[The gentle kiss has his ear twitching appreciatively, automatically, a reflex that Jyuto might be embarrassed about if he wasn't completly focused on the rhythmic feeling of Akira's hands against his scalp, so much better than the hurried, frantic way he'd tried to emulate it on his own countless nights before. His teeth find Akira's upper lip again, rolling the warm flesh and savouring the taste of him, and he nuzzles against the side of Akira's nose. It's a spot of affection that's there before Jyuto has a chance to think about it, such a stark contrast to his usual teasing haughtiness, but as natural as the air between them.]
Good. [Thank you.] I wouldn't let you leave even if you wanted to.
[Even if he tried to make a run for the window, Jyuto's hands would be there to stop him. For a moment, he considers reaching back to his belt, where a barely concealed harness sits under the dark curtain of his coattails and a pair of handcuffs rest against his hip; considers how easy it would be to restrain him now, finally, the one target who's managed to elude him for so long. He has to laugh to himself at how little that seems to matter now, when there are far more important things like the taste of his favourite brand of cigarettes lingering on Akira's lips, or the low rumble in the back of the other's throat that sends something electric down his spine.]
So much for my reputation, hm? [He lets a hand fall down to cup the side of Akira's cheek, far too much fondness for the pretense of professionalism they've halfheartedly maintained until now.] Who'd have thought.
[ it wouldn't take very much effort for jyuto to do so right now with how close he is, catching himself smiling at the gentle nuzzling. but maybe that isn't so bad after all; there are times when he's grown tired of running, and while leaving jyuto with parting kisses would have been fun, it's become almost torturous now with how he's denied himself from indulging in what he wants for himself rather than for someone else.
he lets his hands slip from jyuto's hair, sliding down his neck and shoulders, following the straps of the harness beneath his shirt. there's a different sort of recklessness buzzing through him, that same burn of anticipation that pools low in his gut as he turns his head into jyuto's hand, kissing his palm. ]
Your reputation of being an intimidating detective? [ he trails his lips over jyuto's skin, nipping at the pad of his fingertip. ] I never believed it.
[Even the simple sensation of Akira's hands moving down his neck, over the planes of his shoulders and the tense muscles of his back, feels infinitely better than it rightfully should, better than any other pair of hands ever could. The only logical followup is for Jyuto to nudge his coat off to fall unceremoniously onto the desk, furled up around his arms as he moves to a half-stand, pressing his knee onto the side of the chair against Akira's thigh. He gives the soft skin of Akira's cheek another appreciative stroke, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip.]
An arrest would be the least of your worries. [But it's hardly a threat, really; he's too enthralled by what's happening between them, by the way that Akira manages to make himself look adorable even when he's taking shots. The contrast of the red of his glove against the whites of his teeth injects a warmth into his smile, the pad of his thumb feeling out the grooves of sharp molars.
A few months ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of finding the company of a thief anything more than a necessary nuisance at best. Now, he leans in to kiss at the corner of Akira's mouth, a laugh on his breath at the absurdity of how they've ended up like this.]
A lot of people do. [Believe a lot of things about him, that is. Some of them might actually be disappointed if they knew what they were doing together now, slandering his perfectly tailored image of an upstanding guardian of law and order -- at least on the outside. Again, he slides his fingertips along Akira's jawline.] You could ruin me in an instant if any of this got out, you know.
[There's something to be said about the risk Jyuto's taking that Akira can't quite match, and the willingness with which he'll step over that boundary that's so temptingly offered to him.]
[ it's not a threat, but it sends something hot down his spine anyway, parting his lips further as jyuto slips his thumb along his teeth. the leather dips beneath jyuto's knee and akira takes it upon himself to push his coat the rest of the way off of him, liking the soft smoothness of jyuto's shirt probably a little too much. this is more than they've ever gotten; by now, akira would have made his escape, much less sliding his arm over jyuto's shoulder to pull him closer.
he feels the laugh against his cheek before he hears it, turning his head to catch jyuto's lips with his as if to taste it, licking along the roof of his mouth. ]
I guess we both have secrets to keep. [ jyuto, the less than upstanding detective with a soft spot for a criminal; akira, a vigilante moonlighting as a thief with a crush on an officer. it's almost as if they were made for each other. ] But I'd rather ruin you in a different way.
[Akira is neither the first nor the only person in the world to ever flirt with Jyuto, but the way he does it is what manages to set him apart from everyone else -- the knowing way that he laces his words with a challenge, the balancing act that they take turns with between threatening one another and inviting a rebuttal, the way his tongue runs along the ceiling of his mouth and Jyuto feels it along his spine. It doesn't come as much of a surprise that Akira's just as enthused about pushing the offending weight of his jacket off of his shoulders as he is, but it's pleasant nonetheless, knowing that his hasn't been the only anticipation left wanting this past month.
Shucking the garment off behind him, a second knee finds its purchase beside Akira's other thigh, the subtle shift in Jyuto's height putting him at the perfect angle to rest his forehead against Akira's.]
We both know you'd enjoy whatever punishment I had in mind. [An endearing trait, for sure, but he's not here to spoil him after being left on read for so long.] You're too much of a pervert.
[It comes out sounding more like a compliment, like something he wouldn't change for the world, as he dips his head forward to press their lips together again, hard and insistent, parting Akira's with his own. The warmth between them has his pulse hammering in his chest, against the collar buttoned neatly up to his throat and fixed in place with his perfectly knotted tie, but it's Akira's arm around his shoulders that he goes for instead, guiding a wandering hand over his hip, down to the small of his back.]
don't make me reread my writing from five years ago pls and ty
[ like the natural progression of a dance they know the steps to, akira feels out jyuto's edges, shifts a bit of himself each time they meet, and he would think he was coaxing him along if he didn't know better. jyuto isn't as shameless as akira is, but invitation colors his actions—his knees bracket akira's thighs, the breadth of him obscuring the street lights outside the balcony as he draws closer. he presses their foreheads together and akira finds himself momentarily lost in the green of his eyes, their shared breath. ]
You're right.
[ no point in denying it, not when he knows jyuto likes it. akira lets his gaze take a slow, indulgent detour down the angles of his face, softened by the cup of moonlight along one side of his cheek. can anyone really blame him, honestly. it's not his fault jyuto is pretty, and akira has always had a weakness for pretty things.
but jyuto leans down and akira tips his face up without even thinking about it, inexorably drawn like a flower to the sun. this one isn't as light and chaste as the previous—more insistent, more deliberate; a month's worth of yearning distilled into lips and tongue and teeth. akira's next exhale into jyuto's mouth is shaky, wrecked, and his fingers tug at jyuto's shirt where he's guided to, pulling it free from where it's been tucked neatly into his slacks. there's something about messing up jyuto's normally professional and pristine appearance, pulling things out of their rightful place that makes his blood simmer in his veins; makes him eager to sink his fingers and teeth into all that untouched space, just to see what lies beneath. ]
girl i've barely rped since five years ago don't read my writing NOW
[Something about Akira's readiness to agree, the utter absence of trying to defend himself, sends something tingling through the length of Jyuto's spine. They both have their performances, after all, the stakes for which these little dalliances of theirs could spell disaster were they not quite so good at covering their tracks -- and all so eagerly thrown to the wayside in an instant, all for one another. He finds himself thinking, increasingly more often of late, that there must be some sort of divine catastrophe looming on the horizon with his name on it -- some form of otherworldly punishment for all the precarious tip-toeing he's been doing with that fragile thing called the law.
He finds, just as often, that he no longer has the energy to care. There's something to be said about pretty things and the ones who dedicate their lives to stealing them, and the pathetic men who are left in the wake of their destruction.
A pair of roaming hands make quick work of the tails of his shirt (always well-pressed, finely tailored, and the purest of whites), Akira's teeth ungentle in the way they grind against his own, and the hands that return to rest on a thin waist grip hard and harsh. Akira's hunger wishes to undo him, to take him apart at the seams: Jyuto's, however, is a smouldering thing, molten in his veins and aching in his fingertips, in the way he thumbs at the loops of a pair of dark slacks, the way he uses them as leverage to tug both the thief and his infernal perch closer to the desk behind them.
His incisors give a quick nip to the soft flesh of Akira's upper lip, his tongue soothing the bite nigh immediately.]
Ruin my reports and I'm throwing you in a cell for the night.
[Nevermind that they're all about him, anyway. This is all to say: there's space for him on the desk, papers be damned, should he deem it worthy enough.]
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Good. [Thank you.] I wouldn't let you leave even if you wanted to.
[Even if he tried to make a run for the window, Jyuto's hands would be there to stop him. For a moment, he considers reaching back to his belt, where a barely concealed harness sits under the dark curtain of his coattails and a pair of handcuffs rest against his hip; considers how easy it would be to restrain him now, finally, the one target who's managed to elude him for so long. He has to laugh to himself at how little that seems to matter now, when there are far more important things like the taste of his favourite brand of cigarettes lingering on Akira's lips, or the low rumble in the back of the other's throat that sends something electric down his spine.]
So much for my reputation, hm? [He lets a hand fall down to cup the side of Akira's cheek, far too much fondness for the pretense of professionalism they've halfheartedly maintained until now.] Who'd have thought.
no subject
[ it wouldn't take very much effort for jyuto to do so right now with how close he is, catching himself smiling at the gentle nuzzling. but maybe that isn't so bad after all; there are times when he's grown tired of running, and while leaving jyuto with parting kisses would have been fun, it's become almost torturous now with how he's denied himself from indulging in what he wants for himself rather than for someone else.
he lets his hands slip from jyuto's hair, sliding down his neck and shoulders, following the straps of the harness beneath his shirt. there's a different sort of recklessness buzzing through him, that same burn of anticipation that pools low in his gut as he turns his head into jyuto's hand, kissing his palm. ]
Your reputation of being an intimidating detective? [ he trails his lips over jyuto's skin, nipping at the pad of his fingertip. ] I never believed it.
no subject
An arrest would be the least of your worries. [But it's hardly a threat, really; he's too enthralled by what's happening between them, by the way that Akira manages to make himself look adorable even when he's taking shots. The contrast of the red of his glove against the whites of his teeth injects a warmth into his smile, the pad of his thumb feeling out the grooves of sharp molars.
A few months ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of finding the company of a thief anything more than a necessary nuisance at best. Now, he leans in to kiss at the corner of Akira's mouth, a laugh on his breath at the absurdity of how they've ended up like this.]
A lot of people do. [Believe a lot of things about him, that is. Some of them might actually be disappointed if they knew what they were doing together now, slandering his perfectly tailored image of an upstanding guardian of law and order -- at least on the outside. Again, he slides his fingertips along Akira's jawline.] You could ruin me in an instant if any of this got out, you know.
[There's something to be said about the risk Jyuto's taking that Akira can't quite match, and the willingness with which he'll step over that boundary that's so temptingly offered to him.]
no subject
[ it's not a threat, but it sends something hot down his spine anyway, parting his lips further as jyuto slips his thumb along his teeth. the leather dips beneath jyuto's knee and akira takes it upon himself to push his coat the rest of the way off of him, liking the soft smoothness of jyuto's shirt probably a little too much. this is more than they've ever gotten; by now, akira would have made his escape, much less sliding his arm over jyuto's shoulder to pull him closer.
he feels the laugh against his cheek before he hears it, turning his head to catch jyuto's lips with his as if to taste it, licking along the roof of his mouth. ]
I guess we both have secrets to keep. [ jyuto, the less than upstanding detective with a soft spot for a criminal; akira, a vigilante moonlighting as a thief with a crush on an officer. it's almost as if they were made for each other. ] But I'd rather ruin you in a different way.
no subject
Shucking the garment off behind him, a second knee finds its purchase beside Akira's other thigh, the subtle shift in Jyuto's height putting him at the perfect angle to rest his forehead against Akira's.]
We both know you'd enjoy whatever punishment I had in mind. [An endearing trait, for sure, but he's not here to spoil him after being left on read for so long.] You're too much of a pervert.
[It comes out sounding more like a compliment, like something he wouldn't change for the world, as he dips his head forward to press their lips together again, hard and insistent, parting Akira's with his own. The warmth between them has his pulse hammering in his chest, against the collar buttoned neatly up to his throat and fixed in place with his perfectly knotted tie, but it's Akira's arm around his shoulders that he goes for instead, guiding a wandering hand over his hip, down to the small of his back.]
don't make me reread my writing from five years ago pls and ty
You're right.
[ no point in denying it, not when he knows jyuto likes it. akira lets his gaze take a slow, indulgent detour down the angles of his face, softened by the cup of moonlight along one side of his cheek. can anyone really blame him, honestly. it's not his fault jyuto is pretty, and akira has always had a weakness for pretty things.
but jyuto leans down and akira tips his face up without even thinking about it, inexorably drawn like a flower to the sun. this one isn't as light and chaste as the previous—more insistent, more deliberate; a month's worth of yearning distilled into lips and tongue and teeth. akira's next exhale into jyuto's mouth is shaky, wrecked, and his fingers tug at jyuto's shirt where he's guided to, pulling it free from where it's been tucked neatly into his slacks. there's something about messing up jyuto's normally professional and pristine appearance, pulling things out of their rightful place that makes his blood simmer in his veins; makes him eager to sink his fingers and teeth into all that untouched space, just to see what lies beneath. ]
girl i've barely rped since five years ago don't read my writing NOW
He finds, just as often, that he no longer has the energy to care. There's something to be said about pretty things and the ones who dedicate their lives to stealing them, and the pathetic men who are left in the wake of their destruction.
A pair of roaming hands make quick work of the tails of his shirt (always well-pressed, finely tailored, and the purest of whites), Akira's teeth ungentle in the way they grind against his own, and the hands that return to rest on a thin waist grip hard and harsh. Akira's hunger wishes to undo him, to take him apart at the seams: Jyuto's, however, is a smouldering thing, molten in his veins and aching in his fingertips, in the way he thumbs at the loops of a pair of dark slacks, the way he uses them as leverage to tug both the thief and his infernal perch closer to the desk behind them.
His incisors give a quick nip to the soft flesh of Akira's upper lip, his tongue soothing the bite nigh immediately.]
Ruin my reports and I'm throwing you in a cell for the night.
[Nevermind that they're all about him, anyway. This is all to say: there's space for him on the desk, papers be damned, should he deem it worthy enough.]