[A fast rebuttal, glare settling on some tiny print on the nearest shampoo bottle. Pointed defiance all around, though additional contact makes his thighs twitch reactively, something made all the more noticeable when the water's disturbed by it. As much as he'd like to wrap this up, he's somehow found himself yielding to that command; a fast excuse about Takasugi being a complaint enough bath partner. What's more obvious, is his inability to fight the man and his own desires regarding him at the same time.
So he leans back, automatically rendering himself more vulnerable -- offering. Even were he nude, a fight would be nonexistent. He's holding a breath through that exploration, teeth nearly giving chase as fingers retreat from his chin, but his head ultimately tilts back against tile. It's natural that something like this would happen, that he'd find himself fighting the confines of his undies. Maybe that's why he'd taken the extra step to cling to whatever decency available, but there aren't any preemptive measures to take when dealing with Takasugi.
A leg rises, the bottom of his foot bracing against the tub's edge.]
We should be rinsing off.
[Far from renouncing him, a hand moves to trace a shoulder, kneading over lean muscle in appreciation -- something likely meant to be a form of rejection. A push thawed into exploratory touch, retracing healed skin.]
no subject
[A fast rebuttal, glare settling on some tiny print on the nearest shampoo bottle. Pointed defiance all around, though additional contact makes his thighs twitch reactively, something made all the more noticeable when the water's disturbed by it. As much as he'd like to wrap this up, he's somehow found himself yielding to that command; a fast excuse about Takasugi being a complaint enough bath partner. What's more obvious, is his inability to fight the man and his own desires regarding him at the same time.
So he leans back, automatically rendering himself more vulnerable -- offering. Even were he nude, a fight would be nonexistent. He's holding a breath through that exploration, teeth nearly giving chase as fingers retreat from his chin, but his head ultimately tilts back against tile. It's natural that something like this would happen, that he'd find himself fighting the confines of his undies. Maybe that's why he'd taken the extra step to cling to whatever decency available, but there aren't any preemptive measures to take when dealing with Takasugi.
A leg rises, the bottom of his foot bracing against the tub's edge.]
We should be rinsing off.
[Far from renouncing him, a hand moves to trace a shoulder, kneading over lean muscle in appreciation -- something likely meant to be a form of rejection. A push thawed into exploratory touch, retracing healed skin.]
We'll prune.
[His gripes are mellowing out, at least.]