𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 // Akaza x reader (+18)

Chapter 42 | Gravity 🍋

Not far. A few paces.

Enough to turn his body away from the water, though not completely. You feel the tension in him like a tether pulled taut.

You don't speak again.
Instead, you start to undress.

The air brushes bare skin as you peel away layers, one by one. It's not cold, summer still lingers in the soil, in the wind, but you feel the exposure all the same.
The shift from armed to unarmed. Dressed to bare. Hunter to hunted.

You step out of your uniform, folding it slowly beside a rock. The pond glints dark and clear ahead of you. Still shallow, still calm.

You know he's looking. Even if his eyes are turned away, even if he never moves, you feel it. Not like hunger. Not like threat. Like something older. Recognition. Memory.

You exhale slowly and step into the water. It's colder than you expect but not harsh. Not biting. More like a forgotten stream. One that once held spring and never learned how to fully turn bitter.

The chill climbs your skin in careful waves. Knees. Hips. Ribs. You move slowly, letting yourself acclimate. But even here, with the water rising around your shoulders, you can feel him. Presence like gravity. The stillness of a predator that hasn't chosen to strike. Or maybe already has.

You dip lower, until only your shoulders and collar remain above the waterline. The mountain is quiet. And yet everything inside you is loud.

You wonder what Akaza sees when he looks at you like this. Not the Slayer. Not the fighter. Just flesh. Breath. A being undone by water and silence and too many thoughts.

Hakuji, you think. The name, soft in your mind, tastes like something forbidden. Sweet. Sad. It slips through your thoughts like breath.
And somehow... it works like a command.

Because suddenly you feel him. The shift in the air. The disturbance in the water. The faint ripple, too gentle to be wind. He's behind you. No sound. No splash. But he's there.

You don't turn, not at first. Just listen to your own heart, to the silence between you, to the way the water shivers against your skin. Like something ancient stepping into firelight. No fabric. No separation. Just the shape of him, too close and impossibly still.

Then-
Warmth.

Not the heat of the sun, or summer, or even the water around you.
But him. Fingertips brush your hip beneath the surface. Barely. Just enough to feel the outline of his restraint.

Suddenly ... his lips. Soft. Slow. Hovering above the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. You freeze. Not in fear. In the weight of it.

The meaning.

He doesn't rush it. Doesn't deepen. Just breathes you in like he's been holding it for years. His hand settles, open and sure, at your waist. No pressure. Just a claim. A question.You don't answer aloud. Your breath leaves you in something that almost sounds like a sigh. You tilt your head, just slightly, baring your throat.

A kiss follows. Lower this time. Lingering. And he murmurs against your skin-low, hoarse:

"I shouldn't want this."

You close your eyes.

"Me neither."

He doesn't deny it. The hand on your hip tightens, just a little. His chest is against your back now, the full line of him molding to you in the quiet ripple of the water. One hand glides up - brushing under your ribs, pausing just beneath your breast. The lightest sweep of his thumb over your skin has your breath catching again, chest rising into the touch before you can stop yourself.