He lays on the couch, legs spread, one hand grabbing the pillow that supports his head and another holding onto the seat beneath him. His silk button-up drapes open across his form. His chest expands and contracts with each breath. He reeks of cigarettes, sweat and, on this particular night, booze. Before this, he clung to you more and more with each shot he took. He wanted to spar with you again but it didn't get far before his system gave in.
You dim the lights and plug in a fan nearby. Before you lay the blanket over him, he touches your hand. His fingers trail across the back of your palm and beneath the cuff of your sleeve.
He's warm against you and you're cold against him. It's always been like that.
He opens his eyes and tilts his head. A trill seeps in his voice as he speaks. Your ears cling to it, "Duo, what time is it?"
"Two in the morning," you answer.
"… When did we leave…?"
"Around ten minutes ago."
He groans, "Damn…"
"You looked like you were enjoying yourself."
"I was, yeah. Whatever they put in there was good. You gotta try it next time," He pauses, "I didn't hurt you too badly back there, yeah?"
"You could've hit harder," You shrug nonchalantly, scanning his body, "I know you throw punches better than that. Besides, it's more fun fighting a sober you."
You're familiar with his body and he's familiar with yours.
You've jabbed at him many times and he's punched at yours. You know where it hurts best and he too with you.
On some occasion, you reimagine the sensation of hitting him and him hitting you and the sweet sting that follows after.
You see the bruises you left at his waist. Their placement is sporadic but the aim is precise. Without a thought, you graze your fingers over one above his belly button. Unlike in fights, he's soft here. His form mend to your presence. He lifts his hips so your touch sinks deeper.
"Repair guy won't come in 'til Tuesday so sleep here."
You nod, "Didn't you have a sleeping bag somewhere? I couldn't find it."
"That raggedy thing? I know you move around a lot but at least sleep somewhere decent."
"And you're not in that state."
"I'm getting there. Don't worry. Now, c'mon-" He grasps your wrist and pulls you in. You fall on top of him. He laughs. You follow and then you both quiet. The fan hums as your heartbeat syncs and his breath brushes your ear.
…
You feel a pair of hands travelling down your back with a little too much eagerness.
"What are you doing?"
"… You're too warm." He grunts. He pushes the train to your robe aside and makes his way to the top of your pants. You try to get up but he tightly grasps your belt loops. You look at him as he returns a gaze of something.
You sigh, "I guess we'll continue that fight here, then."
You dig your face into his shoulder. The gesture was so sudden that you broke free from his grasp. First, you graze his skin with your jaw then his nape with the tip of your nose and lips.
He freezes.
You pause.
You take the quietest of inhales.
He smells like himself and something more.
He smells like nostalgia and smoke and the warmly lit city streets.
He shifts his legs.
"Don't fuck with me like that…" He breathes.
"Hm? Did you say something, Shen?" You feign ignorance in his ear as you begin to place kisses. Your thumb traces his hip bone. Your finger slips below the band of his pants. He grunts. He tries to pull his pants down but you stop him by kissing the wounds you left along his torso. He clicks his tongue, flashing a glare before switching to undoing your braid. Although he's still getting used to handling your hair, he's gentle.
Soon, his hands reach your head and you feel a tension release. Your dark brown hair, like a stream of water, flows over your. He cups your face and brings you up closer to him. His face softens to an awe, a yearning. He examines every bit of you and traces the lines of your face. His thumb grazes over a scar he gave you under your right eye.
Your hair encapsulates a space just for him and you.
You're stuck with him and he's stuck with you.
You give him a kiss and he returns it. His tongue invades your mouth and squeezes a sound out of you. He smirks. He fidgets with your zipper. Your robe opens. He sneaks his hands below your shirt. He feels the bruises he left. Your hands trail along his torso, following every curve. You glide your fingers to his sides. The sensation of your nails there puts him in heat. Your heart skips a beat, relishing at the sight.
You break away. You sit up. His hands falls to your thighs. You two take a moment to breathe. You swallow your deepest impulses that festered from looking at him. You tuck your hair behind your ear. You reposition yourself so that your member is on top of his, only separated by the fabrics of your pants.
His breath hitches—
You feel him twitch—
And you—
You brace for impact.
You grab his shoulder and start moving your hips.
A jolt of bliss runs through your body and his. He pushes himself closer to you, matching your pace until you both find a euphoric rhythm. You control your breathing as you listen to his. You take notes of his moans and latch onto them. They sound like the grunts he makes when you two fight. The way he looks is similar but not exact. He's a mess because of you and vice versa. It all puts you in an addictive high you've never been in before.
He curls and digs his face in your shoulder. He's shaking—he's close.
He quickly shifts to wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in tight—and then the crash hits. He lets out a beautiful guttural sound that reverbs in your ear and sends you over the edge.
Your strength gives in and you fall on him. Your breath staggers and his wavers. Sleep starts to creep in. Your hand searches for the blanket from earlier. His knuckles gaze past you as he grabs it and tosses it over you both. He weakly nuzzles the side of your face.
You melt.
He does too.
And then darkness came.