NB: I needed the f-word here. Apologies. Another pertinent f-word is fanservice.
Akari is absolutely fucking beautiful when he comes apart.
Hirato's long suspected this—as long as he's been acquainted with fae eyes and pale, almost luminescent skin. In fact, much of his teasing is resultant of a desire to see a tinge of pink alight porcelain cheeks or a spark of red flare in opal irises. Naturally, the physician is most stunning at the apex of pleasure, all pretense of collectedness abandoned, his strawberry blond hair a tousled mess and that ruby gaze clouded by unadulterated want. The commander finds this incredibly alluring—most especially when effected by his own persuasive facility. It's a craving, and nothing satisfies quite like seducing Akari at work.
With this salacious objective, Hirato visits his lover's office. Initially he waits silently, watching deft fingers glide across a keyboard at superhuman speed.
"What do you want?" The doctor's tone is characteristically brusque.
The brunet would taunt, but he prefers to dismantle that trademark professionalism by other means. "To watch you work."
Steady staccato typing halts briefly as Akari registers the subtext. "Not a chance. You can see I'm busy, right?"
The captain doesn't respond, but a soft rustle indicates that he's taken off his overcoat. This is made abundantly clear when it lands squarely atop the desk, spilling lab reports across the keyboard.
The blond sighs exasperatedly and neatly folds the coat over his chair. "Do you imagine throwing your clothes at me will divest me of mine?"
"Yes," Hirato's lips curve in pure deviltry. "I do." And having secured the other's attention even fleetingly, he tugs at his gloves… with his teeth.
"Nice try," Akari says dryly. "But I've seen anime characters do that more seductively." He resumes working.
Discarded gloves fall on the physician's hands, and while shifting them aside, he's distracted by their warmth. Consequently, and very much without his permission, his mind recalls that delicious warmth traversing his skin. He falters for a breath and immediately curses himself. Experience has taught him that Hirato can read intent in the slightest hesitation. Even so, such frivolity is out of the question. He marshals his concentration and continues clicking away, attempting in vain to corral thoughts that have strayed to the shameless bastard before him.
Ostensibly nothing's changed. But the brunet feels tension gathering. He smirks.
Graceful fingers have slipped around narrow silk when a voice cuts through the haze, clean and sharp. "Remove that, and I will restrain you with it." The blond's attention doesn't waver from the computer screen, but a slight blush colors the tip of his nose.
The next article of clothing pitched in Akari's direction is a necktie.
Hours later, Hirato remains convinced that the most exquisite thing he's ever witnessed is Akari's composure dissolving, each new instance more addictive than the last.