Daigo’s breath hitched when Ryu began to touch his face. His stare was practically molten ― burning with a fearsome desire that made his chest and pants suddenly feel too tight. The former Chairman leaned into the caresses his lover offered, clearly pleased ; for a moment, his eyes half - closed as he reveled in being handled so gently. ‘ My Daigo. ’ The words echoed in his ears.
Ryu moving Daigo’s head toward him prompted the ex - yakuza to rouse from his contented stupor. His lashes fluttered open. At the realization of what the deity wanted, Daigo looked at Ryu as if he were a parched man being offering the world’s clearest water. The ex - yakuza’s breathing was shallow. EXCITED. He whimpered, finally unable to keep the vocalization back, at the encouragement to open his mouth further. In his eagerness, Daigo reached for Ryu. Calloused palms settled on the fabric of Ryu’s boxers over his thighs.
Daigo didn’t dare let his fingers go any closer than the edge of Ryu’s underwear, though they curled into the material pleadingly. They had barely started, yet the ex - yakuza was already coming unwound. He kneeled before the captured god with a fearsome dedication to his acts of worship. The sort of raw, feverish devotion that brought one to prostration in front of an altar or to kiss the feet of a beloved idol hummed through his being. Around Daigo’s neck was the pendant ― Ryu’s pendant, the physical representation of how often the man in front of him was on his mind.
“I love you,” Daigo said softly, deep voice carrying an airy quality due to his opened mouth. “I want . . . to show you that.”
Daigo’s affection sears him in his chest, but washes over the rest of him with a cool sensation-- it strengthens him, too, but not quite as acutely as hearing the human say he loves him at all.
Humans have a way of it, learning how to find meaning in their short lives, so profound and deep that it escapes even a god’s comprehension. Daigo tells him he loves him, though, and a thread of want darts down Ryu’s spine, then twists itself into the base of his stomach. Human love is incomprehensible, but what he feels as he cards his fingers through the hair at Daigo’s temple seems close to it.
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “I love you, too.”
(It’s because his time with Daigo is finite that he wants to give him everything he can.)
“I’ll allow this,” Ryu decides, the tips of his fingers still light against the side of Daigo’s head while his other hand moves to meet Daigo’s on his underwear.
“You can take it off.” His fingers stretch out, swiping rough pads over Daigo’s knuckles until they’re touching the back of his palm. “Show me how grateful you are with your tongue.”
Ryu’s mouth curves again, a crooked little pull that exposes the tip of a sharp canine against his lip.
“But once you’ve gotten me hard” -- his head tilts, fingers brushing the shell of Daigo’s ear -- “remind me why you need it, Daigo.
“You’ve told me what you want to do. But you haven’t asked permission for it.”
