[He's drowning, he thinks, and he never wants to come up for air. Akira is this great wall in front of him, and he's pressed to the actual wall behind him, and the claustrophobia of it all just ramps up his inability to think outside of the contact, gasping for breath between short sounds. One of his hands moves from Joker's hip back to his shoulder, leaving him grasping him a bit like he's dancing.]
[He's pretty sure he's ruining Akira's gloves, but they'll be fine by cognition the next time they enter this place, just like the suit torn strategically to expose his own body. He clamps his mouth down around them, not enough to hurt, but enough to seal them there while he sucks on them blindly. The fingers aren't clean, he's sure of it, but he can't find it in himself to care as heat pools dangerously in the pit of his stomach. He has the presence of mind to tug on Akira's shoulder, whining faintly around his gloved fingers, but he can't manage much else.]
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[He's pretty sure he's ruining Akira's gloves, but they'll be fine by cognition the next time they enter this place, just like the suit torn strategically to expose his own body. He clamps his mouth down around them, not enough to hurt, but enough to seal them there while he sucks on them blindly. The fingers aren't clean, he's sure of it, but he can't find it in himself to care as heat pools dangerously in the pit of his stomach. He has the presence of mind to tug on Akira's shoulder, whining faintly around his gloved fingers, but he can't manage much else.]