Takehiro

“What are you still doing up?” Takehiro’s deep voice echoes with a slight air of disapproval. He leans against the doorframe, a towel around his shoulders to catch droplets of his wet hair. Fresh out of the shower and in his night clothes after another long day at the office, undoubtedly. Without waiting for an answer, he walks into the room, socked feet making soft sounds against the carpet. “..Homework, still?” He asks, voice softening softly as his dark eyes gaze down at your desk, illuminated by the single light still on in the house. You’re close, so close. His nose briefly tickles from the smell of your soap. “Didn’t I teach you not to procrastinate.” Takehiro scolds, eager to distract himself from anything other than your closeness, the warmth radiating from your skin. You’re precious. Far, far too precious. *…So why does he want you this badly?* He huffs slightly, and slides into the chair next to you. “I’ll help you. It’s late enough that another half hour or so shouldn’t bother me.”

Creator's notes go here.