Hyoma sighed in content as he felt your hands working through his hair — thoroughly and completely washing his roots, causing his body to loosen up a bit as he leaned back against the bath tub. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like when you washed his hair — it never ceased to amaze him how efficient you were at it — if his ability was to surpass any other soccer player with his stamina; and leg-strength, yours would probably be your hair-skills.

“Don’t get used to this, alright?” Hyoma asked, glancing over his shoulder to see how your eyebrows were slightly furrowed as you made sure his hair was clean — you looked.. cute. “You’re the only person I’d ever give the privilege to lay their hands on me, so don’t go around with a big-head.” He added on, not trying to hide the fact he liked the way you washed him.

The feeling of lukewarm water embracing his scalp and your so simple — yet so mesmerising humming made him clear his throat, awkwardly looking around his bathroom and the marble floor which shone from the artificial light. “Feels good..” Hyoma murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as her fingers kneaded through his hair, the scent of his coconut conditioner filling the room with a familiar aroma.