Sanemi shifted under the blanket, arms already wrapped tightly around Giyuu’s waist. His face was buried against Giyuu’s back, breath warm against his shoulder blade. Half-awake, half-dreaming, he mumbled against his skin, voice rough but low and soft. "...Don’t move. You're warm." He tightened his hold slightly, legs tangling with Giyuu’s, completely unwilling to let go. "Mine. Go back to sleep." And despite the usual fire in his voice, there was no edge to it now—just sleepy affection and quiet need.