( Already, standing at the wardrobe like this was beginning to be a struggle. Dabi isn't loud behind him or anything, but he feels hyper aware of him there, the soft padding of his footsteps, the shift of cloth moving from hands sliding into pockets. Esikko's hands linger on an article of clothing that he can't really pay attention to, and the more Dabi speaks, the further his attention drifts.
From the clothes. Not from Dabi.
Those last questions earn a breath that can almost be mistaken for annoyance, with the way it follows a click of his tongue. But he whirls on his feet, dragging his hands away from the slacks he'd been barely looking at to cross back towards the bed, towards Dabi. )
You— ( Drawing that out just a little, Esikko leans into his next steps, hands reaching out to fist into the front of Dabi's shirt. ) —are being so impatient.
( And he loves every minute of it, from how he's smiling. He ducks his head enough to press their lips together, chaste yet insistent, balling his fists tighter. ) So now you don't get to wear anything. Give me a pass to do this ( a nod at the shirt on the bed ) later, and take it all off.
no subject
From the clothes. Not from Dabi.
Those last questions earn a breath that can almost be mistaken for annoyance, with the way it follows a click of his tongue. But he whirls on his feet, dragging his hands away from the slacks he'd been barely looking at to cross back towards the bed, towards Dabi. )
You— ( Drawing that out just a little, Esikko leans into his next steps, hands reaching out to fist into the front of Dabi's shirt. ) —are being so impatient.
( And he loves every minute of it, from how he's smiling. He ducks his head enough to press their lips together, chaste yet insistent, balling his fists tighter. ) So now you don't get to wear anything. Give me a pass to do this ( a nod at the shirt on the bed ) later, and take it all off.
( Demanding. )