[when he was only a sword, there was no need for the concept of trust. whoever wielded you was the one to wield you - and there was the end of that. there was no choice, no feeling to the matter, it simply was. it's in this moment, where hizamaru so willingly bares his neck to higekiri and yet still melts into the kiss after that even his old soul starts to truly know what it means to trust entirely.
it makes him sigh against hizamaru's lips even as he eases himself on top of him, fingers on one hand curling around his hip, the other tangling into his hair as he just barely holds himself above him before the blood drawn on his chest manages to get on him too.
he pulls back eventually - but just so that he can clean up his mess, letting his tongue lave over the fresh lines that he'd carved over his heart. for a sword, it's a familiar enough taste. when he speaks, it's just a murmur against hizamaru's skin]
no subject
it makes him sigh against hizamaru's lips even as he eases himself on top of him, fingers on one hand curling around his hip, the other tangling into his hair as he just barely holds himself above him before the blood drawn on his chest manages to get on him too.
he pulls back eventually - but just so that he can clean up his mess, letting his tongue lave over the fresh lines that he'd carved over his heart. for a sword, it's a familiar enough taste. when he speaks, it's just a murmur against hizamaru's skin]
Shall I have you now?