[ Akira waits when he feels the fingers on his shirt, but there's no tapping, just that desperate clinging accompanied by the sound of Akechi keening, too high and too much and everything all at once. It's overwhelming and addictive at the same time, and Akira gives them both a chance to breathe for a few seconds before he starts again, dragging his lips across Akechi's neck. He reaches up, presses his other hand against Akechi's mouth -- he loves hearing every noise he makes but not now when getting caught is a quiet thrill and a dull terror in equal parts. Once that's accomplished, he leans in to sink his teeth onto Akechi's collarbone. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to raise a welt to the surface, to leave a mark even after their hour is up.
He doesn't move his legs, save to bracket Akechi's like he's trapping him there -- he isn't, but he thinks the effect is better, and it's keeping him from acting on his desire to slip a knee between Akechi's thighs.
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He doesn't move his legs, save to bracket Akechi's like he's trapping him there -- he isn't, but he thinks the effect is better, and it's keeping him from acting on his desire to slip a knee between Akechi's thighs.
Too much, too fast, and not enough all at once. ]