[Sanemi's neck is redder after his touch, and that shudder and sigh speaks volumes.
But they're in a far more public space than the edge of the woods, and Tengen can't imagine he'd appreciate being gently coaxed to melt into his arms in front of any potential prying eyes.
So he ignores it, for the most part, though does loop his arm around Sanemi's waist instead of returning it to the bench. It's fine, surely.]
[ A notably powerful, outspoken part of him is equally as disappointed by being deprived of the hand in his hair as he is relieved by the fact Tengen lets up. It would be embarrassing enough to sit here quietly losing his mind over their proximity: it would be another thing entirely to lose his mind over being pet, holy shit.
Sanemi drops his head to the table so solidly that it nearly hurts. It certainly makes a sound. ]
There is no way in hell I can focus now. Fuck you.
[There will surely be a time in the future, in the inn, or whatever new home manifested for those slayers who wouldn't want to share a roof with a demon, where Sanemi could quietly lose his mind over being pet in peace and privacy.
That isn't camp art time.
But. Apparently he's through anyway - at least for now - and that removes the block to any teasing Tengen may or may not have been biting his tongue on.]
[ If he thinks for too long about the fact that they're still sat in the arts and crafts activity at this stupid fucking summer camp he's likely to combust. So he does not think about that.
Instead, he's going to combust over — that. Even though it should not be humanly possible, Sanemi practically puffs with how dramatically he bristles in surprise. He's barely able to pick his head up from the table, because it is suddenly so incredibly cool and inviting! ]
[ Should he even afford this an ounce of real thought? Whether or not they had been — doing whatever the hell this was. Flirting? Surely this was merely another instance that numbered in the hundreds at this point of Tengen messing with him. He sincerely, nearly utterly, doubted that if he agreed that anything would actually come of it.
He cannot deny a prickling curiosity, though. And it wasn't as though there was a lack of desire, as loathe as he is to admit it. It's been brewing under his skin for what feels like weeks now. ]
You're fucking with me. [ He had heard him just fine, sure. But some confirmation didn't hurt. ]
[He should-! Yes, flirting and flustering Sanemi was fun. Yes, the will-they-won't-they exchanges they'd shared already were... actually nice. He's sure Sanemi has chalked them all up to just him messing with him, but...
That blush doesn't lie, and neither does the way he stays instead of shouting and storming off.]
I don't have to be.
[So, yes, confirmation that he had been... but also confirmation that there was some sincerity and genuine interest under it all, too.]
[ Sanemi is getting relatively tired of having the whole of the decision shoved into his lap. A part of him understands: he was the unpredictable one in this scenario, and the one far more likely to have an issue with this. But Tengen’s insistence on choice, while well-meaning, put Sanemi vaguely on edge. Would some concrete assurance of interest be so terrible?
Sanemi makes a decision, all at once. Fuck it. And, sure, maybe he’ll wish lightning had come to strike him down later about it, but once he’s made up his mind –. His face goes deadly serious. Still cherry red, but intense about it.
He slaps a piece of macaroni down onto his discarded piece of paper, nudges his shoulder into Tengen enough to closely tuck them together, and hisses. ]
If you decide you’re not fucking with me, you can come with me. Otherwise, I’m going anyway.
[ And, hey, maybe it did pay to have someone so intent on maintaining that open door — makes it relatively easy for Sanemi to wriggle his way out of his arm. ]
[And, well, as far as Tengen is concerned, he's made his interest abundantly clear, so it only made sense to leave the decision in Sanemi's hands. Perhaps the dual assurance of interest with the assurance that if that interest wasn't returned nothing would have to change irreparably between them had made things complicated.
Perhaps neither of them were suited to overthinking this kind of thing in the first place.
That intensity isn't unusual from Sanemi, but the way he tucks in against him is, and if anything, that surprise is what allows him to slip free after his hissed ultimatum.
Not that he's left alone for long. He'll barely be a row of tables over before Tengen's arm is slung back over his shoulders. Casual, friendly, very much coming with him and not fucking with him, thank you... or, well, not fucking with him more than using his speed and his uncanny quiet to join him like that. Forgive him for wanting to see how dark that blush can get.]
[ Alright, so maybe he had hoped he would have a little more time to steel his nerves before he was being accosted again. Of course, the universe sees fit to ensure that his humiliation ritual never truly ends. Sanemi practically jumps when that arm goes back round him, and he does visibly startle.
The look he gives Tengen is notably out of the corner of the eye. He cannot look this guy wholly in the face right now, not after essentially propositioning him. He thinks he might die on the fucking spot if he does. ]
Would it fucking kill you to do that less?
[ What is that? He doesn't know, specifically. The quiet, the quickness, the insistence on close contact. Sanemi's grumbling and griping is hardly reasonable given he's more or less invited this, but it's fucking embarrassing. Especially given how on edge he abruptly is given –.
Shit. He really has just essentially asked Tengen to accompany him to the showers and... Sanemi slaps a hand over his face and rubs at the skin, trying to force away the rapidly growing redness. ]
[Worth it. So worth it. How Sanemi startles, how he can't look him directly in the eye, how he grows redder by the second... it's all beyond endearing, and if he gets mad at Tengen taking the chance to tuck him in a little closer to his side, then so be it, but at least he can shield him somewhat from prying eyes.]
Are you?
[Maybe. He had just propositioned him, after all.
At least he has the decency to wait until they're alone, out of earshot of anyone else before leaning in close and really letting the reality of the situation set in.]
That depends on what you want me to do to you, doesn't it?
[Considering some acts are. Much crazier than others, in a camp shower.]
[ A part of him had hoped, maybe, that Tengen would have some sense of subtlety and allow Sanemi the chance to go on ahead. Like it wouldn't have been obvious what they were peeling off to do after sitting so close together, or with how red Sanemi had gotten, or –. He was so obvious. For some reason, it rankles him more than anything else.
How long had this interest festered? The worst part was that he truly didn't know. Had he always had this – appreciation? That was embarrassing to think about. He wars with himself about how best to react as to not make this any more humiliating than it already is. It isn't like it doesn't feel nice, being tucked so close, but...
He bristles at the question, jaw jarring open in initial shock. He gets a split second urge to swing. Instead, he bares his teeth, cherry red. ]
You're – asking that right now? Wait, fuck that, different question – why are you assuming you're the one that's gonna be doing anything?
[Any chance at subtlety went out the window the instant Sanemi was outwardly flustered at just having an arm around him. The invitation - the demand - to follow him or else removed any hope of there being a lingering pretense at it.
He'd been obvious. They'd both been obvious, but only one of them had the misfortune to be humiliated by it.
Worse: that indignant question pulls a dark little laugh from him.]
[ Hey, what the fuck? Was he being laughed at? Why was that kind of hot. Not the fucking point. Sanemi's flush has dwindled mildly in the face of what is clearly a question of his competence. He knew his own physical capabilities incredibly well. Surely that factored in here, somewhat. Their relative difference in size was secondary.
Sanemi, in his arrogance and his audacity, clicks his tongue, levers his head back enough to give Tengen a once over, and growls: ]
[It does factor... somewhat. It doesn't factor enough for Tengen to do much more than raise an eyebrow at the assertion.]
In a fight, maybe.
[Maybe. They'd been fairly equally matched, once, before he'd been forced into retirement and before Sanemi had reached the pinnacle of his abilities. Now, he knows he'd be at a disadvantage, but...
This isn't a fight.
So he returns that once over and spins the assertion back around at him.]
Bet you'd be way too into how much it'll hurt if you try and take me without doing anything else first.
[ Sanemi would be a dirty fucking liar if he tried to pretend that the heat that flashes through him is purely from embarrassment. The fact that his feet nearly stumble mid-step is almost as damning.
A part of him wants to spit and hiss that he doubts Tengen would be able to hurt him. Another part of him, a more dangerous part, is darkly curious about what that could entail. His face is still red, but he stares with flustered intent rather than pure embarrassment.
Sanemi likes a challenge. He also likes pushing buttons – when his own aren’t being pushed. ]
[Sanemi might have been laying bait, trying to press his buttons, but this time, Tengen takes in that flustered intent, the attempt to get him to be riled and simply issues a challenge of his own.
He's certainly confident in his assertions, here, for better or worse, which... really doesn't make it seem like he's all talk at all.]
[ You should be seething, Sanemi’s mind supplies unhelpfully as the showers loom ominously ever closer. He has little idea of what to anticipate. And yet, his prevailing sense is one of anticipation. Perhaps he relishes a hypothetical loss more than he’d ever be willing to admit. Was that simply due to present company, or was his imagination getting the better of him?
He clamps down on it with a click of his tongue. He impatiently peels out from underneath Tengen’s arm as they find themselves in front of the showers and… freezes. Casual undress was normal, both for himself and culturally, but he abruptly finds the concept rather daunting.
It meant something, in this moment. That final threshold. Eventually, he starts to pull his shirt up over his head. ]
[He could be seething. But what's the point, when he's certain that Sanemi will be abruptly put in his place as soon as they have even the slightest illusion of privacy in the showers? Not as a win or a loss, just as a matter of course.
Hell, even if Sanemi managed to shove away all his fluster and fumbling and get the upper hand, he wouldn't actually mind. It'd certainly be a surprise, though.
And so they come on the threshold to the showers. The threshold between casual flirting - and casual nudity - and, well. More. He has the thought, as Sanemi hesitates, to just finish ripping his shirt open down the front, but luckily the other hashira has the sense to start pulling it off properly before he gets the chance.
He could undress himself.
He could also take the chance to pull Sanemi into the showers by sliding his hand down the back of his stupid, tiny camp shorts and shamelessly pulling him back against him with a rather rough grab to his ass.
Sanemi has the thought with crystalline clarity in the millisecond between when Tengen’s hand shoves down the back of the stupid, tiny camp shorts and when the rest of him catches up. It takes a while for the rest of him to catch up.
He had had grandiose hypothetical plans of making Tengen eat his words. How he would manage that had seemed unimportant. He simply thought he would.
Sanemi forgets that nearly as soon as he is reeled back. His hand snaps out to yank the curtain shut artlessly, and with nary a peep of a protest.
Because that hand feels – good, and that is beside the point, because Sanemi’s brain had gone temporarily, blissfully, utterly blank. It catches up. Eventually. He goes stiff and bares his teeth and definitely does not press back into that hand. ]
Fuck you.
[ He can’t even bring himself to say it louder than a tense hiss. The questionable privacy is only one reason why. ]
[This would only be bad if Sanemi making certain discoveries about himself was bad, but he could absolutely mentally protest those discoveries all he wanted if it helped him process.
Well. If he was mentally processing anything at all at the moment. His somewhat delayed reactions - beyond closing them in some semblance of semi-privacy - made that claim dubious at best.]
That's the idea, isn't it?
[Tense hiss meets a low purr, and Tengen takes full advantage of Sanemi not removing his hand to pull him even closer still, hiking a leg between his so he has the impossible choice of pressing back into his hand or forward into his thigh.]
[ Discovering things wasn’t bad. Sanemi would be the last to protest the idea of furthering both his body and his mind. The realization of how easily he might fold to the right word or the right touch is – incredibly embarrassing.
It isn’t as if he rolls over without a fight. His teeth remain bared. He isn’t flustered beyond measure or fluttering his lashes - not yet, at least. But his mouth does jar open, interlocked between surprise and desire, when Tengen’s leg presses between his.
Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Sanemi’s lips twitch around a sound he refuses to make. He shoves his hands up under Tengen’s stupid cropped shirt, both to give himself something to occupy himself with and out of an abrupt, blistering need. Finally getting the opportunity to map this body out after a nebulous period of stealing glances is –.
Yeah, he wants this. He wants it bad. Fuck it. He could take saying that aloud to his grave. ]
[Anyone could fold under the right combination of person, word, touch - that much isn't embarrassing as far as Tengen is concerned, but... well, maybe that's a simple difference in experience. Or difference in pride.
Some part of him suspects that continued fight might just be for show - whether Sanemi realizes it or not - so there's a certain appeal in chipping away at that, at seeing just what he might do to hold on to it as long as he can. He expects something - a snarl, maybe, or a bite to his shoulder to muffle noise.
Somehow, he doesn't expect hands under his shirt so quickly - and finally, it's his turn for a flush to race across his cheeks, light for now, but still very suddenly present. And if he abruptly jerks him a little closer, a little higher up on his leg, then surely that was intentional, too.
He wants this, achingly so. He'll even say it, but the challenge would be in getting Sanemi to say it first.]
[ It’s gratifying to see a response that isn’t calm and collected, or that earlier smooth confidence. It is also unexpectedly grounding. Sanemi watches color bloom on Tengen’s face with an expression on his own dangerously close to wonder. Then, unbidden, he mutters. ]
Cute.
[ Under normal circumstances, maybe it would be biting coming from him, or a snide remark. But he says it so surprisingly genuine that he surprises himself, and flushes deeper for it. It was the bold truth, though; something about seeing Tengen Uzui blush was charming. Sue him, he had working eyes.
Of course, Sanemi pays for it. He finally does make a noise at that little tug, faint and vaguely, distantly needy. ]
[If it was biting, or snide, or anything other than softly genuine, coupled with that expression, Tengen might be able to brush off the remark with a laugh, or some flippant, overly forward action that would turn it around on him.]
Eh?
[As it is, the blush only grows a few shades darker.
Finally getting a noise from him, though... that's enough to embolden him to shift their positions, to press Sanemi up against the one available wall, knee still high between his legs, but freeing his hand to peel his own (tiny) shirt off before letting it settle with a bit of a threat - or a promise, depending on his reaction - over Sanemi's shoulder and collarbone, all too ready to either slide up to his neck or down over his chest.]
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But they're in a far more public space than the edge of the woods, and Tengen can't imagine he'd appreciate being gently coaxed to melt into his arms in front of any potential prying eyes.
So he ignores it, for the most part, though does loop his arm around Sanemi's waist instead of returning it to the bench. It's fine, surely.]
Sure, sure.
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Sanemi drops his head to the table so solidly that it nearly hurts. It certainly makes a sound. ]
There is no way in hell I can focus now. Fuck you.
beepbeep innuendo town
That isn't camp art time.
But. Apparently he's through anyway - at least for now - and that removes the block to any teasing Tengen may or may not have been biting his tongue on.]
That's an option, if it would help~
[The showers aren't that far-]
Guards? Get this man.
Instead, he's going to combust over — that. Even though it should not be humanly possible, Sanemi practically puffs with how dramatically he bristles in surprise. He's barely able to pick his head up from the table, because it is suddenly so incredibly cool and inviting! ]
...huh?
>.3
Or took him up on the offer, though somehow he doubts that's less likely.
(Ideally he'd decide to combust in his chest or shoulder instead of on the table, but - public.)]
You heard me.
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He cannot deny a prickling curiosity, though. And it wasn't as though there was a lack of desire, as loathe as he is to admit it. It's been brewing under his skin for what feels like weeks now. ]
You're fucking with me. [ He had heard him just fine, sure. But some confirmation didn't hurt. ]
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That blush doesn't lie, and neither does the way he stays instead of shouting and storming off.]
I don't have to be.
[So, yes, confirmation that he had been... but also confirmation that there was some sincerity and genuine interest under it all, too.]
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Sanemi makes a decision, all at once. Fuck it. And, sure, maybe he’ll wish lightning had come to strike him down later about it, but once he’s made up his mind –. His face goes deadly serious. Still cherry red, but intense about it.
He slaps a piece of macaroni down onto his discarded piece of paper, nudges his shoulder into Tengen enough to closely tuck them together, and hisses. ]
If you decide you’re not fucking with me, you can come with me. Otherwise, I’m going anyway.
[ And, hey, maybe it did pay to have someone so intent on maintaining that open door — makes it relatively easy for Sanemi to wriggle his way out of his arm. ]
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Perhaps neither of them were suited to overthinking this kind of thing in the first place.
That intensity isn't unusual from Sanemi, but the way he tucks in against him is, and if anything, that surprise is what allows him to slip free after his hissed ultimatum.
Not that he's left alone for long. He'll barely be a row of tables over before Tengen's arm is slung back over his shoulders. Casual, friendly, very much coming with him and not fucking with him, thank you... or, well, not fucking with him more than using his speed and his uncanny quiet to join him like that. Forgive him for wanting to see how dark that blush can get.]
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The look he gives Tengen is notably out of the corner of the eye. He cannot look this guy wholly in the face right now, not after essentially propositioning him. He thinks he might die on the fucking spot if he does. ]
Would it fucking kill you to do that less?
[ What is that? He doesn't know, specifically. The quiet, the quickness, the insistence on close contact. Sanemi's grumbling and griping is hardly reasonable given he's more or less invited this, but it's fucking embarrassing. Especially given how on edge he abruptly is given –.
Shit. He really has just essentially asked Tengen to accompany him to the showers and... Sanemi slaps a hand over his face and rubs at the skin, trying to force away the rapidly growing redness. ]
Am I fucking crazy.
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Are you?
[Maybe. He had just propositioned him, after all.
At least he has the decency to wait until they're alone, out of earshot of anyone else before leaning in close and really letting the reality of the situation set in.]
That depends on what you want me to do to you, doesn't it?
[Considering some acts are. Much crazier than others, in a camp shower.]
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How long had this interest festered? The worst part was that he truly didn't know. Had he always had this – appreciation? That was embarrassing to think about. He wars with himself about how best to react as to not make this any more humiliating than it already is. It isn't like it doesn't feel nice, being tucked so close, but...
He bristles at the question, jaw jarring open in initial shock. He gets a split second urge to swing. Instead, he bares his teeth, cherry red. ]
You're – asking that right now? Wait, fuck that, different question – why are you assuming you're the one that's gonna be doing anything?
[ He doesn't know. Poor guy. ]
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He'd been obvious. They'd both been obvious, but only one of them had the misfortune to be humiliated by it.
Worse: that indignant question pulls a dark little laugh from him.]
Why are you assuming I'm not?
[He doesn't know. He's going to find out.]
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Sanemi, in his arrogance and his audacity, clicks his tongue, levers his head back enough to give Tengen a once over, and growls: ]
I can take you.
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In a fight, maybe.
[Maybe. They'd been fairly equally matched, once, before he'd been forced into retirement and before Sanemi had reached the pinnacle of his abilities. Now, he knows he'd be at a disadvantage, but...
This isn't a fight.
So he returns that once over and spins the assertion back around at him.]
Bet you'd be way too into how much it'll hurt if you try and take me without doing anything else first.
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A part of him wants to spit and hiss that he doubts Tengen would be able to hurt him. Another part of him, a more dangerous part, is darkly curious about what that could entail. His face is still red, but he stares with flustered intent rather than pure embarrassment.
Sanemi likes a challenge. He also likes pushing buttons – when his own aren’t being pushed. ]
You’re all fucking talk.
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[Sanemi might have been laying bait, trying to press his buttons, but this time, Tengen takes in that flustered intent, the attempt to get him to be riled and simply issues a challenge of his own.
He's certainly confident in his assertions, here, for better or worse, which... really doesn't make it seem like he's all talk at all.]
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He clamps down on it with a click of his tongue. He impatiently peels out from underneath Tengen’s arm as they find themselves in front of the showers and… freezes. Casual undress was normal, both for himself and culturally, but he abruptly finds the concept rather daunting.
It meant something, in this moment. That final threshold. Eventually, he starts to pull his shirt up over his head. ]
nsfw from here on out-
Hell, even if Sanemi managed to shove away all his fluster and fumbling and get the upper hand, he wouldn't actually mind. It'd certainly be a surprise, though.
And so they come on the threshold to the showers. The threshold between casual flirting - and casual nudity - and, well. More. He has the thought, as Sanemi hesitates, to just finish ripping his shirt open down the front, but luckily the other hashira has the sense to start pulling it off properly before he gets the chance.
He could undress himself.
He could also take the chance to pull Sanemi into the showers by sliding his hand down the back of his stupid, tiny camp shorts and shamelessly pulling him back against him with a rather rough grab to his ass.
Obviously, he chooses the latter.]
Get the curtain.
[His hand is occupied, obviously.]
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Sanemi has the thought with crystalline clarity in the millisecond between when Tengen’s hand shoves down the back of the stupid, tiny camp shorts and when the rest of him catches up. It takes a while for the rest of him to catch up.
He had had grandiose hypothetical plans of making Tengen eat his words. How he would manage that had seemed unimportant. He simply thought he would.
Sanemi forgets that nearly as soon as he is reeled back. His hand snaps out to yank the curtain shut artlessly, and with nary a peep of a protest.
Because that hand feels – good, and that is beside the point, because Sanemi’s brain had gone temporarily, blissfully, utterly blank. It catches up. Eventually. He goes stiff and bares his teeth and definitely does not press back into that hand. ]
Fuck you.
[ He can’t even bring himself to say it louder than a tense hiss. The questionable privacy is only one reason why. ]
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Well. If he was mentally processing anything at all at the moment. His somewhat delayed reactions - beyond closing them in some semblance of semi-privacy - made that claim dubious at best.]
That's the idea, isn't it?
[Tense hiss meets a low purr, and Tengen takes full advantage of Sanemi not removing his hand to pull him even closer still, hiking a leg between his so he has the impossible choice of pressing back into his hand or forward into his thigh.]
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It isn’t as if he rolls over without a fight. His teeth remain bared. He isn’t flustered beyond measure or fluttering his lashes - not yet, at least. But his mouth does jar open, interlocked between surprise and desire, when Tengen’s leg presses between his.
Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Sanemi’s lips twitch around a sound he refuses to make. He shoves his hands up under Tengen’s stupid cropped shirt, both to give himself something to occupy himself with and out of an abrupt, blistering need. Finally getting the opportunity to map this body out after a nebulous period of stealing glances is –.
Yeah, he wants this. He wants it bad. Fuck it. He could take saying that aloud to his grave. ]
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Some part of him suspects that continued fight might just be for show - whether Sanemi realizes it or not - so there's a certain appeal in chipping away at that, at seeing just what he might do to hold on to it as long as he can. He expects something - a snarl, maybe, or a bite to his shoulder to muffle noise.
Somehow, he doesn't expect hands under his shirt so quickly - and finally, it's his turn for a flush to race across his cheeks, light for now, but still very suddenly present. And if he abruptly jerks him a little closer, a little higher up on his leg, then surely that was intentional, too.
He wants this, achingly so. He'll even say it, but the challenge would be in getting Sanemi to say it first.]
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Cute.
[ Under normal circumstances, maybe it would be biting coming from him, or a snide remark. But he says it so surprisingly genuine that he surprises himself, and flushes deeper for it. It was the bold truth, though; something about seeing Tengen Uzui blush was charming. Sue him, he had working eyes.
Of course, Sanemi pays for it. He finally does make a noise at that little tug, faint and vaguely, distantly needy. ]
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Eh?
[As it is, the blush only grows a few shades darker.
Finally getting a noise from him, though... that's enough to embolden him to shift their positions, to press Sanemi up against the one available wall, knee still high between his legs, but freeing his hand to peel his own (tiny) shirt off before letting it settle with a bit of a threat - or a promise, depending on his reaction - over Sanemi's shoulder and collarbone, all too ready to either slide up to his neck or down over his chest.]
What's he so cute for actually,
For nemi specifically right now, tbh-
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