[ Barok doesn't think he remembers what it's like to breathe as the seconds tick by and Kazuma's presence pulls at him like the moon pulls the tides. They're alone in this crowded place, one secluded table facing away from the whole world.
Kazuma is a handsome man - he's thought so, shamefully, even when he was hidden under a mask. He'd discovered nothing but horror when the reveal of his identity had given context to that attraction. Once he'd looked at Kazuma's father with that same desire, only more naive and forward...
Genshin looks back at him from Kazuma's eyes. Genshin would never have said this to him. He was a married man, upright, decidedly heterosexual. Barok would have hidden his shame from him until the very end, content to simply glance at him from afar.
But Kazuma... Kazuma is here, insinuating. Kazuma isn't Genshin. The resemblance is purely physical - in personality, in drive and internal ugliness, Kazuma Asogi is much more reminiscent of Barok himself. Kazuma is no incorruptible image of purity, he is no idol on the altar. He is a man, tortured and wrong, and attractive and offering.
Barok's head is swimming. He stares down at their hands, not yet touching. His finger inches just a little closer, but he stops himself yet again.
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Kazuma is a handsome man - he's thought so, shamefully, even when he was hidden under a mask. He'd discovered nothing but horror when the reveal of his identity had given context to that attraction. Once he'd looked at Kazuma's father with that same desire, only more naive and forward...
Genshin looks back at him from Kazuma's eyes. Genshin would never have said this to him. He was a married man, upright, decidedly heterosexual. Barok would have hidden his shame from him until the very end, content to simply glance at him from afar.
But Kazuma... Kazuma is here, insinuating. Kazuma isn't Genshin. The resemblance is purely physical - in personality, in drive and internal ugliness, Kazuma Asogi is much more reminiscent of Barok himself. Kazuma is no incorruptible image of purity, he is no idol on the altar. He is a man, tortured and wrong, and attractive and offering.
Barok's head is swimming. He stares down at their hands, not yet touching. His finger inches just a little closer, but he stops himself yet again.
He wants. ]
... please don't be cruel.
[ Oh, don't tempt him so, when he wants. ]