[ realization settles heavy and warm after his gaze shifts between the muscle-ribbed forearm next to him and back over to Rokurou's mismatched visage, eyes dancing over tousled hair and a golden eye and quirked lips. not much of a beansprout anymore. a plangent thud in his chest distracts him from the thoughts of where Rokurou was during those missed few inches gained and reminds him of the present, of the man himself standing in front of him, wraps him up in a longing that still has yet to abate, won't until he — ]
[ doesn't know. locks him up inside a room and keeps him all to himself for a little while, maybe. makes him kiss every invisible wound under his skin until they close — or maybe only if he scores out new ones on top, aches of Rokurou's own making, burying the rest in scar tissue. ]
[ he says he's glad and Guanshan takes a step forward, hunger leading him on. it's always been hard for him to express: the things he wants, telling others what he needs, but there's a language between them that sticks between his teeth and settles under his fingernails like grit, tactile and dirty, hard-earned through history and mistakes and successes too. Guanshan wants to kiss him then, that much is obvious from the gaze that swipes his mouth, curious to explore this new angle of theirs... ]
[ but instead, he hooks two fingers in the red thread of Rokurou's belt and tugs, subterfuge for a mounting desperation; they're in public, and both very much prone to privacy. ]
I missed you. [ just a little praise from him and he's ready to lay his ire down. sometimes, things really are that simple. ]
no subject
[ realization settles heavy and warm after his gaze shifts between the muscle-ribbed forearm next to him and back over to Rokurou's mismatched visage, eyes dancing over tousled hair and a golden eye and quirked lips. not much of a beansprout anymore. a plangent thud in his chest distracts him from the thoughts of where Rokurou was during those missed few inches gained and reminds him of the present, of the man himself standing in front of him, wraps him up in a longing that still has yet to abate, won't until he — ]
[ doesn't know. locks him up inside a room and keeps him all to himself for a little while, maybe. makes him kiss every invisible wound under his skin until they close — or maybe only if he scores out new ones on top, aches of Rokurou's own making, burying the rest in scar tissue. ]
[ he says he's glad and Guanshan takes a step forward, hunger leading him on. it's always been hard for him to express: the things he wants, telling others what he needs, but there's a language between them that sticks between his teeth and settles under his fingernails like grit, tactile and dirty, hard-earned through history and mistakes and successes too. Guanshan wants to kiss him then, that much is obvious from the gaze that swipes his mouth, curious to explore this new angle of theirs... ]
[ but instead, he hooks two fingers in the red thread of Rokurou's belt and tugs, subterfuge for a mounting desperation; they're in public, and both very much prone to privacy. ]
I missed you. [ just a little praise from him and he's ready to lay his ire down. sometimes, things really are that simple. ]