[And there are many things that his iron control can withstand, but this—no, this isn't one of them. The jolt and thrill that race along his nerves are like cracks in a mirror, the beginnings of fissure in a perfect sheet of ice, and for a second it's Yagyuu launched completely back into the forefront, preservation instincts taking over long before consciousness ever has a chance to catch up.
Atobe wasn't there when this girl's alter-ego said wait. And Atobe isn't the one who's always been charged with knowing the limits. Atobe embraces excess, defies limits simply to show he can. Atobe is never denied anything.
Yagyuu is the one who knows how to deny himself. Especially for the things he wants the most.
He doesn't say a word in response—no witty quip this time, no edged retort—but she does manage to rip something quite a bit like a low growl from his throat, half a reaction to the touch and half a warning against pushing any further. It's taking every ounce of his concentration to keep himself still, to resist the urge to let his hips snap forward in response, and for a second there's no mistaking Yagyuu in the stance, the eyes.
Preemptively, he traps her other hand at his side, fingers curling tight around the wrist; his free hand goes to her throat, this time molding lightly to the contours of her flesh, but leaving no room to doubt that he could tighten this one just as easily.
It's a clear warning, an unmistakable no. But he also knows there's no telling if she'll take it as one.]
action;
Atobe wasn't there when this girl's alter-ego said wait. And Atobe isn't the one who's always been charged with knowing the limits. Atobe embraces excess, defies limits simply to show he can. Atobe is never denied anything.
Yagyuu is the one who knows how to deny himself. Especially for the things he wants the most.
He doesn't say a word in response—no witty quip this time, no edged retort—but she does manage to rip something quite a bit like a low growl from his throat, half a reaction to the touch and half a warning against pushing any further. It's taking every ounce of his concentration to keep himself still, to resist the urge to let his hips snap forward in response, and for a second there's no mistaking Yagyuu in the stance, the eyes.
Preemptively, he traps her other hand at his side, fingers curling tight around the wrist; his free hand goes to her throat, this time molding lightly to the contours of her flesh, but leaving no room to doubt that he could tighten this one just as easily.
It's a clear warning, an unmistakable no. But he also knows there's no telling if she'll take it as one.]