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Rerir was never one to initiate physical contact, you've noticed.
At the very least, it makes sense. He was always… a weird guy, for lack of a better term. Much more private than the average person, he often kept people at arm's length. You have been a witness to numerous conversations where he'd dance around basic personal questions— he's never been one to answer a "What have you been up to this week?" with a real answer. You know him as someone to turn the question back on the other person, watch them get lost in recounting their own life that they completely forget about Rerir's own.
But you don't really get it, for a guy who's supposed to be apart of the King's Guard— you'd expect him to share atleast some of the more thrilling aspects of his life. It's not even information that you're granted access to, but it's not like it gets to you.
People are kept at a distance, physically and emotionally— you are somewhere in between the distance of him and people.
You are not the average person to Rerir, you think. After all, you two do live together, so it must mean something. You're not let into the depths of his heart and mind— but it's not like your love for one another is something shallow. It's very much real, after all, it just manifests in a way different from the rest.
Verbal declarations are traded for notes— in some cases, "manic ramblings taken to pen" may be more accurate. Sometimes there are notes left when he leaves for work early, all apologies for leaving without seeing you off, adorned with thoughts of what to do once he gets back. At other times, you find writing that has fallen off of his desk or peeking from other papers— declarations of love, how your presence has changed his life for the better, the idea of a future without you being unbearable.
They're never thoughts Rerir has ever verbalized. But it's not like you can imagine him doing as such.
The way he shows physical affection is similar. He stands closer to you than he would other people in public— but it never goes beyond that. Often your friends hound you about this, asking if Rerir was truly incapable of doing the bare mininum of touching you.
He's not, you know this from sharing a bed with the man— but curious questions still persist, regardless. You can't blame them, you're aware that you've probably received less hugs and kisses than the average partner in a relationship, and that's fine. Being physical with you isn't his strong suit, which is fine, because really—
When he takes the rare chance to be physical, after all—
—he makes it count.
Whatever other thoughts you try to think through are thrown out the window now. You're distracted by the ringing in your ears, how hot your face feels, and how unbearably close Rerir is right now. His panting feels surreal, yet you keep getting lost in how blue his eye is when it looks so dark and—
"M-Maybe we should move this to…" you trail off, dammit, you're getting lost again, "t-to…y'know?"
You force yourself to look away from him briefly, trying to direct your attention back toward your bedroom. Really, this shouldn't be stuff that's done on your dining table, of all places—
"I-In a moment," Rerir stutters— such a rarity, and with how strained his voice sounds, you feel the butterflies in your stomach going out of control. He's holding you by your hips as he's leaning into you, but now he's moving his hands. It's slow— careful and methodic, like he's afraid his hands would be capable of hurting you, injuring you. You know that can't ever happen— right? right. — but it goes to tell just how he loves you.
And then, you feel them trailing under your shirt and oh—
Oh. This is new. It's not like you've never felt his hands before but this, this was different. It's like you're suddenly aware of the callouses on his hands, how rough his skin brushes against yours yet feels so soothing. He drags his hands to your waist, almost like he's trying to map out your body.
"J-Just… one more," he mutters, as he thumbs at where your skin dips, before moving to kiss you again. Unlike with the rest of his treatment, his kiss hits like a crash of thunder— you scramble to move one hand to move the bottle of wine out of harm's way on the table, the other getting entangled in the back of Rerir's hair to keep some semblance of balance. It's like everything feels much more intense, with the long kiss being broken in favor for multiple short ones— brief and fleeting for seconds before it returns, again and again.
"T-That's not just one, Rerir," you try to laugh between kisses, still happily meeting him for each one. It's nice. This feels nice. "I think you're acting a little greedy," you try to tease, but Rerir… stalls. He pulls away from your face, leaning over you— right, he is huge compared to you— and you try to figure out how he's exactly feeling from behind his eye. You move your hand from the back of his head to the side of his face, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek with the ends of his brown bangs tickling your skin.
"…Greedy," he breathes. His voice still sounds strained, but there's something… off. Almost as if you struck a nerve or something. You feel a frown tug at your lips.
"I didn't mean it in a bad way—" you try to fix your mistake, but he shakes his head.
"No, no— it's fine," he sighs, moving to press his forehead against yours. He tries to catch his breath, but you're just distracted. Sure, the two of you have been kissing, and sure, you've gone farther before and will likely do so again tonight, but this—
This moment of silence, aside from the two of you trying to catch each other's breath.
This feeling of skin on skin, aside from how sweat is starting to cling to both of your bodies.
This— this was the definitive proof. Where all others are kept a healthy distance away, there's only one that Rerir could ever hold like this, to kiss and touch and feel.
It's overwhelming. It's addictive, you almost can't get enough. Maybe then, you too are—
"You're right," Rerir finally catches his breath, moving one of his hands to mimic your movements; He cups your cheek, as he gazes down at you. "I really am greedy, aren't I."
"I-It's not a bad thing," you try to assure him again, just to be sure— but then your breath catches in your throat.
It's a small movement you feel, one that's all too gentle and couldn't be noticeable. Yet it's so painfully obvious to you. There was a hand at your waist, but it's dragged up your body; You can feel the underside of your chest being gently brushed at, feather light touches moving in circles.
You're distracted for only a brief moment— but it was long enough that when your attention turned back to Rerir's face, it changed. Not that he lost his blush, not that his eye stopped looking so attentive, the average person wouldn't notice.
But you do. Because it's Rerir. Because you know him.
This has stopped being a spur of the moment drunken mistake between the two of you. The way that Rerir looks at you now affirms it.
It' s not just his love. It's not just his devotion.
It's become desire. It's as if he's a predator that's finally caught his prey, right where he wants them, ready to go into the kill.
—Of course, it can't entirely be like that. Not your gentle Rerir, who loves you in his own different way.
"I want more," he murmurs, dropping the hand from your face to go under your shirt again, moving his head to the side of yours. Taking deep breaths, deep inhales through the nose, like he's trying to focus. His hand's callouses feel more and more prominent as he presses into your chest, but it makes your skin tingle more and more. Before you get a chance to say anything, another kiss is pressed to your lips— long and deep, yet never going beyond a point of no return. Eventually, he does pull away.
His face is still flushed. His lips are reddened. The star pupil in his eye is blown out and dilated, it's all incredibly mesmerizing, and it's all for you.
"Is that alright?" He asks. His voice is still rough, yet his words come out softly. Still out of breath.
Of course it's alright.
And of course, you don't need words to communicate that.