[ Minato leans into the touch, his own forehead pressing against Akira's while eagerly soaking up the other's words: the sound of each syllable, the insatiable rasp in it, the stutter in each of Akira's breaths.
He's observed the hunger in Akira's eyes, the way they raked over and absorbed his appearance from head to toe. By now, it's become crystal clear to Minato that Akira is absolutely into the layers of cloth wrapped around his form.
And perhaps that's why a smile rests on his lips. It's true -- it's a little warm, but either way, everything that'll follow will inevitably send his body alight either way.
Minato closes some distance between the two of them, enough to brush the tips of their noses against each other, enough to hover just close enough for Akira to feel each breath against his lips. ]
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He's observed the hunger in Akira's eyes, the way they raked over and absorbed his appearance from head to toe. By now, it's become crystal clear to Minato that Akira is absolutely into the layers of cloth wrapped around his form.
And perhaps that's why a smile rests on his lips. It's true -- it's a little warm, but either way, everything that'll follow will inevitably send his body alight either way.
Minato closes some distance between the two of them, enough to brush the tips of their noses against each other, enough to hover just close enough for Akira to feel each breath against his lips. ]
...mm. No. Leave it on.