( He stills when Gojo grabs his wrist, eyes lifting back up to his face. It's a fact that he wouldn't force it, is already ready to give his friend space before he talks, but there's nothing that suggests his touch is unwelcome and so whatever anxiety had risen easily dissipates again. ) Tch, you wouldn't know shy even if I force-fed you the page from the dictionary.
( Sweet nothings.
But Gojo is kissing his throat then, and if Geto thought he'd get through this with his wits about him than he now knows he's absolutely wrong about that. Already his pulse lifts, skin tingling. His other hand settles on a hip, holding the other man steady, a fine shudder running through him. )
Satoru. ( That old purr amped up. ) What is it?
( Don't think he's lost all his skills of perceptiveness when it comes to his best friend. They've just been rusty. )
it would be easy enough to distract him with a bolder, more aggressive move, but pushing it off is only postponing the inevitable. he has never been one to hesitate without considerable reason, which is what must've given him away. it would've been nice if suguru had just let it slide.
he stops what he's doing, as he lets out a barely audible breath. ]
Well, I guess there's no point in hidin' it.
[ he reaches back with one hand, tugging his shirt off by the collar to reveal the jagged scars circling his waist and left arm — undeniable proofs of his death. if he survived, then his rct would have never allowed a single mark to mar his body. ]
So, [ he angles his head at him, meeting his eyes. ] what do you think?
( A noise, half inquisitive, before understanding filters in. He pulls back with enough space to look, one hand immediately shifting to curve around Gojo's unmarked bicep like he'll disappear if Geto doesn't keep a hold. His fingers dig in, gaze resting on the scar around his waist, the jagged cruel edge of it, and if he had been burning with something before, it changes shape now.
Geto blinks, mouth twisting, palm moving to press against the edge. )
It doesn't make you look any sexier.
( Childish, and abrupt, but it's tease or cry and he's sure one would be worse than the other. )
Satoru. ( Softer than he means, thumb tracing a line. ) I'm sorry.
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( Sweet nothings.
But Gojo is kissing his throat then, and if Geto thought he'd get through this with his wits about him than he now knows he's absolutely wrong about that. Already his pulse lifts, skin tingling. His other hand settles on a hip, holding the other man steady, a fine shudder running through him. )
Satoru. ( That old purr amped up. ) What is it?
( Don't think he's lost all his skills of perceptiveness when it comes to his best friend. They've just been rusty. )
no subject
it would be easy enough to distract him with a bolder, more aggressive move, but pushing it off is only postponing the inevitable. he has never been one to hesitate without considerable reason, which is what must've given him away. it would've been nice if suguru had just let it slide.
he stops what he's doing, as he lets out a barely audible breath. ]
Well, I guess there's no point in hidin' it.
[ he reaches back with one hand, tugging his shirt off by the collar to reveal the jagged scars circling his waist and left arm — undeniable proofs of his death. if he survived, then his rct would have never allowed a single mark to mar his body. ]
So, [ he angles his head at him, meeting his eyes. ] what do you think?
no subject
Geto blinks, mouth twisting, palm moving to press against the edge. )
It doesn't make you look any sexier.
( Childish, and abrupt, but it's tease or cry and he's sure one would be worse than the other. )
Satoru. ( Softer than he means, thumb tracing a line. ) I'm sorry.
( For what? Everything, possibly. )