The collar is loose around Gundam’s neck, and the muzzle lays on the floor, discarded after the…activities…last night.

Gundam curls up on the soft bed, looking content. It’s moments like this where Souda wishes he could freeze time, for he so rarely ever sees Gundam without his pompous aires and perfect composure.

Souda panics a little when he sees Gundam stir next to him, since he doesn’t exactly want to explain why he was staring at Gundam sleeping. But Gundam doesn’t seem to want an explanation, just a shower.

“…pink one…”

“Rise and shine, Hamster-chan!”

“Carry me.”

Souda had almost forgot how much of a damn primadonna his boyfriend could be.

He picks him up and carries him to the bathroom, and takes a minute to look at the marks the collar made on his neck, the bruises that are most definitely not bruises on his right shoulder, and the red bite marks on his left.

They shower, and Gundam spends quite a long time styling his hair afterwards. 

“Come on, Hamster-chan, you don’t need that much hair gel! Get out of the way, I need some cologne.”

“Shut up, yes I do. And that cologne smells like death. Why you wear it is a mystery too great for even my Four Dark Gods.”