i want the k BOY LET ME HAVE THIS
forrest has never been one to partake in alcohol - a prince had certain standards, certain expectations, and he had no tolerance for the stuff. with shigure, he felt safe enough to do so - he feels like it’s only appropriate that his first episode into alcohol is with a man he has trusted with his life, a man he would count on to defend him in a war.
of course, he overestimates himself. he’s drunk, he at least has the clarity to realise this, but shigure is talking and talking and forrest finds he isn’t listening to the words so much as the sound of his voice. he is so beautiful, forrest thinks, in word, in deed, in voice, in appearance, and he half falls, half slides into shigure’s side, leaning heavily against his side - he can hear the other man’s heart, hear the way it pounds at the contact, and forrest closes his eyes, just listening. his breathing deepens, regulates, and it genuinely seems that he is asleep.
shigure’s hand raises, touches his curls, and forrest startles back into alertness - he jolts a little, nearly clipping the top of his head on shigure’s chin but stopping himself. where was he?
ah. yes. he tilts his head up, still resting against shigure, and studies his face. he is not the first man forrest would have lain with - but he is so beautiful, and he would be the first to mean something, and forrest sighs, indecisive.
that is, until the alcohol decides for him. his fingers gently brush against the small sliver of skin showing and pushes it out of the way, soft lips following their every movement as he traces the sharp lines of shigure’s collarbone, giving him a sharp nip after a few gentle ones.
“shigure,” his voice is quiet, needy, and when he looks up at him again, his iris are almost eclipsed by black, and nothing about him seems uncertain or hesitant.
