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THE TV, SWITCHED on hours ago in preparation for a night of Netflix and French Fries, plays a faint, sleepy tune, the agitated voices screaming from the soap opera Megumi had put on inaudible background music not at all suited for a good night's sleep. Even toned down it sounded very much annoying; yet you sleep on anyway, drooling onto Megumi without restriction.
Sheets rustle. Megumi dips his head further into the blanketed junction between your shoulder and neck. He's as dead to the world as you are. A dim shaft of moonlight strikes brilliance across Megumi's sleeping features, a beauty you cannot see with the heavy veil of sleep still hanging over you.
The blankets are warm, wrapped tight around you the way a Chipotle employee would tuck meat into a good burrito. Taciturn little Megumi, your personal Chipotle employee. He'd looked at you with eyes softer and bluer than you'd ever seen them then. Quiet in a way different than how he is around the rest of the world. A rare smile had upturned that heavenly mouth, the soft kind he repressed around the rest of the Chipotle employees and only ever expressed around you. His hands were gentle as he eased you into the personally curated bundle of blankets, the only part of him seeking anything from you the fingers he trailed and let linger on your skin.
If he could see you now, with that one string of sleep drool at the corner of your mouth, just on the edge of breaking off your lips and landing on his wild hair of black ink, it was likely he'd suppress his touches and his smile for a bit of a while.
But in sleep, though at any time if the world asked him to be honest, he would let you do anything you wanted. Would even do anything you asked.
You shift in your sleep, a slightly bothering movement that wakes Megumi by the tiniest bit. He feels your head tilt from on top of his own, nearly toppling off to the back of the couch you lie ensconced on, but with the instinct of a sharp-eyed predator he catches your tipping head. He is careful to put the barest, weakest pressure into his clutching fingers.
He snorts, amused but quick to solve the issue. He wants to get you back into his arms as soon as possible.
You make a disturbed sound in your throat as Megumi bends your head ever so slightly, and he pauses in the small episode of care; waits for your snores to reign the room once more. Another one of his smiles graces his mouth. He swells with warmth at your sleeping face, is more than tempted to kiss you in that very moment. His eyes drift from your enticing mouth and he settles for a less discomfiting kiss to your cheek. The one without dried drool on it, of course. Though somehow his hygienic disposition finds the crusting wetness there... cute.
You've made me a little crazy baby, he thinks as his lips graze your cheek. Though loath to part from your skin he is able to bring himself to leave. But the smile on him never slips from his mouth.
Megumi curves an arm around your shoulders and settles your head beneath his. The side of your face lies pressed into his chest, your slow breaths of sleep weaving into his thumping heart, bleeding him open for you. He holds you in your entirety, listens to you breathe life into your body and dribble it all into him with the very same air.
He lives, revels in you even as he falls back asleep.
