"Mn!" Clear shook a little as Aoba kneaded him through his trousers, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth twisting in a tiny, flustered frown. Normally his pants were roomy enough to form a large tent that, while obvious, left enough details to the imagination. When Aoba-san grasped him like that, though, the material was pulled flush to his length and he couldn't resist looking down between them, his forehead resting on Aoba's shoulder, to stare at the vulgar shape of his stiff erection as it pressed against his lover's fingers.

"Eeeeeh? It's dirty? B-But I never play with it! I don't touch it or do it to myself after I've thought about it! I always wait for Aoba-san to come home, so—haah—that's why…" he tried to explain, but the breathless way he'd said it made it clear he wasn't really apologizing. "After I've thought about it all day my body can't wait…"