[ 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. )
[ get away? oushi almost lets out a bubble of laughter at that. choso's grip is so strong on his arm the younger boy is almost certain he's far more likely to accidentally rip his own arm off in any attempts to get away than actually putting any respectable distance between them.
though, a small part of his brain is quick to intone: if choso thought he really wanted to get away, oushi was sure that he would let him.
he doesn't move. ]
Now you're just drawing it out.
[ dangling the thing so expertly above him that oushi cannot help but feel even more compelled to find out what it is. despite himself, he has suspicions. ]
Are you thinking I'll chicken out or something?
[ as always, his body betrays him. his eyes make the briefest glance down towards choso's lips, noting the pleased — or is it that they're pleasing? — curve of them. ]
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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. )
no subject
though, a small part of his brain is quick to intone: if choso thought he really wanted to get away, oushi was sure that he would let him.
he doesn't move. ]
Now you're just drawing it out.
[ dangling the thing so expertly above him that oushi cannot help but feel even more compelled to find out what it is. despite himself, he has suspicions. ]
Are you thinking I'll chicken out or something?
[ as always, his body betrays him. his eyes make the briefest glance down towards choso's lips, noting the pleased — or is it that they're pleasing? — curve of them. ]
No way, I'm no chump.