( it's not as though makoto's own experience with tactility and physicality has robbed it of its sway and importance — if anything, he knows just how stark and influential the difference can be when it is the type that is produced, sold, and traded recklessly versus that which is shared with one that actually strikes through all of the layers of pretense to get at the very heart of you. when he had worked for datenshou, makoto had been very good at his job. a great deal of that hadn't had anything to do with sex, though — the novelty of something like that could be lost very easily, especially considering this body of his had been far more fragile than many of the others under datenshou's employ. no, he had kept a long list of regular and influential clients because he knew how to play them. he knew how to make anyone feel as though they existed at the gravitational center of his attention when his time was theirs.
and he had only been able to do that by careful mental transposition, subtracting out whoever it was his client was and replacing them with J.
the faintest brush of the man's touch and attention had always been enough to demand such a strong response from him, both physically and emotionally, that he had many times wondered if it were some spell that he had cast over him. but maybe that is just love — a blessing, a curse. he, of course, does not feel the same for dextera; makoto thinks it's impossible for him to feel that way about anyone else. but there is a warmth and a fondness that stirs within the cavern of his chest as the young man leans into his touch. he isn't entirely sure what it is that he extracts from these gestures of theirs, but he hopes he finds some solace in it. it might not be what makoto intends, but... he believes dextera is deserving. whatever it was that he wanted, he would give to him, because dextera gives so much of himself to those around him in a sort of regurgitative inborn instinct that makoto cannot fathom. but he would at least see him repaid for it.
the idea of more Oracles (i typed moracles the first time...) beyond this one is an exhausting one. makoto frowns, his gaze falling downcast at the same time as his hand falls away from dextera's face.
he looks back up to him, expression carefully placid in the way that prove it's an active decision he is making, ) You want me by your side in this conflict, ( he begins, and then his face splits into a wounded smile, ) but how am I supposed to even conceive of that if the end result is all of us returning to be sequestered within our own worlds...? Would I ever see you again?
( well, as far as he's aware, they have no idea about how any of that might actually go down if or when they get to that point. this is an assumption, but he feels it's just as dangerous to assume otherwise. )
no subject
and he had only been able to do that by careful mental transposition, subtracting out whoever it was his client was and replacing them with J.
the faintest brush of the man's touch and attention had always been enough to demand such a strong response from him, both physically and emotionally, that he had many times wondered if it were some spell that he had cast over him. but maybe that is just love — a blessing, a curse. he, of course, does not feel the same for dextera; makoto thinks it's impossible for him to feel that way about anyone else. but there is a warmth and a fondness that stirs within the cavern of his chest as the young man leans into his touch. he isn't entirely sure what it is that he extracts from these gestures of theirs, but he hopes he finds some solace in it. it might not be what makoto intends, but... he believes dextera is deserving. whatever it was that he wanted, he would give to him, because dextera gives so much of himself to those around him in a sort of regurgitative inborn instinct that makoto cannot fathom. but he would at least see him repaid for it.
the idea of more Oracles (i typed moracles the first time...) beyond this one is an exhausting one. makoto frowns, his gaze falling downcast at the same time as his hand falls away from dextera's face.
he looks back up to him, expression carefully placid in the way that prove it's an active decision he is making, ) You want me by your side in this conflict, ( he begins, and then his face splits into a wounded smile, ) but how am I supposed to even conceive of that if the end result is all of us returning to be sequestered within our own worlds...? Would I ever see you again?
( well, as far as he's aware, they have no idea about how any of that might actually go down if or when they get to that point. this is an assumption, but he feels it's just as dangerous to assume otherwise. )
And if Meridian fails?