[ things change in ways you really couldn't predict in a million years sometimes. considering how he felt about the shinsengumi in the past, he never could have predicted things ending up here. but then again, it's not ryouma's way to resist change.
he hadn't expected there to be a real transformation and a bit of a blush colours his cheeks in response to the little gasp of surprise that escapes him before he can think to suppress it.
his hand grips the material of his hakama tightly, tensed unconsciously while his thoughts are focused elsewhere. sure, the cut stings a little, but it's nothing. if anything, a needed distraction. even if you took the blood out of the equation, it's impossible not to feel something under the circumstances and it would be a lie to say knowing that didn't contribute to his volunteering. ]
Lemme know if—... y' know... if I gotta adjust...
[ contrary to the fact that he occasionally makes good points, ryouma is also stupid and incidentally not particularly smooth. ]
[It's a rough, low sound of acknowledgement, and all Ryouma is getting for a moment as Sannan does the customary wrestling with his self-control. Blood is still so associated with war and death that it kick starts a carefully held-back urge to destroy every time he does this. That might be why he's wisely trying to stick to only people who he knows could force him back--and who would rebuff him as needed.
He can feel his own pulse quickening, his breath coming in shallow, barely controlled gulps. There's... a problem here, and that problem is that Ryouma's blood tastes surprisingly satisfying. Sannan doesn't even bother with dignity for much longer, dropping pretense and simply drinking greedily from the cut. The relief shows in the way he slowly begins to relax, the way one of his hands brushes Ryouma's before planting on his thigh as well.
Once the initial rush of relief and satisfaction passes, he settles his other hand on the back of Ryouma's head, digging into his hair and tipping his head away with gentle firmness.]
[ every time something changes ryouma can feel his heart pounding and can't help but wonder if sannan is aware of it too. there's nothing for the unconscious responses he can't control; his nature as a servant clearly doesn't stop him from having very human urges. he squirms a little in his seat, trying not to think about the hand on his thigh.
of course, in trying not to think about it, he's thinking about it a lot instead.
at the firm pressure he yields easily and tilts his head. the real resistance is what's keeping him from telling on himself more directly about what having that hand on his leg is doing to him right now. having to wonder if he's reading too much into their interactions so far or if he's just pent up. at least he's dressed like he is right now; tight white pants would be so much worse. ]
[The hakama can't save him. Sannan is vaguely aware of that increased heartrate, every movement of the man beneath him firing off a little warning signal in his mind. It's difficult to control himself, to remember that this is a favor when his mind tries to scream that this is prey, but he's used to it. He's used to holding back and taking only what he absolutely needs to stay sane.
Yet he wonders if he could push those boundaries with Ryouma. He keeps taking blood from people who aren't strictly human, and every time it makes him slip into a conveniently heightened state, like he's reminded that he's taking from his own kind and not simply drinking to survive. It's a push and pull that he doesn't really process entirely, but more feels as primal instincts while he's doing this.
He needs a better angle, and he breaks away with a languid, somehow marginally dignified lap at Ryouma's skin. Then, thoughtless, he shifts to straddle Ryouma's thighs. The errant hand grips the kimono at Ryouma's chest, right over his heart, but the other stays in his hair, almost caressing.
When he speaks, there's a dark, noticeable shake to his voice.]
[ at least he doesn't have to wonder if this is all one-sided. establishing that, ryouma isn't shy about being found out. this is one of those rare occasions where he can admit what he wants, and he puts his hands on sannan's hips and pulls him closer.
is this dangerous? not really. especially not with his full powers restored to him, so that just means there's no harm in encouraging this. maybe it'll hurt, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. it's not like it's only doing sannan a favour anyway because he clearly enjoys the thrill. ]
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no subject
he hadn't expected there to be a real transformation and a bit of a blush colours his cheeks in response to the little gasp of surprise that escapes him before he can think to suppress it.
his hand grips the material of his hakama tightly, tensed unconsciously while his thoughts are focused elsewhere. sure, the cut stings a little, but it's nothing. if anything, a needed distraction. even if you took the blood out of the equation, it's impossible not to feel something under the circumstances
and it would be a lie to say knowing that didn't contribute to his volunteering.]Lemme know if—... y' know... if I gotta adjust...
[ contrary to the fact that he occasionally makes good points, ryouma is also stupid and incidentally not particularly smooth. ]
no subject
[It's a rough, low sound of acknowledgement, and all Ryouma is getting for a moment as Sannan does the customary wrestling with his self-control. Blood is still so associated with war and death that it kick starts a carefully held-back urge to destroy every time he does this. That might be why he's wisely trying to stick to only people who he knows could force him back--and who would rebuff him as needed.
He can feel his own pulse quickening, his breath coming in shallow, barely controlled gulps. There's... a problem here, and that problem is that Ryouma's blood tastes surprisingly satisfying. Sannan doesn't even bother with dignity for much longer, dropping pretense and simply drinking greedily from the cut. The relief shows in the way he slowly begins to relax, the way one of his hands brushes Ryouma's before planting on his thigh as well.
Once the initial rush of relief and satisfaction passes, he settles his other hand on the back of Ryouma's head, digging into his hair and tipping his head away with gentle firmness.]
no subject
of course, in trying not to think about it, he's thinking about it a lot instead.
at the firm pressure he yields easily and tilts his head. the real resistance is what's keeping him from telling on himself more directly about what having that hand on his leg is doing to him right now. having to wonder if he's reading too much into their interactions so far or if he's just pent up. at least he's dressed like he is right now; tight white pants would be so much worse. ]
no subject
Yet he wonders if he could push those boundaries with Ryouma. He keeps taking blood from people who aren't strictly human, and every time it makes him slip into a conveniently heightened state, like he's reminded that he's taking from his own kind and not simply drinking to survive. It's a push and pull that he doesn't really process entirely, but more feels as primal instincts while he's doing this.
He needs a better angle, and he breaks away with a languid, somehow marginally dignified lap at Ryouma's skin. Then, thoughtless, he shifts to straddle Ryouma's thighs. The errant hand grips the kimono at Ryouma's chest, right over his heart, but the other stays in his hair, almost caressing.
When he speaks, there's a dark, noticeable shake to his voice.]
You taste like nothing I've ever had before.
no subject
is this dangerous? not really. especially not with his full powers restored to him, so that just means there's no harm in encouraging this. maybe it'll hurt, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. it's not like it's only doing sannan a favour anyway because he clearly enjoys the thrill. ]
More where that came from~
[ he's so not sorry right now. ]