The greenhouse was cold, the kind of cold that held the memory of sunlight but none of its warmth. Izuku pushed the door open at one minute past one, his breath a pale cloud in the dark.
It hitched, catching sharp in his throat.
Soft, golden Christmas lights were strung in careful loops from the metal beams above, their glow reflecting in the glass panes like scattered stars. Beneath them, on the worn brick floor, was a nest of thick blankets and piled cushions. A proper bed, made for two. And directly above it, hanging from a thin string, a sprig of mistletoe.
Katsuki stood beside it, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was just looking at it. He turned when the door clicked shut.
“You came,” he said. His voice was low, roughened by the night.
“You asked me to.” Izuku’s own voice sounded small. He couldn’t stop staring at the setup. It was careful. It was tender. It was a knife in his ribs. “Uncle Kacchan… what is all this?”
Katsuki’s jaw worked. He finally looked away from the blankets and met Izuku’s eyes. The fairy lights caught the red of them, made them look soft, which was its own kind of lie. “It’s the last night. Tomorrow’s… tomorrow. I thought I should make it special.”
“Special,” Izuku repeated. The word tasted like ash and hope. He took a step forward, the freezing air biting through his thin sleep pants. “It looks special.”
“Don’t just stand there letting the cold in, nerd. Get over here.”
Izuku moved. Each step across the brick floor was louder than it should have been. He stopped at the edge of the blankets, close enough to feel the heat coming off Katsuki’s body. He looked up at the mistletoe, then back at Katsuki’s face. “You hung mistletoe.”
“Observant.”
“Why?”
“Tradition.” Katsuki’s gaze dropped to Izuku’s mouth. “You got a problem with tradition?”
Izuku shook his head, a tiny, desperate motion. “No.”
“Good.”
Katsuki closed the last inch between them. He didn’t grab, didn’t yank. He simply brought one large, warm hand up to cradle the side of Izuku’s neck, his thumb pressing into the frantic pulse there. His other hand found Izuku’s hip. He leaned down, slow, giving Izuku every chance to turn away.
Izuku didn’t. He tipped his face up, eyes falling shut just as Katsuki’s lips met his.
It wasn’t like the kisses in the theater, or the shower, or on the porch. This one was different. Slow. Deep. A claiming that felt like a goodbye. Katsuki kissed him like he was memorizing the shape of his mouth, the softness of his lower lip, the way Izuku sighed into him. The taste of him was familiar now—winter mint and something inherently, uniquely Katsuki.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing harder. The mistletoe swayed gently above them.
“Last night,” Katsuki murmured, his forehead resting against Izuku’s. His thumbs stroked the line of Izuku’s jaw. “Let me have it. All of it.”
Izuku’s hands came up, trembling, to fist in the front of Katsuki’s shirt. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Katsuki kissed him again, softer this time. Then his hands moved, deliberate. He found the hem of Izuku’s sweater. “Arms up.”
Izuku obeyed, raising his arms. Katsuki peeled the soft fabric up and over his head, letting it fall carelessly to the blankets. The cold air pebbled Izuku’s skin, raised goosebumps over his arms and across his small, bare chest. His nipples tightened into dark, puffy peaks.
Katsuki looked. He didn’t touch, not yet. His gaze was a physical weight, traveling over the freckles scattered like constellations, over the lean muscle of Izuku’s stomach, the gentle swell of his hips. “Beautiful,” he said, the word gritted out like a confession he couldn’t hold back.
His own hands went to his belt. The click of the buckle was obscenely loud. He shoved his jeans and boxers down in one rough push, kicking them aside. He stood there, fully bare in the golden light, his body a sculpture of hard muscle and tense power. And between his legs, his cock, thick and heavy and already fully hard, the foreskin drawn back just enough to show the flushed, wet head.
Izuku’s mouth watered. His own sleep pants were wet, fabric dark from the moisture. He went to push them down, but Katsuki’s hand closed over his wrist.
“Let me.”
Katsuki dropped to his knees on the blankets. The sight alone punched the air from Izuku’s lungs—his powerful uncle, on his knees for him. Katsuki hooked his fingers in the waistband of Izuku’s pants and underwear, and pulled them down, slow, revealing Izuku’s body inch by inch. The clean-shaven skin of his pussy, already glistening with wetness. Katsuki made a low, hungry sound in his throat as he freed Izuku’s legs from the fabric, tossing the clothes away.
He didn’t get up. He stayed on his knees, his hands settling on Izuku’s thick thighs, spreading them just a little wider. He looked up, his crimson eyes blazing. “Look at you.”
He leaned in, his breath hot against Izuku’s inner thigh, and then his tongue, broad and wet, dragged a slow, deliberate stripe through Izuku’s soaked folds.
Izuku cried out, a sharp, broken sound. His hands flew to Katsuki’s hair, fingers tangling in the spiky blond strands, not to push him away but to hold on. “K-Kacchan—”
“Shut up,” Katsuki growled against him, his voice vibrating through Izuku’s core. “Just feel it.”
He did. He felt everything. The rough texture of Katsuki’s tongue, the soft pressure of his lips, the way he zeroed in on Izuku’s clit and sucked, gently at first, then harder. Izuku’s legs trembled, threatening to buckle. The taste of himself, musky and sharp, filled the air between them.
“You’re dripping,” Katsuki murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. His mouth was glistening. “Always so fucking wet for me. Even when you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Izuku gasped, his hips giving an involuntary jerk forward, seeking that heat again.
“Liar.” Katsuki’s hands tightened on his thighs. “But you want me anyway.” He dove back in, his tongue plunging deeper this time, fucking into him with short, relentless strokes.
The pleasure was a live wire, snapping up Izuku’s spine. His back arched, a moan tearing from his throat. The Christmas lights swam in his vision, golden blurs against the dark glass. “I’m… I’m gonna…”
“Yeah, you are.” Katsuki didn’t let up. He added a finger, circling the tight ring of muscle beneath, pressing just enough to make Izuku shout. “Come on, nerd. Squirt for me. Let me taste it all.”
The command, raw and filthy, shattered the last of Izuku’s control. The orgasm ripped through him, blinding and seismic. A gush of clear fluid soaked Katsuki’s chin, his neck, dripping onto the blankets below. Izuku shook through it, sobbing, his release seeming to go on and on under the relentless pull of Katsuki’s mouth.
When it finally ebbed, Katsuki rose to his feet, his own breathing ragged. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving Izuku’s wrecked face. “See?” he said, his voice hoarse. “That’s what last night gets you. Everything.”
He kissed him then, deep and claiming, letting Izuku taste himself on Katsuki’s tongue. It was salt and heat and ruin. Izuku clung to him, his body humming, already aching for more.
Izuku’s hands, still tangled in Katsuki’s hair, firmed. He pushed.
It wasn’t a shove. It was a deliberate, steady pressure. Katsuki’s eyes widened, just for a fraction of a second, before he allowed himself to be guided backward, down onto the nest of blankets. He landed with a soft thump, his powerful body sprawled, the golden lights glinting off the sweat on his chest. He looked up at Izuku, who stood trembling between his spread knees, and a slow, dangerous smile touched his mouth. “What’s this?”
“My turn,” Izuku whispered. His voice shook, but his gaze didn’t waver.
Katsuki’s smile sharpened. He leaned back on his elbows, his cock jutting thick and obscene against his stomach. “Your turn for what, nerd? You gonna ride me?”
“Yes.” Izuku knelt, one knee slotting between Katsuki’s thighs, then the other. He straddled him, the damp, bare skin of his pussy hovering just above the hot, rigid length. He braced his hands on Katsuki’s hard chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart under his palms. “I am.”
Katsuki’s hands came up to grip Izuku’s hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh. “Then do it. Don’t just sit there shaking.”
Izuku took a ragged breath. He reached between them, his fingers wrapping around Katsuki’s girth. He felt the heavy weight, the silken skin, the bead of wetness leaking from the tip. He guided himself, the broad head nudging against his soaked entrance. The stretch was immediate, breathtaking. He sank down, inch by agonizing inch, a low, torn moan escaping him as he was filled.
“Fuck,” Katsuki hissed, his head falling back, his neck corded with strain. His fingers bit into Izuku’s hips hard enough to bruise. “So tight. Always so fucking tight.”
Izuku bottomed out, his body sheathing Katsuki completely. He sat still, overwhelmed, feeling every throbbing inch buried inside him. He could feel the ridge of the head pressing against a deep, sweet spot that made his vision blur. “Kacchan…”
“Move.” The word was a ragged command. Katsuki’s eyes burned up at him, full of fire and a shattered kind of awe. “Show me what you want, Izuku.”
Izuku rocked his hips, a slow, experimental roll. Pleasure sparked, sharp and bright. He did it again, finding a rhythm, rising up until only the tip remained inside, then sinking back down in a slow, devastating glide. The wet, slick sound of their joining filled the humid air.
“Look at you,” Katsuki growled, his hands sliding up to span Izuku’s waist. “Taking me so good. Using my cock to get yourself off. You’re my greedy little nephew, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Izuku gasped, his own hands moving to his small chest, pinching his puffy nipples. The twin sparks of pain and pleasure made his hips stutter. “I’m greedy. I want it all. I want—” His words broke off into a cry as Katsuki thrust up, meeting his next downward stroke, driving deeper.
“You want what?” Katsuki goaded, his own breathing coming in harsh pants. He was letting Izuku set the pace, but his hips kept lifting in tiny, punishing increments, refusing to let Izuku have full control. “Say it.”
“I want to come again,” Izuku sobbed, his rhythm fracturing into desperate bucks. “I want to squirt on you. I want to feel you… feel you come inside me. One last time.”
The words hung between them, a brutal reminder. Katsuki’s expression darkened. With a snarl, he flipped them, reversing their positions in one powerful motion. He loomed over Izuku, still buried to the hilt, caging him with his arms. “Then come,” he demanded, and began to fuck him in earnest, deep, piston-like drives that stole the air from Izuku’s lungs.
It was too much. The friction, the depth, the raw claim in Katsuki’s eyes. Izuku’s orgasm built like a tsunami, unstoppable. He clutched at Katsuki’s back, his nails raking over sweat-slick muscle. “I’m— I’m—”
“Now,” Katsuki ordered, his pace turning brutal, the slap of skin echoing. “Do it.”
Izuku shattered. A gush of fluid, hot and copious, soaked between them. His back arched off the blankets, a wordless scream tearing from his throat as the waves of pleasure crested and crashed. Through the haze, he felt Katsuki’s rhythm falter, felt the hot, sudden pulse deep inside him as Katsuki groaned, a raw, broken sound, and followed him over the edge.
They collapsed together, a tangled, damp heap. Katsuki’s weight was crushing, perfect. Izuku could feel the spend leaking from him, a warm, claiming trickle. The Christmas lights blurred above them. For a long time, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant hum of the house’s furnace.
Katsuki shifted, rolling to his side but keeping an arm hooked possessively around Izuku’s waist. He didn’t pull out. His forehead dropped against Izuku’s temple. “Damn,” he breathed, the word muffled against damp green hair.
Izuku turned his face into Katsuki’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat, sex, and him. His body hummed, utterly spent. A strange, hollow quiet settled in his chest where the pleasure had been. The “last night” was happening, right now, and it was almost gone.
Izuku’s hands fisted in Katsuki’s hair, dragging his mouth back up to his. The kiss was messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth and shared breath. “Don’t you dare think we’re done yet, Uncle Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s laugh was a dark, breathless thing against Izuku’s lips. “Greedy,” he repeated, but he was already hardening again inside him, a thick, twitching reminder that he was far from spent.
“You said everything.” Izuku rocked his hips, a slow, filthy grind that made them both gasp. “So give me everything. Until the sun comes up. Until I can’t walk.”
“Fuck.” Katsuki’s control snapped. He surged up, capturing Izuku’s mouth in a searing kiss as he began to move again, his thrusts deep and languid, a slow rekindling of the fire. “My greedy, insatiable nephew.”
Izuku wrapped his legs around Katsuki’s waist, locking his ankles. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“Nephew.” The word was a hot whisper against Katsuki’s ear. “I want to hear you say it while you’re inside me.”
Katsuki stilled for a heartbeat, his entire body going rigid. Then he drove into Izuku with a force that stole the air from the room. “You’re my fucking nephew,” he growled, the confession torn from somewhere raw and shameful. “And I’ve wanted you since you were twelve. Since I first noticed those little tits of your’s. Since I watched you blow out your fucking birthday candles.”
Each admission was punctuated by a thrust, each one deeper than the last. Izuku sobbed, his nails digging into the hard muscle of Katsuki’s back. “More.”
“I stole your panties.” Katsuki’s voice was ragged, broken open. “I’ve jerked off with them wrapped around my cock a hundred times. Smelling you. Tasting the fabric where you’d been wet.”
The image, so specific and depraved, sent a violent shudder through Izuku. His pussy clenched, a fresh gush of wetness easing Katsuki’s punishing slide. “You’re sick.”
“I know.” Katsuki kissed him, a brutal, claiming press of lips. “And you love it. You’re dripping all over my cock right now because of how sick I am for you.”
Izuku couldn’t deny it. His body was a traitor, singing with every filthy word. He arched, meeting each thrust, chasing the coil of pleasure tightening low in his gut. “I watched you,” he gasped, the secret spilling out. “That first night. In the hall. I saw you with my… with my panties.”
Katsuki froze. His eyes, blown black with lust, searched Izuku’s face. “What?”
“I watched you,” Izuku repeated, the truth liberating and terrifying. “And I came without touching myself. Just from seeing how much you wanted me.”
A low, animal sound ripped from Katsuki’s throat. He flipped Izuku onto his stomach with a single, powerful motion, dragging his hips up. The new angle was devastating, the head of his cock grinding directly against that deep, sweet spot with every entry. “You little voyeur,” he panted, his hands gripping Izuku’s waist hard enough to leave marks. “You perfect, filthy little secret.”
He set a ruthless pace, the sound of skin on skin wet and obscene in the quiet greenhouse. Izuku pushed back against him, his face pressed into the blankets, muffling his cries. The pleasure was a blade, sharp and exquisite. He could feel his own slick coating his thighs, hear the wet slap of Katsuki’s balls against his skin.
“You gonna come again?” Katsuki demanded, his breath hot on Izuku’s neck. “Gonna squirt all over uncle’s cock while I fuck you like the dirty secret you are?”
“Yes,” Izuku wailed, the pressure building beyond bearing. “Kacchan, please—”
“Then do it.” Katsuki’s pace turned frenzied, brutal, his hips a relentless piston. “Soak me. Let me feel it.”
The command tore the orgasm from him. Izuku screamed, his body convulsing as a hot flood of release gushed out around Katsuki’s driving length. The waves seemed endless, milking Katsuki through his own climax, a hoarse shout torn from his chest as he pulsed deep inside, filling Izuku with more cum.
Izuku turned onto his back in Katsuki’s arms, desperately pulling him close, kissing him like it would hurt to stop. “Keep going.”
Katsuki did. His cock hadn’t even softened, still thick and pulsing deep inside Izuku’s spent, clenching heat. He met the kiss with equal desperation, his tongue pushing past Izuku’s lips to taste the sweat and shared breath.
“I can’t get enough of you,” Izuku gasped against his mouth, his hips making small, aborted circles. “It’s like you carved a hole in me and now it only fits you.”
Katsuki groaned, a sound of pure agony. He began to move again, a slow, deep grind that was less about friction and more about possession, about staying buried. “Shut up,” he muttered, but he was kissing Izuku’s jaw, his throat, like he was trying to memorize the taste of his skin.
“Make me.” Izuku dragged his hands down Katsuki’s back, feeling the welts his nails had left. “Use me up. Leave me so I can’t even think about tomorrow.”
“You’re gonna be sore for a week,” Katsuki warned, but he was already picking up the pace, his thrusts gaining purpose, drawing a wet, shaky moan from Izuku’s chest.
“Promise?”
Katsuki’s answer was a harder thrust, one that made Izuku’s eyes roll back. “Every time you sit down to open presents tomorrow. Every time you try to walk to the dinner table. You’ll feel me.”
Izuku wrapped his legs higher, locking his ankles at the small of Katsuki’s back. “Good. I want them all to see I’m ruined.”
“They won’t see shit.” Katsuki’s voice was rough with exertion. “They’ll just see my perfect nephew. They’ll see you smiling at your fucking fiancé.”
“I don’t care about Shoto anymore,” Izuku gasped, the words ripped out between the relentless drive of Katsuki’s hips. He bucked back against him, emphasizing each declaration. “I don’t care. I just care about this cock. This body. This moment. I only care about my Uncle Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s rhythm stuttered. He went still, buried to the hilt inside Izuku’s clenching heat. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” Izuku turned his head, his cheek pressed into the blanket, his green eyes fierce in the dim Christmas lights. “He doesn’t own this. You do. You carved this hole, remember? It only fits you.”
Izuku turned his head, his lips finding Katsuki’s with a bruising, whole-bodied kiss. “Don’t stop fucking what belongs to you, Kacchan.” He gasped the words into his uncle’s mouth. “Don’t you dare stop tonight.”
Katsuki’s answer was a deep, rolling thrust that punched the air from Izuku’s lungs. He began to move again, a slower, more deliberate rhythm that emphasized the sheer, stretching fullness. “Mine,” he grunted, his forehead pressed to Izuku’s. “Say it.”
“Yours.” Izuku’s hips rose to meet each push, his body accepting every inch. “Only yours. God, it’s so deep. I can feel you in my throat.”
“Good.” Katsuki’s hands slid down to grip the backs of Izuku’s thighs, spreading him wider, angling himself impossibly deeper. “These are mine. This cunt is mine. These little tits are mine.” He punctuated each claim with a squeeze, a pinch, a possessive grope that made Izuku cry out.
“They are,” Izuku sobbed, his own hands fumbling between their sweat-slick bodies. He found his own nipples, pinching the puffy, sensitive nubs until they ached. “See? I know who they belong to.”
Katsuki watched, his thrusts slowing to a near-stop, his red eyes fixed on Izuku’s hands on his own body. The hunger in his gaze was ravenous. “You’re a fucking vision,” he breathed, the raw awe in his voice more intimate than any filthy word. “My perfect, filthy nephew.”
“Then take your vision,” Izuku begged, his hips squirming against the slow, maddening grind. “Stop looking and use it.”
A rough sound escaped Katsuki. He leaned down, capturing one of Izuku’s nipples in his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue lashing the bud. Izuku arched off the blankets with a sharp cry, his pussy clenching in a rapid, fluttering rhythm around the thick cock still buried inside him.
“You like that,” Katsuki muttered against his skin, switching to the other nipple, biting just shy of pain. “You like your uncle marking up your tits.”
“Yes,” Izuku whimpered, his fingers tangling in Katsuki’s spiky hair, holding him there. The dual sensation was overwhelming—the hot, wet pull on his nipple and the persistent, full ache lower down. He could feel another orgasm building, a low, insistent pressure different from the sharp crests before. This one was a slow flood, a deep-well surrender.
Katsuki seemed to sense the shift. He released Izuku’s breast with a wet pop and lifted his head, his gaze searching. “You close again?”
Izuku could only nod, his breath coming in shallow pants. “It’s… it’s different. It’s everywhere.”
“Let it go,” Katsuki urged, his voice dropping to a guttural whisper. He began to move again, not fast, but deep, each withdrawal almost complete before he sank back in, making Izuku feel every ridge, every pulse. “Soak these blankets. Let everyone wonder why the fucking tomatoes are growing so good next year.”
The crude, ridiculous image tipped Izuku over the edge. He came with a broken shout, his body seizing not in violent spasms but in a prolonged, trembling release. A hot gush of fluid spilled out around Katsuki’s cock, soaking the blanket beneath them, the scent of sex and earth thickening the humid air. Katsuki drove through it, his own control fraying, his thrusts becoming ragged, chasing his finish.
“Inside,” Izuku pleaded, his legs locking tighter. “I want to feel it tomorrow. I want to walk around full of you on Christmas.”
Katsuki’s composure shattered. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came with a raw, torn shout, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself deep into Izuku’s clutching heat. They collapsed together, a tangled heap of limbs and damp blankets, the only sound their ragged breathing and the faint hum of Christmas lights.
Katsuki was the first to move, shifting his weight off of Izuku but not letting go, rolling them to their sides so he was still half-pinned beneath him. His softening cock slipped free, followed by a slow, warm trickle of their combined release onto Izuku’s thigh. Neither mentioned it.
Izuku nuzzled into the hollow of Katsuki’s throat, inhaling the scent of sweat, sex, and his uncle’s skin. “You’re still hard,” he murmured, feeling the insistent, thick pressure against his hip.
“I’m forty, not dead,” Katsuki muttered, his hand stroking idle patterns on the small of Izuku’s back. “Give me a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute.” Izuku lifted his head, his green eyes serious in the multicolored glow. “We have tonight. That’s it.” He slid his hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Katsuki’s semi-hard length. He felt it jump, beginning to swell again under his touch. “So don’t stop.”
Katsuki looked at him, his expression unreadable. Then he closed his hand over Izuku’s, stilling the movement. “Your pants,” he said, his voice rough.
“What about them?”
“The ones I tore. At the movies.” Katsuki’s thumb rubbed circles over Izuku’s knuckles. “They were a gift from him, weren’t they? From Shoto.”
Izuku went very still. He hadn’t mentioned that. He’d tried not to think about it. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Our six-month anniversary.”
Katsuki was silent for a long moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he brought their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to Izuku’s palm. It was shockingly tender. “Good,” he said, the word a low rumble. “I’m glad I ruined them.”
Izuku bit his lip, hard. The sharp pain cut through the hazy aftermath. "Prove it," he whispered, his voice scraped raw from shouting. "Keep ruining me."
Katsuki’s hand, still cupped over Izuku’s on his cock, tightened. His red eyes were dark in the low light. "You don’t know when to quit, nerd."
"It’s the last night," Izuku breathed, shifting his hips so his slick, used cunt rubbed against Katsuki’s thigh. "I’m not quitting until we can no longer move.”
Katsuki took the challenge in his teeth. He rolled Izuku onto his stomach with a rough, possessive growl, dragging him up onto his knees. "You want ruined?" he muttered, his hands spreading Izuku's thighs wide. "I'll fucking ruin you."
He didn't enter him slowly. He pushed back inside with one solid, deep thrust, making Izuku scream into the blanket. The stretch was obscene now, oversensitive and aching, and it was perfect.
They lost count after that. Time dissolved into the humid dark, marked only by the shift of their bodies and the low hum of the lights. Katsuki fucked him on his back again, then bent him over a stack of burlap sacks that smelled of fertilizer. Izuku rode him until his thighs trembled, squirting over his uncle's stomach with a hoarse, broken cry. They used hands and mouths in between, trading exhausted, open-mouthed kisses that tasted of salt and desperation.
"Can't," Izuku gasped finally, his body slumping against Katsuki's chest. They were a slick, trembling heap on the blankets. "I can't cum again. I'm empty."
Katsuki's arms tightened around him. His own breathing was a ragged saw in the quiet. "Me either," he admitted, his voice raw. He pressed a kiss to Izuku's sweaty temple.
The Christmas lights seemed to glow softer now. The first pale hint of dawn was bleeding through the grimy glass panels of the greenhouse, turning the world a muted gray. Izuku blinked, his eyes focusing slowly. He could see their discarded clothes, the empty water bottle, the mistletoe hanging still and forgotten above them. It was five in the morning.
They shifted, moving as one heavy, spent creature, until they were lying face to face on their sides. Katsuki pulled a blanket over them, his large hands trembling faintly with exhaustion as he tucked it around Izuku's shoulders. They just looked at each other. Izuku traced the dark circles under Katsuki's red eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the utter, dazed wreckage of his uncle's composure.
"I love you, Katsuki," Izuku whispered. The words left him easily, like a final, quiet truth pulled from a deep well.
Katsuki's eyes closed. A muscle jumped in his jaw. When they opened again, they were shining. "I love you too, Izuku." His voice was wrecked, tender, sure.
They kissed then, slow and deep and heartbreakingly soft. It tasted like goodbye and belonging all at once. Katsuki pulled him closer, tucking Izuku's head under his chin, holding him as if he could shield him from the coming sun. They didn't speak again. They just held each other, listening to their hearts slow, watching the light grow stronger through the glass, waiting for morning to find them.