[ It's almost certainly a somewhat absurd sight. Akira's wig probably contributes to it, something that Minato only remembers exists when his free hand curls against it in search of Akira's soft locks. The strands are a little too smooth and long to belong to other wild card, and that has Minato's eyes fluttering open again as an amused exhale makes it past his lips.
He gives it a careful tug, letting it fall loose from Akira before dropping it off to the side, hand immediately returning to curl his fingers in Akira's actual hair. And there it is, that tousled texture he'd acquainted himself with their last time.
While they both move slower, there isn't any less heat in the way Minato parts his lips to allow Akira in. And maybe this encounter could remain sweet and chaste. In spite of his earlier words, Minato would be wholeheartedly satisfied with that.
But then he's feeling a gentle pressure against his thigh -- it must be Akira's hand, palm flat against the fabric of his dress. It roams southward, before slipping beneath the skirt, deft fingers running along his white thigh-high socks. While the rest of his outfit was unusually modest for the resort, the socks are trimmed with ribbon and lace. Perhaps the outer attire was subterfuge after all, concealing something more in line with the resort's typical antics.
He can't help the amused smile curving on his lips. Really? Is that the next piece of clothing Akira wanted to peel off him? Minato gets the message loud and clear, shifting from his knees to sit properly on the floor, the hand at Akira's chest sliding up to start loosening a black tie. ]
no subject
He gives it a careful tug, letting it fall loose from Akira before dropping it off to the side, hand immediately returning to curl his fingers in Akira's actual hair. And there it is, that tousled texture he'd acquainted himself with their last time.
While they both move slower, there isn't any less heat in the way Minato parts his lips to allow Akira in. And maybe this encounter could remain sweet and chaste. In spite of his earlier words, Minato would be wholeheartedly satisfied with that.
But then he's feeling a gentle pressure against his thigh -- it must be Akira's hand, palm flat against the fabric of his dress. It roams southward, before slipping beneath the skirt, deft fingers running along his white thigh-high socks. While the rest of his outfit was unusually modest for the resort, the socks are trimmed with ribbon and lace. Perhaps the outer attire was subterfuge after all, concealing something more in line with the resort's typical antics.
He can't help the amused smile curving on his lips. Really? Is that the next piece of clothing Akira wanted to peel off him? Minato gets the message loud and clear, shifting from his knees to sit properly on the floor, the hand at Akira's chest sliding up to start loosening a black tie. ]
...does this mean you're a leg person, Akira?