[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: 2022-09-01 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?]