[. . . what the fuck. cute. cute?? Minato does his best to feign impassivity, but the scarlet painting his cheeks, the flutter of his eyelids, the bow of his head. . . it all speaks of anything but. Akira's heart flutters, more heat sparking to life in his veins, coursing through him in a pleasant wave]
[he wants to see. to touch, to feel, to taste, to hear those familiar sounds of pleasure and need tumble from Minato's lips. but he doesn't finish that thought aloud as he surges forward to press a light kiss against the corner of the other Wild Card's mouth (the only part of his lips Akira can reach, head turned as it is), fingers finally brushing up against what Minato wants the most. curling tightly around heated, hardened skin, wasting no time in gliding down and then up again to start stoking those first few embers of pleasure]
no subject
[his grin widens. impish. mischievous. unashamedly hungry]
. . . I want to—
[he wants to see. to touch, to feel, to taste, to hear those familiar sounds of pleasure and need tumble from Minato's lips. but he doesn't finish that thought aloud as he surges forward to press a light kiss against the corner of the other Wild Card's mouth (the only part of his lips Akira can reach, head turned as it is), fingers finally brushing up against what Minato wants the most. curling tightly around heated, hardened skin, wasting no time in gliding down and then up again to start stoking those first few embers of pleasure]