[. . . heh. the way Minato's gaze bashfully flickers away is. . . charming. Akira feels a swell of heat bubble to life in his stomach as he watches, satisfaction lacing every corner of his smile, which now edges on precipice of a self-satisfied smirk. smug asshole!1]

[a hum vibrates across the skin of Minato's lower thigh, before Akira draws his lips further up, scattering a few more warm, lingering-yet-gentle, kisses in his wake. the hand at the back of Minato's knee glides downward, now tracing the curves of Minato's calves, his touch just as reverent as Minato supposes. he is taking his time! drawing things out!! lingering on the before instead of swiftly charging towards the after. it's a sharp juxtaposition to how heated and frantic their last encounter had been]

I don't say things unless I mean them. Mmm. . . I think you know me well enough by now to understand that.

[one last kiss is pressed against Minato's upper thigh, right on the edge of indecency. . . before Akira finally draws back, shifting his attention to the other leg, still clad in a thigh-high sock as it is]

[. . .]

[and a lacy garter. Akira inhales a sharp breath, letting it out as a small laugh as he plucks at that particular piece of delicate fabric between his fingers]

Huh. I suppose the costume department really did know what it was doing.