shin felt like he could pop a vessel at any moment.

He acted on the most rational thought his mind managed to conjure, then — Hiyori’s dilated pupils would be passably endearing if the madman weren’t holding a scalpel and sporting a kilometric boner, but Shin had to content himself with little, he supposed —, and a poorly contained gasp had escaped the other man right before their lips collided, courtesy of Shin’s urgency.

Hiyori was a curious individual. The permanent poker face that casually stretched into a knowing grin didn’t exactly indicate interest, as if the world around him were nothing more than a boring little board game. He was never invested, never hungry.

Why did he kiss Shin like a starved man, then?

A very peculiar individual. Shin did recognize that he had his peculiarities, himself. He moaned into the kiss after feeling a distinct, ice cold sensation in one of his thighs — and there it was. A muffled gasp, an apathetic smile against his reddening lips.

The metal should still feel cold in his flesh. It didn’t. Shin shivered as the world spun and the mattress felt hot, burning like hell itself. He clinged onto the perpetrator, embracing that warmth. “Breathe, darling.”

It was not enough.

He wanted to verbalize it. He wanted to adjust his position, too. The tears streaming down his face didn’t offer much help, though.

“Pfft, don’t cry. Always such an ugly crier, hm?” A strangely soft, infatuated expression graced Hiyori’s face — a rare look on him, but Shin couldn’t be fooled by his words just yet. “You can take it.”

An ugly crier, the liar said. The brick between the same liar’s legs would strongly like to disagree.

Shin could only groan in response, flinching as if he— oh, well, he had just gotten stabbed, sort of. Plus, he could predict the future in a sense. Hiyori’s sultry voice whispering in his ear, you’re shaking like a leaf, your tears are mixing with the blood— fuck, he felt too hot. The blade returned to his blurry field of vision, and Hiyori’s hands made an appearance. He shivered and wondered if this was it, his last day on Earth. It was a nice sensation.

“Shin, are you listening?” Don’t pass out on me, he left unsaid. Another deep cut, another sharp cry. “You were made for this.”

Shin hesitantly looked down. Panic immediately filled his being, and he gulped, lightheaded— but Hiyori’s free hand promptly cupped his face and pulled him into another bruising kiss. Ah, Shin wouldn’t die, it seemed.

“Stay with me.” Hiyori certainly knew the effect his low voice had on him.

Shin briefly wondered if a death by blood loss would really be so painful — he was too aroused to care about his own demise, shamefully — and the Shin of some other reality could find out the response in his stead, perhaps. Hiyori broke the kiss only to bury his face on his fiancé’s shoulder, biting hard.

In turn, Shin nearly lost his voice, holding him tightly, closer, scratching and shaking and tasting blood in his own lips. The nails on Hiyori’s back must've accidentally evoked some… unknown effect on him, too, that was Shin’s hunch. The next thing he knew was that he was being bent in half.

The fresh wounds made contact with his own skin, staining his stomach with vivid scarlet. Shin let out a pained gasp at the friction, aching to kick his fiancé, call him all sorts of names, he was tired and sore and horny— and, as if sensing his distaste, Hiyori rushed to worsen it.

“Shin.” He murmured against his neck, kissing it. The fierce grip on his thighs was the only indication that he wasn’t as calm as his demeanor indicated. “Shiiin.”

Shin lazily directed his eyes towards Hiyori’s.

“Shin.” Hiyori put his pointer finger under his fiancé’s chin. With a slight tilt, Shin was facing him. How horribly easy. “Shin, I say your name a lot.”

It wasn’t a clever observation. Shin wasn’t in the best position to make a snarky remark, though.

“Shin.” Hiyori was closer to his mouth, now— so close that he could feel his minty breath. “I want you to say my name.”

Shin squeezed his eyes shut.

Hiyori’s smile was nearly tangible, visible behind closed eyelids. “I can give you what you want, my love. Just say it.”

It was so very tempting— but Shin knew better than to feed a beast. “…Hiyori.”

It became intangible, then.

“Hmm.”

All of a sudden, Shin had a terrible suspicion. He prayed that he wasn’t correct — ignoring the cold sweat on his forehead, he inhaled and opened his eyes in a hurry. No head in sight.

He looked down, disbelieving.

His arms didn’t push Hiyori away fast enough. “Fuck!”

“That’s not my name.” Never in his entire life had he seen such a bright expression on Hiyori’s face— no, he looked absolutely delighted, with lips full of blood that wasn’t his own. “Try again.”

Against Shin’s halfhearted protests, Hiyori kept dragging his tongue all over the bruised skin. Mercifully, perhaps, he only threatened to touch on the deep cuts, opting to taste the shallow ones like a particularly refined meal. He found that holding Shin down was easy enough with a single hand, allowing him to explore any place he wanted with the other.

“Shin,” he called again, breathless and up to no good, “may I?”

Shin did the best he could to slap his hand away. He gritted his teeth at the mere thought of it. “You— you are not fingering my fucking cuts, Sou.”

The way the other man only narrowed his eyes made Shin feel… frustrated, to say the least.

“Aww. That’s too bad.” He inched dangerously closer to— somewhere else entirely and Shin suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “Call my name again and I’ll think about it.”

It was way less stress-inducing to have Hiyori between his legs rather than licking and chewing on them, for sure, but everything could be reversed in a second when it came to him — Shin had to be on his best behavior. God, what had he done to his brain. It had been rewired by mini-Hiyoris, clearly.

It was laughable, in his opinion, but what other option was there? “Sou.”

Hiyori was visibly pleased, yes, of course he would be. “Hmm?”

“…There, I said it.” Shin pressed a palm against his face, burning. “Now, can you just…”

Although he had been the one to kickstart this embarrassing chain of events, having his thighs spread apart by Hiyori — in a near mechanical manner, so abrupt and so not gentle it made his legs tremble with strain — caused Shin to feel conflicted, brain melting in a mixture of satisfaction and disdain. He huffed a mildly annoyed sound, albeit there was nothing truly surprising about this outcome.

Hiyori calmly raised his eyebrows in a way that could only mean, what, already having second thoughts? in the silent Sou Hiyori language Shin had somehow managed to master. The man himself never expressed those words at the moment, nonetheless.

It still left Shin with a bitter feeling.

“G-Go on. I’m not backing off.” Words were spilling from his lips before he could prevent it, nudging Hiyori’s clothed back with his foot. He never failed to surprise him, this unnerving man, roleplaying as a responsible doctor who surely wouldn’t butcher him in his dreams.

“Is that so?”

Whenever his fiancé uttered that sentence, Shin knew that his very defeat had been declared. He had lost their little game. It was over.

Another wave of dizziness overtook his body as Hiyori less than gentlemanly dragged his fingers across Shin’s damned open cuts, gathering the fluid on his digits and looking so utterly giddy about it that the other man was momentarily stunned to silence.

He brought his hand closer to his eye, then, inspecting the substance as he rubbed his middle finger and thumb together. “Hmm.”

Shin wasn’t exactly fond of the obligatory analytical approach of his partner’s foreplay. “What is it.”

Hiyori didn’t seem to notice that Shin had been close to seeing biblical figures for quite a while, now — or he simply didn’t care, which was more likely to be the case.

“Ah, your blood feels more viscous than usual. Is it because you’ve been sweating and panting like a dog?” Self-proclaimed doctor or not, Shin didn’t really doubt the accuracy of Hiyori’s observations. “The same red hue as usual, too. Your low levels of iron never fail to amaze me.”

“Thanks?” Shin’s head was spinning like a rotisserie chicken. He needed him to stop talking about how good his hemoglobins felt, or something. “Can you…”

“Shhh. Patience.” Prying his lips open and promptly shutting him up, Hiyori used his thumb to smear blood on Shin’s bottom lip.

And it tasted— awful, actually, like blood is supposed to taste. Shin wouldn’t know the variability of tastes, though, and he wasn’t too curious or coherent to ask Hiyori about it.

Hiyori went ahead and lowered himself for a kiss, which elicited a breathy moan from Shin. It was too much and too little to make him feel any better, and he grabbed a fistful of his fiancé’s hair to anchor himself — it was a quiet plea, too, for help.

“Sou, Sou.” A hoarse voice that was probably his own called, grasping at the pristine white coat on Hiyori’s shoulders. “I don’t care, whatever you want to do, do it—”

Hiyori disinterestedly shut him off with another bruising kiss, licking into his mouth as if in search of more fresh blood — it made him sick, they were both pent up.

Shin only remembered that one of his legs was still currently being held up when Hiyori suddenly dropped his chin, directing the partially bloody hand to the exposed slit. Shin nearly lost his ability to think, biting the insides of his mouth as he finally got a semblance of relief.

The heedless gesture reminded him of dark nights and unspoken sentiments, fingering himself to the thought of a shadow of his past. It reminded him of searching for anything that held a minimal similitude to his old friend’s eerie appearance, only to finish up with his ashamed face buried in the same red scarf over and over again.

He did all sorts of things— went through all sorts of abhorrent situations, watched those who were dear to him die, all for— for this.

The tips of Hiyori’s reddened fingers slotted between his soaked folds. Shin’s mind quickly blanked.

They glided so easily on the surface, experimentally prodding at his hole like second nature. Shin could only moan and struggle under the fingertips, unsure if his lightheaded state had gotten worse because of the pain on his thighs or the pleasure.

“Don’t close your eyes for too long, doll.”

“Wh… Why?”

He chuckled. “It would be terribly embarrassing to faint at times like this, wouldn’t it?”

Shin didn’t grace him with an intelligible response, but his fiancé knew that he’d understood his words, anyway.

Hiyori didn’t even bother with lubricant, focused on the task at hand in a way that aimed at getting Shin off with only his blood. Shin’s own blood. It was disgusting, and so, so catered to Hiyori’s personal wet dreams that he didn’t have it in himself to complain — or to even say anything, really, being rendered speechless by fingers curling in his pussy, the glistening slit making a mess of the rest of Hiyori’s hand.

He bucked against it tirelessly, in contrast to the deplorable condition of his worn-out body. The cold sweat on his forehead was nothing but a faraway memory, now, too concentrated on grinding against Hiyori’s palm.

“You’re my favorite thing in this world, did you know?” Hiyori’s voice was thick with arousal and low like a whisper. “You were made for my hands.”

Looking up, it was hard not to exhale in surprise, finding Hiyori’s customary lifeless eyes shine with a different form of enthusiasm — he was blissful, even, wordlessly getting off to the mere sight of the quivering man under him —, and Shin would try and do something for him, too, were he not sure that this was more than enough for his degenerate of a partner.

Shin’s tight grip on the other man’s shoulders caused his knuckles to go white, whining at the gradual retreat of Hiyori’s face from his proximity. He was ready to urge him to give him another kiss when an abrupt realization sank in, staring down in excited anticipation.

Hiyori amusedly closed the distance between his mouth and the wet slit, lapping his juices and moaning like he was in heaven, all the while stretching his fiancé open with deft fingers that had come to know every inch of his body, every particularity of the places where he liked to be touched.

When he flattened his tongue on his clit, Shin immediately felt his whole body shudder, pitifully letting go of one of Hiyori’s shoulders to rub his eyes and stop tears from falling. He felt like he’d been deprived of this sensation for so long due to the sickness that it was near impossible not to feel delirious — Sou’s name slipped from his lips multiple times, chanting it like a prayer.

Hiyori knew how to hit all of the right spots, to taste him like his life depended on it; as expected, Shin ended up coming in no time, panting heavily and disregarding the incoming nausea. He threw an arm over his head, covering his eyes from the sight of Hiyori licking his lips — with a shameless and calculating stare, like that of a fox that had just finished hunting its prey down.

“Tired, already? We have so many more procedures to do,” when Shin opened his eyes again, he could only note in horror that the scalpel had been retrieved by Hiyori at some point, “I would love to see your condition by the end of this.”

Shin would, too, because he was pretty sure that his roleplaying fiancé’s words weren’t supposed to be nearly as incoherent and distant as they sounded, and panic soon rose in his chest as Hiyori’s face became blurry. His vision of the ceiling gradually faded in and out, pulsing like a ring of black led lights, and the belated realization that their little sexual activity had inadvertently worsened his state shouldn’t have made him as mad as it did.

Yes, it was all Hiyori’s fault. Like always.

Said individual didn’t seem nearly as annoyed as he was at such an outcome, blinking owlishly for a brief moment before the recognition of Shin’s passed out state came. He couldn’t help but smile — the reason didn’t matter, did it? — and the undeniable fondness of it made him feel quite as sick as his fiancé felt. The involuntary expression appeared after taking a good look at Shin’s unconscious body, sure, but he had grown far too accustomed to this strange warmth in the depths of his chest.

Do the years truly make one soften up, he wondered as he cleaned the other man’s wounds and bandaged them with far more care than he ever would have on himself, or was it you, Shin?

Only quiet, slow breathing came in response to his thoughts. He could count every single one of Shin’s eyelashes, from this angle.

After finishing the count with the same number in mind as always, he did a quick cleanup of the place and decided to continue this roleplay on another occasion — he would have to acquire another identical outfit, since this once had been stained, but it was no big deal.

Sou glanced at the sleeping figure of his fiancé, then at the clock. It was the ideal free time to put some of his hobbies in practice, huh.

He pressed a kiss on Shin’s temple and slowly walked out of the room. To complement such a bright day, he supposed that a quick game of chess or a bit of manslaughter was in order.