[It's never been about the alcohol - and Solomon knows that. Or, he doesn't, and he's a bigger idiot than Takasugi had given him credit for. That sort of upheaval leaves a tart taste in Takasugi's mouth (maybe it's the weird liquor tho), and he swallows the last of his drink with lips pressed thin.
Being refreshed in such a dank parlor is impossible, but Takasugi feels something close to that.
Boredom mentioned. Now fix it.
And it seems like Solomon is setting to remind Takasugi why he invites the eyesore anywhere. He feels the rush of air on his stomach - perhaps that's where the pleasant sensation had come from - and slips forward from his seat.
His arms rise to rest on Solomon's shoulders, hips swaying into the man's leg. Too close for a hand to travel between their flushed bodies without being glaringly obvious.
It isn't so much of a protest as it is a challenge. He lets his weight lean into the blonde, his head lulling towards the man's shoulder.] ...it's all boring.
no subject
Being refreshed in such a dank parlor is impossible, but Takasugi feels something close to that.
Boredom mentioned. Now fix it.
And it seems like Solomon is setting to remind Takasugi why he invites the eyesore anywhere. He feels the rush of air on his stomach - perhaps that's where the pleasant sensation had come from - and slips forward from his seat.
His arms rise to rest on Solomon's shoulders, hips swaying into the man's leg. Too close for a hand to travel between their flushed bodies without being glaringly obvious.
It isn't so much of a protest as it is a challenge. He lets his weight lean into the blonde, his head lulling towards the man's shoulder.] ...it's all boring.
[Woah.
Honesty.]