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"Stay still."
Draken completely did the opposite of that and tried to turn his body, but even if Mitsuya was smaller than him, the grip on Draken waist felt rather strong and confining.
"What are you doing now—" He managed to slightly turn his head, but he couldn't see anything but black-lilac hair.
"I'm trying to fit the suit. I think I need to resize this part."
Draken could feel the tug of his waistcoat as if Mitsuya wanted it to be tighter. The urge to take a deep breath, doing a long exhale was almost too tempting, but he had learned to be patient, especially when he was in no position to move freely—
"Ouch!" The sting didn't hurt much, but it didn't lessen the surprise and irritation it caused. There was a reason why Draken could be so independent in everything but fixing his own clothes. "You prick me!"
He hated needles.
And Mitsuya knew that.
Yet, the black-lilac-haired man merely snickered at his protest, instead, he looked up to Draken with a mischievous grin. "Do I? I just simply forgot the stitches here."
"Yeah, just right—ouch!" Draken didn't even get to finish his sentence when another pain registered on his skin.
Again.
Just like before, Mitsuya laughed at his completely reasonable reaction, even though he also went to caress his hips in apology.
It didn't stop Draken from spinning himself, catching his hand to stop him from doing any more damage. "Did you do that on purpose?"
Mitsuya leered at him, straightened his body only to have his hand running on Draken's chest.
"Maybe?" He took a step back, with no attempt to free himself, scanning Draken's appearance from head to toe shamelessly. "I love watching you squirming in my hands."
Draken grabbed the end of the tapeline hanging around Mitsuya's neck, tugging it to himself.
"You know, if you want to see me naked, you can just ask, right? No need to dress me up?"
Mitsuya shrugged. "I love seeing you in my creation. Sue me."
"I look that good in everything you made, huh?" The words were meant to be mocking, but Draken didn't even try to conceal his pride.
And of course, Mitsuya did not act modest at all, when he put his forefinger on Draken chest.
"Of course, you do. I'm the one who made it."
There was nothing but truth in his words, after all.
Being able to make something was the greatest talent that Mitsuya possessed, and he knew how to use it. It started simple: knitting a scarf, with a nonchalant 'early Christmas gift' when Mitsuya handed him the present; there came his haoris (plural, yes, Mitsuya made him tons of haori), not a day passed without Draken wearing them that it had become his signature look; then of course, the twin dragons jacket that Draken still kept somewhere in the storage room, because 'It's monumental!'
There was also his first suit, the one he wore when one of the girls who used to work in the brothel finally got married and invited him, and surprisingly, the Joker to her wedding.
There was also his Toman uniform, the one that he wore proudly until the end of his glorious delinquent day.
There were sweaters, more jackets, even Halloween costumes.
Mitsuya had dressed him up since Draken could remember.
"Isn't this pretty loose?" Mitsuya hooked up his finger on the front of Draken's waistcoat.
They both know that was a lie.
Mitsuya was no slacker when it came to creating something for Draken to wear. He had always known his size, having to update his measurements every single time. He was a perfectionist, even if he refused to admit that.
"You keep having excuses to do anything that has nothing to do with your sewing," Draken rolled his eyes, leaning back to the table behind him. He snatched the bottom of Mitsuya's shirt, shortening their unavailing distance, as the black-lilac-haired man let himself be pulled.
"Well, I always love dressing you up, Ken," Mitsuya licked his lips, fully knowing how Draken couldn't take his eyes off the movement. "But I also love that I'm the only one who gets to take it off you."
Draken did indulge the darkened amethyst, by entrapping Mitsuya's between his legs, hands caging him by his waist.
"Millions could see you in every piece I made, but only I get to see you without any," Mitsuya continued. And as if his voice couldn't any huskier, something dangerous stirred in the depth of Draken's inside. "Only I get to do that."
The not-so-secretly glance over his left shoulder got Draken to smirk.
No need for a genius to notice how Mitsuya eyed his working table.
It was pretty sturdy, spacious, and easy to clean.
The top three qualities that Mitsuya had to find in every design of working tables he wanted.
The top three qualities that Draken needed if Mitsuya couldn't help himself whenever he asked Draken to be his personal model.
"What a shame, Taka," Draken touched the maroon waistcoat he wore. "I kinda like wearing this. It'd be too bad if I have to take it off so soon."
"Ken—"
Either it was warning or whine, nobody knew.
His name was the last thing Draken allowed to come out of Mitsuya's lips, because the next second, his priority would be making sure Mitsuya knows how he's indeed the only one who could put Draken in everything and nothing.