[this, despite all of its foreign elements, is much more natural to Guanshan: to pepper his affection with discomfort, to let pleasure ebb into pain and flow back, driving both higher]
[he could want as many good things for Hasebe as his mind can contain, but at the end of the day, he's a harmful person who does harmful things and wants -- needs -- for harmful things to be returned before he can feel, before he can trust]
[and the swordsman won't shoulder it alone, those words pouring over in his mind as, awkwardly as he holds it, he draws the blade to its end and lets his mouth settle near the very tip]
[thoughtfulness palpable, there's a beat of hesitation before his tongue dips and sweeps its mercury curve, hanging onto the flat but razing that slickness across the edge, bleeding here as he had his fingers]
[a half-turn points him towards the man more, weapon lowering as his hold becomes one-handed, freed palm grasping his jaw to tilt it to a preferred angle]
Then hang on t'me.
[he bleeds more as he speaks, but his crimson-coated tongue tangles with Hasebe's, fervor unchecked as he ravishes his mouth, desperation to respond spurring him into too much roughness, too much passion, always carefully masked behind apathy and anger -- behind things that are easier]
[but if Hasebe doesn't want easy, then neither does he]
no subject
[he could want as many good things for Hasebe as his mind can contain, but at the end of the day, he's a harmful person who does harmful things and wants -- needs -- for harmful things to be returned before he can feel, before he can trust]
[and the swordsman won't shoulder it alone, those words pouring over in his mind as, awkwardly as he holds it, he draws the blade to its end and lets his mouth settle near the very tip]
[thoughtfulness palpable, there's a beat of hesitation before his tongue dips and sweeps its mercury curve, hanging onto the flat but razing that slickness across the edge, bleeding here as he had his fingers]
[a half-turn points him towards the man more, weapon lowering as his hold becomes one-handed, freed palm grasping his jaw to tilt it to a preferred angle]
Then hang on t'me.
[he bleeds more as he speaks, but his crimson-coated tongue tangles with Hasebe's, fervor unchecked as he ravishes his mouth, desperation to respond spurring him into too much roughness, too much passion, always carefully masked behind apathy and anger -- behind things that are easier]
[but if Hasebe doesn't want easy, then neither does he]