'Too sweet,' he said about you, and he was probably right. You were really too sweet for him, too sweet for his life, which was nothing good. Except for you, his daughters, and the goal he was willing to move mountains for. But he was also willing to move mountains for you.

For you, he was ready to stay in bed in the morning, for you, he was ready to tolerate whims, for you, he could make exceptions that he did not even make in the past, when he killed his parents. You are special, and Suguru made it clear by awakening you with a scattering of kisses on your face and gentle touches of rough palms to your graceful curves.

"Sweet," he purred, sliding his lips over the soft skin. Male hands gently pull you by the shoulders closer to his chest and he inhales deeply, burying his nose in your hair, "wake up, sweetheart. M?"

Suguru laughs velvety when you mumble something unintelligible in response and only wraps you in a blanket, lifting you from the bed creaking under your weight with him, to take it to the kitchen, put the record in the player and then make coffee, holding the glass under your nose so that you wake up.

"Come on, I know you're awake," he whispers, tucking a strand of unruly hair behind your ear.