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    Summary

    His hand is warm, but the skin is rough. It catches and drags along his ribcage. It doesn't hurt, but Naoya feels a noise stuck in the back of his throat, threatening to spill out as Toji's hand roams higher along his chest.

    His kimono slides down over his shoulders and bunches on his hips. The cool air makes him shudder, the warm hand raising gooseflesh. Naoya stares at Toji, at his bleeding scar, at the bruises on his neck, at the mean glint in his eyes. He's not sure if he wants to play anymore.

    Naoya can feel the tightness of Toji's grip slightly adjusting, smoothing over the expanse of his bared throat and just resting there with a gentle weight. It feels so big, like he could easily circle his whole neck and let his fingers meet.

    Language:
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