SEND A NUMBER, GET A KISS.STATUS || ACCEPTING
he hadn’t meant to snap.he had entirely meant to remain cool in the face of matsubusa’s constant harassment, days on end of being poked and prodded and jabbed.like cattle trapped in a chute, it was as though he were constantly taking an electric prod to his sides simply for sick pleasure.to watch how he’d jerk and react, to see if he would turn to try and bite, or if he would attempt to flee, lick his wounds elsewhere.
so often was it the latter, at best casting the other a harsh stare to make him aware of his true feelings as he took the higher path.sakaki would be the mature one, the adult one.
wine bleeding into the carpet around them, the shattered glass pressed against the line of matsubusa’s throat, there was no satisfaction in it.there was no fear in the other man’s eyes, and if anything, as sakaki’s heated stare met his own, he saw an invitation in his gaze.do it, it seemed to say, matsubusa’s lips curved in a devilish smile, tilting his jaw so that his neck may press closer to the sharp ridge of the broken bottle.
sakaki watched a thin line of blood trail down from the thin scratch carved out, and thought of how satisfying it would be to plunge in the bottle as deep as he could.see how much blood came out.see how long it would take for matsubusa to suffocate on it.
it would end these woes of his, of having to deal with the threat of being poisoned, of idly wondering if he may not wake to see the next morning.matsubusa had never been shy to display his switchblade in his presence, often making coy eye contact, as if teasing him with the very thought of what he wanted to do.
and, oh, how he WANTED to.how he wanted it to end, to take just a bit more weight off his shoulders, to give himself the time to think of other, pressing matters.for a second, he considered it, letting the glass press closer in, watching as matsubusa’s eyes shut.
the bottle was thrown to the side, shattering completely against the wall, and he barely caught a glimpse of matsubusa’s eyes flashing back open as his head dipped down.hands squeezing his shoulders, keeping him pinned if he were to squirm, slowly did his tongue trail up the line of blood that had dribbled down to his collar, all the way back to the source.his lips were soft in the initial press against the scratch, feather-light in their gentleness, before he sunk in his teeth.
the bite was enough to split the scratch open further, feeling the blood push into his mouth, and that was enough for him.blood was smeared across his lips and jaw as he stood back up, eyes, once burning with his rage, turned cold and level again, voice cool as he spoke.
‘ get out of my office, and go clean yourself. you’ve made a mess, and i do not need you ruining more of my carpet. ‘
