[It's incredible how Eren takes to the game in only a few hits, only a couple misses.
Every movement is noted, every action watched. Akechi's gaze fixates on Eren's firm grip around the cue, the intentional way he pushes forward, the way his body nestles against the tabletop and-
He stays silent, side pressed into the wooden edge and only moves when the ball hits the pocket. When it's time for his turn and he needs to line up his own win from Eren's other side.
The journey is made with the small of Eren's back as a guide. Akechi's hand falls to his hip, a phantom touch across fabric, over spine. It's over in a second - when the game continues and Akechi bends over the table to take his turn. He aims, hits one of his own that slams into another - the setup made at the beginning of the game. Two balls rest at the edge of a pocket. Akechi will put in both at once, just the way he likes it.]
What will you do next, Eren? I'm on the edge of my seat thinking about your every move.
[That ghost of a touch is enough. Eren feels like he could explode, take the building and Akechi with him. He sucks in a sharp, quiet breath, his grip tightening around the base of his cue. He's entirely at Akechi's mercy, losing every game, never all that skilled with strategy when brunt force will do just fine.
[That's what he wants. For Akechi to quit flirting and bend him over the damn table.
[He shoots a curse at the ground, then lines up another shot, careless, aggressive. The cue ball splits two others - one, Akechi's, into a pocket, and the other, Eren's, into the opposite pocket.]
It almost doesn't matter. Akechi decides the truth. The game is only fun when there's a challenge and Eren's looking to lower the stakes.
All at once, Akechi looks annoyed. What's the penalty? spoken like it's a reward. There's no way he'll give an inch. He wraps both arms around his chest, lets the cue rest in the crook of his arm.
What's the penalty? ignored. Maybe that's the real punishment.]
Do better. You aren't careless - stop acting like it.
[Just like that, Akechi manages to ruin his own fun. Eren wasn't throwing the game - just the same hot-headed kid who likes to flip the board when he's not winning.
[Imagine that.
[He would have kept playing anyway - will, indeed, decide later to return on his own and practice until he can pocket a shot and jab Akechi in the gut with his cue at the same time.
[Not right now. He stands up, an icy glare on his face. He shouldn't have let himself get swept up in this bullshit in the first place; made a fool of in a public place.]
You piss me the fuck off.
[He checks his shoulder while he's walking out of the bar.]
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Every movement is noted, every action watched. Akechi's gaze fixates on Eren's firm grip around the cue, the intentional way he pushes forward, the way his body nestles against the tabletop and-
He stays silent, side pressed into the wooden edge and only moves when the ball hits the pocket. When it's time for his turn and he needs to line up his own win from Eren's other side.
The journey is made with the small of Eren's back as a guide. Akechi's hand falls to his hip, a phantom touch across fabric, over spine. It's over in a second - when the game continues and Akechi bends over the table to take his turn. He aims, hits one of his own that slams into another - the setup made at the beginning of the game. Two balls rest at the edge of a pocket. Akechi will put in both at once, just the way he likes it.]
What will you do next, Eren? I'm on the edge of my seat thinking about your every move.
cw: nsfw TALK!!!
[That's what he wants. For Akechi to quit flirting and bend him over the damn table.
[He shoots a curse at the ground, then lines up another shot, careless, aggressive. The cue ball splits two others - one, Akechi's, into a pocket, and the other, Eren's, into the opposite pocket.]
Don't give me any breaks. [He growls it.]
What's the penalty?
we can wrap this <3
Whether it was or wasn't-
It almost doesn't matter. Akechi decides the truth. The game is only fun when there's a challenge and Eren's looking to lower the stakes.
All at once, Akechi looks annoyed. What's the penalty? spoken like it's a reward. There's no way he'll give an inch. He wraps both arms around his chest, lets the cue rest in the crook of his arm.
What's the penalty? ignored. Maybe that's the real punishment.]
Do better. You aren't careless - stop acting like it.
they're the worst type of people
[Imagine that.
[He would have kept playing anyway - will, indeed, decide later to return on his own and practice until he can pocket a shot and jab Akechi in the gut with his cue at the same time.
[Not right now. He stands up, an icy glare on his face. He shouldn't have let himself get swept up in this bullshit in the first place; made a fool of in a public place.]
You piss me the fuck off.
[He checks his shoulder while he's walking out of the bar.]