( he emits a single, dry laugh. ) Tearing your throat out wasn’t “going too far?” ( but it’s evident enough that he means it as a sardonic joke. in a way, he’s touched that out of everything that happened, kazuya had felt—what, safe with him in that way? trusting that he wouldn’t push any further past the boundaries that he had already trespassed against? it’s makoto’s instinct that anyone trusting him with something like that is foolish, because he’s aware of how much he wants to take more than he’s offered. he knows exactly how hard it is to keep himself reined in and under control.
but, then again, it’s at least nice to see that effort recognized. he nods slowly, glancing away. ) Yeah, I… I was trying to be.
( perhaps he might not have been able to hold himself back if he hadn’t been so afraid of pushing too far and alienating himself from the first friend he’d made here. it’s not as though he had ever engaged in self-control when he was contracted to J, but he has done so in other arenas of his life. curtailing and attempting to contain his more violent impulses has become almost second-nature, regardless of the ones that still manage to bubble up to the surface.
he breathes in, then the breathes out—he doesn’t speak up to reply, as if doing so would shatter what he perceives as an incredibly fragile moment of potential understanding. he has to remind himself that this was a desire that kazuya was seemingly unaware of up until this moment. he’s not like how makoto had been, on one level or another craving to consume someone for years before he had actually managed to do so with J. he doesn’t want to push him. he should have time to think through it and come to his own understanding of it. he can only hope that, with that, comes some appreciation—some willingness…
it’s as he’s thinking this that kazuya admits that such a hope is not only unfounded but confirmed far sooner than makoto might have thought. his gaze flies back to his friend’s face, wide-eyed and a little wild, more dumbfounded than over-eager (though it’s not to say there’s no bright eagerness there…). ) Are you sure? ( he stumbles over the words, having to take a moment to reconstitute himself before continuing, ) I mean, you—you don’t have to decide something like that right now. You can think about it. But, um… ( the grasp of his hands tighten; the dull half-moons of his short fingernails dig plaintively into skin. ) If you wanted to do it again… I would. However you might want to try it.
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but, then again, it’s at least nice to see that effort recognized. he nods slowly, glancing away. ) Yeah, I… I was trying to be.
( perhaps he might not have been able to hold himself back if he hadn’t been so afraid of pushing too far and alienating himself from the first friend he’d made here. it’s not as though he had ever engaged in self-control when he was contracted to J, but he has done so in other arenas of his life. curtailing and attempting to contain his more violent impulses has become almost second-nature, regardless of the ones that still manage to bubble up to the surface.
he breathes in, then the breathes out—he doesn’t speak up to reply, as if doing so would shatter what he perceives as an incredibly fragile moment of potential understanding. he has to remind himself that this was a desire that kazuya was seemingly unaware of up until this moment. he’s not like how makoto had been, on one level or another craving to consume someone for years before he had actually managed to do so with J. he doesn’t want to push him. he should have time to think through it and come to his own understanding of it. he can only hope that, with that, comes some appreciation—some willingness…
it’s as he’s thinking this that kazuya admits that such a hope is not only unfounded but confirmed far sooner than makoto might have thought. his gaze flies back to his friend’s face, wide-eyed and a little wild, more dumbfounded than over-eager (though it’s not to say there’s no bright eagerness there…). ) Are you sure? ( he stumbles over the words, having to take a moment to reconstitute himself before continuing, ) I mean, you—you don’t have to decide something like that right now. You can think about it. But, um… ( the grasp of his hands tighten; the dull half-moons of his short fingernails dig plaintively into skin. ) If you wanted to do it again… I would. However you might want to try it.