[the sigh that follows that announcement is less pleasant, more petulant aa hazy eyes blink a few times, unseeing but for the blur of a retreating silhouette and the sharp, sharp light that floods and pierces. it'd be so easy to fall asleep while he's floating in the glow, suspended and squeezed out of his own body with his stamina ripped from him twice over, and he almost does — but exhausted or injured, he's always been a damn light sleeper, and only a flirtation with unconsciousness won't put him down when he hears his friend (friend?) return]
[fussy. the warm cloth feels nice but he's more sensitive now and bodily twitches when it goes low on him, making him thrum, loosened muscle shifting in the light, washing him out in pales but for crimson and a bright blue eye. if Midoriya lets his curiosity claim him under the pretense of thorough aftercare, he'll find that yes, yes his hair is equally dichotomous here]
[otherwise, he lets it happen. too tired to care, he would've slept in the mess anyway and then regretted it so he'll appreciate Midoriya's efforts later, but right now, there's a more pressing issue — one he announces when he grabs the forearm extended towards him and tugs]
I want sleep. [demanding...]
[but he's aware of that gaze. still hungry, not fully satisfied, something he can recognize because he's sure he's worn it himself, either privately or when no one was looking — how he realizes now that Midoriya must not feel too differently in his wish to roam and claim swaths of skin and breaths and secret exchanges of intimacy...]
[god, he's been an idiot]
We can do it again in the morning. Or more. If you want.
[he's too washed out for the pink of his cheeks to out-burn the light, but there's still a timidity to the offer in its staccato presentation]
no subject
[fussy. the warm cloth feels nice but he's more sensitive now and bodily twitches when it goes low on him, making him thrum, loosened muscle shifting in the light, washing him out in pales but for crimson and a bright blue eye. if Midoriya lets his curiosity claim him under the pretense of thorough aftercare, he'll find that yes, yes his hair is equally dichotomous here]
[otherwise, he lets it happen. too tired to care, he would've slept in the mess anyway and then regretted it so he'll appreciate Midoriya's efforts later, but right now, there's a more pressing issue — one he announces when he grabs the forearm extended towards him and tugs]
I want sleep. [demanding...]
[but he's aware of that gaze. still hungry, not fully satisfied, something he can recognize because he's sure he's worn it himself, either privately or when no one was looking — how he realizes now that Midoriya must not feel too differently in his wish to roam and claim swaths of skin and breaths and secret exchanges of intimacy...]
[god, he's been an idiot]
We can do it again in the morning. Or more. If you want.
[he's too washed out for the pink of his cheeks to out-burn the light, but there's still a timidity to the offer in its staccato presentation]