#supportingfire

@supportingfire ⸺ "some say you're dangerous," he muses, tone more upbeat than anything dreadful. like he is amused at the aspect. thrilled, even. a step closer, thoma's green eyes sparkle, a hand resting atop harbinger's chest, "should i be concerned, or excited about that?"

Cobalt depths instantly settled on the other male at the words, taking in the sight of Thoma with clear interest and curiosity due to this never having been brought up before, even with the few hints that Childe was in fact, that, dangerous. He had made it quite clear at one point, going as far as to state that it would have been good, if Thoma never saw him again, once he had to leave. However, despite that, the man had continued to see him and had continued to let him close. Childe knew why, because there rested a heart of gold, beneath those layers. Or, perhaps, Thomas was just being foolish, the harbinger wasn't entirely certain yet, all he knew was that, never mind what, there was sharp intellect in those green depths, depths that were holding his captive right now as he observed.

Feeling the weight upon his chest, fair lips morph into a small smirk, where pearly whites reveal amusement and something slightly dark. Soon, one of his own hands lifted to rest on top of the one that had settled upon his chest, where the strong organ within beat softly, beneath the warm surface. It felt almost like playing a game, a game that Thoma was clearly already enjoying, despite the seriousness that could rest underneath such a question.

Leaning in, depths lacking light, that other normal people possessed, gazed into greens, testing how far Thoma truly desired this to go.

❝ I would be lying if I said I wasn't. whether you should be concerned or excited is all up to you. Do you think, I would hurt you, Thoma? ❞

Ah, right. That day still burns in Itto's memory, so much so that he can clearly remember how quickly his throat clogged up after chugging that special drink. The oni shakes his head in disagreement with a grin on his lips, "My compadre, my dude, I should be thanking you for saving my butt! If it wasn't for you, I'd probably have been bedridden for four weeks instead of two!" He really should've been more careful, especially after the Kitsune Ramen eating contest with that lady with the fox ears. But hey, at least he came out as the champion that time!

send ❌ and my muse will tell you what they dislike about yours. ( not accepting. )

          @supportingfire. 🔥​

@supportingfire: "are you sure?" he hates him unsure he sounds, but thoma needs to hear it plain, "that i'm the...the one you want? that i'm-" he can't say it, the word enough sitting at the back of his throat like a lump he tries to swallow, "you have a lot of expectations and status, i don't want to be a reason you don't excel. i don't want you to compromise all that you worked so hard for, just for me."

svelte   fingertips   are   cool   to   the   touch,   coiled   around   his   housekeeper's   warm   ones   in   a   vice   of   supplication.   callouses   bite   against   callouses   -   the   rough   edges   of   his   hands   giving   tell   to   a   lifetime   spent   with   katana   in   hand,   as   they   slide   against   thoma's   own   marred   digits.   his   are   larger,   rougher,   excessive   manual   labor   and   a   lack   of   full   glove   writing   the   work   his   retainer   had   done   for   them   across   his   body   in   a   decades   worth   of   stories.   so   ayato   holds   his   hands   close,   draws   his   thumbs   along   the   vein-accented   back...   reveres   them.   worships   them.   in   inazuma,   ayato   is   a   king   that   bows   to   no   one.   but   in   the   privacy   of   his   quarters?   he   gladly   gets   on   his   knees   for   thoma,   gladly   puts   aside   his   crown   in   favor   of   this   adoration.

"   thoma.   "   the   way   he   says   his   name,   every   time,   it's   a   prayer.   it'd   been   that   way   for   so   long,   but   only   now   does   it   make   sense   -   only   now,   with   the   horrors   of   the   vision   hunt   decree   behind   them   -   has   ayato   bared   his   ardor   before   the   other.   their   time   is   not   guaranteed,   and   he   will   not   have   this   stolen   from   him   in   the   interest   of   propriety.      

they're   on   their   knees   together,   ayato   still   holding   his   hands   like   a   lifeline.   he   raises   one   to   his   lips,   pressing   cool   tiers   to   the   back   of   a   roughened   palm   before   laying   his   cheek   against   it   -   as   if   begging   any   sort   of   contact   from   his   retainer.   what   can   he   say,   to   assuage   these   fears?   they   are   real   and   they   are   valid.   it's   a   negative   social   move   to   take   his   chief   retainer   as   a   lover   publicly   when   he's   not   only   considered   a   foreigner,   but   not   of   noble   birth.   yet   ayato   does   not   care,   not   the   slightest.   he   hasn't   for   a   long,   long   time.   it   shows   on   his   face   too   -   the   determination   of   a   normally   cool   man,   wrought   in   iron   over   beautiful,   resplendent   features.   

"   instead   of   thinking   of   all   the   reasons   we   shouldn't...   "   he   pushes   forward,   a   hand   pressing   to   broad   shoulders   to   push   thoma   downwards   upon   the   tatami.   the   commissioner   hovers   above   him,   a   long   leg   moving   to   straddle   a   thigh,   as   he   begins   to   undress   him...   piece   by   piece,   starting   with   armguards.   it's   surprisingly   domestic   and   gentle,   despite   their   position,   and   ayato   takes   his   time   to   press   his   mouth   to   any   inch   of   newly   bared   flesh.   "   think   of   all   the   reasons   we   should.   they   are   more   numerous   in   number.   "

a   practical   man,   the   yashiro   commissioner:   born   from   years   of   private   education   and   being   raised   to   lead   his   clan   into   a   new   age.   even   still,   love   makes   the   smartest   of   men   blind,   yet   ayato   does   not   care.   he   does   not   care   one   bit   as   he   bows   his   back   forwards,   slighter   frame   pressing   close,   and   removes   the   tie   from   thoma's   hair   with   a   gentle   yank.   this   close,   he   can   see   all   the   different   shades   of   green   in   verdant   eyes.   this   close,   he   can   nearly   taste   the   sweet   dango   on   thoma's   lips.   this   close...

@supportingfire​ : ☼ gimme factoid