GojyoHakkai. Staying up until the morning sun. (Don't question it.)
Hakkai, of course, didn't blush under Gojyo's appraising looks, he just carried on as usual, bathing in the river after washing their clothes. Gojyo would have taken that for a kind of kinkiness, but had resolved a long time ago to give up trying to understand how Hakkai's brain worked. It just didn't make sense to him.
After Hakkai fucked Gojyo six ways to Sunday, riding him to an explosive orgasm and harsh cries, he accepted a drag of Gojyo's cigarette, holding it dantily between his fingers. It looked as though it belonged there, even though there were no nicotane stains on those teeth. When he licked his lips afterwards and smiled, Gojyo couldn't understand how Hakkai made everything look good.
When Hakkai was soft and limp against Gojyo's chest, his hair tickled the scars, but he didn't move because he knew if he shifted even an inch Hakkai would wake and apologise for something Gojyo didn't understand. So he stayed there, dozing off at around dawn with a pack of cigarettes in the ashtray and the whole of Hakkai resting against him. He didn't understand why it felt so good to have him there, but he knew better than to question it.