It's too familiar, all of it too familiar, variations on a recurring theme that seems to arise every time they come together like this—the game, the loss of control, the single step that somehow crosses the unspoken line, and then this, Niou's retreat, Yagyuu's guilt, the abrupt and overwhelming urge to throw it all away and reset things to normal because normal is safe and predictable and something he knows how to handle—
No.
Maybe it's because it's their anniversary. Maybe it's because one of the only things Yagyuu despises more than making a mistake is repeating it. Maybe it's just that he hates it when Niou won't look at him, as though the loss of eye contact implies a deeper loss of connection in an area that Yagyuu never wants to see severed. But this time, whatever the reason—no.
They're supposed to be at their best when they're together. Not like this.
The hand on Niou's throat loosens, fingertips stroking gently where they once squeezed, and then slides up to lightly capture his chin instead, guiding him to look back again. He'll have time to ponder the ramifications of his words and his partner's reaction later; for now, the most important thing is this.]
You've more than outdone yourself.
[It's a deliberate echo of their earlier words, the lady's prerogative for selfishness, the gentleman's pleasure to indulge. Do you think I'll find it a pleasure, indulging you?
He moves forward, just a little, not willing to let go this time. Not on this night of all nights, not under these circumstances. Not when they're supposed to be the best together.
Not when he almost thinks he might've found it a pleasure, himself.]
action;
It's too familiar, all of it too familiar, variations on a recurring theme that seems to arise every time they come together like this—the game, the loss of control, the single step that somehow crosses the unspoken line, and then this, Niou's retreat, Yagyuu's guilt, the abrupt and overwhelming urge to throw it all away and reset things to normal because normal is safe and predictable and something he knows how to handle—
No.
Maybe it's because it's their anniversary. Maybe it's because one of the only things Yagyuu despises more than making a mistake is repeating it. Maybe it's just that he hates it when Niou won't look at him, as though the loss of eye contact implies a deeper loss of connection in an area that Yagyuu never wants to see severed. But this time, whatever the reason—no.
They're supposed to be at their best when they're together. Not like this.
The hand on Niou's throat loosens, fingertips stroking gently where they once squeezed, and then slides up to lightly capture his chin instead, guiding him to look back again. He'll have time to ponder the ramifications of his words and his partner's reaction later; for now, the most important thing is this.]
You've more than outdone yourself.
[It's a deliberate echo of their earlier words, the lady's prerogative for selfishness, the gentleman's pleasure to indulge. Do you think I'll find it a pleasure, indulging you?
He moves forward, just a little, not willing to let go this time. Not on this night of all nights, not under these circumstances. Not when they're supposed to be the best together.
Not when he almost thinks he might've found it a pleasure, himself.]