#// is that fear in his words ??? purrhaps :3c

[b0kksu]

these hard conversations Satoru refused to ⸻ more , was incapable of having , seemed to startle the other into a bored kind of despondence. Sukuna , for all that he was stunted in growth mental areas concerning positive , or even pure , emotion , didn't hide away from these impossible classes of opinion and fact. he didn't, however, choose to have them in the manner his lamb could fathom them not as an attack , not as a violation , but as fun.

fun. light. airy. easy.

like kisses spread the length of his color bone , he dotted them from time to time between awareness and euphoria. teasing these things from staunch lips clamped around his secret as a wolf to the broken leg of a small deer. spreading pale thighs for wasteline to shape in his outline , take up a space claimed in the same way the king would land , riches , flesh painted in blood and agony; it's his because he refuses to release his rights enacted. mayhaps , he can loosen tongue and teeth to draw out secrets made in his own name from divine flesh. bare unto me more , and . . . and , he may bare his own divine existence for only those eyes of his to bare witness.

secrets for secrets , but first , there needed to be that compromise. compromise he'd need to pull , coax , until the time comes even flesh couldn't split them into two .

❝ I didn't realize my name had become both “please” and “now.” you know what you have to do to spurr me on , don't you ? ❞

     HIS NEED FOR DOMINANCE NEVER FALTERED, even in the midst of heartfelt conversations, he was a liar. Trained perfectly, anonymity was a specialty craft amongst his kin, priding themselves in the separation of both heart && mind. Satoru pondered at times, from the snow they were born, though had it encased the sincerity of his own being in ice? It needn’t matter. A songbird still flutters, melodic with his strange lilt that spoke of everything, anything, arrogant yet haughty for a man of mystery. Few times he felt his features contort, distorting into disgust or sheer irritation, the man before him knew of one thing - to pierce the frozen tundra && find the raw soul amidst it all. Red, it sprawls upon his pale cheeks && painfully reminds him of the humanity lingering in his bones. Jovial, childish, boyish in charm it melts to reveal the somberness in his core, the eld that created a natural elegance, deathless being who wished to bite at the wolf. Unraveling, the way his spine would arch, the fragile curvature, each frantic curse wrapped into a prayer - blasphemous this was, a god does not tremble underneath the fingertips of a king.

        The space between them ceases to exist, tightly entwined, he neither cares to hide or flee, becoming a figment to torment the mind for eons. Impossibly long legs that wrap around loosely, expressions that contort && shatter the arrogant grin that he typically wore. ‘Pon his elbows he rests, the afterglow that paints the skin in sanguine, “Soft things are dull” his hands move, flippant gestures, no, they were not boring; they were painful. Silk that was torn to bits, tossed haphazardly away as his bottom lip juts out, he would steal whatever it is the King wore, adorning himself in a robe that was far too large, open, the softness of twin mounds && his frayed skin on display. Curiosity piqued, he tilts his head, sitting upon bony knees as he reaches, gently cradling the calamity’s jawline within his fragile grasp.

         “Reservations in the midst of intimacy hardly grant us any pleasure, you enjoy it, don’t act so wounded” laughter, thunderous from the gut. “It is the only time secrecy is not permitted, I have no need for it” the coolness of marble skin that presses closer, azure, inescapable as he searches a matching gaze.

                           “Your name, it’s what you want to hear, the knowledge it grants in the concept I give myself to you”