Logs:Stop Bracing

Stop Bracing
Dramatis Personae Daiki, Shane
In Absentia	2020-09-20 "The last thing I want to do right now is stop."
Location <NYC> Daiki's Apartment - Lower East Side
This fifth-story walkup is a tiny, drafty efficiency, but the interior is not as spartan as one might expect. The kitchen is well-provisioned and neatly organized, and the would-be dining area has been sacrificed in favor of a single larger sitting area centered around a sizeable chabudai in summer and kotatsu in winter. Beyond this, a folding paper screen with a sumi-e painting of a bamboo forest on it separates the common area from the sleeping area, which has a standing wardrobe and an old-fashioned writing desk as well as a cozy tatami'd nook for sleeping. The walls are adorned with several whimsically disturbing Jax Holland paintings of fantasy creatures, and a pair of plain, respectable calligraphy scrolls. The whole place right now is fragrant with the savory scent of the nanbanzuke he served for dinner and the kukicha he's just brewed to cleanse the palate. Daiki brings the simple little cast iron teapot and two matching cups on a red and black lacquered tray, sinking down beside the chabudai and settling the tray carefully down between himself and his guest. He's dressed in a pink oxford shirt with a gray vest and black slacks, casual by his standards, and his long black hair is gathered in a low ponytail. "Is Tian-shin representing her now?" he asks, one eyebrow raised. "That must be bizarre when they've been so insistent that you were B all along." Shane is, also, fairly casual; mandarin-collared black button down and pale slacks, both sitting considerably looser on his thin frame than they would have only weeks before; there's a fine webbing of paper-thin scars across his face and hands that no doubt will be faded soon enough. He curls his hands gratefully around his cup, slouching down against the table. "Not holding my breath on an apology from the city," he replies with a faint flutter of gills whispering against his shirt. "Yeah. Tian-shin. She's good, it'll be..." This trails off, his black eyes fixed on the mug. Daiki sits seiza on the cushion he had shifted to the corner so that he could face Shane easily. He takes up his own cup and blows across the surface of the tea delicately before taking a small sip. "I'm sure, as far as they're concerned, it was a reasonable and justified thing to do, holding you hostage." He leans over settles one hand, still warm from his cup, very gently on Shane's shoulder. "It's a nonsense charge, but I'm sorry all the same." His voice is soft and even. He frowns, glancing down at Shane's fluttering gills. "All this must be hurting you. Do you need moisture?" Shane's eyes close at the touch of Daiki's hand. His gills shift faster. "Need a lot of things." He tips his head down, taking a slow sip of his tea. "It was a nonsense charge, but I'd rather be in there fighting a clearly bullshit accusation than --" He shakes his head, fingers curling tighter at the warm cast iron. Daiki nods solemnly. "I wasn't under the impression they had much on her anyway, but..." His lips compress. His head shakes. "I don't think either of you could bear the other going through all of that in your stead." He slides off of his cushion and wraps his arms carefully around Shane, pulling him tight against his warmth. "They don't have shit. They can't. I don't -- think they can." Shane sounds less confident the longer he speaks. He turns in against Daiki with a grateful sigh, cheek mashed up against the other man's chest. Slowly the flapping of his gills calms, breathing steadying. Quieter: "But what if they do?" "If they somehow manage to convict her." Daiki's voice is low and matter-of-fact. "They may find they have trouble holding her, in any case. But I'm sure Tian-shin will keep fighting it." His hand starts to reach for Shane's cheek, but he stops hiself short with a hitched breath. "Yeah. I keep telling myself that. This year's just been a string of so much awful, I think I'm permanently braced for whatever's coming next." Shane sets his tea aside. He cups Daiki's hand with his own, webbed fingers considerably warmer now than their usual clammy-cool state, and bridges the rest of the distance of the curtailed gesture. His cheek presses gently into the touch; for a moment his breath catches, too, before he remembers consciously to resume it. Daiki sighs softly at the contact. His brows furrow, but only fleetingly. "It's okay to brace," he replies, the calm in his voice wavering, the intensity of his power rising unsteadily with it. He turns Shane's face up toward his, very gently. "But it's good to stop bracing, every once in a while." Shane's eyes have gone very wide, when Daiki tips his face up. There is something in the part of his lips and small inhale that suggests he may have been about to say something else -- but that something never comes. Instead he closes the small gap between them, mouth pressing hungrily to Daiki's. It is practically at the same moment Shane kisses him that Daiki chooses to kiss him back. They fall together with a passion that tears down Daiki's careful, measured barriers. The fuller--if, perhaps, still not full--force of his power slams into Shane, but he whimpers, too, more felt than heard beneath his ragged breathing. His hand is shaky now where it caresses Shane's too-warm skin, tracing down his neck to smooth over the gills where they chafe against the collar of the smaller man's shirt. A shudder runs through Shane, together with a small and unsteady breath. One set of eyelids closes quick, the second slow. His gills press down flat beneath Daiki's touch, a very slight tilt of his neck arching into the caress. "I want this." For all the ragged breathiness of his voice, there's only certainty in his tone. His hand is already dropping, making quick work of the buttons of Daiki's vest. "Every once in a while, you can stop, too." Daiki tries to speak, but finally just gives a jerky, wide-eyed nod. His control drops away altogether and the torrent of his power is suddenly a cresting wave, all-consuming and impossible to resist. His breath escapes him in a long, tremulous stream and his shoulders sag with relief. He shakily unbuttons Shane's shirt, an inexorable gravity to even his giddy urgency as his soft hands slip beneath the garment, as he dips his head to kiss the fluttering gills. His lips ghost over Shane's neck, his breath warm, a sharp-edged smile in his voice. "The last thing I want to do right now is stop."