[ What a potent cocktail his words make, and Pinocchio drinks them with the same slow savor with which he fits his lips over Akechi's to lick the taste out of his mouth, one soft, languid lap across the velvet of the other boy's tongue. It starts off a chain of them, kisses brief enough for the breath he can snatch between them, syrupy-sweet and soft.
He joins him on his knees in the sand, his steel prosthesis creaking as he wraps it around the curve of Akechi's back, dragging his body flush with his.
Can a puppet become a human? Can it experience 'love'? He hopes so, and every action here is steeped in learned behaviors around romance, the way that he cradles the back of his head when he lays him back on the soft, sunset-drenched sand, like he's something precious and delicate. The reluctance with which his lips part from his mouth to gaze down at him through the veil of his doll-like lashes, the tip of his thumb tracing the kiss-bitten shape of Akechi's lips, propped up over him on the creaking length of a steel prosthesis. ]
I could be that for you again. I could pretend. [ He could perform for him, like a puppet—
But proving he's so much more... His hand turns Akechi's face aside, baring his throat to his lips as he leans down over him, one lean thigh pushing his legs apart, the wet of a tongue against his skin as he kisses down his neck with lips sinfully parted. Pale fingers splay over his chest, feeling the shape of his body through his shirt, fitting them between buttons to steal a glancing taste of his bare skin before he plucks each from their holes to part his shirt open. ] Would you like that?
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He joins him on his knees in the sand, his steel prosthesis creaking as he wraps it around the curve of Akechi's back, dragging his body flush with his.
Can a puppet become a human? Can it experience 'love'? He hopes so, and every action here is steeped in learned behaviors around romance, the way that he cradles the back of his head when he lays him back on the soft, sunset-drenched sand, like he's something precious and delicate. The reluctance with which his lips part from his mouth to gaze down at him through the veil of his doll-like lashes, the tip of his thumb tracing the kiss-bitten shape of Akechi's lips, propped up over him on the creaking length of a steel prosthesis. ]
I could be that for you again. I could pretend. [ He could perform for him, like a puppet—
But proving he's so much more... His hand turns Akechi's face aside, baring his throat to his lips as he leans down over him, one lean thigh pushing his legs apart, the wet of a tongue against his skin as he kisses down his neck with lips sinfully parted. Pale fingers splay over his chest, feeling the shape of his body through his shirt, fitting them between buttons to steal a glancing taste of his bare skin before he plucks each from their holes to part his shirt open. ] Would you like that?
[ One day, he might even give him the chance. ]