Yes, but you know no one really ever seems to relish in my touch. [ ...you know can't imagine why with being such a charming, backstabbing, cringe person here. ] Well, two other exceptions but neither one is you-[ his tongue is warm and loose, the vodka warm in his stomach in the same way chuuya's body above his is equally inviting.
fyodor's hands settle, finally, slowly reverently on chuuya's neck. index and middle fingers slipping under the snug black choker slightly to pull him closer. ] They are, yes but if we are being analytical [ and fyodor you are ruining the mood here with the analysis. ] if you were in possession of one or two attractive features, it would be easy to dismiss it as pure luck.
People are often gifted with one or two blessings to try to offset their flaws but you? Not you, do you not find it poetic your temper matches the colour of your hair? And your birthplace has the same blue of your eyes?
I'd almost say He came down to craft you with his own hand, to make you for me.
[Ah Fyodor, when will he realize that Chuuya enjoys seeing him baffled? It's a thrill in it's own way, seeing someone like Fyodor struggle to comprehend Chuuya's actions, and it doesn't help that he's so--
So damn cheesy it's cute. The tug on his collar provokes a hitch in Chuuya's breath, and there's a flush to Chuuya's complexion that has absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol, all the brighter for the paleness of his skin and red of his hair.
Does he hear himself? Does he enjoy being this dramatic? Holy shit.]
Holy shit you're so damn cringe.
[It's whispered softly with something like awe in his voice, which is probably the most undramatic prelude to a kiss ever, but Chuuya can't resist closing that space between them, sealing his lips against Fyodor's in a grinning kiss that tastes of vodka.]
I am not- [ fyodor sits up a little ready to defend his speech from before, but instead it is the warm press of an unfamiliar mouth against his own and fyodor is so pale that the heat that blooms is visible and felt. it matches chuuya's own in a way it paints both of them with the same brush, same paint, same hand--human, human, human.
he chases into it. how different it is to kiss chuuya from the delirium filled, almost bites from nikolai. this is softer, the taste of vodka and the curve of that grin against his mouth.
[Has Chuuya ever cared about what he's 'supposed to do' when it comes to things like this? Not really. Chuuya tends to go on instinct, the type of person who rarely holds back.
Chuuya's kisses are much like the man himself: Soft, teasing, eager. The fact that Fyodor's mouth is open isn't really going to give the man any leverage, either-- his tongue darts out to taste and deepen the kiss, to see what makes Fyodor react most. The hand not holding him up isn't remaining idle either: stroking through Fyodor's hair, fingertips ghosting against the back of his neck.]
[ a shudder runs down, impossible to hide with the proximity of their bodies; yes, fyodor is smart but there is no way he can pretend experience in this arena. intimacy is odd; not unwelcome, but half of him is wondering if dazai minds that fyodor has now put both hands on chuuya--pressing through his shirt against the line of his spine. wanting.
fyodor may be quiet but he is reactive, eagerly opening his mouth to slip their tongues together. vodka is how chuuya tastes, and the aftermath is something else. warm but not scorching. it's soft, teasing and eager. not things he's familiar with.
dazai had been careful with him.
he draws his hands back to cup chuuya's face in them and deepen the kiss. ]
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fyodor's hands settle, finally, slowly reverently on chuuya's neck. index and middle fingers slipping under the snug black choker slightly to pull him closer. ] They are, yes but if we are being analytical [ and fyodor you are ruining the mood here with the analysis. ] if you were in possession of one or two attractive features, it would be easy to dismiss it as pure luck.
People are often gifted with one or two blessings to try to offset their flaws but you? Not you, do you not find it poetic your temper matches the colour of your hair? And your birthplace has the same blue of your eyes?
I'd almost say He came down to craft you with his own hand, to make you for me.
[ ...cringe. ]
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So damn cheesy it's cute. The tug on his collar provokes a hitch in Chuuya's breath, and there's a flush to Chuuya's complexion that has absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol, all the brighter for the paleness of his skin and red of his hair.
Does he hear himself? Does he enjoy being this dramatic? Holy shit.]
Holy shit you're so damn cringe.
[It's whispered softly with something like awe in his voice, which is probably the most undramatic prelude to a kiss ever, but Chuuya can't resist closing that space between them, sealing his lips against Fyodor's in a grinning kiss that tastes of vodka.]
no subject
he chases into it. how different it is to kiss chuuya from the delirium filled, almost bites from nikolai. this is softer, the taste of vodka and the curve of that grin against his mouth.
are they even supposed to be doing this? ]
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Chuuya's kisses are much like the man himself: Soft, teasing, eager. The fact that Fyodor's mouth is open isn't really going to give the man any leverage, either-- his tongue darts out to taste and deepen the kiss, to see what makes Fyodor react most. The hand not holding him up isn't remaining idle either: stroking through Fyodor's hair, fingertips ghosting against the back of his neck.]
no subject
fyodor may be quiet but he is reactive, eagerly opening his mouth to slip their tongues together. vodka is how chuuya tastes, and the aftermath is something else. warm but not scorching. it's soft, teasing and eager. not things he's familiar with.
dazai had been careful with him.
he draws his hands back to cup chuuya's face in them and deepen the kiss. ]