Work Text:
Mitsuya’s stomach is in knots as he sits in the bath. He ignores it by staring absently at the pink water collecting around Draken’s feet before it slowly makes its way down the drain. His eyes flick up, tracking the soap running down his back when he lifts the handheld showerhead over his shoulder. From behind it's almost easy to forget how battered he is. He’s abruptly reminded when Draken lifts the nozzle further, up over his head, fingers scrubbing through his loose hair, battered knuckles on full display.
Did he hurt them on Mikey, or afterwards, when he punched the ground?
Either way the torn and purpling skin looks painful, but Draken hardly seems to notice as he lowers the showerhead to rinse his face. It takes a second but the water runs darker pink around the drain.
Misuya’s too slow to look away when Draken hangs the shower-head back on the wall, reaching for a bottle of shampoo and turning away from the water. They lock eyes for a moment and nothing much passes between them aside from tired looks, both too drained for conversation. Draken looks away first to fill his hands with shampoo that smells like lemons, too bright for someone like him, Mitsuya thinks, and closes his eyes as he works it into his hair.
Mitsuya takes the opportunity to evaluate his friend. There was a time, years ago now, when he used to look at Draken in ways that a friend shouldn’t. But over time the pangs of jealousy at watching Draken fall into orbit around him faded. He’d done the same in the end, afterall. But things got better when he started hanging around Peh and Pah a little more, once he met Hakkai, joined home ec., and made some new friends and grew out of his crush.
Now the love he had for Ken was strictly platonic, he would follow his twin dragon to the ends of the earth for a reason more healthy than unrequited puppy love. He respected the hell out of Toman’s second in command—probably more than he respected anyone else.
It’s not that Draken stopped being attractive to him. Objectively, physically, Ken is his type. Tall, lithe, handsome, and graceful—he was the mold, afterall. Watching him lean and tilt his head back under the stream of water, stretching his stomach and lengthening his neck makes something tighten in the pit of Mitsuya’s stomach and so he looks away to spare himself any embarrassment. He’s over it and has just had the shit kicked out of him but he’s not blind, for christ's sake.
He sinks lower into the tub, until it reaches up to his chin, and closes his eyes.
The girls at the parlour had gasped when they walked in limping, bruised and bloody. Draken had an arm under Mitsuya’s armpits, hoisting him up and into his side to keep him standing. The girls waiting in the lobby ushered them down the hall into their private bathroom, torn between fretting over them and chastising. As if they could read the weight of the situation they calmed quickly enough, pulling the door closed quietly after flicking the heater for the oversized tub meant to share.
Draken had helped Mitsuya out of his clothes, sat him down on the stool and used sure fingers to wash the blood off his face and out of his hair. For having such big hands he was surprisingly gentle. Maybe growing up around and taking care of a bunch of women had taught him that. It made him smile to think about. Mitsuya’s sisters always yelled that he was too rough when he put their hair up. When they were kids they’d beg Draken to do it because “Ryu-san was nicer to their heads.”
With Draken’s fingertips against his scalp, Mitsuya’s thoughts drifted until hands wrapped under his arms, pulling him to his feet. Mitsuya had shaken Draken off then, standing up to soap and rinse himself down before limping to the tub and gingerly lowering himself into the piping-hot water, Draken’s dark eyes burning a hole into his back.
It was sort of a relief to finally close his eyes and escape that piercing gaze. Draken was too observant sometimes.
Once he’s absolutely sure the soap has safely been rinsed from his hair, Draken cracks an eye and peers side-long at Takashi. Takashi , he only thinks of him like this when he’s not fully in his head. Mitsuya has his eyes closed, sunk low in the tub. He looks so relaxed that it could pass for sleeping, which worries Draken but not enough to disturb him yet. Instead, he takes the opportunity to eye the surface of the water, trying to see if he can spot that little silver barbell and dainty little chain he’d noticed for the first time earlier, when he was helping Mitsuya out of his shirt. Mitsuya’s so still there’s hardly any ripples on the surface of the water and he can see it, distorted and glimmering under the steaming surface.
Draken closes his eyes and tilts his head back so his face is under the spout and tries not to think about anything other than the stinging cuts on his face being washed of sweat, blood, and dirt. He’ll spend the next few days, months, years thinking about this night. The night they officially lost Mikey. The night he came for them and demanded they stop trying to find him, to help him. The day Mikey split their lips and blackened their eyes and probably broke a bone or two (poor Peh) all with a frighteningly violent and delighted grin slashed across his face. After this the others would be done, Draken knew. He envied them for that.
If he focused on something else, his brain wouldn’t fixate on Mikey or Toman or the way his knuckles screamed and throbbed with every beat of his heavy heart. Be useful, focus on doing something. Best if it’s something with your hands. So he pushes those thoughts down and instead focuses on Mitsuya, on making sure he wasn’t about to drown himself in the bathtub.
“Oi, Mitsuya”
Heavy lids lift to reveal blurry, sleepy lavender eyes that are slow to focus on Draken’s face, drifting up from somewhere around his knees until they finally settle.
“Don’t fall asleep in the tub you moron.”
Mitsuya rolls his eyes with a huff of laughter but sits himself up out of the water anyway. Draken eyes his swollen nose, definitely broken, and darkening eye socket critically.
“You probably shouldn’t sleep at all tonight, just to be safe.”
“Yeah, you either.”
Draken grunts his agreement before shutting off the shower and reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist.
“No bath?” Mitsuya asked
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” a beat of silence passes before Draken realizes the implication.
“It might make me too tired,” he adds hastily, “one of us should stay sharp.”
“You should get in Ken, it will do your muscles some good. We can share the burden of staying awake later.”
Draken thinks about it for a moment and the idea of stiff, knotted muscles in the morning has him nodding his assent. He hangs the towel, pink and fluffy, back on the wall.
Being at Draken’s place is hard for Mitsuya. Unlike Draken, he’s not used to the rhythmic sound of the bed thumping into the other side of the wall and the moans that drift down the hall. To be fair, they are pretty well muffled, but in the comfortable stillness and silence between them it’s all Mitsuya can hear. A particularly deep groan (a client, no doubt) has his ears burning with a flush. He shifts on the bed and focuses on trying to reduce the semi in his pants.
Draken laughs at him.
“Sorry about the soundtrack, it is a Friday night afterall.”
“How do you tune it out?” Mitsuya asks, hoping for some advice. Or headphones.
“Dunno. Just got over it I guess. It’s not like I don’t hear it, I just don’t register it. It’s almost comforting at this point,” Draken laughs, eyes scrunching.
“Comforting…” Mitsuya grumbles
As if on cue another particularly sharp moan and a loud, garbled groan ring out again and Mitsuya finally decides to try and discreetly tuck his dick in the waist of his borrowed sweats and Draken roars with laughter. This time the blush touches Mitsuya’s cheeks.
“Shuddup!” He shouts, shoving Draken by the shoulder.
“It’s okay if you get a boner dude. No judgement here. It’s weird, I get it.”
“You’ve never…?”
“Of course I have. Though, not for a while. It happened a lot when I first hit puberty, obviously. I can’t tell you how many wet dreams I had back then. But now it doesn’t do much for me, yanno. But you should have seen Takemichi when he came here. I almost made him take a cold shower before he left.”
Mitsuya lets out a bark of laughter at that. He can only imagine.
“What about Mikey?” Mitsuya asks, almost reflexively. Realizing his mistake instantly at the pained expression that crosses over Draken’s face.
“Nah,” he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach its mark, “He’s invincible there too. He’s even better at tuning it out than I am.”
Mitsuya doesn’t miss the lack of past tense.
There’s a long pause and then Draken’s smiling again, this one genuine enough.
“Though, one time I did catch him humping a pillow in his sleep when he stayed over. He made me swear not to tell anyone, he was so embarrassed.”
“I bet that was kind of cute, actually” Mitsuya says once he’s stopped laughing.
“Yeah,” Draken chuckles, “It was.”
The two of them fall into a heavy silence. Draken can tell there’s something Mitsuya wants to say so he’s quiet, waiting until he finds the words.
“You’re going to stop, right Ken? You’ll stop trying to reach him?” Mitsuya asks all rushed, eye darting up to meet a dark, unreadable gaze.
Instead of answering, Draken gets up and crosses the room to turn on some music. Some English band, The Clash, Mitsuya thinks, plays low through the speakers and Draken turns it up a few notches until it masks most of the noises from the rooms next door.
“If it gets that bad, you can use my shower room” Draken teases, throwing a wolfish smile over his shoulder.
“I won’t say anything else after this, Draken, but I’ll never forgive him if he gets you killed. You hear me? Never.”
“Common’ Taka, no need to be so serious about it.” Draken says gently, crawling on the bed so he’s leaning against the bookshelf he uses as a headboard.
The nickname flusters Mitsuya enough that he drops it after that.
“Here, get comfortable,” Draken says, tossing Mitsuya his pillow and a magazine (on motorcycles, naturally).
Mitsuya’s about to protest when Draken folds up one of his knit sweaters to put behind his head as a replacement. He shoots Mitsuya a shit-eating grin and stretches those stupidly long legs across his lap, his calves squished up against Mitsuya’s thighs. Mitsuya rolls his eyes and shoves the pillow against the wall behind him and pushes drakens legs away from his dick, which he still doesn’t trust to behave, before settling into a more comfortable position.
“No sleeping.” Draken says, too serious for being cuddled up in bed with thick, knit socks on his too-big feet.
“No sleeping,” Mitsuya agrees dutifully, flipping open the magazine to the first page.
It’s gotta be close to dawn when Mitsuya realizes that Draken has nodded off. It’s the leg twitch that gives him away. Draken’s head has tilted over to the side, mouth open just slightly as his broad chest rises and falls, slow and steady. He hasn’t started to drool yet, so that’s something.
“Oi, Draken” He says, too quietly. “Draken—Ken” he tries a little louder. But the room is quiet and the moans have died down, only drifting lazily by every now and then, and it almost feels wrong to be loud. So instead he slides out from beneath Draken’s legs and sits up on his knees, reaching forward to shake Draken by the shoulder. He pauses, takes a moment to register that Draken looks so pretty like this, split lip and bruised chin and all.
“Draken, hey, Ken,” He says, reaching out and shaking his sturdy shoulder. Still, nothing.
What the fuck gives? Mitsuya thinks to himself, panic starting to roll in his gut. Draken had taken the most hits out of any of them, put himself in front of the others when it was clear Mikey wasn’t pulling his punches. And it was like the more Mikey hit Draken, the more stubborn Draken was about not backing down and it only made Mikey hit him harder. Not that Draken didn’t get any of his own shots in. But watching him sway on his feet, sink to his knees and refuse to just pass out…
He shifts forward, putting all his weight into Draken’s shoulders in order to shake him a little firmer.
“Draken, come on!” He begs, “You said no sleeping, you have to wake up! Draken!”
An eternity seems to pass with Mitsuya shaking Draken hard enough that he’s distantly worried about injuring him further but none of that will matter if he doesn’t wake up—
“Ughhhh” Draken grumbles, brows twitching into a frown, hand coming up swat blindly at Mitsuya, “the fuck?” He grumbles, eyes still closed and rolling his shoulders to try and throw him off.
“You fucking ass,” Mitsuya gasps, only now realizing how hard his heart is pounding, how short his breath has become. His fingers are digging into firm muscle so hard it must be bruising.
“Mitsuya, hey hey Mitsuya.” Draken says, eyes suddenly wide and alert, his hands flapping around uselessly for a moment before they decide to rest on Mitsuya’s face, holding it tight between his palms. “What’s going on?”
“You absolute fucker. What, do you just sleep like the dead normally? I’ve been trying to wake you up…I thought, I thought…”
“Alright, alright, is it anything to cry about though?” Draken laughs, still looking more than a little startled as he hastily wipes at Mitsuya’s face with the sleeves pulled over the heels of his palms
“M’not crying, asshole” Mitsuya says lamely, hanging his head so it falls between his arms, still placed on Draken’s shoulders. He shudders at the memory of Draken laying in a hospital bed, skin sallow and his stomach wrapped up in gauze, an oxygen mask strapped to his face. He never wanted to see Draken like that again.
“I was scared,” Mitsuya says quietly, honestly.
Draken pulls in a deep breath and lets it out and with it goes Mitsuya’s anger.
“I’m sorry, Taka. I’ll be more careful. Come on, stop crying.” Draken says gently, a smile in his voice as his hand comes around to the back of Mitsuya’s head, squeezing gently. The pressure at the base of his skull is grounding.
Mitsuya lifts his head to find that Draken is watching him intently, fingers curled around the back of his neck. His expression seems torn between being amused and concerned, the corner of his lips quirking up in a small smirk. He’s suddenly hit with a wave of emotions that he wasn’t expecting; adoration, anger, relief, sadness, jealousy, fear, and that nagging emotion that’s been nipping at his heels all night, sending his stomach floating and then sinking again: arousal.
For whatever reason, probably some base-level survival instinct if he had to blame it on something, Mitsuya’s brain shuts off and all he can think about is how Draken has such a nice mouth and how he looks so much softer, more vulnerable, with his hair down; how that face is all sharp edges and angles but when he blushes, like now, the pink looks so pretty… Draken’s brows knit in confusion,
“Mitsu--”
He’s cut off when Mitsuya lunges forward, fingers coming to weave together behind Draken’s neck so he’s hanging off of him. When their lips collide, Mitsuya tilts his head to the side just right, enough so that they’re lined up perfectly and their noses aren’t bumping and their teeth aren’t knocking and it’s just the pillows of their lips pressed together firmly. Draken vaguely remembers the guy a grade up in Mitsuya’s Home Ec club second year. The one that Mitsuya used to ditch them to hang out with sometimes. Is that where he got his practice?
Mitsuya’s lips feel nice, he thinks, too aware of himself to be of any use. His eyes are still open, he realizes, he should shut them right? He swallows and lets his eyelids fall closed. He’s waited too long to kiss back, he knows that. And just as he feels Mitsuya stiffen slightly, like he’s about to pull away, Draken parts his mouth just slightly and Mitsuya recognizes the invitation for what it is and takes the opportunity to lick at his lower lip, just a soft kitten lick before he nips it gently. That has Draken’s stomach clenching and a surprised, pleased, noise escapes him.
“Come on Ken,” Mitsuya whispers against his lips, “Let’s just forget about it all for a little while.” And, yeah. Yeah, okay that sounds good.
Draken’s hand tightens around the back of Mitsuya’s neck and he breathes in through his nose before his mouth starts moving too. They fall into a rhythm quickly. There’s this ease of experience between them, practiced lips moving in opposing tandem. Pushing when one pulls, giving when one takes, and pressing in together in perfect time. Impatient, Mitsuya’s tongue is back at his lips, asking for entrance, and Draken easily lets him in. Slides his tongue past the one in his own mouth and circles it before pulling back to suck at the tip experimentally.
Mitsuya lets out a groan and pulls away briefly to shoot Draken an impressed look before reaching back and grabbing the pillow. He hastily returns to their kiss, blindly shoving the pillow behind Draken’s back so he can push him further down into the bed. When Draken’s reclined, propped up on the pillow, he shifts his weight and slots a knee between Mitsuya’s thighs but he’s careful not to press too close, not yet. Draken’s hands crawl up underneath the baggy shirt he’s lent, gripping slender hips that roll into the air, inches away from Draken’s leg, so close he can feel the heat radiating off him. The sight makes his gut tighten, makes him want to buck his hips, but then he remembers that pretty little chain hanging between two ends of a barbell stud and Draken forgets everything else.
He lets a hand glide up Mitsuya’s side, skin hot and smooth beneath his touch, and presses a thumb firmly into his nipple, feeling the unyielding metal underneath. Misuya’s breath hitches as Draken starts fingering the little chain, pulling it gently between his thumb and forefinger before brushing up lightly over a peeked bud. He pinches and the groan Mitsuya lets out absolutely goes straight to his dick. Nearing on desperate, he palms Mitsuya’s hips again and tries to flip them over so he can cage him to the mattress; so he can grind into him and suck on that pretty silver. He wants Mitsuya at his mercy, but Mitsuya leans his weight into the force, refusing to roll over. Sometimes Draken finds himself forgetting how strong he really is. He should stop that.
“Uh-uh,” Mitsuya chides, playful, as he finally sits himself down on Draken’s thigh, leaning forward to hold himself up with his hands on broad shoulders. “I stay on top.”
Draken nods dumbly.
Draken is happy to let Mitsuya take the lead. Enjoys the way his lips move against his, the way their velvet tongues snake past each other, the way he moans when Draken tugs his lower lip between his teeth and sucks on it. He’s happy to be of use to Mitsuya, happy to be a distraction--to be distracted. And the way Mitsuya grinds on his thigh and hip is nothing if not distracting.
Mitsuya alternates between moving his hips in short little circles and long drags that push his hard length along the inside of Draken’s leg, into the crease of his thigh, trapped between their two bodies. On the long thrusts, Mitsuya’s hip brushes against Draken and makes his cock twitch against his stomach beneath his sweats. He sends a brief prayer of thanks to his younger self for developing the habit of going commando at night. Also for only owning black sweats which do a good job of hiding the embarrassing wet patch that’s been steadily growing just below his waistband for the better part of ten minutes. Draken does his best to keep his hips still but that means all his nervous energy goes to his hands. They’re everywhere, jumping from Mitsuya’s hips, to his ass, jaw, and hair.
Watching Draken slowly come undone beneath him is quickly becoming one of Mitsuya’s favorite things. He’s deliberately avoiding giving his dick too much attention, brushing up against it every now and then just to feel the catch of breath against his chest, in his own mouth. He’s counting down the minutes, waiting for Draken to lose control. Waiting for him to snap and grab Mitsuya, to try and flip them again so he can take control himself. He’d go with it this time. He’d let Draken push him into the mattress. Use him up.
The thought makes him smile into Draken’s mouth and he feels lips stretch into a grin as they move away to press into his jaw. Draken bites him hard enough that he yelps but then that evil little mouth trails down his neck with hot, wet kisses and any pain is forgotten. Draken hums and sinks his teeth slowly into the crook of Mitsuya's neck and it's not quite hard enough but it makes him full-body shudder anyway. His hips start moving in earnest.
“Are you teasing me, Mitsuya?” Draken asks, stilling Mitsuya’s hips with firm hands.
“Hmm. Yeah, a little.” Mitsuya says. It comes out more breathless than he’d like but he can’t manage to really be bothered by it. Draken’s been so patient. Is always so patient.
Draken moves to prop himself up on his elbows and Mitsuya sits back a little to meet his eyes. There’s nothing but mischief in them, same as Mitsuya’s own, he’s sure.
“Then how about this,” Draken says, leaning forward to nip along Mitsuya’s jaw, more carefully this time, until he’s at his ear, nibbling on the lobe before sucking on it gently.
“Use me Mitsuya," he rumbles, breath ghosting the shell of his ear. "I want to see you use me to get yourself off.”
And with that he leans back down on the pillow, folding his hands behind his head, elbows lying flat on the pillow behind him. He’s the picture of calm, which should be funny considering the massive tent in his pants, but somehow it’s not.
Draken’s shirt is rucked up, revealing a strip of flat, toned stomach and Mitsya can see the lower half of his scar; the sight is way sexier than it has any right to be. His mouth goes dry.
“Come on Mitsuya, tease me. That’s what you want, right?” Draken croons, bending his knee just enough to set Mitsuya off balance, to have him leaning forward into his chest. And yeah, that is what he wanted. The new angle has Mitsuya’s hips pressed flush against draken, the incline of his thigh adding pressure in all the right ways.
“Gunna make you regret that.” Mitsuya warns, ruining it with a playful laugh.
“Please,” Draken teases back, jiggling his leg to get Mitsuya to move.
So Mitsuya moves. He moves his hips and rubs himself off using Draken’s thigh. He puts all his weight into Draken’s body, uncaring, and focused solely on the drag of cotton against his skin. Their stomachs and chests are pressed together but Mitsuya's a lot smaller. His forehead barely reaches to Draken’s chin so he mindlessly does what he can to tease Draken by biting and sucking into his shoulders and neck hard enough that he’ll leave bruises to get lost among all the others on his skin.
He laughs openly when Draken’s hips twitch, clearly unable to help himself. But true to his promise he ignores Draken and continues to rut against his oldest friend, rutting against him desperately, like some overly-excited middle schooler, while trying not to cum too soon. He’s too caught up to be embarrassed, but if the grunts Draken's making are any indication then there’s nothing to be embarrassed about anyway.
Mitsuya lifts his eyes to look at Draken and finds that he’s still reclined, almost casually, eyes closed. But keen eyes doesn’t miss the signs of his fraying composure; the fingers pulling at blonde hair; the pink on his cheeks and the bend of his neck; the sweat beading along the top of his forehead and the clenched jaw.
Draken opens his eyes and catches Mitsuya’s gaze. Sees his flushed face and heavy lids and that pinch in the center of his slitted brows, the wet of spit on his lips. He feels the press of Mitsuya’s length at his thigh and can see the near-frantic movement of his hips. It’s so hot. With those gentle eyes on him his tongue loosens up.
“Shit,” he whispers, “So good, Taka”
Misuya shivers against him, his hips stilling for a moment before they pick up in earnest.
“D-Ken—please…”
Draken’s not sure what to do, so he just watches for now, watches as Mitsuya gets more desperate and more sloppy, as his hips lose all sense of rhythm.
Mitsuya’s shaking, letting out little “ah… ah’s” that turn into whiny pleases and Draken’s still not sure what the right move is but it's impossible to just watch any longer so he flips them. It’s graceless and probably a little rough but it makes Mitsuya gasp anway and the sound has Draken’s stomach doing a summersault. With hardly a break in momentum Draken forces himself between Mitsuya’s legs and starts moving his hips, grinding them together.
When he looks down Draken can see clearly that the pants he lent to Mitsuya were too big on his hips. With all the commotion they’ve slipped low enough that half of his dick, flushed a deep red, sits above the waistband, leaking onto his stomach. Draken lines his own clothed dick up beside it and grinds them along one another with long, intentional strokes.
“C’mon Taka, show me.” Draken says, leaning down to swallow up those pathetic little noises he gets for practically fucking Mitsuya's dick with his own.
It isn't long after that Mitsuya’s head falls over the pillow and as his back arches like a bow as he comes onto his own stomach, Draken’s shirt hiked up under his armpits.
His skin is hot and his head is buzzing but he feels Draken go still against him.
“No no no keep going…” Mitsuya says, rushed, using a fist to hit Draken's shoulder, his other hand pressing insistently into the curve of his back. “I can come again. Common”
“Fuuuck.”
Draken’s low rumble has Mitsuya nearly whining again and without thinking he swipes a hand through the mess on his stomach and sticks his hand straight down the front of Draken’s pants, wrapping wet fingers around the base of his length.
Draken stops moving abruptly.
“S-sorry, I should have asked…” Mitsuya says, breathless, moving to pull his hand back.
Draken catches his wrist, keeps his hand tucked inside the top of his sweats,
“No.. sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that. Keep doing it…”
Mitsuya curls his fist, lubed up with his own come, around Draken’s thick cock and lets him thrust up into it again and again, their bodies still pressed together and rubbing against him, half hard and swelling.
He's oversensitive and so, so into it as he begs Draken to come, to hurry up and come for him. His chafed skin can’t take it anymore but he wants release, needs Draken to finish so he can.
And Mitsuya does come again, a little too soon and with barely anything to show for it, but Draken follows right after, spilling hot and sticky around Mitsuya’s knuckles, twitchin in his grip for a long time after.
When Draken can feel his legs again he sits back on his knees and watches Mitsuya catch his breath as the hammering of his own heart slows. He thinks maybe he should feel ashamed or embarrassed about seeing one of his best friends' dicks soften on their stomach, cum drying in the nearly invisible down of his happy trail, but he just can’t manage it. Instead he feels light. Feels happy. Feels weightless and content. Feels a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
“You’re a mess.” He says, laughing.
“Yeah well whose fault is that?” Mitsuya sighs, too tired to bother with anything more witty, “Besides you can’t be any better.” Mitsuya sneers, lifting his sticky hand and wiping it against Draken’s shirt.
“Hey! Idiot!”
Mitsuya just laughs and Draken falls down into the bed beside him and tries to smother the smile creeping up on his face. He hasn’t felt this light in months, maybe even longer than that. He wants this moment to last. Wants to bottle up this happiness and keep it on his shelf as a reminder.
“We should go get cleaned up.” Draken says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“What we should do is that... again, sometime.” Mitsuya sighs, sleepy.
“Yeah. It’s, uh… It’s a friend's thing though, right Taka?”
“Yeah, Ken, we’ll sort it out. But right now go get me a washcloth.”
“Bossy”
“Oh, you have no idea… yet.” And even though his eyes are closed his mouth twitches into an impish grin.
Draken barks a laugh and does as he’s told.