Curate, connect, and discover
"hold on... isn't your leg still injured?" you ask, pulling away from hungry kisses peppered along your chin and down your collarbone in haste. there's sudden alarm in your voice that barou seems to completely disregard as his hand continues to cup the underside of your thigh, eyes bidding you to forget it and continue.
but by now the moment is lost, and your hand is gently placed against his chest. he rolls his eyes, but lets go, and you see it again - a slight wince as he shifts the weight off of his knee and resumes his position sat next to you on the couch.
he says nothing more than a slight grumble under his breath and returns his eyes away from the unwatched movie before you. your heart is still beating and your face is still flushed, but you press on.
"shoei."
he doesn't look at you, arms crossed over his chest.
"yeah."
"your knee?"
his jaw clenches.
"what about it?"
"what did the doctors say?" you press, now leaning forward yourself to glance at him. he tries to avert his gaze, but you stare so hard that he's unable to ignore you. you helped bandage that very knee earlier today; he cannot pretend the injury does not exist.
"two more weeks."
you shake your head. "and yet you were on top of me."
the tick in his jaw returns and he cuts eyes directly at you.
"what if you don't heal properly and can't play again?" you glare back at him with just as much sass, but as you hold gazes for a few more moments in the shifting dark, his annoyance dissolves, replaced by a cheeky grin. he leans forward, enough that his lips nearly graze yours yet again, then looks down at your pout. heat flashes again through your neck and upper chest, and he can tell, pleased so. his mouth pecks at yours.
"if you're so worried, climb on top of me instead."
he has a point.
you swallow hard, but you'll do whatever your King asks of you.
usually.