[his hands still shake, but his fingers do not fumble. Undressing a man - undressing anyone - holds little shame or stigma for Linneus when it is nothing he hasn't done or seen hundreds of times before. But the difference now is how much Dazai has seen of him already, without him ever having to remove his clothes. How much he has seen of Dazai, compared to all the other men who have trampled their way in and out of Linneus' life, his heart, without even the decency of removing their shoes.
If there had been anything left in him to be shake, perhaps this might have done.
Soft, he asks for permission with each layer, each dampened item his hands are set to, head still leaned close enough to Dazai's that he hardly has to raise his voice.]
May I take this...? This...?
[barely drawing apart any more than necessary, his eyes flickering between his work and Dazai's cheek, the hinge of his jaw. Each item put carefully aside as he can, even if it is only draped over the sink, working hand over hand and careful not to let both leave him.]
no subject
If there had been anything left in him to be shake, perhaps this might have done.
Soft, he asks for permission with each layer, each dampened item his hands are set to, head still leaned close enough to Dazai's that he hardly has to raise his voice.]
May I take this...? This...?
[barely drawing apart any more than necessary, his eyes flickering between his work and Dazai's cheek, the hinge of his jaw. Each item put carefully aside as he can, even if it is only draped over the sink, working hand over hand and careful not to let both leave him.]