@9sik / @adrowning said: An arm is thrown over his shoulder, in all worlds it seems short people are viewed as arm rests everywhere. But oh? Whats this? Isamu looks quite serious (as always) but his hand is gently caressing the side of Hakus face, before his other hand cups his jaw hard demanding attention, pressing himself against the other. Isamu gives him the kiss upon the cheek. // im a whore i couldn't resist.
they are in a small town in the land of rice. the air is warm & sweet with roasting grains & last night’s petrichor. it is a sleepy little town, an ancient settlement on top of a hill ringed by terrace paddies. haku walks the streets like one looking to savor what shall soon be lost. a little bit of sweetness left in the world.
❛ this one, ❜ haku lays the back of their hand against isamu’s forearm, guiding him into a small grocer’s store. for once the air does not hang heavy between them. cool fingers brush isamu’s dark skin & isamu does not pull away. he says nothing at all as he turns into the shop, bending down awkwardly to clear the low doorframe. the shop bell peals brassy against isamu’s broad shoulders & catches on the thick weft of his dreadlocks.
❛ gentle, ❜ haku says. isamu casts an impassive glance at them over his shoulder. haku holds his gaze easily, mouth soft, demeanor easy. has it always been like this ?
again: ❛ gentle, ❜ haku lays a hand on the small of isamu’s back. ❛ here. let me. ❜ the string of bells untangles easily beneath a deft hand, & isamu steps over the threshold with a shake of his head, his lips quirked slightly up. haku’s spine tingles, remembering how that mouth felt just hours ago on their skin, their lips, their chest, their thighs. they lick their lips, hand isamu his copy of the shopping list & get to work.
they had sex last night.
they always do when a storm is coming. increased moisture in the air relaxed them, & electricity sang beneath their skin like a promise. it must be the same with isamu, because it always happens, without fail. air pressure builds, clouds swirl, haku’s eyes darken, a rumble catches isamu’s chest. by the first crack of thunder lips are parting; by the third they are on each other, taking turns pressing each other into pelts & bed rolls, hips rolling with thunder. neither speaks. they don’t need to. what can a mouth say that a storm cannot ? they stopped when the storm did.
when the skies clear, they roll apart to clean off then tuck into their separate bed rolls without a word. they don’t talk about it in the morning. what can a Mouth say that a storm cannot. day breaks. nothing is different.
yet haku stands closer to isamu as they walk through the little village & isamu does not move away. fingers brush & touch without static. isamu’s silence feels roomier. haku’s feels less pointed. he stands beside haku as haku pays for more treats & road supplies, & even deigns to carry one ( one ) bag.
when isamu drapes an arm over haku’s shoulder upon exiting the store, it is nothing unusual. his disregard for personal space is well known. it is only when calloused fingers stroke against their cheek & haku does not pull away that they realize there is . . . something happening between them. nothing with a name, but it exists all the same. isamu cups haku’s cheek hard, forcing their attention, & haku lets him, curious as to what happens next & burdened by groceries in both arms. they look & wait. isamu looks & waits.
to both their surprise, isamu presses a chaste kiss to haku’s cheek before abruptly walking away. it lacks the crack & hiss of last night’s kisses. it does not send sparks down haku’s spine.
it’s just a kiss. a chaste, perfectly ordinary kiss.
nothing special. haku ignores the soft tingle in their cheek, shakes their head, & continues on to their camp. nothing special at all.
