[Her lips just shouldn't feel like that. It wouldn't matter if Denji refused, in truth - Aki would have pulled her shirt down and gone on with her night. Finished her beer, got up and pissed, went to bed. It wouldn't have mattered. But she doesn't refuse and her lips feel like that. The light press, a ghost of moisture, of pressure. It shouldn't feel like that. The hair on the nape of her neck stands high and she feels goosebumps sprout up her arms, amplified when she feels and hears the way Denji takes in her scent as she sits back - but only so far.]
[Collecting interest, huh? Is that how she'd convince herself? It's not quite what she was thinking, making her do this, but it's funny that Denji is also trying to convince herself of the acceptability of this situation. If they keep lying to one another about the reason for doing this, does that make it okay? That sort of thing. She wants to milk it for all it's worth, because it's not common that she sees Denji like this. Docile. Appeasing. Cowed. Her ears pinned to her head, whale eyes filled with nerves as she keeps a look out for a dirty left hook. It shouldn't make her feel so...]
Something like that.
[She doesn't lower her shirt, instead cinching it up higher to reveal the rest of her stomach, toned and flat and carefully chiseled near the center. She doesn't have nearly as many scars here as she does over her arms, on the underside of her legs - but right now she doesn't want Denji to move on to those spots. She wants her here, where the skin is unused to being touched and thus sensitive to every press.]
Go on. [How this turned from a childish game into something like this, she doesn't know. But Aki doesn't question the path she's on very often, just accepts it and keeps her course steady. So long as she's not walking into a volcano, she can always find her way through.]
no subject
[Collecting interest, huh? Is that how she'd convince herself? It's not quite what she was thinking, making her do this, but it's funny that Denji is also trying to convince herself of the acceptability of this situation. If they keep lying to one another about the reason for doing this, does that make it okay? That sort of thing. She wants to milk it for all it's worth, because it's not common that she sees Denji like this. Docile. Appeasing. Cowed. Her ears pinned to her head, whale eyes filled with nerves as she keeps a look out for a dirty left hook. It shouldn't make her feel so...]
Something like that.
[She doesn't lower her shirt, instead cinching it up higher to reveal the rest of her stomach, toned and flat and carefully chiseled near the center. She doesn't have nearly as many scars here as she does over her arms, on the underside of her legs - but right now she doesn't want Denji to move on to those spots. She wants her here, where the skin is unused to being touched and thus sensitive to every press.]
Go on. [How this turned from a childish game into something like this, she doesn't know. But Aki doesn't question the path she's on very often, just accepts it and keeps her course steady. So long as she's not walking into a volcano, she can always find her way through.]