( makoto’s eyes widen in instinctual response to kazuya sitting up to lurch forward; he tenses, going still for just one moment, anticipating an attack that would result in an iron and restraining grasp, fierce teeth. it doesn’t come. now that he’s paying more attention to kazuya and less to satisfying himself, he’s beginning to see something unidentified and exciting lurking in his friend’s eyes, somewhere within the fierce red glare of his eyes. it’s not something he might have expected from him—he’s always gotten the sense that kazuya’s inherent desires as a human being were likely normal enough, so did this mean he was fanning the flames for whatever hungers he might have inherited from the demons he subsumed? the thought is a fascination to him, and he wants to see more, even if he knows it will likely put him in the position of bearing more pain than he typically appreciates.
it seems worthwhile to him in the moment, because… it will bring himself and kazuya closer together in his mind. and that isn’t necessarily intended in a wholesome, intimate way: the darker, more nasty parts of makoto also want it because it would mean that he would be dragging someone else, someone who might have been any of his classmates from when he was still human, down into the mud on his own level. kazuya’s soul is already tarnished and affected by the results of his own actions, but if makoto can have a hand in magnifying that… there’s deep gratification in that, to him.
it’s true that makoto couldn’t stop kazuya from what he really wanted from him either way, but he has to wonder—would he also find it almost meaning more, when it’s willingly given? the trust in that is so tantalizing that it’s almost dizzying. even if makoto had the strength to take what he wanted from people… he feels as though he would always prefer to sink his teeth into that feeling of intimacy when offered instead.
kazuya pulls him in closer once more; face to face, their foreheads pressed together, makoto looks unblinking into the fiery glare of the other demon’s eyes, trying to read from them what he wanted before he gave it voice. when he does, though, he pauses. even more than hearing it, he can feel the bone-deep want welling up from the request that echoes through everything makoto has felt and wanted in so many years of his life. a pulse of sympathy goes through him; a throb of mirrored desire. he wants to give it to him, he does, but— )
I… ( he hesitates. it’s not a refusal, but he has to ask, ) Tell me exactly what you want to do first.
( though if kazuya asked him if trying to feed the darkness within in bits and pieces, hoping that would be enough to satisfy it into vanishing, was a valid strategy… he would only have to brokenly laugh. in his experience, it has only made them worse—as if giving light to them made their shadows grow ever longer, impossible to ignore in the mind as they sunk grasping roots throughout the rest of the body. )
🔞
it seems worthwhile to him in the moment, because… it will bring himself and kazuya closer together in his mind. and that isn’t necessarily intended in a wholesome, intimate way: the darker, more nasty parts of makoto also want it because it would mean that he would be dragging someone else, someone who might have been any of his classmates from when he was still human, down into the mud on his own level. kazuya’s soul is already tarnished and affected by the results of his own actions, but if makoto can have a hand in magnifying that… there’s deep gratification in that, to him.
it’s true that makoto couldn’t stop kazuya from what he really wanted from him either way, but he has to wonder—would he also find it almost meaning more, when it’s willingly given? the trust in that is so tantalizing that it’s almost dizzying. even if makoto had the strength to take what he wanted from people… he feels as though he would always prefer to sink his teeth into that feeling of intimacy when offered instead.
kazuya pulls him in closer once more; face to face, their foreheads pressed together, makoto looks unblinking into the fiery glare of the other demon’s eyes, trying to read from them what he wanted before he gave it voice. when he does, though, he pauses. even more than hearing it, he can feel the bone-deep want welling up from the request that echoes through everything makoto has felt and wanted in so many years of his life. a pulse of sympathy goes through him; a throb of mirrored desire. he wants to give it to him, he does, but— )
I… ( he hesitates. it’s not a refusal, but he has to ask, ) Tell me exactly what you want to do first.
( though if kazuya asked him if trying to feed the darkness within in bits and pieces, hoping that would be enough to satisfy it into vanishing, was a valid strategy… he would only have to brokenly laugh. in his experience, it has only made them worse—as if giving light to them made their shadows grow ever longer, impossible to ignore in the mind as they sunk grasping roots throughout the rest of the body. )