( it sounds a little lofty--a little pleased, smug, like he doesn't care if he's done something wrong, or broken some kind of human rule. as far as he's concerned, he's just proceeding the way that the experiment wants them to; he's just taking advantage of the situation.
which for now, means that oushi's on the loveseat, and he's stretching one leg out, balancing his heel against the floor so that he can dig his knee down into the cushions next to him. )
Do you want to hear about the next one? ( their hands are still linked, fingers still taut around each other, and his weight continues to shift, like he'll squeeze himself down to sit next to oushi even if they're half on top of each other or not. )
The next secret move. Or do you want to make one up yourself?
[ technically, technically, there aren't any rules here to break. this whole thing is premised by a concept so insane and chaotic that it stands to reason anything is fair game.
but oushi will still protest, as oushi is wont to do. though strangely (or perhaps, quite expectedly) the closer choso inches towards him, the more the younger man feels his natural inclinations to fuss start to — well. not fade, per se. more like quiet down some, as if lulled.
his voice too, goes a touch quieter. the words themselves their secret shared. ]
...You should tell me. [ somehow, oushi doesn't trust himself to try and conceive of one without doing something extremely stupid or bold or both. ] Give me some warning this time.
( he repeats it mildly, like it's not something he would have ever considered--or offered. )
If it's a warning, then you'll be able to get away.
( his weight shifts, slides, moves until his hips hit the cushions on the loveseat; his legs bend a little, crowding in against oushi, and given there's little room, he can't shift to give him any space. instead, one arm grips at the back of the loveseat, allowing him to pivot further in towards him; the other lets his fingers loosen, drawn away from oushi's hand in order to reach further for his elbow.
maybe that's the warning--or the encouragement, as he pushes firmly at oushi's arm, encouraging it to close the space between them, too. )
...You're not supposed to get away. ( the words feel warm, a deep rumble in his throat, oddly pleased. ) We haven't done the thing yet.
( 'the thing', which he's not going to clarify, apparently. )
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no subject
( it sounds a little lofty--a little pleased, smug, like he doesn't care if he's done something wrong, or broken some kind of human rule. as far as he's concerned, he's just proceeding the way that the experiment wants them to; he's just taking advantage of the situation.
which for now, means that oushi's on the loveseat, and he's stretching one leg out, balancing his heel against the floor so that he can dig his knee down into the cushions next to him. )
Do you want to hear about the next one? ( their hands are still linked, fingers still taut around each other, and his weight continues to shift, like he'll squeeze himself down to sit next to oushi even if they're half on top of each other or not. )
The next secret move. Or do you want to make one up yourself?
no subject
but oushi will still protest, as oushi is wont to do. though strangely (or perhaps, quite expectedly) the closer choso inches towards him, the more the younger man feels his natural inclinations to fuss start to — well. not fade, per se. more like quiet down some, as if lulled.
his voice too, goes a touch quieter. the words themselves their secret shared. ]
...You should tell me. [ somehow, oushi doesn't trust himself to try and conceive of one without doing something extremely stupid or bold or both. ] Give me some warning this time.
no subject
( he repeats it mildly, like it's not something he would have ever considered--or offered. )
If it's a warning, then you'll be able to get away.
( his weight shifts, slides, moves until his hips hit the cushions on the loveseat; his legs bend a little, crowding in against oushi, and given there's little room, he can't shift to give him any space. instead, one arm grips at the back of the loveseat, allowing him to pivot further in towards him; the other lets his fingers loosen, drawn away from oushi's hand in order to reach further for his elbow.
maybe that's the warning--or the encouragement, as he pushes firmly at oushi's arm, encouraging it to close the space between them, too. )
...You're not supposed to get away. ( the words feel warm, a deep rumble in his throat, oddly pleased. ) We haven't done the thing yet.
( 'the thing', which he's not going to clarify, apparently. )