Cigarettes after sex

Acrid smoke from the red Marlboros blew out of the window, bringing a sedimentary smell into the room. The room was already stuffy, and the smoke only worsened the situation. Ayato, holding a thin cigarette between two fingers, looked down wearily. He didn't care that he was standing bare-chested in front of an open window. Thoughts turned into a huge snowball, which was getting bigger by the minute and was already ready to break into small pieces. Even with his back to the bed, Kamisato could feel Thoma's soft gaze on him. — Why do you always smoke after sex? - a slightly hoarse voice came from behind. — Do I have a reason not to smoke? - Ayato replied with a slight sneer. He didn't even know why. Just because he can. Toma, still naked, was sitting on the bed with his knees bent and his head bowed on them. The gaze of the green eyes carefully traced the new scratches on the bare shoulders of the Head of the clan. They looked so beautiful against the pale skin. Thoma himself wondered how he could leave such deep wounds. But it's out of control. You're just looking for where to put your hands, but you don't always find it. But Ayato, in fact, was not against Thoma leaving some kind of marks on him. — There is. Me, for example. — Maybe. Such a cold Ayato. It was even a little insulting. Whenever cigarettes fell into his hands, he became much rougher. Is this how nicotine works, or is it like that by itself? — If I ask, will you quit smoking? — I'll think about it. Toma himself did not understand what exactly offended him in Kamisato's words. His tone? Empty answers? Feeling of indifference? The devil knows. Without saying a word, he turned his head to the other side in frustration. Putting out the cigarette on his wrist, Ayato turned around to face the boyfriend, leaning on the windowsill. He knew he was offended. He always feels when Thoma is upset. A slight feeling of guilt lay on heart. Silently, Ayato sat on the edge of the bed, peering into his lover's face. The latter, in turn, proudly continued to look away, not even thinking to raise his eyes. And Ayato knew he smelled like smoke. Knew Thoma didn't like it. He would quit smoking for him, he promised. Kamisato lifted Toma's chin with his fingertips, forcing him to look at himself. Thoma, though reluctantly, raised his head. What beautiful eyes he has, after all. Such a light look, but it hurts through and through. It's worth seeing once, and you won't forget. If there are perfect people for Ayato, they will never be more perfect than Thoma. — I love you, Toma. — I love you too, Ayato. And all grievances are immediately forgotten. And immediately a smile appears. Ayato just smiled, leaning back on the bed and closing his eyes. He thought about something for a minute. And again he looked into the green eyes. — Sometimes I just want to escape from all the responsibilities for the day, spend the whole day together and have a banal fuck. How do you like the idea? — It's stupid, but I like it. — Not stupid, just pointless and fun. — Sometimes you're really weird, Ayato. Kamisato knew that very well himself. His actions were indeed sometimes immoral and stupid. But why not, if there is a possibility? Being normal is boring. — As if you are not tired of the eternal work routine. — You know I'm tired. — That's why I want to get you out of this routine for a day. The time is 11 am. Having had sex 10 minutes ago, they were chatting about life and meaningless little things. And they didn't even think to get ready and start the working day. Such a nice feeling. They love to love each other. And hate, too. That's the meaning of love. He promised that he would quit smoking. But is it worth it? Is it worth such pleasant conversations, awkward kisses and happines s? Is peace of mind and true love worth it?