Paul's eyelashes flutter as he leans into Kaworu's touch, a tiny hum between surprise and pleasure drawn out of him by the kiss to his forehead. He tightens his arm around Kaworu, all thoughts of getting up temporarily dispelled.

"I'm glad," he says, softly, finally lifting his gaze back to Kaworu's. He can see him so much better in the glow of their bedroom's lunar orbs than he could in the closet. There are subtle variation in the red of his irises, this close. He wants to memorize them, shade by shade.

"So it's all right if I kiss you again?" Paul asks, and there's a faint edge of teasing in the quiet question, overshadowed by the low husk of his half-closed throat.