Hisame looks good in many things, best naked, but few things compare to his true love draped in the finest, most sluttiest silk. Itsuki think even his stupid older brother would be jealous, but then why wouldn’t he always be? Yakumo only has that second-hand gaijin following after him, and Shion always wears trousers and that chastely buttoned up jacket. No, when you are truly in love with someone (even if you usually show said devotion through barbs, denial, and the occasional tarty moment with an ugly girl), you wear something revealing. Seductive. Slutty.
“Run the plan past me one more time,” Hisame states, his voice dangerous low and his eyes narrowed oh-so-prettily.
“Of course, Hisa-chan!” His Hisame is always at his cutest when he is pretending to be annoyed! “You wanted us to break into this walled township here to rescue that stupid girl who tried to force herself on you. I came up with the idea of sneaking in with a group of pilgrims who are here for a vaguely kinky religious festival that we might just have to stick around for because I’ve heard that leaving with them is probably the only way to get out unnoticed as well.”
“Yes, I think I’ve got that,” Hisame’s voice is seductively gravelly. “Now, tell me. Which part of the plan involves me HAVING TO WEAR A KIMONO?!”
It hurts when Hisame thinks the worst of him. At least, it normally does. However, in his current state of unjustified anger Hisame is failing to notice that the already indecent slit in his kimono has slid open to his thigh. The effect is only slightly ruined by the fact Itsuki didn't think to ask Hisame to shave his legs.
“You do want to save her, don’t you?” He asks, a well practised hurt slipping into his gaze. He has to dip his head to hide his triumphant smile when Hisame looks aghast.
“I … of course!”
“And you can’t think of a better plan in the short amount of time we have?”
“It’s just … the kimono … I don’t understand-”
“So everything is perfect!” Itsuki proclaims with a wide smile, and he can see in Hisame’s eyes the exact moment he gives up. Although, on further inspection … “Well, almost perfect. Your obi isn’t quite straight. Here, let me fix it for you.” Itsuki moves forward, claiming all of Hisame’s personal space as his own as he smooths his hands over and around the sash to where it is hooked at the hollow of his back.
And Hisame is truly beautiful like this. The pale blue silk is woven through with shimmering silvers and purples, and it is all that Itsuki can do to keep himself from tracing his fingers over the intricate brocade that extends all the way up across his hips before dipping suggestively at his collarbone. Leaning in against Hisame is almost enough, as the material brushes against his arms, his shoulders, his chest as he adjusts the obi.
“There,” he murmurs, so close now that they’re breathing the same air. Hisame looks dazed, and his hands have fallen onto Itsuki’s shoulders almost on their own free will. A hint of something flickers in his eyes, and then Hisame is abruptly moving away, stomping off with such inelegance that he somehow manages to make the kimono even prettier.
“I heard there is also a little bakery in there that is supposed to make the most delicious treats. I can buy you some if you like?”
Hisame stops mid-stomp, a thoughtful air to him that makes him tantalising available for almost anything.
“We rescue Chica first,” Hisame allows, albeit reluctantly.
Itsuki smirks in glee. Suddenly the girl is much less appetising.
“It’s a date!”
“Wait, what?! Itsuki!”