[Well, this is it. This is how Natsume dies, incinerated from the inside-out by the pure force of his own dirty thoughts. What a magnificent way to go.
He's barely aware they're in a tattoo parlor, that his friends are just across the room, carousing and chattering. The entire world has narrowed down to the big gloved hands on his face, gently prompting him to turn, so warm he can feel the heat of them through the thin latex. Normally Natsume is much twitchier and resistant to being touched, but this feels -- good.
It feels nice, the way the artist examines his face like it's one of his art pieces, gentle and firm and fearless. Natsume doesn't resist, let's the man look him over, feels a shivery curl of want coiling low in his stomach.] You're the expert, I suppose. I think...you could do anything you wanted to me and I'd like it.
[He definitely only means that in the context of piercings, right? Except that Natsume's still running his tongue over his bottom lip, and it brushes just slightly against the artist's fingertip. Wide, warm golden eyes flicker to meet dark ones, and Natsume swallows tightly, repeats:] Anything you want.
(This boy had more of a spine than he looked. His eyes glimmer with humor and something else, something deeper and warmer.
Anything you want.
Then that little tongue. Ah...Fuck.
Well, there is a reason he worked in a shady part of town. He withdraws his hand completely.)
In that case, maybe I will surprise you. Come along. Your friend will likely need to wait after his own piercing anyway.
(He looked like a fainter. Absolutely no offense. Choso turns away from Natsume then and leads him a short way down a hallway and into one of the private piercing rooms. It was completely black from ceiling to floor and despite the seedy location of the parlor, this specific space was kept clean and sterile. The moment they are alone, Choso is shutting the door behind them and his finger lightly pushes in the lock.
Just in case.)
Some people prefer privacy for their first time. (He's still being cheeky because he can, okay.)
[Natsume doesn't think before the first couple steps after the artist, though he does after the third or fourth -- about how this could get back to his current set of foster parents, how he could get in big trouble for even being here, much less for following a complete stranger down a dark hallway into a darker room. This is very stupid and risky and dangerous.
He leaves those thoughts behind after the fifth step, thinking of nothing but the lingering heat of the man's hand on his face, the look in his intent, dark eyes, the way that when he stands, he's easily a full foot taller than Natsume is. He thinks about everything he usually thinks about in the middle of the night, alone and unobserved and secret, and by the time the door closes and locks behind them, Natsume feels full of a strange, bright, vibrating kind of eagerness.
The comment gets a soft, slightly shaky laugh, and there's a brief glance around the room. It's clean, private, quiet, and there's a bench to sit on. For a moment Natsume wonders if maybe he's misinterpreted the entire innuendo-laden exchange, and that maybe he's back here just to get a piercing. It's strange that the thought is somehow just as exciting as the potential that he'd been right about the flirtation.]
I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name. [It's in that same sort of breathless, overly eager voice that Natsume can barely hear over the racing of his own heart. He should be calmer, cooler, more in control. He isn't, at all. To give himself something to do, he sits on the bench, hands in his lap, eyes wide and eager and bright.] Um, I'm -- Natsume. That's my name. If -- you're all right with me knowing your name, of course. [It's difficult to speak when every other word is almost can I please take your shirt off and see where your tattoos go?]
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Date: 2022-08-27 01:12 pm (UTC)He's barely aware they're in a tattoo parlor, that his friends are just across the room, carousing and chattering. The entire world has narrowed down to the big gloved hands on his face, gently prompting him to turn, so warm he can feel the heat of them through the thin latex. Normally Natsume is much twitchier and resistant to being touched, but this feels -- good.
It feels nice, the way the artist examines his face like it's one of his art pieces, gentle and firm and fearless. Natsume doesn't resist, let's the man look him over, feels a shivery curl of want coiling low in his stomach.] You're the expert, I suppose. I think...you could do anything you wanted to me and I'd like it.
[He definitely only means that in the context of piercings, right? Except that Natsume's still running his tongue over his bottom lip, and it brushes just slightly against the artist's fingertip. Wide, warm golden eyes flicker to meet dark ones, and Natsume swallows tightly, repeats:] Anything you want.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-31 10:56 am (UTC)(This boy had more of a spine than he looked. His eyes glimmer with humor and something else, something deeper and warmer.
Anything you want.
Then that little tongue. Ah...Fuck.
Well, there is a reason he worked in a shady part of town. He withdraws his hand completely.)
In that case, maybe I will surprise you. Come along. Your friend will likely need to wait after his own piercing anyway.
(He looked like a fainter. Absolutely no offense. Choso turns away from Natsume then and leads him a short way down a hallway and into one of the private piercing rooms. It was completely black from ceiling to floor and despite the seedy location of the parlor, this specific space was kept clean and sterile. The moment they are alone, Choso is shutting the door behind them and his finger lightly pushes in the lock.
Just in case.)
Some people prefer privacy for their first time. (He's still being cheeky because he can, okay.)
no subject
Date: 2022-09-01 02:29 am (UTC)He leaves those thoughts behind after the fifth step, thinking of nothing but the lingering heat of the man's hand on his face, the look in his intent, dark eyes, the way that when he stands, he's easily a full foot taller than Natsume is. He thinks about everything he usually thinks about in the middle of the night, alone and unobserved and secret, and by the time the door closes and locks behind them, Natsume feels full of a strange, bright, vibrating kind of eagerness.
The comment gets a soft, slightly shaky laugh, and there's a brief glance around the room. It's clean, private, quiet, and there's a bench to sit on. For a moment Natsume wonders if maybe he's misinterpreted the entire innuendo-laden exchange, and that maybe he's back here just to get a piercing. It's strange that the thought is somehow just as exciting as the potential that he'd been right about the flirtation.]
I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name. [It's in that same sort of breathless, overly eager voice that Natsume can barely hear over the racing of his own heart. He should be calmer, cooler, more in control. He isn't, at all. To give himself something to do, he sits on the bench, hands in his lap, eyes wide and eager and bright.] Um, I'm -- Natsume. That's my name. If -- you're all right with me knowing your name, of course. [It's difficult to speak when every other word is almost can I please take your shirt off and see where your tattoos go?]