[Gojyo's fingers are warm and sure. Hakkai starts as they slide through his hair, and then relaxes, slowly, as his hands settle in place where Hakkai'd just been absently rubbing his own head. He's dizzy, tense, confused and annoyed at himself for not noticing his impairment until it was too late to stop it from being this incapacitating. And his head does ache, although, really, it's no more than a mild annoyance as pain goes -- but despite all that, the touch is still very nice.
Very nice and completely distracting. He vaguely considers pulling away (they're not in a safe place and he shouldn't be distracted) and lets his head fall forward instead, closing his eyes and making a vague sound of assent to Gojyo's question. He's already been drugged by the flowers, or whatever kind of spell is on them, and he can't quite line up enough arguments to convince him that it's a bad enough idea.
Not, at least, until his awareness of Gojyo's hands in his hair, cradling his head, flashes over into embarrassing sensuality. Goosebumps prickle the fine hairs across the back of his neck, half-hidden in the longer hair that he hasn't gotten around to having trimmed back to his usual style, but unmissably right under Gojyo's thumbs, and Hakkai freezes in place. They're in the middle of a crowd: this is not the time for the pleasant shiver working its way down his spine or the abrupt twitch of interest lower down as, suddenly, the scent of Gojyo's skin seems far more intriguing than the overpowering odor of the flowers.
Very carefully, he leans away. Not at all the time or place. Decidedly not. He has to swallow before he can trust his voice, and even then, it sounds a little low, the tone less cautiously restrained than the words.]
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Very nice and completely distracting. He vaguely considers pulling away (they're not in a safe place and he shouldn't be distracted) and lets his head fall forward instead, closing his eyes and making a vague sound of assent to Gojyo's question. He's already been drugged by the flowers, or whatever kind of spell is on them, and he can't quite line up enough arguments to convince him that it's a bad enough idea.
Not, at least, until his awareness of Gojyo's hands in his hair, cradling his head, flashes over into embarrassing sensuality. Goosebumps prickle the fine hairs across the back of his neck, half-hidden in the longer hair that he hasn't gotten around to having trimmed back to his usual style, but unmissably right under Gojyo's thumbs, and Hakkai freezes in place. They're in the middle of a crowd: this is not the time for the pleasant shiver working its way down his spine or the abrupt twitch of interest lower down as, suddenly, the scent of Gojyo's skin seems far more intriguing than the overpowering odor of the flowers.
Very carefully, he leans away. Not at all the time or place. Decidedly not. He has to swallow before he can trust his voice, and even then, it sounds a little low, the tone less cautiously restrained than the words.]
Thank you. That's better.