Happy For House Help | A Genmui Fanfic

Sleeping Beauty

As the show occurred on the television, Genya sat in the soft embrace of the couch, cradling Muichiro with an undeniable tenderness. Muichiro's head gently rested atop the taller ones broad shoulder and sank into its comfort. As Genya's fingers traced the delicate contours of his face, he found solace in the shared tranquility that surrounded them. 

It was in this hushed serenity that realization dawned upon Genya: the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the gentle warmth against his skin — the boy he held so closely had surrendered to the embrace of sleep. The revelation came not through words or gestures but in the subtle symphony of his first soft snore. The repetition became somewhat of a melody as he perceived it. 

He smiled at the sound of Muichiro's gentle breaths escaping the smooth entrance of his lips. The same lips that subtly moved every two seconds as if in response to something in a dream. His soft lips beckoned like the petals of a delicate rose in the first light of dawn. The subtle curvature of his mouth held a tender allure, an invitation to intimacy that transcended mere touch. In the midst of it all gleamed a bright silver ring; a recall of who's husband he was admiring.

Taken aback by the remarkable level of detail he effortlessly absorbed in mere seconds, he quickly shifted his gaze toward the television screen. However, his attempt to immerse himself in the actors' performances lasted only a fleeting moment before his thoughts inevitably circled back to Muichiro. The smaller figure, peacefully dozing against him, began to emit a gentle hum—soft melodies that harmonized with each subdued snore.

Being as stubborn as he was, he refused to ignore just how comely Muichiro appeared as he slept. Slowly, his hand instinctively moved over Muichiro's head, halting abruptly as it lingered there. He bit his lip, preemptively savoring the regret he knew would follow this impulsive act. The memory of the day he skillfully tied Muichiro's hair into a ponytail flashed in his mind, a warmth he now longed for. Regrettably, he had taken that moment for granted.

With great risk, he gently ran his fingers through the silken strands of his hair, exhaling deeply as he massaged his scalp. As his fingers navigated through the labyrinth of his tresses, he discovered a softness that seemed to defy earthly textures, akin to the ethereal touch of a passing breeze. The strands yielded to his touch with a tender surrender, weaving tales of midnight dreams and dawn's first light. 

There was a lustrous warmth in every strand, as if the sun had lent its golden hues to adorn each filament, creating a halo of radiant softness around him. His hair, a testament to the poetry written in the language of touch, left an indelible imprint of delicate elegance on Genya's fingertips, a sensation that lingered like the memory of a whispered promise.

The mesmerizing trance that had ensnared Genya was abruptly shattered. His fingers, deeply embedded in the sanctuary of Muichiro's locks, were rudely interrupted by the soft groan of the latter as he shifted slightly. With no time to retract his hands, Genya found himself begrudgingly acknowledging his own stupidity.

"Keep going... It feels nice," Muichiro drawled — eyes half open before having closed once again. "Makes me feel like a cat,"

He sleepily chuckled to himself, sending butterflies down Genya's stomach in response. Almost immediately, his rhythmic snores would resume in the same melody as they did before. Despite receiving the opportunity, a rush of hesitance embraced him from top to bottom. He was embarrassed, to say the least. After all, Muichiro caught him in his bold acts of caressing him.

A wave of guilt engulfed him as he came to the realization that Muichiro was genuinely comfortable with the physical intimacy they shared. He began to ponder Kafo. All the emotions he would feel if he ever caught them so close to each other. Despite understanding that Muichiro's actions were unintentional, the intensity of the situation felt almost deceptive and, consequently, overwhelmingly burdensome.