[OPEN] January Catchall

[fabrications]

Who: Akechi and you
What: January Catchall
When: Throughout January
Where: Throughout Trench

❯ Open Threads

❯ Closed Threads

Comments

[fabrications]

They should probably stop making out if they're going to continue this exchange. There's not just the actual, physical difficulty of attempting to do anything else when he's passionately kissing someone, there's also the muddled, hazy mess it's making of his thoughts. There are no longer any coherent directives in his mind; he doesn't want to pull Akira closer or shove a particular article of clothing aside or touch a particular part of him. He just wants more - more of all of it, more of all of him.

But there's an obstacle more pressing that his muddled mental state or Akira himself: the table. After several moments have passed Akechi finally breaks off the kiss and pulls back, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He stares for a moment, suddenly uncertain of what exactly he wants.

Then he turns, presses his palms against the table, and shoves. Before they do anything else he wants this stupid thing out of the way.

[stealhearted]

Akira's eyes are equally bright and his cheeks just as flushed when Akechi breaks away, and for a split second Akira thinks Akechi is going to shove him away -- but instead it's just the table, the sound of it scraping across the floor rapidly drowned out by the sound of everyone else that's in the building.

As far as Akira is concerned, none of them exist. There's nothing except Akechi.

Akira moves closer, almost automatically, leaning in to replace the space where the table was before. He doesn't think he can actually get away with climbing into Akechi's lap, but it's a really tempting thought.

"Okay," Akira offers, more as filler than anything else, and then reaches out again, a little slower, to twine a bit of Akechi's hair around his fingertip.

[fabrications]

For a moment Akechi thinks that pushing the table away might have been a mistake, because no matter how brief it's still a moment of respite, a moment where they have room to think instead of merely act.

Fortunately, active and conscious thought isn't exactly on the agenda right now. Akira reaches out and Akechi lets him, reminded of Akira's impulsive to muss up his hair to avoid some nosy fans. Somehow he doesn't think they're about to have a repeat, but he kind of wants to find his glasses and toss them onto the dance floor, never to be recovered.

But he does none of that. Instead he slides himself closer to Akira, reaching out to finally give into a long held indulgence and sink his hand into Akira's hair.