[ he does get a more intimate view of what he's dealing with, up close, and it took him back to their first conversation, when dabi expressed how he is in constant pain from his injuries. he can see it now; quite vividly. regardless, he's not going to start treating that man as if he's brittle. if he's here, compliant, there's no doubt he can endure it.
it's strange, considering how they are more comfortable with each other for a while now, but this comes off as the first time dabi actually— touched him? as gentle as it was, from the weight of that arm against his neck, the graze of fingertips over his throat and cheekbone; being pulled close. it's the type of intimacy itadori craved for. simply sharing space, indulging in a conversation, guard dropped. with a soft sigh, he allows himself to be subdued by it, unaware of the way dabi's thumb brushed over the 'tattoo' under each eye. a few things the villain might pick up on: the skin is abnormal, in a sense it had a distinctive texture, more delicate(?), and there is a very faint movement under his touch. alas, it's nothing that would unnerve someone coming from a society full of different quirks. itadori had seen people with colorful skin tones, multiple arms and legs, horns on their heads and all kinds of flavors of diversity, shapes and sizes. this minor detail is not so striking, is it? ]
Ah, well ... that does help. Being in control.
[ no complaining here. he hates to do it, to pull away from the warmth of dabi's body against his own, but he picks up on the little gesture and attends to get rid of his shirt. the contrast in their built spoke in volumes about the way their powers/quirks are used, clashing with dabi's, it's clear itadori is more of a close-range type. there are some bruises over his chest and abdomen, here and there, some seemed a few days old, healing, while others hint on as early as this morning. ]
I'm not sure if it's considered foreplay ... but- ...
[ despite his words, his expression turns rather demure; voice softens with a sly smirk of his own. "Don't rush", he told himself, inside the confines of his own mind— though he wanted desperately to do nothing else. his fingers brush along the curve of dabi's waist, perceptive in its nature, then finally works on unhooking his belt. itadori takes a moment to relish the view as two forefingers hooked through the hem of those pants/briefs, tugging the waistband lower, somewhat urging dabi to lift his hips before he dragged it all the way to his ankles. his hand then, gently, brush over the smooth skin of his inner thighs, spreading his legs apart ...
he wants this man to feel good, desired— this can't be a one-sided affair. or, maybe itadori is doing this for himself. in an odd way, this is the first thing he fantasized on doing the second dabi teased the thought of them fucking around, the image on the screen when the villain teased on stripping on the spot never left his mind for days. his eyes dared to catch dabi's, and that alone stirs something from within that is so unfamiliar. an uncomfortable warmth that is less innocent and more fervent.
it was why he parted his lips around the other man's cock, relaxing his throat so that he leaned in, the tight ring of his lips sliding slowly down the girth of dabi's prick. careful yet not timid, lashes low against his flustered cheekbones, and he muffles a moan against the hot flesh in his mouth. ]
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Date: 9/8/21 19:24 (UTC)it's strange, considering how they are more comfortable with each other for a while now, but this comes off as the first time dabi actually— touched him? as gentle as it was, from the weight of that arm against his neck, the graze of fingertips over his throat and cheekbone; being pulled close. it's the type of intimacy itadori craved for. simply sharing space, indulging in a conversation, guard dropped. with a soft sigh, he allows himself to be subdued by it, unaware of the way dabi's thumb brushed over the 'tattoo' under each eye. a few things the villain might pick up on: the skin is abnormal, in a sense it had a distinctive texture, more delicate(?), and there is a very faint movement under his touch. alas, it's nothing that would unnerve someone coming from a society full of different quirks. itadori had seen people with colorful skin tones, multiple arms and legs, horns on their heads and all kinds of flavors of diversity, shapes and sizes. this minor detail is not so striking, is it? ]
Ah, well ... that does help. Being in control.
[ no complaining here. he hates to do it, to pull away from the warmth of dabi's body against his own, but he picks up on the little gesture and attends to get rid of his shirt. the contrast in their built spoke in volumes about the way their powers/quirks are used, clashing with dabi's, it's clear itadori is more of a close-range type. there are some bruises over his chest and abdomen, here and there, some seemed a few days old, healing, while others hint on as early as this morning. ]
I'm not sure if it's considered foreplay ... but- ...
[ despite his words, his expression turns rather demure; voice softens with a sly smirk of his own. "Don't rush", he told himself, inside the confines of his own mind— though he wanted desperately to do nothing else. his fingers brush along the curve of dabi's waist, perceptive in its nature, then finally works on unhooking his belt. itadori takes a moment to relish the view as two forefingers hooked through the hem of those pants/briefs, tugging the waistband lower, somewhat urging dabi to lift his hips before he dragged it all the way to his ankles. his hand then, gently, brush over the smooth skin of his inner thighs, spreading his legs apart ...
he wants this man to feel good, desired— this can't be a one-sided affair. or, maybe itadori is doing this for himself. in an odd way, this is the first thing he fantasized on doing the second dabi teased the thought of them fucking around, the image on the screen when the villain teased on stripping on the spot never left his mind for days. his eyes dared to catch dabi's, and that alone stirs something from within that is so unfamiliar. an uncomfortable warmth that is less innocent and more fervent.
it was why he parted his lips around the other man's cock, relaxing his throat so that he leaned in, the tight ring of his lips sliding slowly down the girth of dabi's prick. careful yet not timid, lashes low against his flustered cheekbones, and he muffles a moan against the hot flesh in his mouth. ]