[ that pause is the longest one of ichiro's entire life. he's practically holding his breath, waiting, and in the end
he was right. ichiro likes being right, in general. it's been the reason for many dumb arguments with samatoki in the past (which style of rap is better, old school or new school; why his coffee with ten sugars is perfectly fine compared to samatoki's hipster pourover; the room temperature on the thermostat) but he's never been happier to be right in his entire life.
it's not so cliched as for there to be an upswell of music in the background or anything, but the butterflies are still there. they're maybe more of triumph than they are of being startled or in love, but ichiro can't help but start to smile as he finishes -- it's all for you, Ichiro--as he puts his hand to samatoki's chest.
ichiro's fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt, and he has to force himself to stop smiling long enough to kiss him back. it's soft but sure, just the press of their mouths together, and whatever he imagined this turning out like is nothing compared to the real thing. ichiro surges forward the bit between them and lets go of his shirt to cup his cheeks, instead, hold him there and savor the kiss, eyes fluttering shut immediately, heartbeat so quick in his chest it might match the song.
he holds it for a long moment, and only pulls back enough to smile at him in the space. it's not his usual, ear to ear grin: it's softer and warmer, something private and happy. nemu might kill them for being late for dinner, but right now he doesn't care. ] Then I'm definitely accepting your feelings. [ the response is a little cheesy, but he's giddy. ] And returning them. A lot. Fuck, I don't know how I'm gonna top that. You win.
[ he laughs, breathless, and ducks in to kiss him again, just because he can. ]
no subject
he was right. ichiro likes being right, in general. it's been the reason for many dumb arguments with samatoki in the past (which style of rap is better, old school or new school; why his coffee with ten sugars is perfectly fine compared to samatoki's hipster pourover; the room temperature on the thermostat) but he's never been happier to be right in his entire life.
it's not so cliched as for there to be an upswell of music in the background or anything, but the butterflies are still there. they're maybe more of triumph than they are of being startled or in love, but ichiro can't help but start to smile as he finishes -- it's all for you, Ichiro--as he puts his hand to samatoki's chest.
ichiro's fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt, and he has to force himself to stop smiling long enough to kiss him back. it's soft but sure, just the press of their mouths together, and whatever he imagined this turning out like is nothing compared to the real thing. ichiro surges forward the bit between them and lets go of his shirt to cup his cheeks, instead, hold him there and savor the kiss, eyes fluttering shut immediately, heartbeat so quick in his chest it might match the song.
he holds it for a long moment, and only pulls back enough to smile at him in the space. it's not his usual, ear to ear grin: it's softer and warmer, something private and happy. nemu might kill them for being late for dinner, but right now he doesn't care. ] Then I'm definitely accepting your feelings. [ the response is a little cheesy, but he's giddy. ] And returning them. A lot. Fuck, I don't know how I'm gonna top that. You win.
[ he laughs, breathless, and ducks in to kiss him again, just because he can. ]