[ Of course, in his halted movements, Masamune turns around. Curiosity is a dangerous thing, but it's inevitable, all the same.
He watches, and while he can't say he knows the feeling he's experiencing well enough to pinpoint it, everything unfolding as it does seems to be a bit hypnotic. Is it Gilgamesh's movements, then, or his eyes, or something else...?
Whatever it is, he has no chance to clearly assess it. Even with time seeming to stop when his head is forced back and he's staring into those eyes, all he can managed is the thought recognizing that his chest pounding just a little harder than it should be in an anxious sort of anticipation.
The taste of the cherry on his tongue and meshing along into saliva is what snaps him back to the reality—or at least as much of a reality as this instant could possibly be to him. Masamune cringes at the taste, at the grip on him and at fingers sinking into his hair. He's not used to being on the receiving end of this-- of the other party having the control.
That silent question beats loud in his own ears: what will he do now? Masamune admits he isn't quite sure... but he'll have to begin somewhere. He'll start with first things first: using his tongue to try and rather forcefully push the fruit back into Gilgamesh's mouth. What Gilgamesh planned by using the cherry, he has no idea, but Masamune-- as taken with the king he is already becoming --will not accept the sweet unless he absolutely has to. If he has to use his own tongue to manually shove it down the back of Gilgamesh's throat in order to succeed, he will.
It's the principle of the thing. He won't suddenly take what he claimed dislike for just because Gilgamesh is the one giving it to him.
One hand moves to catch Gilgamesh's jaw, the other curling into the front of his top in an attempt to give himself more leverage. Considering he's having to practically push back up in his position and fight gravity along with Gilgamesh, any help is better than nothing.
Just watch me.
What better way to find out the truth of the answer, anyway? ]
[Gilgamesh, perhaps surprisingly, doesn't resist him. With the cherry shoved back past his lips, his teeth come down in a single swift motion to tear it apart. The juices trail from the corner of his mouth, along his chin, and it makes for a beautiful sort of image that one might think to frame; beautiful and terrifying, given what it seems to suggest will follow. He stares with those bottomless eyes, hangs in his grip, once more leaves Masamune in suspense.
And then the moment fades and he's grabbing for the hand buried in his shirt, asserting his full height as well as his superior strength. The authoritativeness has returned; this Gilgamesh Masamune knows better, will recognize immediately. The King upon his throne, ushering commands of his favored pet.]
If you so revile possession, then throw me down, and...
[Gilgamesh turns his head to the fingers gripping his jaw. He bites. Masamune bleeds.]
...claim me for yourself, if you can.
[His tongue just barely grazes the small spot of red, breath coming in purposeful little puffs, hah, hah, hah. Even the surest of higher faiths would be tested now.]
[ Throughout all of their encounters, there has never been a time Gilgamesh hasn't managed to surprise him. It's been a different story for things that truly are not expected. Him not resisting and clamping down on the cherry is one of them. Masamune has never jerked back physically so fast-- or, at least, he has never tried to before. The strength he's dealing with doesn't allow that to quite all happen.
By the time he's past dealing with the shock-- or maybe it's merely the awe at the simple difference in power and control he is dealing with --of being bitten, of bleeding, and of the soft swipe felt by the other's tongue, Masamune's expression is a mix that is mostly unreadable. The only exception is the intimidation that is becoming muddied with growing influence indignation as he consciously refuses to allow himself to take his hand away just because he's bleeding (because it's a useless gesture). ]
Your arrogance—
[ He practically hisses out his words more than speaks them clearly.
(Can it really be simple arrogance when he has strength and control to back it all up?) ]
—Then, I'll say the last of it the same to you.
[ Letting go of Gilgamesh's chin he brings his hand to his mouth to take his own teeth and aggravate the injury-- to further exacerbate the flow of blood. Moving his hand back he deliberately makes the gesture to swipe his hand appropriately across skin; in order paint the blood against Gilgamesh's cheek, dragging it right to the corner of his mouth. The Date clan head won't be intimidated into submission or shy away from whatever the king tries to pull. ]
Do it if you can; or is it better to say 'if I let you'?
[ His boldness is always fueled by a furious response to his freedom. But, what he still doesn't seem to realize is that he's walked right into all of it and is very easily letting himself get pulled even further.
Of course, Masamune knows everything he says isn't possible. But that's also why he says it. He's intending to continue to bite the hand that feeds until the point where the line between impossible and possible blurs together.
He drags his bloodied fingers against the king's mouth in a strange contradictory gesture of being defiant to grant Gilgamesh a certain level of satisfaction and apparently giving him it all too willingly.
(That's the real problem, right? This is Gilgamesh's trump, this is a perfect demonstration proving him right: everything goes as it's supposed to, one way or the other.)
...Ah, wow. He really fucked himself over this time. ]
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He watches, and while he can't say he knows the feeling he's experiencing well enough to pinpoint it, everything unfolding as it does seems to be a bit hypnotic. Is it Gilgamesh's movements, then, or his eyes, or something else...?
Whatever it is, he has no chance to clearly assess it. Even with time seeming to stop when his head is forced back and he's staring into those eyes, all he can managed is the thought recognizing that his chest pounding just a little harder than it should be in an anxious sort of anticipation.
The taste of the cherry on his tongue and meshing along into saliva is what snaps him back to the reality—or at least as much of a reality as this instant could possibly be to him. Masamune cringes at the taste, at the grip on him and at fingers sinking into his hair. He's not used to being on the receiving end of this-- of the other party having the control.
That silent question beats loud in his own ears: what will he do now? Masamune admits he isn't quite sure... but he'll have to begin somewhere. He'll start with first things first: using his tongue to try and rather forcefully push the fruit back into Gilgamesh's mouth. What Gilgamesh planned by using the cherry, he has no idea, but Masamune-- as taken with the king he is already becoming --will not accept the sweet unless he absolutely has to. If he has to use his own tongue to manually shove it down the back of Gilgamesh's throat in order to succeed, he will.
It's the principle of the thing. He won't suddenly take what he claimed dislike for just because Gilgamesh is the one giving it to him.
One hand moves to catch Gilgamesh's jaw, the other curling into the front of his top in an attempt to give himself more leverage. Considering he's having to practically push back up in his position and fight gravity along with Gilgamesh, any help is better than nothing.
Just watch me.
What better way to find out the truth of the answer, anyway? ]
no subject
And then the moment fades and he's grabbing for the hand buried in his shirt, asserting his full height as well as his superior strength. The authoritativeness has returned; this Gilgamesh Masamune knows better, will recognize immediately. The King upon his throne, ushering commands of his favored pet.]
If you so revile possession, then throw me down, and...
[Gilgamesh turns his head to the fingers gripping his jaw. He bites. Masamune bleeds.]
...claim me for yourself, if you can.
[His tongue just barely grazes the small spot of red, breath coming in purposeful little puffs, hah, hah, hah. Even the surest of higher faiths would be tested now.]
no subject
By the time he's past dealing with the shock-- or maybe it's merely the awe at the simple difference in power and control he is dealing with --of being bitten, of bleeding, and of the soft swipe felt by the other's tongue, Masamune's expression is a mix that is mostly unreadable. The only exception is the intimidation that is becoming muddied with growing influence indignation as he consciously refuses to allow himself to take his hand away just because he's bleeding (because it's a useless gesture). ]
Your arrogance—
[ He practically hisses out his words more than speaks them clearly.
(Can it really be simple arrogance when he has strength and control to back it all up?) ]
—Then, I'll say the last of it the same to you.
[ Letting go of Gilgamesh's chin he brings his hand to his mouth to take his own teeth and aggravate the injury-- to further exacerbate the flow of blood. Moving his hand back he deliberately makes the gesture to swipe his hand appropriately across skin; in order paint the blood against Gilgamesh's cheek, dragging it right to the corner of his mouth. The Date clan head won't be intimidated into submission or shy away from whatever the king tries to pull. ]
Do it if you can; or is it better to say 'if I let you'?
[ His boldness is always fueled by a furious response to his freedom. But, what he still doesn't seem to realize is that he's walked right into all of it and is very easily letting himself get pulled even further.
Of course, Masamune knows everything he says isn't possible. But that's also why he says it. He's intending to continue to bite the hand that feeds until the point where the line between impossible and possible blurs together.
He drags his bloodied fingers against the king's mouth in a strange contradictory gesture of being defiant to grant Gilgamesh a certain level of satisfaction and apparently giving him it all too willingly.
(That's the real problem, right? This is Gilgamesh's trump, this is a perfect demonstration proving him right: everything goes as it's supposed to, one way or the other.)
...Ah, wow. He really fucked himself over this time. ]
no subject