[ As if Mori could truly ever be straight forward. Getting the okay was step one, and now he looks set to play with it - his smile sharpening. ]
Lost the taste for our old antics, have you?
[ Having walked in rather haggard himself, and seeing that his nemesis was equally ready to call it a day, Mori knows full well that neither one of them is even remotely interested in anything elaborate tonight.
That's just the thing - and maybe it's the thing that has changed the most, because these days, whether they fuck or not, Mori will likely end up in Fukuzawa's bed - they've passed the stage of staying the night and sex being mutually exclusive. But, Mori being Mori - regardless of if he ends up pressed against a wall, bruises around his wrists, or in bed beside his long time enemy, borrowing reading glasses and nursing a second cup of tea - he's going to make this difficult.
The mobster stands, that smile unwavering, and he replaces the cat on the ground in a somewhat considerate gesture, and steps over to the agency president, placing his own cup down on the side table, beside Fukuzawa's.
He'll push only so far.
But he'll push.
He steps closer still, their knees brushing, leaning down to brace his palms on both armrests, that foxish smile now in close-up, his voice a bit of a treacherous purr. ]
no subject
[ As if Mori could truly ever be straight forward. Getting the okay was step one, and now he looks set to play with it - his smile sharpening. ]
Lost the taste for our old antics, have you?
[ Having walked in rather haggard himself, and seeing that his nemesis was equally ready to call it a day, Mori knows full well that neither one of them is even remotely interested in anything elaborate tonight.
That's just the thing - and maybe it's the thing that has changed the most, because these days, whether they fuck or not, Mori will likely end up in Fukuzawa's bed - they've passed the stage of staying the night and sex being mutually exclusive. But, Mori being Mori - regardless of if he ends up pressed against a wall, bruises around his wrists, or in bed beside his long time enemy, borrowing reading glasses and nursing a second cup of tea - he's going to make this difficult.
The mobster stands, that smile unwavering, and he replaces the cat on the ground in a somewhat considerate gesture, and steps over to the agency president, placing his own cup down on the side table, beside Fukuzawa's.
He'll push only so far.
But he'll push.
He steps closer still, their knees brushing, leaning down to brace his palms on both armrests, that foxish smile now in close-up, his voice a bit of a treacherous purr. ]
Don't tell me. Long day at the office?