There's a heat beside him when he wakes, one that he isn't quite used to. A yellow eye cracks open, glancing down toward his side. It is a heat unlike that of Nanami, a softness not often present in the other person when he is awake. His eyes takes in the sight of Kurama lying curled up close to him, sharing his heat. His wings are spread like a protective barrier around the two, soft feathers tickling Tomoe's bare stomach. There's a vulnarability to the young tengu as he sleeps like this, one that makes Tomoe a bit jealous of Suirou for having had this all to himself when Kurama was a small child. It makes him wonder if this was how Suirou had felt when a tiny and beaten little child had been curled up by his side. Only that Suirou probably hadn't felt any sexual attraction toward the tiny boy. At least he hopes he hadn't, because if so, that would have been sick. But with the way Suirou treated the idol like a child even now, he wasn't worried. That, combined with the guilt Kurama still felt when he looked upon his older brother's wings, made for a very interesting relationship. It was clear to see that Suirou couldn't adore the young tengu any more than he already did.

Tomoe lifted a hand to run his fingers down smooth feathers, feeling the slope of the wing where it folded together. The deep blackness of the wings stood in stark contrast to the paleness of both demons' skin, even more so to Tomoe's white pallor. His fingers mapped out the warm base where wings and back connected and the softness of the afterfeather tickled the tips of his fingers.

The morning sun filters through the frost covered window, drawing intricate patterns on smooth skin, scars faded to near invisibility. With the lengths that Tomoe had heard an idol's fans could go to, he was a bit surprised that there was no one who had noticed despite their faded state. There were rumours about his origins, of course, Tomoe hadn't missed that; not with the way the girls (and some boys) in class gossiped. And from the things he had heard, he knew that Kurama's fans could get quite crazy. And there were at least a handful of girls who, as Nanami called it, 'shipped' him and the idol. He holds back a snort so he won't pull the tengu from his dreams. Those girls had no idea. Not that he will ever let them know, and Kurama's agency had made him being single part of his contract, so it was a complete secret that only the two, and the people at Mikage shrine knew about. But then, it wasn't like either of them had really figured out the nature of their relationship. They were not exactly a couple, but there was a clear difference in the air between them as opposed to how it had been previously; filled with dislike and mockery.

His fingers trails down one of the bigger scars, and he briefly wonders if it comes from a whip. It was long and clean, no roughness to the edges. If it was, there had been no hesitation in Jirou's mind as he let it fall down on the young tengu's back, marring it for such a long time into the future. The man had changed so much thanks to Nanami, and he was glad for that. Focusing his gaze upon the marks marring the idol's skin; the angry red rope burns on the tengu's wrists to remind of the previous night; the bite marks on his chest, deep enough to have drawn blood. He won't let anyone else leave marks on the younger demon's skin again. He is going to be the only one to bruise him, to watch his eyes shut tight in pleasured pain. He doubts anyone else has seen such pleasure on the tengu's face, and his lips curls upward into a pleased grin at the thought.

He is brought out of his thoughts with a start as a tune of metal sounds from the bedside table. The fox lets out an annoyed sound, and before the intro of the song is even over, a ball of blue fox fire materializes between Tomoe's fingers, and rapidly moves toward the source of the sound. After a few seconds the noise dies down, harshly cut off.

But it's too late, his bedmate has already been awaken by it, and he glares at Tomoe as he sits up, running a hand through his red hair. His long fingers and nails stuck in the tangles and he carefully pries at the small knots as he regards Tomoe in mild annoyance. "What do you think you're doing, this early in the morning?"

"There was an annoyance." Tomoe flicks his wrist to indicate something behind the idol. At the same time, the kitsunebi dies down, revealing a bubbling pile of melted plastic and metal.

Kurama turns, and for a moment he looks utterly confused, no idea what in the world that could be. Then, what parts of his brain had still been clouded by sleep, are abrubtly clearing and he turns an angry glare in Tomoe's direction. If looks could kill... "You melted my phone?"

Tomoe huffs, producing his pipe from the floor by the pile of their clothes. "So that's what it was."

But before he even gets the chance to light the pipe, it's snatched out of his hand, and Tomoe stares at the young demon. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I need that for work! You can't just burn it! What if it was my manager!" Kurama looks pissed, and had the pipe not been crafted by demons of utmost skill, and Kurama's fingers not been so slender and fragile-looking, Tomoe would be worried about it snapping between his fingers.

But due to that, Tomoe just rolls his eyes, leaning back against the bed. Seeing the tengu this angry is an amusing treat, and he isn't scared of him in the least.

Besides, it will pass. One missed call won't make a difference. At least not to him.

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