Choso still didn’t understand why he enjoyed mornings with you so much, but there he was—sitting on the edge of the bed, long hair loose, letting you play with it with a patience he didn’t have with anyone else.

When your fingers began to separate and tie the strands, he tilted his head slightly, giving in to the touch without argument. It wasn’t something natural for him; intimacy had never been simple. But with you, his body reacted before his mind could catch up.

You styled his hair just right, firm where it needed to be, gentle where he was more sensitive. Choso stayed quiet, watching from the corner of his eye, breathing deeper each time your fingers glided over his neck.

When you finished, he leaned back for a moment against your leg—a small gesture, but full of meaning, almost a silent thank you.

He was still getting the hang of it. But he was catching on too quickly when it came to you.