[ there should be warnings for this, a name for this -- how sensation keeps coming in a punch-drunk reel, all dizzy flares and static where shiro's breath slides across his skin. the hand that'd settled so gingerly on shiro's shoulder's flattened, steadied like he needs it for balance; the other's a more delicate frame against his ribs, fit to memorise the curve as he manages a blundering, breathless answer - ]
Yeah. All right.
[ it isn't that instinct's driven out thought -- shiro's company, asking him to lock himself into a company car with passengers who hardly need their rides advertised. shiro's a name more memory than anything real, a gut feeling and a bad idea.
and yet: a welling, willing shiver, his head tilting back by degrees as his fingers dig in blunt points and his thighs drag together, anchoring him in place. ]
. . . when - [ oh, silent and felt. ] when do you have to head out?
no subject
Yeah. All right.
[ it isn't that instinct's driven out thought -- shiro's company, asking him to lock himself into a company car with passengers who hardly need their rides advertised. shiro's a name more memory than anything real, a gut feeling and a bad idea.
and yet: a welling, willing shiver, his head tilting back by degrees as his fingers dig in blunt points and his thighs drag together, anchoring him in place. ]
. . . when - [ oh, silent and felt. ] when do you have to head out?