quietmounds | (no subject)

[ his eyebrows raise a bit, but again -- it's not an entirely unexpected response. ]

So you'd like me to do whatever I wish with you, and you would not tell me to stop?

I’ve been wondering what it is you’ll do. Or if it will be as expected, or if you’ll surprise me. What do you count as an indulgence?

[ there’s the trickle of thought down the base of his skull, so cold it burns, absolute icy fear but the only way he’s ever found to corral that particular flavor was to invite it in ]

It’ll be a learning experience.

I'm afraid you're ten years too old and the wrong gender for me to really indulge. But you still do have your own appeal.

[ he reaches up to undo the cuff around Dazai's wrist, but the movement is also just to

grab his bandaged fingers and squeeze ]

[ always with the little girls, it’s weird — that he stopped thinking it as ‘that weird’ just a kind of normal kind of awful. Doesn’t everyone go after kids in some way or another.

He is going to respond maybe with a joke of his own (‘joke’) but then Mori grabs his fingers. And he goes white as a sheet, immediately there’s an attempt to pull his hand back, cradle it and hunch over it. ]

You won't tell me to stop, no matter what, isn't that right?

[ as if he's testing that right now he doesn't let him pull his hand back. but he at least doesn't squeeze on his fingers anymore, just holding his wrist ]

So if I repeated that you wouldn't have an objection? Or would you say that's boring?

[ his breath hitches, just once and he won't look at Mori but his voice is even ]

I won't tell you to stop. It's fine to do whatever you want, Mori-san.

How giving of you. Yet you still seem unsure.

[ he slides his grip back up to those fingers, not squeezing yet, but the threat is there again ]

I’m not unsure.

[ steady, this time, looks directly at Mori ]

I see.

[ in that case

he squeezes again ]

[ inhales sharply but he was braced for it so he doesn’t look away, even as his neutral expression strains to stay flat ]

[ his lips crook into a smile and he lets go, abruptly shifting away to try to grab Dazai's side and get him onto his stomach on the bed ]

[ that's honestly preferable, since he won't be looking at Mori, and he one handedly helps with that motion, glad to break eye contact ]

[ he's aiming to tug Dazai's hands behind him, not kindly, cuffing those wrists together ]

Hah.

[ he would say something else but it seems ill advised and shuts his mouth after a grunt of pain ]

Did you have a comment, Dazai-kun?

[ he pauses, hands going to his back ]

[ stretches the fingers of his un-mangled hand a few times. ]

No, I didn't.

[ he hums -- though it's tuneless, not sounding very amused -- and he grabs the back of Dazai's hair, shoving his head forward into the bed ]

[ he wants to ask if something's the matter but instead he just tries to relax his shoulders so the shove is easier on him ]

[ it's probably not very pleasant with the angle -- like he's earnestly trying to smother him in the sheets, leaning his weight down into his arm ]

[ wow thanks

there's a delay before he realizes exactly what's going on, and Dazai shifts his weight, trying to get his knees under him more so he has a little more breathing room without pushing back too much on Mori ]

[ he's going to straddle his hips and grab his cuffed wrists, together, so he can yank back at them -- creating an awkward stretch as he leans his weight into Dazai's face, reducing the amount he can move as keeps the tension between them ]

[ fuck that hurts, both his hands spasm which does nothing for the broken fingers and he bucks beneath Mori with a muffled gasp. he can feel the strain on his shoulderblades and elbows particularly, an internal friction on his joints that's more than a little unpleasant. it's harder to draw a full breath, and the struggle shows in the way his back muscles heave with his chest ]

[ it's similar to the way he was choking him before, keeping him at that awful angle with his hands behind him and his back arched but not in a way that provides any relief, and he's not relenting even as Dazai evidently struggles -- since, again -- he gave him full freedom, didn't he? ]

[ distinctly, he can taste the bed sheets and feel the wetness of the linen under his face as he tries to turn his head a little, just a little, to get an opportunity for fresh air. everything feels too warm, claustrophobic, the air is recycled. Dazai feels himself kick out in a kind of futile struggling motion, but the gesture is so distant for a moment he wonders if that's his own body ]

[ he laughs -- leans down, voice close to Dazai's ear, managing that even as he yanks backwards at his arms though he has to kind of yank them to the side to not get in the way of that with his own body. and he lets up on his head for a moment to give Dazai a second of clarity as he speaks. ]

The mind is willing but the body is not, hmm?