The only one I was focused on was you. [ Well -- in the way that they're discussing, at any rate. He's had sex, he's fucked around, and before the first time he met Akechi maybe he thought about finding someone cute in Tokyo to settle down with who wouldn't believe the rumors about him.

Which was sort of accurate, save that he thought he'd find someone considerably more domestic and -- now that he's used to Akechi -- boring. Akira reaches up, pulls just light enough at the scarf that one of the bruises can be made out. With everything else, it looks like it really could just be a hickey from an overly enthusiastic lover. ]

I'm not embarrassed of any of the marks you've given me. Don't mistake discretion for your sake for anything else. [ Akira is heated, but not because he's angry -- he's heated because he wants to convey it to Akechi, to drill it in as best he can that he wants him. He's kind to Akechi, he fusses over Akechi, and he absolutely wants to bend Akechi in half and fuck him until he begs, and he doesn't feel like any of these thoughts are incongruous with the others.

Akira reaches out again, hovers a hand at Akechi's stomach, the pressure just light enough to be felt through the hoodie. ]

You just have to ask. [ Which is a promise, of sorts. He'd warned Akechi that he would punch him last time and Akechi had egged him on, and so he'd done it; he thinks that kind of thing must be hard for Akechi, must be hard to talk about, to want.

But god, Akira wants Akechi to want it, wants Akechi to understand even a fraction of what Akira feels all the time.

He pushes away, regardless, his hand lingering a little too hard on Akechi's stomach. ]

You're right, though. We should beat the morning rush.