[ ichiro can’t help it: his mouth draws up into a grin, teeth just shy of biting into his lower lip. it’s mischevious and greedy at the same time, the look of someone who knows he’s about to get something he wants. a distinctly ichiro look, stop and go eyes shining with the suggestion. he meets him head on, and maybe he doesn’t have to say anything— that face is answer enough.
granted, it’s not what he was expecting or even thinking about wanting, but now that samatoki said it.... ]
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granted, it’s not what he was expecting or even thinking about wanting, but now that samatoki said it.... ]