(When he holds him, he thinks how different it is. It isn't firm or heavy like one would normally carry a sword. Aki holds him gently but like he's precious but it's different from the other times Tsurumaru has been held. He's been handled carefully and delicately before. He is, after all, a treasured item. But no, Aki holds him sweetly, like he's not just some precious thing.
It's so comfortable here. He's been in this position before and it feels so natural. The way he settles on his lap, the way he wraps his arm around him, holds him... like he fits; like he doesn't belong just at his side but with all of him.)
Hold me.
(Keep holding him like this.)
Care for me.
(In more ways than just clove oil and fine paper and polishing cloths. With warm touches, with soft kisses, with heated moments, and with beautiful words. Not locked up in a case or put up on display but handled lovingly but outside and in private.)
Call me yours.
(Not his belonging. Not his property. Not just a sword. His lover. His heart. His heart feels full, his heart feels like it's flying. There's an ache that tugs at it and his vision begins to sparkle at the edges and his voice feels tight in his throat. He's certain that he's happy but he feels like he could cry.)
Even if I'm like this... (Not human. Foreign. Strange. Different. Something dangerous. Something else.) ... Can I be yours?
(His spousal sword. His sword. His spouse. His heart. His?)
no subject
It's so comfortable here. He's been in this position before and it feels so natural. The way he settles on his lap, the way he wraps his arm around him, holds him... like he fits; like he doesn't belong just at his side but with all of him.)
Hold me.
(Keep holding him like this.)
Care for me.
(In more ways than just clove oil and fine paper and polishing cloths. With warm touches, with soft kisses, with heated moments, and with beautiful words. Not locked up in a case or put up on display but handled lovingly but outside and in private.)
Call me yours.
(Not his belonging. Not his property. Not just a sword. His lover. His heart. His heart feels full, his heart feels like it's flying. There's an ache that tugs at it and his vision begins to sparkle at the edges and his voice feels tight in his throat. He's certain that he's happy but he feels like he could cry.)
Even if I'm like this... (Not human. Foreign. Strange. Different. Something dangerous. Something else.) ... Can I be yours?
(His spousal sword. His sword. His spouse. His heart. His?)