[it's only a brief glimpse. a flash of something hiding underneath the layers of Minato's costume. and he only catches the edges of it, with the majority of the bruise still covered with white fabric. but as Minato smooths his collar past his collarbone, as Akira leans in to untie that sash and free the apron from around the other Wild Card's waist. . . his gaze is instinctively drawn towards the remnants of their last encounter. lightly faded black and blue marks that stand out starkly against Minato's skin, dark enough to linger even this long after their late night rendezvous at the Beak]
[. . .]
[. . . Akira's breath catches in his throat, lungs stuttering in his chest, pulse skittering]
[. . .]
[and then another slow grin works its way onto his features, but not until Minato hooks his chin across his shoulder, leaning against him so comfortably that Akira may be mistaken for a pillow]
I think I'd have fun with it, actually.
[he has to admit. . . even if it's dumb that the house is kind of forcing this onto them by enchanting their costumes, it is-- or could be??-- pretty alluring foreplay. and with that admission hanging in the air, Akira leans back, taking the loose apron with him, bundling the fabric in between his leather-clad fingers]
love u pq... my favorite persona crossover games...
[it's only a brief glimpse. a flash of something hiding underneath the layers of Minato's costume. and he only catches the edges of it, with the majority of the bruise still covered with white fabric. but as Minato smooths his collar past his collarbone, as Akira leans in to untie that sash and free the apron from around the other Wild Card's waist. . . his gaze is instinctively drawn towards the remnants of their last encounter. lightly faded black and blue marks that stand out starkly against Minato's skin, dark enough to linger even this long after their late night rendezvous at the Beak]
[. . .]
[. . . Akira's breath catches in his throat, lungs stuttering in his chest, pulse skittering]
[. . .]
[and then another slow grin works its way onto his features, but not until Minato hooks his chin across his shoulder, leaning against him so comfortably that Akira may be mistaken for a pillow]
I think I'd have fun with it, actually.
[he has to admit. . . even if it's dumb that the house is kind of forcing this onto them by enchanting their costumes, it is-- or could be??-- pretty alluring foreplay. and with that admission hanging in the air, Akira leans back, taking the loose apron with him, bundling the fabric in between his leather-clad fingers]
What about you?