“Can you please stay still for once in your life,” Yuri says, as Byleth’s hands continue to roam at the small of his back. “It’s impossible to get your eyes right like this.” He keeps his eyes closed, as promised, feeling Yuri’s brush move across his eyelid. He feels colored pigment fall against his cheek, the swift touch of Yuri’s hand, his thumb wiping them away. Byleth takes advantage, quickly turns his head to press a kiss against the warm center of his palm. He savors the sound of Yuri’s low laughter.
“I said stay still,” he says as pinches some of Byleth’s bangs and gives them a small tug. Byleth makes a show of some unruly silent huff, lets his shoulders fall and his hands settle on Yuri’s hips. Byleth’s ass is firmly planted on the floor, his knees bent, and a leg on either side of Yuri. For his part, he kneels in front of him, wearing a tunic he’s borrowed from him. If his eyes were open, he’d see that it’s much too large for Yuri’s frame, and one shoulder is steadily slipping off.
That hand is back at his cheek again, and Yuri is leaning back to scrutinize his work. Chewing at the rounded end of the brush, the different pigments on the small table beside them, and Byleth opens his eyes to look up at him. “I was right,” he says as he lets himself fall forward, Byleth wrapping his arms around his waist to catch him, “purple does look best on you.” Forehead pressed against forehead, strands of purple hair winding with green, and they smile at each other.
