This isn't the weather talking, is it. [ He sounds breathless, feels wild-hearted, and honestly Kuroo thinks he's had the wind knocked right out of him. Could be because of Akaashi's weight against him, a glorious torture of reality punching him into awareness over how this is actually happening; could be because of the heat, too, but the gods could only ever be so kind to keep things like that. This is cruel and unusual, and Kuroo — well, he's feeling every bit an eighteen year old at the moment.
He hisses through his teeth. ]
I'm not into regrets, actually. [ You have ink on your lip, the setter comments out of order like he didn't just give Kuroo the gutpunch of a lifetime, and then he's leaning down and laving his tongue across Kuroo's mouth like it's absolutely nothing.
Kuroo runs the definition of "cardiac arrest" through his mind. Every syllable feels hysterical, and too real. ]
—Hey.
[ His senses finally register the bitter taste of the ink, its acrid and oily texture a blemish to how hot Kuroo feels at the moment. This is the stuff of wet dreams, because Kuroo has been nothing but honest to himself about the things he wants and what he wants are
who he wants
it's just all too vivid and—
And Kuroo winds the hem of Akaashi's shirt around one hand, bunches the cloth in a loose fist and holds on to the garment like it's an anchor. It pulls the shirt up over the curve of Akaashi's hip, and Kuroo takes in the slip of tantalizing skin exposed to the balmy air like it holds the answers to the universe. He can feel the draw and release of Akaashi's breathing - a steady rhythm, steadier than Kuroo feels he has a right to. Any lower and Akaashi would be sitting right over his crotch, and isn't that something to think about.
Kuroo uses his free hand to pull on Akaashi's hand on his face, moves it along the line of his jaw until the setter's fingers are settled firmly over his mouth. He watches as Akaashi watches him, wonders whose pupils widen first as he takes Akaashi's thumb into his mouth and nips at the knuckle before drawing it further in, wonders what thoughts run through the setter's head when he lets the digit slip from him and trail an wet line across his lower lip. It's not a gentle bite, but Akaashi's a big boy - Kuroo trusts that they both know what they're getting into.
He's feeling more than a little crazy about it. ]
But this... I'm into this if you are.
[ Kuroo's hand, fisted around cloth and against the rise of Akaashi's hipbone, stays where it is - for now. ]
no subject
This isn't the weather talking, is it. [ He sounds breathless, feels wild-hearted, and honestly Kuroo thinks he's had the wind knocked right out of him. Could be because of Akaashi's weight against him, a glorious torture of reality punching him into awareness over how this is actually happening; could be because of the heat, too, but the gods could only ever be so kind to keep things like that. This is cruel and unusual, and Kuroo — well, he's feeling every bit an eighteen year old at the moment.
He hisses through his teeth. ]
I'm not into regrets, actually. [ You have ink on your lip, the setter comments out of order like he didn't just give Kuroo the gutpunch of a lifetime, and then he's leaning down and laving his tongue across Kuroo's mouth like it's absolutely nothing.
Kuroo runs the definition of "cardiac arrest" through his mind. Every syllable feels hysterical, and too real. ]
—Hey.
[ His senses finally register the bitter taste of the ink, its acrid and oily texture a blemish to how hot Kuroo feels at the moment. This is the stuff of wet dreams, because Kuroo has been nothing but honest to himself about the things he wants and what he wants are
who he wants
it's just all too vivid and—
And Kuroo winds the hem of Akaashi's shirt around one hand, bunches the cloth in a loose fist and holds on to the garment like it's an anchor. It pulls the shirt up over the curve of Akaashi's hip, and Kuroo takes in the slip of tantalizing skin exposed to the balmy air like it holds the answers to the universe. He can feel the draw and release of Akaashi's breathing - a steady rhythm, steadier than Kuroo feels he has a right to. Any lower and Akaashi would be sitting right over his crotch, and isn't that something to think about.
Kuroo uses his free hand to pull on Akaashi's hand on his face, moves it along the line of his jaw until the setter's fingers are settled firmly over his mouth. He watches as Akaashi watches him, wonders whose pupils widen first as he takes Akaashi's thumb into his mouth and nips at the knuckle before drawing it further in, wonders what thoughts run through the setter's head when he lets the digit slip from him and trail an wet line across his lower lip. It's not a gentle bite, but Akaashi's a big boy - Kuroo trusts that they both know what they're getting into.
He's feeling more than a little crazy about it. ]
But this... I'm into this if you are.
[ Kuroo's hand, fisted around cloth and against the rise of Akaashi's hipbone, stays where it is - for now. ]