"Are you, uh, are you enjoying yourself down there?" he asked, looking over his book at his partner. He knew that he had very, uh, endowed pecs, but his partner had essentially claimed them as pillows and would always lie atop him, face plopped onto his torso. "I mean, I don't mind, I just think it's a little amusing."

Truthfully, he enjoyed it. Touch was an important part of his love language, and having his partner constantly on him made him feel special. Safe, in a way. And of course, he didn't mind having his physique admired, especially by the one he loved.

He chuckled softly as his partner's face rubbed against his chest. "Too busy to reply? Okay, then." He marked his page, placed the book aside, and wrapped his arms around his partner. "I guess I might as well get comfy too."

As his eyes slipped closed, he focused on the soft sounds of his partner's breathing, on the feeling of warmth, and the gentle weight against him. He sighed, smiling, and pressed a kiss to his partner's forehead. It was nice to just spend time like this for a bit, to forget all about patrol and being Iron Fist and whatever other obligations awaited him.

Sometimes, he wished he could just live here forever, with his partner's face smushed between his pecs. But of course, quiet bliss lasted little for people like him. New York 2099 wasn't as infested with supervillains as Tokyo 2099, but had its share, and since his civilian persona had received public recognition for his social work, he had people after him both with and without his mask.

And of course, there was the matter of his partner not knowing about his vigilantism. He'd learned early on to keep his secrets, but now that he was a marked man even as a civilian, his partner would likely become a target soon enough.

He tightened his hold, his fingers curling in the soft fabric of his partner's shirt. "You'll be safe," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "I promise."