( the sin of keeping others near. he knows it well.
rinne was right when he said that touch has a way of keeping people connected to you, even if he's done it countless times without as much intent. sometimes, it was just fine to be present and appreciate the simplicity and beauty of a moment, hands locked so they wouldn't shake. life back then was so fleeting, you see, and no one wanted to admit they were chasing their fears away in the pursuit of each other. nobody wanted to face the fact that tomorrow could be their last, let alone takasugi.
but as a thumb traces the contours of rinne's palm in that adjacent lap, alcohol clinging to the inside of his mouth, takasugi remembers how hard rinne has read him. remembers the pain in his shoulder from being thrown against the wall, the soft sound of each clasp of his top coming undone echoing in his ears now more than ever. they'd been trapped, but everything felt real. they'd gnashed teeth at each other, but he enjoyed it more than a gentle smile looking past him.
think about him forever? he's thinking about him now, a man who couldn't read or write until a couple years past, struggling in a place so foreign. what had that even been like? takasugi can't imagine, his past filled with texts stacked on top of each other, his family lining up his supposed success since birth. can't imagine having his first experiences here, his first kiss. what other firsts of rinne's had he missed out on? and would takasugi be there to witness them?
but maybe the answer doesn't matter right now. he's not thinking about regrets as he brushes their lips gently together, careful not to take too much. he's just focused on how nice a warm breath feels against skin, and how he might want to lap the leftover taste of bourbon straight from rinne's mouth. a tender kiss that isn't just for show this time, a red ear flicking lightly for how it burns in his chest.
takasugi knows he's crossing a line, even as rinne's presence fills him up.
but for their sake, he can keep this transactional. )
( 1 / 2 )
rinne was right when he said that touch has a way of keeping people connected to you, even if he's done it countless times without as much intent. sometimes, it was just fine to be present and appreciate the simplicity and beauty of a moment, hands locked so they wouldn't shake. life back then was so fleeting, you see, and no one wanted to admit they were chasing their fears away in the pursuit of each other. nobody wanted to face the fact that tomorrow could be their last, let alone takasugi.
but as a thumb traces the contours of rinne's palm in that adjacent lap, alcohol clinging to the inside of his mouth, takasugi remembers how hard rinne has read him. remembers the pain in his shoulder from being thrown against the wall, the soft sound of each clasp of his top coming undone echoing in his ears now more than ever. they'd been trapped, but everything felt real. they'd gnashed teeth at each other, but he enjoyed it more than a gentle smile looking past him.
think about him forever? he's thinking about him now, a man who couldn't read or write until a couple years past, struggling in a place so foreign. what had that even been like? takasugi can't imagine, his past filled with texts stacked on top of each other, his family lining up his supposed success since birth. can't imagine having his first experiences here, his first kiss. what other firsts of rinne's had he missed out on? and would takasugi be there to witness them?
but maybe the answer doesn't matter right now. he's not thinking about regrets as he brushes their lips gently together, careful not to take too much. he's just focused on how nice a warm breath feels against skin, and how he might want to lap the leftover taste of bourbon straight from rinne's mouth. a tender kiss that isn't just for show this time, a red ear flicking lightly for how it burns in his chest.
takasugi knows he's crossing a line, even as rinne's presence fills him up.
but for their sake, he can keep this transactional. )