[Akechi's breath hitches out of reflex when Akira's fingers find their way against his neck, thumbs playing with the sensitive spots. The keen red eyes are sharp and focused solely on the ocean of the grey in front of him. And then, he carefully adds more pressure with his hand, the tips of his fingers pressing down harder.

His heartbeat picks up the pace, beating with more fervor than before. Akira ought to feel it under his own fingers]

So you're saying that you wouldn't feel any hostility or hurt towards me if you were the one carrying bullet wound on your body? If I had destroyed you and your friends.