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Oct. 10th, 2009 08:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8cha"So?" Yukimura looked at Yanagi and Sanada from his position on the couch. Sanada sat ass backwards on his chair in the dining room, he faced the living room and conveniently the couch. Sanada's eyes were closed as Yanagi kneaded his shoulders. Yukimura could easily sense the dull contentment coming from Sanada as Yanagi's strong hands pressed away all the tension. Yukimura knew that Yanagi and Sanada could also sense the warmth sliding through his veins from the brandy he had drunk after dinner.
"So?" Yanagi questioned, teasingly. The answer floated like a leaf on the pond of his mind, should Seiichi want to fish it out. Instead Yukimura waited. "Akaya is increasingly frustrated with our guest."
Sanada grunted, his head bowed forward when Yanagi's hands applied pressure to an intensely tight spot. "Mmm. Kirihara gets frustrated too easily."
"Be that as it may." Yukimura rolled elegantly off the couch. "Hiyoshi is a Hyotei psychic, if he killed Atobe then he must be relatively strong." Yukimura felt the tension returning to Sanada's shoulders and Yanagi's hands, their minds stiffening on the edges from an early frost. "He could be dangerous."
"Not to Kirihara." Sanada murmured huskily. He pushed himself up off the chair and past Yanagi. Yukimura stood with his hands at his sides and waited for Genichirou's passion to clash with his, sparks flying when they kissed and melted together. Yanagi was there then, soothing the edges of their mental confrontation and sliding the door to the bedroom open before they felt the need to break it down. Yukimura felt like there were hands everywhere, he could feel his own, and Yanagi's, and Sanada's. There were too many mouths, and not enough.
There was no thinking, only touch and taste and smell and the truest form of intimacy.
"So?" Yanagi questioned, teasingly. The answer floated like a leaf on the pond of his mind, should Seiichi want to fish it out. Instead Yukimura waited. "Akaya is increasingly frustrated with our guest."
Sanada grunted, his head bowed forward when Yanagi's hands applied pressure to an intensely tight spot. "Mmm. Kirihara gets frustrated too easily."
"Be that as it may." Yukimura rolled elegantly off the couch. "Hiyoshi is a Hyotei psychic, if he killed Atobe then he must be relatively strong." Yukimura felt the tension returning to Sanada's shoulders and Yanagi's hands, their minds stiffening on the edges from an early frost. "He could be dangerous."
"Not to Kirihara." Sanada murmured huskily. He pushed himself up off the chair and past Yanagi. Yukimura stood with his hands at his sides and waited for Genichirou's passion to clash with his, sparks flying when they kissed and melted together. Yanagi was there then, soothing the edges of their mental confrontation and sliding the door to the bedroom open before they felt the need to break it down. Yukimura felt like there were hands everywhere, he could feel his own, and Yanagi's, and Sanada's. There were too many mouths, and not enough.
There was no thinking, only touch and taste and smell and the truest form of intimacy.
