[Grey barely has time to register his growing hunger at the sight of Manabu's bared skin before Manabu's tossing more fuel onto the fire by slipping his hands under Grey's shirt. Grey groans at the touches against his torso, shifting and arching into the touch as best he can.
When he notices the touch moving upwards and the fabric of his shirt riding up along with it he makes a few mental connections and obligingly raises his own arms.]
no subject
When he notices the touch moving upwards and the fabric of his shirt riding up along with it he makes a few mental connections and obligingly raises his own arms.]
You want this off, do you?