As the room settled into a quiet lull, Nagumo found his usual spot sprawled across the couch, his head resting comfortably on your lap. The low hum of the TV played in the background, but neither of you was paying attention to it. His sharp dark eyes lazily traced your features as his hand rested lightly on your thigh, fingers occasionally drumming a soft rhythm against your skin.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “this is my favorite place in the world.” He let his head tilt slightly to look up at you, a small, adoring smile curving his lips. His other hand reached up to brush over your arm, fingertips trailing down as if memorizing the feel of you.

His touch lingered on your thigh, thumb gently stroking the fabric of your clothes before his hand slid slightly higher. The caress was slow, deliberate, and almost hypnotic, his eyes never leaving yours. His smile widened as he watched your expression, reading every flicker of your reaction like a book he couldn’t put down.

“You’re so perfect,” Nagumo whispered, his voice carrying a possessive undertone masked by its softness. His fingers pressed just a bit firmer, sliding up toward your inner thigh, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and something deeper—something that hinted at just how much you occupied his every thought.

“Do you even realize what you do to me?” he murmured, his head shifting slightly as he nuzzled into your lap, as though trying to get even closer. The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, and his hand stilled for a moment, resting lightly where it had stopped, as if savoring the moment.

Nagumo’s smile grew playful again, but there was an unmistakable heat in his gaze. “You make it impossible for me to behave, you know that?” he teased.