[ The lecture falls on ever deaf ears. He doesn't need an inhuman entity telling him how to care of himself. His methods work. Bare cabinets are better than rotting ones. While Minato explores-
Akechi takes the opportunity to tidy up with the minimal chores his home requires. The first being - emptying the Roomba vacuum that's hardly ever filled by plucking the small container from its little robot home and emptying it in the trash next to his now open fridge. ]
I'm only human, so there are times I do fall ill, but it tends to be short lived.
[ Emptied, over to the sink to rinse it and wash his hands in the process. ]
I rest. I eat. It's not necessary for someone who's never experienced either to give me unsolicited advice about it. [ Little Roomba bin gets put on a drying rack and- ] You only mimic a human, after all. You may as well be a ghost.
[ That's good to hear. It'd be quite inconvenient for his master to stake all of his expectations on someone too sickly to properly explore the Arcana.
The fridge door remains open as Minato continues studying its contents. Finally, he reaches forward to pluck an iced coffee from the door. He gives the can a good shake before popping its tab open.
Instead of immediately taking a sip of the drink, he listens silently to what Akechi shares as the Roomba bin is placed on a drying rack. He exhales, a sound akin to a laugh, as the corners of his mouth quirk into the shadow of a smile. ]
I suppose you're right.
[ His advice is absolutely unsolicited, and... it's true, the best the can do these days is simply mimic a human. ]
I'd like to think I'm convincing enough though.
[ After all, he's drawing on real practice. He's had seventeen years to refine that art, and those experiences did carry over to the present day.
Only then does Minato lift his drink to his lips, taking a sip of the iced coffee. It's too sweet; it barely even tastes like coffee, not that it stops him from drinking a little more. ]
[ In rare, brief seconds out in a world that seems to absorb Minato into it. He looks entirely too human waiting on a park bench, watching everyone. Standing outside of a takoyaki stand. Passing by schools and storefronts.
It's in the most mundane moments where he could have belonged.
And it's standing in Akechi's kitchen, can held to his lips-
An adam's apple bobbing with that small sip, body entirely still in a home that feels like a trap most days-
That he looks the most human of all. Akechi wonders, briefly, if he would stop breathing if his fingers wrapped around his throat. If he would choke on that sweet liquid. If it would even matter if his soul is tied to an ethereal room. ]
But no matter how you good you get at mimicking, you'll always have a tell. I'll never be fooled.
[ A step closer, then another. He hopes Minato feels like prey with his back against the fridge. ]
[ "I'll never be fooled," says Akechi. And in spite of the near-threat he makes while stepping closer towards him, Minato takes yet another sip of the iced coffee.
The wild card isn't necessarily incorrect. These days, all he can do is mimic what he can recall from those bygone days. It's why he lowers the can from his lips, lifting his free hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth with the inside of his wrist, all while gazing back at Akechi with muted curiosity. He's careful not to stain the cuff of his uniform, yet another reminder that there is a nugget of truth to Akechi's words. ]
I don't, no.
[ What is it, then, that Akechi clings to as proof of his inhumanity? What is it that Akechi deems is sufficient evidence of his inability to truly find his place at humanity's side? ]
Feel free to share, if that's what you're so eager to tell me.
[ So eager to remind him that he'll never truly have a place on this side of the Velvet Room's door. ]
[ Act. React. Feel anger, wrath, agony, misery, emptiness and joy all at once.
It's why no matter how Minato fades into the backdrop of every outing they have-
That apathy will always be tell and sometimes-
Every so often-
Akechi wants to see that mask shatter with his own hand. Every barb and quip met with nothing. Every success met with nothing. Every failure met with nothing. Minato is nothing.
And in the small, confined space of an apartment as empty as Minato's very soul, Akechi acts by gripping one of Minato's wrists, the other hand moving to pluck the can from Minato entirely, if he lets it go. Akechi assumes he will. What else can a puppet do but dance? ]
I wonder how far I can go before that expression of yours changes for good.
[ The hand around his wrist secures itself like a fetter. The other one deprives him of his can of iced coffee. In spite of that gesture, all Minato does is peer up at Akechi, gaze lifting to look back at him. In those slate-blue eyes is -- nothing. Nothing at all. ]
I guess you're right.
[ It's a familiar accusation, one that had followed him during most of his time at Gekkoukan High. If that were the case, perhaps he was never human at all.
But he knows that can't be true. Humans feel, and hadn't that been precisely why he struggled to his feet blow after blow while facing off against Nyx? The memories of those he'd come to know over the course of the year, and the way those memories made him feel -- it was enough to sustain him, enough to form the basis of that Great Seal. ]
...what will you do then, honored guest? Will you find out for yourself?
[ ...whatever's beginning to take shape in this kitchen isn't a particularly warm connection, but it's a connection nonetheless. Perhaps this, too, could become the basis of further nurturing this wild card's ability to forge relationships. It'd be an issue if Minato was compelled to push Akechi away, but... there's a part of him that's curious to see this specific wild card's answer.
Perhaps he'll have quite the interesting tale to share with Igor upon his return. ]
[ Leave it Minato to twist Akechi's own condescension into a challenge. He knew the provocation would do little to sway him into action - thought to try anyway because what's the point of a puppet whose buttons can't be pushed. There's a limit for everyone. A point where they can be shoved off the metaphorical edge and Akechi wants nothing more than to be the source of that descent.
The can moved away and forgotten, Akechi close and foreboding, Minato collected and untroubled by anything happening-
It's maddening. Akechi finds his fingers curling against the adjacent countertop, his other hand winding into the front of a too pristine suit that never gets marred. ]
You infuriate me.
[ As if it needed to be said at all. As if it matters at all. As if he gives a shit about how Minato will respond and-
He steals what he can before that happens, even if all Minato can offer is his own breath. The kiss isn't tender or gentle - it's an attack. A way to silence and smother any dissent.
Minato is his after all. His attendant. His guide. There's no life without Akechi and that-
Excites him. To be needed, even by someone as pathetic as this.
He doesn't pull back. Only relents with the bruising force he's pressing against Minato to say- ]
[ "You infuriate me," says the wild card, and it's exactly as Minato had anticipated. It's exactly as he'd predicted. After all, it's his duty to observe this individual's growth, to gauge and measure his capabilities, to ensure that he'd be strong enough to endure the challenges that lay in his future.
In spite of the unspoken, brewing anger behind the lips smothering his own, Minato's golden eyes are half-lidded, his own lips parting to accept the rough kiss, the corners of them curving up into a shadow of a grin. Others might try pushing Akechi away, but Minato the two words Akechi demands of him almost makes him laugh.
"Fight back"? No, he can't comply this readily, not when it does Akechi no good to have things handed to him so soon. That's no way to lead this particular guest closer to his true potential. ]
And if I don't?
[ He knows Akechi must perceive him as a loyal hound, one whose leash is wound around Akechi's hand. Sometimes, that leash is grasped within Igor's gloved fingers.
But there's a collar around Akechi's neck too. There's a leash in Minato's hand too. ]
[ A demand made in return. A challenge Akechi must accept because there's no alternative.
It isn't lost on him how easy it was to get Minato to loosen his lips, as if urging him to take more.
Maybe he's more human than Akechi thought.
He laughs - no joy, no anger, no resignation. It's all that tumbles out.
What kind of idiot would take this treatment? ]
Let's see how long that attitude holds.
[ It's ridiculous. It's stupid. Akechi will get Minato to pull away before he does. This bravado can only last so long and he wants to watch it crumble in his fingers.
He doesn't try to move them from the kitchen, but he does lower his hands to grip Minato's hip, to press against the front of his throat. Not choking him. Not even pushing down.
It's simply there as a warning as he leans forward to catch his lips again. To force an opening where it was freely given before by sliding teeth and tongue along Minato's lips. By pressing them closer, and closer and closer until there's barely room to breathe let alone move. It's claustrophobic for even him, but he will take and take and take until stopped. ]
[ Perhaps that's where Akechi's miscalculation begins: a bravado can only last so long. But the true and genuine thing? It's eternal, unmoving, unchanging, a confidence that can only be wrought through peering into the depths of despair without losing one's own mind.
Air rushes in and out of the column beneath Akechi's hand. It stutters for a moment as the wild card captures his lips again, teeth and tongue sliding against one another. There's nothing gentle or warm in it. Even Minato knows it's skirting the line between a kiss and a gesture to devour and dominate.
So he sighs in response, eyes still half-hooded and glowing up at Akechi. This close, he must be able to feel how Minato's lips turn upward in a smirk. He's free to take and take and take as much as he pleases, to claw his way down the bottomless pit, to reach out and futilely measure the depths of this black sea. ]
Is this the type of bond that speaks to you?
[ Then it is merely his duty to support this guest in his pursuit of nurturing that connection. ]
Is this truly the only way you're capable of reaching out to me?
You're disturbed if you see this as a bond in any capacity.
[ If Akechi could-
He would shred those lips, make a smile impossible. Tear at what little humanity exists in his attendant and remind him there's no joy in a world meant to exploit. An otherworldly being walking among them-
Deserves the worst. Deserves worse. Akechi can oblige in showing the true self, the true face, the true world in his actions.
He wants it to hurt. He hopes Minato hurts. He wants to see what hurt will be thrown back his way.
Minato isn't human, but he's trying to be. Akechi can feel a pulse when he teethes at his Adam's apple, wonders how much blood would spew if he tore into his throat. ]
You'll really allow me to do whatever I want to you-
[ And his hands move, glide, settle on Minato's thighs and -
Move, glide, until they're under his shirt and over his ribs. He presses down with the hope he'll bruise. ]
Under the 'pretense' of this so called bond? How pathetic.
[ There's teeth at his neck; it would be a simple task to tear into supple flesh, to chew hard enough to puncture veins and see for oneself whether the Velvet Room's residents bled red or gold.
Perhaps Akechi perceives this as him allowing the wild card to do whatever he wants. But if every trial and tribulation thrown his way, every encounter and experience littering Akechi's life, was in preparation for a higher end -- one might argue that even this was a Velvet Room attendant's method of shaping their guest for his ultimate role. ]
A bond, a connection -- they're not inherently pleasant things.
[ Akechi's met with his desired outcome: the stuttering of breath as he presses down hard enough to leave a mark. In spite of it, the smirk remains, the corners of Minato's lips still upturned in the expression.
His own hands reach up, one of them sliding behind Akechi's neck to tangle gloved fingers in Akechi's hair, grasping just hard enough to pull it taut. The other snakes up his back, fingertips digging into the wild card's blazer. ]
The one existing between enemies can be greater than what ties allies to each other. Your scorn for me is what binds me to you.
[ They're not pleasant. He knows they're not. There are pinpricks carved open on his body in the hopes someone would patch those aching, weeping wounds with love, with bonds, with anything.
There was a point when he would have given anything for it. It's not pleasant to seek out. He's long since learned the people who want them-
Are vile. Rotten. Even Akira is rotten to his core.
It's only natural that those same pinpricks widen to ensnare. He'll take a bond for a price and rip it to shreds when he's done.
Minato wants to guide. Akechi wants to break that desire. He tries to rip it apart with his teeth the moment his attendant grasps his hair, touches his back like his palm is a salve for too old wounds.
He laughs against now marred skin - all disbelief, anger, annoyance. It's impossible to settle on a single emotion when he's around Minato. ]
I'll be happy to drag you to hell. You can enjoy that so called bond the entire way down.
[ Maybe that's all that needs to be said. He's annoyed it's gotten this far, that Minato digs his heels in and accepts all of Akechi instead of forcing him away.
He can get him to force away. Tear free. Try to rip himself away from Akechi Goro only to find he's too consumed by the rot he tried to heal.
The lips that meet Minato's mouth are meant to muzzle, not kiss. The rough tug away from the corner, a leash. And like the good dog he is-
Akechi assumes he'll be peaceful and walk easy with goading nips against his lips. That he won't fight when their path is broken by a bed and Minato should feel fortunate, so fortunate, to share this desolate, private room with a prince. ]
On your knees - bed or floor, I don't give a shit. You're lucky I'm giving you choice.
[ The lips against his own smother anymore words that Minato might dare to speak. There's no affection in the gesture, nor is there any warmth in the way Akechi takes his hand and tugs him towards his room. In spite of that rough treatment, Minato's eyes glow golden in the fluorescent lights. ]
You're being generous today.
[ It's spoken with a smile because it's rare for Akechi to offer him options. Even when accompanying him around town, his Guest simply guides him to places that seem to fit his specified parameters. He is not given options even when dining together. Minato presumes Akechi simply did not trust his sensibilities. Admittedly, it's a wise decision, for he'd almost certainly order every last dish off the menu.
The floor is hard and unforgiving on his knees. Minato isn't keen on slinking back to the Velvet Room with bruised kneecaps. Or perhaps there's another reason why he gets comfortable on Akechi's sheets, kneeling before him with his hands folded in his lap.
Perhaps the more intimate choice is intentional, yet another means of rubbing salt in Akechi's wounds. Perhaps it's a reminder that no matter how hard he chooses to sink his teeth and fingers into Minato to tear him apart, some might argue that Minato's ultimately succeeded in further strengthening the bond that takes shape between the two of them. Even if it is forged in a furnace of loathing, it's not unlike how diamonds only form in the most extreme environments. ]
I don't mind you dragging me to hell. You'll be there too, right alongside me.
There Minato is, on his knees, ever the mindful attendant. Akechi isn't unhappy to see him follow orders. It makes-
This easier.
But something-
Agonizing ignites in his chest. It forms against his will, sparks like flint when his knuckles brush against Minato's chest, and engulfs when he tangles his fingers into that pristine, bright jacket. Ever since he entered that goddamn room-
He can feel what forms from unwilling connections made.
And he feels what forms in his attendant's belligerence - his rebellion in its all its unique traits. Mild. Unobtrusive. Akechi wants to rip him apart. Rip it apart. Compensates by plucking the buttons on his jacket, flicking them open down the line. Akechi hadn't intended to undress him, but perhaps that will make a reaction, humiliate, make him feel barren and bare. ]
Good dog. [ Taunting, vicious - his pants are tight at the sight. ] Finish taking off your shirt and get on all fours next.
imagine being balls deep in someone and hearing I AM THOU, THOU ART I
[ The velvet blue jacket is left wide open; it's a simple task to shrug it off, discarding it off to the side. Beneath it, a simple white dress shirt whose buttons are plucked open one at a time, deft fingers drawing each one through their respective eye holes like a bird retrieving hidden treasures from an enclave carved into the side of a tree.
The shirt gets dropped off to the side, draping itself over his jacket. Even if Minato's attire ends up rumpled beyond belief, he knows that Igor's not the type to pry. In fact, the man might choose to praise him instead, for it was a sign that their most valued guest was making steady progress in nurturing his bonds.
And as instructed, Minato bends over, still on his knees as he presses his palms against Akechi's sheets. The wild card stands before him, forcing Minato to look up as he looms from above. There's not a shred of shame in his golden eyes, still defiant even as he's down on all fours, entirely bare save for his trousers. The pale expanse of skin across his back is far too pallid to belong to something with a properly-beating heart. Perhaps that's precisely why he can smile, having previously weathered the weight of death. ]
...shall I bark for you as well?
[ He hadn't realized just how addicting it could be, trying to get a rise out of this particular wild card. Perhaps he'd feel alive for these next few moments, meeting Akechi's wrath with his own brand of mirth.
This turn in their relationship -- it's the beginning of Akechi's explorations of a new bond to exploit. ]
somewhere it's happened........rip that igor and explaining the bond from being balls deep in
[ Control is exhilarating. Defiance is addictive. Minato dances the line of both with his fingers pressed down on Akechi's bed in submission, a tone that promises less.
Akechi's own voice shakes at the edge - confidant and brusque, but promising something else in the wake of this question.
His finger rests under Minato's chin and he raises those golden eyes up until Akechi has no choice but to swim in them. ]
[ A sea of liquid gold meets Akechi's auburn eyes, the corners of Minato's lips curving gently in a satisfied smile. Of course this would be Akechi's command. Why else would he have posited such a ridiculous question to the wild card?
It's a simple and straightforward means for achieving his true master's ends. Nurture the one who holds the key to humanity's future. Grow their minds, their hearts, in hopes that the very individual looming above Minato would choose to cradle the world in his palm instead of allowing it to roll off the edge of his hand where it would shatter into a thousand pieces.
And thus: ]
Woof!
[ Minato's gaze remains fixed upon Akechi, even if he cants his head to signal a question in advance. ]
Or maybe you prefer arf, or ruff? It doesn't matter to me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Akechi takes the opportunity to tidy up with the minimal chores his home requires. The first being - emptying the Roomba vacuum that's hardly ever filled by plucking the small container from its little robot home and emptying it in the trash next to his now open fridge. ]
I'm only human, so there are times I do fall ill, but it tends to be short lived.
[ Emptied, over to the sink to rinse it and wash his hands in the process. ]
I rest. I eat. It's not necessary for someone who's never experienced either to give me unsolicited advice about it. [ Little Roomba bin gets put on a drying rack and- ] You only mimic a human, after all. You may as well be a ghost.
no subject
The fridge door remains open as Minato continues studying its contents. Finally, he reaches forward to pluck an iced coffee from the door. He gives the can a good shake before popping its tab open.
Instead of immediately taking a sip of the drink, he listens silently to what Akechi shares as the Roomba bin is placed on a drying rack. He exhales, a sound akin to a laugh, as the corners of his mouth quirk into the shadow of a smile. ]
I suppose you're right.
[ His advice is absolutely unsolicited, and... it's true, the best the can do these days is simply mimic a human. ]
I'd like to think I'm convincing enough though.
[ After all, he's drawing on real practice. He's had seventeen years to refine that art, and those experiences did carry over to the present day.
Only then does Minato lift his drink to his lips, taking a sip of the iced coffee. It's too sweet; it barely even tastes like coffee, not that it stops him from drinking a little more. ]
no subject
[ In rare, brief seconds out in a world that seems to absorb Minato into it. He looks entirely too human waiting on a park bench, watching everyone. Standing outside of a takoyaki stand. Passing by schools and storefronts.
It's in the most mundane moments where he could have belonged.
And it's standing in Akechi's kitchen, can held to his lips-
An adam's apple bobbing with that small sip, body entirely still in a home that feels like a trap most days-
That he looks the most human of all. Akechi wonders, briefly, if he would stop breathing if his fingers wrapped around his throat. If he would choke on that sweet liquid. If it would even matter if his soul is tied to an ethereal room. ]
But no matter how you good you get at mimicking, you'll always have a tell. I'll never be fooled.
[ A step closer, then another. He hopes Minato feels like prey with his back against the fridge. ]
Do you want to know why that is?
no subject
The wild card isn't necessarily incorrect. These days, all he can do is mimic what he can recall from those bygone days. It's why he lowers the can from his lips, lifting his free hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth with the inside of his wrist, all while gazing back at Akechi with muted curiosity. He's careful not to stain the cuff of his uniform, yet another reminder that there is a nugget of truth to Akechi's words. ]
I don't, no.
[ What is it, then, that Akechi clings to as proof of his inhumanity? What is it that Akechi deems is sufficient evidence of his inability to truly find his place at humanity's side? ]
Feel free to share, if that's what you're so eager to tell me.
[ So eager to remind him that he'll never truly have a place on this side of the Velvet Room's door. ]
no subject
[ Act. React. Feel anger, wrath, agony, misery, emptiness and joy all at once.
It's why no matter how Minato fades into the backdrop of every outing they have-
That apathy will always be tell and sometimes-
Every so often-
Akechi wants to see that mask shatter with his own hand. Every barb and quip met with nothing. Every success met with nothing. Every failure met with nothing. Minato is nothing.
And in the small, confined space of an apartment as empty as Minato's very soul, Akechi acts by gripping one of Minato's wrists, the other hand moving to pluck the can from Minato entirely, if he lets it go. Akechi assumes he will. What else can a puppet do but dance? ]
I wonder how far I can go before that expression of yours changes for good.
im sick
I guess you're right.
[ It's a familiar accusation, one that had followed him during most of his time at Gekkoukan High. If that were the case, perhaps he was never human at all.
But he knows that can't be true. Humans feel, and hadn't that been precisely why he struggled to his feet blow after blow while facing off against Nyx? The memories of those he'd come to know over the course of the year, and the way those memories made him feel -- it was enough to sustain him, enough to form the basis of that Great Seal. ]
...what will you do then, honored guest? Will you find out for yourself?
[ ...whatever's beginning to take shape in this kitchen isn't a particularly warm connection, but it's a connection nonetheless. Perhaps this, too, could become the basis of further nurturing this wild card's ability to forge relationships. It'd be an issue if Minato was compelled to push Akechi away, but... there's a part of him that's curious to see this specific wild card's answer.
Perhaps he'll have quite the interesting tale to share with Igor upon his return. ]
get sicker
The can moved away and forgotten, Akechi close and foreboding, Minato collected and untroubled by anything happening-
It's maddening. Akechi finds his fingers curling against the adjacent countertop, his other hand winding into the front of a too pristine suit that never gets marred. ]
You infuriate me.
[ As if it needed to be said at all. As if it matters at all. As if he gives a shit about how Minato will respond and-
He steals what he can before that happens, even if all Minato can offer is his own breath. The kiss isn't tender or gentle - it's an attack. A way to silence and smother any dissent.
Minato is his after all. His attendant. His guide. There's no life without Akechi and that-
Excites him. To be needed, even by someone as pathetic as this.
He doesn't pull back. Only relents with the bruising force he's pressing against Minato to say- ]
Fight back.
i blinked and it was aug 14 that's how sick i was
In spite of the unspoken, brewing anger behind the lips smothering his own, Minato's golden eyes are half-lidded, his own lips parting to accept the rough kiss, the corners of them curving up into a shadow of a grin. Others might try pushing Akechi away, but Minato the two words Akechi demands of him almost makes him laugh.
"Fight back"? No, he can't comply this readily, not when it does Akechi no good to have things handed to him so soon. That's no way to lead this particular guest closer to his true potential. ]
And if I don't?
[ He knows Akechi must perceive him as a loyal hound, one whose leash is wound around Akechi's hand. Sometimes, that leash is grasped within Igor's gloved fingers.
But there's a collar around Akechi's neck too. There's a leash in Minato's hand too. ]
Make me.
now i blink and its aug static
[ A demand made in return. A challenge Akechi must accept because there's no alternative.
It isn't lost on him how easy it was to get Minato to loosen his lips, as if urging him to take more.
Maybe he's more human than Akechi thought.
He laughs - no joy, no anger, no resignation. It's all that tumbles out.
What kind of idiot would take this treatment? ]
Let's see how long that attitude holds.
[ It's ridiculous. It's stupid. Akechi will get Minato to pull away before he does. This bravado can only last so long and he wants to watch it crumble in his fingers.
He doesn't try to move them from the kitchen, but he does lower his hands to grip Minato's hip, to press against the front of his throat. Not choking him. Not even pushing down.
It's simply there as a warning as he leans forward to catch his lips again. To force an opening where it was freely given before by sliding teeth and tongue along Minato's lips. By pressing them closer, and closer and closer until there's barely room to breathe let alone move. It's claustrophobic for even him, but he will take and take and take until stopped. ]
and then it was september
Air rushes in and out of the column beneath Akechi's hand. It stutters for a moment as the wild card captures his lips again, teeth and tongue sliding against one another. There's nothing gentle or warm in it. Even Minato knows it's skirting the line between a kiss and a gesture to devour and dominate.
So he sighs in response, eyes still half-hooded and glowing up at Akechi. This close, he must be able to feel how Minato's lips turn upward in a smirk. He's free to take and take and take as much as he pleases, to claw his way down the bottomless pit, to reach out and futilely measure the depths of this black sea. ]
Is this the type of bond that speaks to you?
[ Then it is merely his duty to support this guest in his pursuit of nurturing that connection. ]
Is this truly the only way you're capable of reaching out to me?
AND THEN ALMOST OCTOBER
[ If Akechi could-
He would shred those lips, make a smile impossible. Tear at what little humanity exists in his attendant and remind him there's no joy in a world meant to exploit. An otherworldly being walking among them-
Deserves the worst. Deserves worse. Akechi can oblige in showing the true self, the true face, the true world in his actions.
He wants it to hurt. He hopes Minato hurts. He wants to see what hurt will be thrown back his way.
Minato isn't human, but he's trying to be. Akechi can feel a pulse when he teethes at his Adam's apple, wonders how much blood would spew if he tore into his throat. ]
You'll really allow me to do whatever I want to you-
[ And his hands move, glide, settle on Minato's thighs and -
Move, glide, until they're under his shirt and over his ribs. He presses down with the hope he'll bruise. ]
Under the 'pretense' of this so called bond? How pathetic.
appropriate month for scary thread
Perhaps Akechi perceives this as him allowing the wild card to do whatever he wants. But if every trial and tribulation thrown his way, every encounter and experience littering Akechi's life, was in preparation for a higher end -- one might argue that even this was a Velvet Room attendant's method of shaping their guest for his ultimate role. ]
A bond, a connection -- they're not inherently pleasant things.
[ Akechi's met with his desired outcome: the stuttering of breath as he presses down hard enough to leave a mark. In spite of it, the smirk remains, the corners of Minato's lips still upturned in the expression.
His own hands reach up, one of them sliding behind Akechi's neck to tangle gloved fingers in Akechi's hair, grasping just hard enough to pull it taut. The other snakes up his back, fingertips digging into the wild card's blazer. ]
The one existing between enemies can be greater than what ties allies to each other. Your scorn for me is what binds me to you.
its real to me
There was a point when he would have given anything for it. It's not pleasant to seek out. He's long since learned the people who want them-
Are vile. Rotten. Even Akira is rotten to his core.
It's only natural that those same pinpricks widen to ensnare. He'll take a bond for a price and rip it to shreds when he's done.
Minato wants to guide. Akechi wants to break that desire. He tries to rip it apart with his teeth the moment his attendant grasps his hair, touches his back like his palm is a salve for too old wounds.
He laughs against now marred skin - all disbelief, anger, annoyance. It's impossible to settle on a single emotion when he's around Minato. ]
I'll be happy to drag you to hell. You can enjoy that so called bond the entire way down.
[ Maybe that's all that needs to be said. He's annoyed it's gotten this far, that Minato digs his heels in and accepts all of Akechi instead of forcing him away.
He can get him to force away. Tear free. Try to rip himself away from Akechi Goro only to find he's too consumed by the rot he tried to heal.
The lips that meet Minato's mouth are meant to muzzle, not kiss. The rough tug away from the corner, a leash. And like the good dog he is-
Akechi assumes he'll be peaceful and walk easy with goading nips against his lips. That he won't fight when their path is broken by a bed and Minato should feel fortunate, so fortunate, to share this desolate, private room with a prince. ]
On your knees - bed or floor, I don't give a shit. You're lucky I'm giving you choice.
goodness gracious
You're being generous today.
[ It's spoken with a smile because it's rare for Akechi to offer him options. Even when accompanying him around town, his Guest simply guides him to places that seem to fit his specified parameters. He is not given options even when dining together. Minato presumes Akechi simply did not trust his sensibilities. Admittedly, it's a wise decision, for he'd almost certainly order every last dish off the menu.
The floor is hard and unforgiving on his knees. Minato isn't keen on slinking back to the Velvet Room with bruised kneecaps. Or perhaps there's another reason why he gets comfortable on Akechi's sheets, kneeling before him with his hands folded in his lap.
Perhaps the more intimate choice is intentional, yet another means of rubbing salt in Akechi's wounds. Perhaps it's a reminder that no matter how hard he chooses to sink his teeth and fingers into Minato to tear him apart, some might argue that Minato's ultimately succeeded in further strengthening the bond that takes shape between the two of them. Even if it is forged in a furnace of loathing, it's not unlike how diamonds only form in the most extreme environments. ]
I don't mind you dragging me to hell. You'll be there too, right alongside me.
GOODNESS GOODNESS GOODNESS
There Minato is, on his knees, ever the mindful attendant. Akechi isn't unhappy to see him follow orders. It makes-
This easier.
But something-
Agonizing ignites in his chest. It forms against his will, sparks like flint when his knuckles brush against Minato's chest, and engulfs when he tangles his fingers into that pristine, bright jacket. Ever since he entered that goddamn room-
He can feel what forms from unwilling connections made.
And he feels what forms in his attendant's belligerence - his rebellion in its all its unique traits. Mild. Unobtrusive. Akechi wants to rip him apart. Rip it apart. Compensates by plucking the buttons on his jacket, flicking them open down the line. Akechi hadn't intended to undress him, but perhaps that will make a reaction, humiliate, make him feel barren and bare. ]
Good dog. [ Taunting, vicious - his pants are tight at the sight. ] Finish taking off your shirt and get on all fours next.
imagine being balls deep in someone and hearing I AM THOU, THOU ART I
The shirt gets dropped off to the side, draping itself over his jacket. Even if Minato's attire ends up rumpled beyond belief, he knows that Igor's not the type to pry. In fact, the man might choose to praise him instead, for it was a sign that their most valued guest was making steady progress in nurturing his bonds.
And as instructed, Minato bends over, still on his knees as he presses his palms against Akechi's sheets. The wild card stands before him, forcing Minato to look up as he looms from above. There's not a shred of shame in his golden eyes, still defiant even as he's down on all fours, entirely bare save for his trousers. The pale expanse of skin across his back is far too pallid to belong to something with a properly-beating heart. Perhaps that's precisely why he can smile, having previously weathered the weight of death. ]
...shall I bark for you as well?
[ He hadn't realized just how addicting it could be, trying to get a rise out of this particular wild card. Perhaps he'd feel alive for these next few moments, meeting Akechi's wrath with his own brand of mirth.
This turn in their relationship -- it's the beginning of Akechi's explorations of a new bond to exploit. ]
somewhere it's happened........rip that igor and explaining the bond from being balls deep in
Akechi's own voice shakes at the edge - confidant and brusque, but promising something else in the wake of this question.
His finger rests under Minato's chin and he raises those golden eyes up until Akechi has no choice but to swim in them. ]
Yes. Bark.
no subject
It's a simple and straightforward means for achieving his true master's ends. Nurture the one who holds the key to humanity's future. Grow their minds, their hearts, in hopes that the very individual looming above Minato would choose to cradle the world in his palm instead of allowing it to roll off the edge of his hand where it would shatter into a thousand pieces.
And thus: ]
Woof!
[ Minato's gaze remains fixed upon Akechi, even if he cants his head to signal a question in advance. ]
Or maybe you prefer arf, or ruff? It doesn't matter to me.
[ He doesn't really care. ]