It’s his hands that Uryuu likes the most. They are large and thick, calloused. Nearly the size of Uryuu’s head and definitely stronger.
But they have the capacity for the most gentleness, the most kindness. Those same hands have cradled kittens, have attempted to knit sweaters… with limited success, and have carried Uryuu when he was injured and broken.
They can be soft as they settle on his hair, fingers stroking through the dark strands. But they can be fierce when protecting, when smashing through walls or enemies. When fighting for that which matters most.
He finds it intriguing, the division of Sado’s hands. How one carries the will to defend himself, forming a shield. How the other carries the power to attack, to defeat his foes in one impressive strike. It is true that they are interchangeable, that one can block, even if it was meant to attack and vice versa. But their original purpose remains the same. And Uryuu cannot help but be intrigued by this phenomenon.
He compares Sado’s hands to his own. His which are pale and delicate, an artist’s hands. Long and elegant. Slender. Meant for fine work like sewing or drawing a perfect arrow from his bow. Meant for teasing traces across browned skin, watching chills rise up in their wake.
He likes Sado’s hands much more than his own.
Except for when Sado takes his fingers and holds them to his lips, pressing a warm, gentle kiss to each calloused pad. The spark that sends through him is worth every moment.
To be honest, there are other things about Sado he likes. His silence for one. His ability to be quiet when it matters. Or to speak when something needs be said. His dependability, how he always seems to be there without Uryuu asking. He admires Sado’s loyalty and his strength, his courage. He likes his understanding, how Sado always seems to know without having to ask just what Uryuu is thinking.
He even likes the way he tries to learn Uryuu’s craft, even though he is no good at it. Or how his one attempt at cooking something turns out worse than any strange concoction Inoue-san has ever made. He likes the way Sado’s hair falls into his eyes. And that when he gets embarrassed, he hides behind the shaggy strands.
Uryuu likes all those things and many more. It would take him a day or so to name each and every thing.
However, he thinks that it is Sado’s hands that define him, that show in an instant just what kind of man he is. It’s his hands that show his loyalty and strength and determination and love.
So when he takes one of those large hands into his and presses a kiss to Sado’s palm, the other male simply looks at him and smiles.
Understanding without even needing to ask.