[ His hands fall away to let Satoru pull off his shirt, gaze tracing down his neck and torso. The sight is nothing new—he's seen Satoru in all types of undress in their three years living in the dorms—but it's different when he thinks of him as something to desire, and to want.
Different, but remarkably easy. ]
Huh?
[ He gets his hands back on him as soon as he's given the chance, fingers moving down the centre of his chest to his navel before he looks back at Satoru, hair mussed from removing his shirt and... He's hot.
Eventually, the question sinks in, and he blinks, looking once again to the door and back to Satoru. ]
They don't have locks. [ It's a summer camp, so. ] Is that a problem?
[ Realistically, if either of them were to have an issue with it, it would be him, but he really doesn't care right now. ]
no subject
Different, but remarkably easy. ]
Huh?
[ He gets his hands back on him as soon as he's given the chance, fingers moving down the centre of his chest to his navel before he looks back at Satoru, hair mussed from removing his shirt and... He's hot.
Eventually, the question sinks in, and he blinks, looking once again to the door and back to Satoru. ]
They don't have locks. [ It's a summer camp, so. ] Is that a problem?
[ Realistically, if either of them were to have an issue with it, it would be him, but he really doesn't care right now. ]