Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is a new student who's been coming to Philosophy lecture, and he is driving Ryuji Sakamoto insane. 

The worst part is - he doesn't even know why! He can't figure out if it's his glasses, or his stupid, sure-of-himself attitude, or the way he carries himself, or - 

Or the way he smells .

Smells bother Ryuji sometimes, but this is… it's different, it's like he can't get it out of his head. Maybe a weird thing to fixate on, but Ryuji's life is chock-full of weird things that don't make sense. This strange fascination included - seriously, what is with this dude that makes him impossible to ignore? 

Mister messy-hair-and-glasses walks into the lecture hall right on time, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he sits and dammit there's that smell again, floating up the seats to where Ryuji sits haphazardly in the back row, legs up on his desk. It's like - it's like he can't help but stare , watching this guy twiddle his pencil, shift in his seat, cross and uncross his legs. 

He hardly ever talks yet he exudes such an… aura.  

“Ryuji.” 

Ryuji sighs. If only he could figure out why that smell is so… strangely familiar. 

“ Ryuji! ” 

He jumps, startled - he has to suppress a little yelp of surprise and pain when an elbow lodges itself firmly between his ribs. “Ow-” Ryuji hisses, whispering, “The hell, Ann?” 

Ann Takamaki has taken her seat next to him. They've known each other for a long, long time - since middle school, he's pretty sure - and Ryuji thinks she has only gotten more annoying and insufferable with age. He loves her, but holy shit . He's trying to concentrate here! Unpacking and examining his weird, personal urges is very important. 

Those urges used to be pointed in Ann’s direction, back in the day. That in and of itself took a whole lot of self-realization to get over, but nowadays she's less of an object of interest and more just a good - albeit naggy - friend. A friend who is currently seriously harshing his vibe. 

“The lecture’s about to start,” Ann hisses right back. “You want another chalk thrown at you? Pay attention!” 

“Alright, alright. Jeez. ” 

Ryuji rests his chin against his palm as the professor enters the room, droning on and on about the human condition; he wants to pay attention, he really does, this class is a requirement for every damn student trying to get a degree, but also Mysterious Guy in the first row is leaning forward, folding his hands together as he listens and just the smallest strip of his lower back is exposed when he does. Ryuji finds the lecture fading away from him, slowly fading into the back of his brain until he is just… openly staring at this strange dude, watching as he raises his hand in the air to ask a question. 

“Is this covered in the textbook?” He asks, his voice so quiet and unassuming. Yet, for some strange reason, that just makes him even more interesting. The way he carries himself, it's not like he's just some random kid. He's got style, he's got confidence. At least, that's what Ryuji sees as he narrows his eyes to try and get a better look. 

Ann whacks him on the head with her pen. “Stop being weird, ” She whispers, and Ryuji shakes his head to try and rid himself of his thoughts. 

“Sorry.”

Though, as they tend to do, his thoughts quickly begin to run away from him as his senses take over the space in his frontal lobe normally reserved for ‘boring school stuff’ and instead replace it with the near-maddening amount of stimulus that comes with something like college. 

He inhales deeply; sure, there's still the smell of new guy but there is also the aroma of about eight different brands of deodorant, the sharp smell of the hair product Ann uses. He can hear the incessant clicking of pens, the soft murmuring of the other students, the tapping of feet god that pen clicking is annoying. 

Ryuji pulls his hood up tightly over his head with a groan. It doesn't do much to mitigate the sound, but at least it's something. 

He has good days and bad days. Sometimes, busy lecture halls are completely manageable and he's able to focus without any problems. Other times, though, it feels like a million bees are trying to forcibly gain entry into Ryuji's head. Like now, for example. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t gone out in a while. 

He's not going to be able to focus worth a shit, that's for sure, but the strange scent wafting off of the guy in the first row at least serves as a good thing for Ryuji to anchor his senses on - at any rate, it’s better than hyperfocusing on the rotting banana in some girl's bag or the fact that one of the mean-looking students near the front definitely has cocaine in the second inner pocket of his jacket. 

“Hey, Ann?” He nudges her at a break in the lecture. Everyone's hurriedly writing down what's on the board; Ryuji’s of the mind to ‘work smarter, not harder’ and just takes a picture while the professor isn't looking. “Who's that new kid down in the first row?” 

“Huh?” Ann sits up a little, looking down across the various heads of the other students until she lands on mister-black-hair-and-scruffly. “You think I know every person who goes to this school?” 

“You work for the newspaper. So, yes? ” 

Ann rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a moment before she answers. “...His name is Akira Kurusu. He just moved here from out of town.” 

Akira Kurusu. Interesting. Ryuji’s not sure he’s ever heard of him before, but it does seem like he’s the kind of guy who likes keeping his head down. Even now, he looks like the perfect student - diligently taking notes, looking up at the board every now and then as the professor writes some more, pushing his glasses further up his slim nose.

Ryuji takes another picture of the board. “Is his name the only thing you know?” He asks, leaning towards Ann again. 

Ann gives him a look. “I know rumors, but I seriously doubt there’s any truth to them.” 

She clams up after that, damn her. Ryuji groans, nudging her ankle with his toe. “Come on, ” He urges, but she just huffs and turns her head away. “Tell me!” 

“I really shouldn’t spread gossip,” She mutters, a little more weakly this time. 

“Takamaki. You are literally the gossip queen,” Ryuji deadpans at her, poking her in the arm. “I’m not gonna tell anyone! Spill.” 

“ Ugggh. ” She throws her hands up in the air before making a dramatic show of collapsing on the desk, rolling her pen back and forth across her notebook with her index finger. “Fine. Apparently, he’s from a crime family. Like - y’know,” She half-covers her mouth, “ Yakuza? ” 

Oooh. That’s certainly a useful little nugget of information. Maybe that’s why Ryuji finds him so interesting? Wouldn’t explain the smell, but- “The mob, huh? How did those rumors start?”

Ann waves a hand with a shrug. “He’s got a motorcycle, I guess, and I think someone saw that he has a tattoo.” 

Ryuji huffs. “Why do people see tattoos and always assume a dude’s part of the Yakuza?” 

“We live in Japan, Ryuji. It’s not like all those shitty American movies you watch.” 

“Hey,” He’s genuinely offended now, hand layered over his chest. “ Pirates of the Caribbean is a perfectly respectable film franchise. Even if the Japanese translation sucks.” 

“Ryuji, just-” Ann buries her face in her arm, obviously attempting to check out of this conversation. “Pay attention to the damn lecture, you weirdo.” 

He tries. He is trying, but now that he knows that this mysterious new guy might be part of the mob? Ryuji’s fascination with him before was more weird because he couldn’t stop sniffing him out all over campus, but now he’s genuinely interested. He’s gotta know, right? Also - motorcycle? Ryuji definitely wants to see that. Kid must be loaded if his family can afford something like that. Unless… unless he stole it? He might have. Who knows? 

Ryuji’s mind runs away from him until the end of the lecture, less interested in thinking about the ‘cave’ or the ‘perils of existentialism’ and much more invested in coming up with theories about the origin of their strange new classmate. It occurs to him he learned approximately one useful thing about philosophy during the entire two hours he sat in this room, but… ah, who cares. 

Philosophy is about the human condition, right? That sort of thing shouldn’t even apply to him. 

When the professor opens the door and dismisses them all officially, Ryuji watches with narrowed eyes as the Kurusu guy gathers his things and leaves. Where is he going?  

Ryuji realizes that he could just… follow the dude. It’s not like it’s hard for him to slip by unnoticed most of the time. If he tails him, maybe he can figure out why the hell he smells so damn interesting , why he can’t get this guy out of his head. 

“Shit, Ann - I gotta go.” Ryuji gets up, shoving all his papers in his bag with little care for organization or tidiness. “We don’t have class tomorrow, so hit me up and we can study. Later!” 

“Wh- Ryuji! ” Ann protests loudly, but Ryuji’s already planting his ass on the railing of the lecture stands and sliding down to the ground level. When his feet hit linoleum, he takes off out the door at a dead sprint, nearly knocking over another kid in the process before he spots Akira’s black hair in the crowd. 

Play it cool, Ryuji thinks to himself, slowing down as they exit out into the courtyard. Akira beelines it to the bike lockup - and yeah, that’s a motorcycle, parked next to all the analog bikes and looking… shiny. Looking cool. 

“Cooool, ” Ryuji whispers, a little awed. He doesn’t know a lot about motorcycles, but this one is all steel and black, a large… box-like object on the back that he doesn’t recognize. It’s loud, too, loud enough to make him jump a little when the new guy slings his weight up onto it and turns the key. Shit, he’s gonna ride that thing away? Ryuji’s gonna have to-

The campus for the university is large - they have science and lab buildings, as well as a cafeteria - but the most notable part about this particular college is that it backs up against a nature preserve and park. It’s one of the reasons Ryuji even chose this college in the first place - it’s easy to hide, easy to keep a secret like the one he’s burdened with.

It may be a little obvious when he dives into the bushes, but the sound of the motorcycle’s engine drowns it out as he quickly abandons his schoolbag, his clothes (quick changes have been a normal part of his routine for the better part of his life). Looks like Akira is… getting his helmet on, his gloves, his jacket. It’s just enough time for Ryuji to hold his breath, close his eyes. 

When he opens them again, the world has changed subtly around him. He can’t see the deep reds of the sunset low in the sky anymore - replaced instead by a taupe green-gray. When he opens his mouth, breathes in, it’s like sensory overload. He can smell that strange scent that got him so interested in Akira Kurusu in the first place, the oil from the engine of the motorbike, the smell of a trash can sorely in need of emptying about fifty feet to his right. 

Ryuji crouches, new pointed ears twisting like satellite dishes as he waits to see what direction Akira takes off in. Motorcycles are fast, but Ryuji’s raced them before and won. He might not be able to run when he’s on two legs, but… 

Akira revs the engine. Ryuji hears much more than he sees the motorcycle roll away quickly in the direction of the park. Why’s he headed there? He wonders, but - there’s no time. If he’s gonna figure this guy out, he’s gotta go.  

So, Ryuji darts out of the bushes. He is careful to stay in the shadows until the campus ends and the park begins - better for students not to see him while he’s like this - but as soon as the sky is blotted out with tree cover, he sprints down the road without care or caution. He doesn’t need to see the bike. He can smell it, up ahead - all he has to do is follow his nose. 

Four large paws hit the ground in quick succession as the path turns from paved sidewalk to gravel road. Ryuji’s lungs expand and contract as he times his breathing to his sprint; it’s been a while since he’s ran like this and he had almost forgotten how good it feels. The wind in his fur, the sounds of nature in his ears, gritty dirt between his paw pads…

He really should do this more often. His mom wasn’t like him, but she always told Ryuji that she never wanted him to abandon this part of himself. Ryuji isn’t like his father, he’s never heard the call of the ‘wild’ or whatever mumbo jumbo had his dad running off the way he did, but… 

Right now? He feels free.  

Just a little closer - the motorcycle’s just up ahead, he’s almost there and then he can dive into the brush on the side of the path, watch from the shadows - 

Well, Ryuji Sakamoto was free. 

His world turns upside down without warning; Ryuji yelps with surprise, paws scrabbling the ground as some strange force lifts him into the air. His body twists with nothing for it to grab onto - as he wriggles, he realizes his leg is caught in something. Rope? A snare? His brainless sprint must have triggered it. 

Shit. Brainless indeed. You are an idiot, He tells himself, trying to twist his body in such a way that he can… gnaw the snare off or something. Frankly, it’s fruitless. Humans can bend that way. Wolves do not. And you’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.  

Hopefully, that day isn’t today, but unless he can transform back right now there might not be any getting out of this trap. Not to mention that guy is still out here somewhere, Ryuji can’t have him seeing that.  

“What do we have here?” 

Ryuji freezes. That’s his voice.

It’s not that unassuming, soft voice from the lecture, though. It’s… 

Okay, he’s baby-talking him like he’s a dog. Expected, probably, but it still makes Ryuji thrash and gnash his teeth. He’s not a dog. He’s a - 

“Hey, hey, hey-” A hand layers against his haunches, pats him gently. It’s a small balm but he’s still pissed. “You’re okay, bud. Let me see if I can get you down, alright?” 

Well, at least he’s being helpful. “Where did you come from, big guy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a stray dog like you out here.” 

I’m not a dog! Ryuji protests, but it’s not like the guy can hear him. His motorcycle is parked a few feet away - how didn’t he notice him turning back around? Did getting startled by the trap really dull his senses that much? He’s gotta up his game. 

Akira pulls a knife from his pocket, setting it firmly between his teeth as he looks up at the predicament Ryuji has found himself in. He can’t see much from where he’s dangling, but if he had to guess it’s a snare trap looped up into a branch - it must have held the noose down on the ground until he tripped it. So, when his rescuer hops up and climbs the tree from the back side, it’s not much of a surprise, though the speed at which he climbs is kind of impressive, up on the branch Ryuji is trapped on in a few seconds. Is the dude a cat or something? Now that would be his worst nightmare.

“Just need to cut this down,” He mumbles around his knife. Ryuji hears the sound of sawing, the fibers of the rope breaking, as his body jerks closer and closer to the ground… and finally, it snaps.

He’s free! Ryuji falls to the ground with a hard thump , kicking up dust in a little circle around him as he struggles to his feet. He hears someone else hit the ground a few feet away, and when he looks up he finds Akira dusting himself off as he stands to his full height. 

He’s tall, taller than Ryuji, he thinks - even when he’s on two legs. His hair is all messy from being inside that helmet of his - he’s still wearing leather gloves and a thick leather jacket as he stows his knife in his pocket. Honestly? He kind of reminds Ryuji of the protagonist of a cartoon, if only for a second. 

“Here, let me…” Akira reaches out to try and help Ryuji release his back foot from the snare loop, but he’s already nosed it off of his ankle and onto the ground. “...Oh. Smart dog.” 

Well. This has been nice, but Ryuji thinks that he’s had enough of following this dude for one day. Who the hell is setting up traps in the woods, anyways? Isn’t that, like, super illegal? They might catch something endangered by accident… 

Anyways. No time to ponder about that, it’s time to go home. Ryuji stretches his legs, turning to trot away, but then - 

A resistance. Something metal and round around his neck, tightening swiftly. 

Ah, shit.

“Hey, hey,” Akira’s face fills his vision. He looks…  worried, almost. Concerned. “Where are you running off to, boy? You don’t need to be scared.” 

I’m going HOME, dipshit! Ryuji struggles against the catch pole but it’s no use - he’s strong, but every time he moves the noose goes tighter and cuts off more of his airflow. Shit, shit, shit - this isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. Is he going to take him to the animal shelter? God fucking dammit, he’s already broken out of an animal shelter once and he does not want to do that again - 

Akira stands up once Ryuji gives in, crouching on the ground with hackles raised and teeth bared. Maybe if he’s scary enough, the guy will let him go..? Maybe he’ll realize he’s not a fucking dog?!

Fat chance of that happening. The guy simply looks back at his motorbike, checks his phone. “Hm. Shelter’s closed. Guess I’ll load you into the crate and take you back to my place…?” 

Is that what that big box on the back is? He’s not even sure he’ll fit in there - 

But then, Akira Kurusu is lifting all one-hundred-something pounds of him like he weighs practically nothing and squeezing him into the crate mounted on the back of his motorcycle. Or - attempting, rather, because Ryuji is a touch too big to fit completely. Best he can do is sit awkwardly, the pad on the bottom wrinkling a little under him as the metal bars of the crate groan under his weight. 

“Just stay put. Okay, bud? I don’t want you falling out.” 

Stop calling me that, Ryuji grumbles inwardly, baring his teeth at Akira. The guy just smiles like he’s seen this a thousand times before, and - 

It occurs to Ryuji where he’s smelled this smell before, the one that’s been making Akira so damn interesting.

The dog shelter. 

The guy must work there or something. Or, maybe he trains dogs? He smells like bacon-flavored dog treats and slobber now that Ryuji is up close enough to distinguish it from the other scents stuck to his clothes and hair. 

Well, at least he’s not taking him to the shelter now. He said he’s taking Ryuji back to his place - so, his apartment, probably? Ryuji can just sneak out, get home… 

He can’t stay fully transformed for long, though. And he abandoned his clothes in the bush. His phone and bag, too!

Is it illegal to run through the streets ass-naked in the middle of the night? He hopes not, because he might have to. God, I’m such an idiot.

“Hmm…” Ryuji jumps as a hand grazes over his side, scritches behind his ear and oh that’s nice. He has to suppress the urge to flop down towards that hand and thump his back leg against the floor of the too-small crate. Akira laughs a little. “Well, you’re acting all big and scary, but you’re pretty friendly. You’re in good shape, too. You have a home, boy?” 

Despite himself, Ryuji barks. Maybe he can convince the guy that he does not, actually, need rescuing. Getting freed from the trap was nice, but… he’s good now, he can find his own way home! He doesn’t need some human dude trying to dote on him and, god forbid, putting fliers up about him. 

Mom would kill him, if she was still around. 

Also - isn’t Akira supposedly part of the Yakuza? What if he - what if he sells dogs on the black market? What if he sells Ryuji off, once he finds out what he is? Puts him in a fighting ring, or, or - or makes him into some delicacy? He shivers at the thought. 

“Well. Let’s get you back to my place.” Akira puts his helmet back on, sliding onto the seat of his motorbike. “I’ll bring you to the shelter tomorrow, and we can see if anyone claims you, yeah?”

Ryuji growls, resting his head against the edge of the crate. 

This sucks.  

Akira, blessedly, drives nice and slow out of the park, through the courtyard. They definitely get some weird looks - Ryuji’s pretty sure he spots Ann with Makoto and Haru (a couple other friends of theirs), all stopping and staring as the guy rolls them right through campus and out onto the main road. Well - at least he’s not on two legs. Yet. He’s not sure how long he can stay like this. 

The main road is pretty empty - Ryuji’s no dog, but what canine worth his salt can resist the wind in his face? He sticks his head out the side, nose flooding with all sorts of smells as his fur is whipped by the air currents passing around them. Akira laughs ahead of him; a hand reaches back to pat his head and Ryuji has to force himself not to snap at it with irritation. 

“You’re okay, boy. Almost there…” 

Ryuji settles himself as patiently as he can into his little ‘seat’ as Akira drives. They whip right past student housing - Ryuji has to commit the route to memory, so he can get home on foot once he’s able to escape. However, to his surprise, they turn into a real rough part of town - the part of town where the college kids don’t go, full of shady characters and drug dealers and people hiding in the shadows waiting to mug you. However, this guy is acting like… acting like it’s no big deal? Like he’s from here, like he - 

The motorbike stops in front of a roughshod shack of a building. Ryuji swears he can see the entire thing sway with the night breeze. 

Damn, you live like this? Ryuji asks himself. He doesn’t need Akira’s help - at this point, he’s just trying to follow along with whatever the dude wants in the hope that it’ll make it more likely he drops his guard. As soon as he does… Ryuji will be gone. So, he hops out of the crate - rather gracefully, if he does say so himself - shaking his coat free of the road-dust that’s accumulated in it from the ride over. 

“Oh! Good job, boy.” Akira pats his head again. Ryuji really, really wants to bite that hand off. He will be kind, though, if only because he doesn’t want half of Tokyo freaking out about a vicious wild animal on the loose. 

“Follow me up here, okay?” Akira loops the damned catch pole around his neck again and it looks like he’s not escaping anytime soon. Fuck, Ryuji will break a window if he has to, though he’d prefer being able to get out of this with minimal property damage. Also, they climb two flights of stairs. He’d at least be pretty damned sore after a fall from this height.

Akira’s apartment isn’t anything special - basically just a small, traditionally-furnished studio with tatami flooring and a small mattress pad on the floor. The kitchen could hardly be called as such - just a small sink, a microwave, and a plug-in little range - so, basically, the housing situation of every college student Ryuji knows, save for the area. It’s all strangely normal. He thought the guy might live in a slightly nicer part of town - maybe he’s not part of the Yakuza after all? 

The guy throws down a blanket on the tatami, whistles and points. At this point, Ryuji’s just doing what he’s told, so despite the twinge of irritation about being told what to do he follows the order dutifully, making a few circles in the blanket before settling himself in a comfortable little ball. Wow, he’s tired. He hasn’t stayed like this for this long in… well, maybe ever? Ryuji doesn’t think it’s ever been more than an hour or so and he feels like he might be reaching his limit. 

“I’ll take you to the shelter tomorrow. Alright, bud?” Akira ruffles his ears before turning and digging into his wardrobe against the wall - Ryuji watches him carefully as he pulls out a sleep shirt and a fresh pair of boxers. The guy takes his shirt off, and - 

Oh. 

Okay - first of all, he does have tattoos. Or a single tattoo, rather, in that classic Yakuza style, stretched out over his back and shoulder blades. Almost ironically, it depicts what Ryuji knows to be the Okuri-inu, a mythological dog or wolf that follows travelers through the mountains. Had his mom not read him all those yōkai stories as a kid, maybe he wouldn’t have recognized it, with the strange proportions and contortions of old Japanese art distorting the form into something monstrous, unrecognizable. 

Also, he’s… yeah, he’s hot.  

Ryuji’s never really been one to think too hard about sexuality. College life kind of changes your outlook on that sort of thing, groups of horny young adults all smashed together in small classrooms and smaller living spaces. He’s had the eye for dudes before, but - Akira is drop dead gorgeous. All lean muscle, rippling under that tattoo as he changes his shirt, tendons pushing and pulling beneath his skin… he’s taken his glasses off now to reveal a rather intense set of asphalt-gray eyes. 

Dammit. He’s all dark and broody and cool and… he’s exactly Ryuji’s type. Does he have a crush? Is this what crushing feels like? He can’t remember. 

He realizes that he’s drooling, literally, all over Akira’s blanket. Ryuji snaps his mouth shut, resting his head between his paws. 

“Well,” He says, all cheerfully and very incongruous with his dark expression and rather dangerous-looking appearance. “Let’s try to get some sleep… Mori-Inu. ” 

Forest dog? Really? Ryuji rolls his eyes, huffing and turning away, tucking his tail over his nose as Akira climbs under his own blanket. He’s tired, but he needs to stay awake, needs to figure out how the hell to get out of here… 

He’ll just close his eyes for a couple of minutes. It’ll be fine. 

---

When Ryuji wakes, he is cold.  

Cold and - and, oh, he has hands again. Human ones. He sits up like he’s been shocked, shivering as the cold fall air drafts through the window and over his now-furless skin. Shit. He’s still at Akira’s place, and - and he’s naked - 

He’s not even fully transformed back, he realizes; reaching up, Ryuji feels a soft pair of pointed ears above his head, swiveling this way and that as he gets his bearings. A tail swishes behind him; his nails are still dark and sharp as he trails them over his human face. 

Shit. Okay. Think, Ryuji. There has to be a way out of this. 

Akira is sleeping softly a few feet away - he looks pretty out of it, but Ryuji has no way of knowing if he’s a light sleeper or not - also, he’s still naked and it’s not like he can run all the way home like this. 

Experimentally, Ryuji reaches inside himself, wills himself to transform again… no dice. Looks like he’s exhausted his ability to do so for now. Dammit.  

Well, he supposes he’ll just… take a set of clothes and run? He can figure out how to discreetly return them here later, right now he just needs to be back in the safety of his own home, away from prying eyes especially when he still has a pair of animal ears sticking out of the top of his skull. People are gonna think he’s some local spirit or something if they spot him. 

Well, at least Ryuji is (mostly) good at being quiet. Moving as slowly as he can, he rises from his spot on the floor - his back aches a little from the hard ground, and he’s careful where he steps to prevent the wood from creaking below him. Slowly, slowly… carefully.  

He makes it to the wardrobe, opens it like he’s pulling it through molasses and it thankfully does not squeak. Without thinking, he snatches a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, tugs them on, and then shuts the doors, ready to make his great escape. He can just leave through the front, and -

“Who’s there?!” 

Shit. It seems like he shut the wardrobe maybe a little too loud. Akira’s awake - Ryuji can see him through the cover of the darkness, but he’s pretty sure it’s not the same the other way round. The guy’s squinting without his glasses, bristling a little as he fumbles for something underneath the tatami - shit is that a gun?!

“AH! Shit-” 

“The hell’re you doing in my house?!”

Oh god, oh god, he’s panicking, as the guy blindly fires off a shot in his direction. There’s a deafening crash as it shatters the window on the far wall. 

There’s his out. Ryuji’s gotta go.  

There’s little thought in the action - just a will to move his body and it responds perfectly, surgically. Ryuji is halfway on all-fours as he leaps out of the window, passing through near-perfectly - he hisses in pain as some shattered glass catches him in the hip but then he’s falling, falling… 

He hits the ground rather ungracefully, with a loud whump on his side and he just… 

Lies there for a minute, the wind knocked out of him. 

How did we get here? He wonders to himself. His hips ache; he thinks he might have cracked a rib.

But then, he’s hearing the blare of sirens in the distance and shit, yep, time to go time to go - 

He takes off in the opposite direction - towards home - hoping and praying that Akira Kurusu didn’t see his face as he awkwardly sprints on four legs down the street and out of the projects. His bad knee burns, his tail twirls around behind him as he rounds a corner and (hopefully) disappears from sight.

That was close, he realizes as he finally comes to a stop a half-dozen blocks away, doubling over and panting. 

Now he just has to figure out how to retrieve his stuff…

---

Akira Kurusu is many things, but today he is just plain confused.  

“You say you didn’t see his face?” The officer asks, raising a brow as he scribbles down notes in his report. 

Akira shakes his head, looking blankly over at the broken window. He’d broken it with gunfire first - living in this area, having a gun is just basic safety, or so his family has told him - but then whoever was breaking in trying to steal his shit just jumped out of it.  

He’s on the third floor. That’s damn-near suicidal. The cops checked down there, though. Not a single body to be found, no blood or signs of a struggle. Just a big, wide divot in the dirt where a body fell. There aren’t even any footprints. 

“Why did you discharge a firearm?” 

Akira just crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow. Why does the cop think he fired a gun? Is he just that stupid, that he’s not connecting those dots? 

He hates the police. Always has. They’re useless in situations like this. 

“Okay, well… I see you have a license to own that weapon, so I’ll let it slide for today.” 

Akira scoffs. He just wants to go to bed, pretend this never happened, but of course someone reported the gunfire. Of fucking course. 

What did the guy even take?  

When the cops finally leave him be, Akira does inventory of his scant belongings. The only things missing are… 

Clothes. A shirt, a pair of shorts. 

The fuck? Who steals clothes?  

Also, where’s the dog?  

In a slight panic, Akira whips his head around, looking for that Mori-Inu, the big dog he found trapped in a snare in the park. There’s no sign of him, save for some light-colored fur left behind on the blanket he’d put down. 

Maybe… maybe it was some overzealous pet owner? Perhaps that dog is a rare breed, or maybe even an illegal one? He was quite big. Huge, even. Maybe even a little wolfy, if he’s being honest, but it was pretty dark so it was hard to tell. 

That has to be it, Akira decides. Why steal clothes, though?  

He sighs, grabbing a cigarette out of his jacket and crouching on the tatami as he lights it, the nicotine doing wonders to calm his still sleep-addled mind. He’s not sure why someone would need to steal clothes and the dog. He supposes it saves him a lot of paperwork at the shelter, but… 

Maybe some mysteries are best left unsolved.

Chapter Text

Ryuji, thankfully, manages to grow the balls to sneak onto campus in the middle of the night and grab his stuff from the bush. It hadn't been disturbed - a small mercy, considering how haphazardly he left things when he decided to up and run off into the woods. Checking his phone, he has a couple missed calls from Ann, a confused text from Haru. 

He figures he'll be seeing them in a couple hours - no point in trying to message them back now , though Ann will probably lay into him pretty hard about disappearing so suddenly after class. Right now he has bigger problems - like the fact that his knee hurts like a bitch and it feels like half of his body is just bruise after that nasty fall he took earlier. 

Yeah. An ice bath sounds nice, honestly. 

As he tiptoes out of the courtyard and towards the main street, he touches the top of his head and groans inwardly when he still finds a set of ears there. Dammit. He was hoping that they'd go away, but it looks like being fully transformed for so long might have stuck him in some sort of weird limbo. Ryuji knows the ‘full moon’ thing is bullshit, but it's shining bright and round in the sky as he walks across the street towards the student apartments. Maybe that has something to do with it, like… some weird, quasi-magical placebo effect. 

If it’s a placebo effect, shouldn’t it go away once he realizes? Well, he’s realizing it, but he still has a tail. Goddammit.

He's very glad that most of the students in his building are homebodies - Ryuji doesn't find anyone outside as he makes his way up to his door, fishing his keys out of his bag. Force of habit has him holding the strap in his mouth as he fiddles with the lock - it's finicky when it gets colder outside, the wood shrinking and making it hard to turn the deadbolt open. Once he is safely inside, he groans with the relief of finally, finally being alone ; he drops all the shit he's carrying right at the door and takes two steps to flop down on his creaky little bed. 

“What a night,” He mumbles to himself, flipping over to stare at the ceiling. Of all the things, he did not expect Interesting New Guy to be a dog person. Or to have a gun. Or, to be really, really hot. Damn, the sharp cut of his jawline against that black, curly hair… 

“ Ugmmfh ,” Ryuji scrubs his face with his hands, mindful of his claws. He should probably get up and check himself out, maybe sit in a cold bath for a little while. It also might make the ears and tail go away? If they don't, then… 

Well, Ann and the rest of the girls might bitch about him not coming, but it's not like he can go out like this. Halloween is close, but he'd definitely raise some eyebrows if he went out looking like a goddamn kemonomimi . 

He grunts as he sits up, rubbing his side - that fuckin’ smarts, he took a pretty hard hit when he fell. Would that kind of fall kill a human? He's not sure. Ryuji has probably done a lot of things that would kill a human. For example… 

On his way to the bathroom, he detours to the fridge. There's normal food in there, too, but when he's wolfed out he tends to enjoy more… exotic cuisine. Raw meat, organs, stuff like that. Beef liver is on the menu today - he slides it off a covered plate he has in the fridge, then slurps it down in a single bite. Mmm. Tastes like eating nails… in a good way. It's a little slimier than he would like, but if he eats it cooked he'll just wake up hungry - he’s tried. 

He’s gonna have to go back to the butcher’s soon. They are under the impression he owns a dog of some sort that he has on a ‘raw diet’. Good of an excuse as any. He hopes that they’ve been saving the chicken hearts for him like he asked…

The borrowed clothes are removed once he gets into the bathroom. They're nothing special - just a plain black t-shirt, a pair of dark red gym shorts. Ryuji feels bad regardless. If that guy lives in that part of town, he can't be doing all that well for himself. Well, he does have that sick-ass motorcycle, but… maybe he spent all his money on it and now he's broke? 

Ryuji is still wondering if the guy’s actually part of the mob, as he inspects the nasty purple bruise that's blooming on his side, the scant cut on his hip from the glass. From experience, they will probably both be gone by morning, though that doesn't mean it's not painful as hell now. At least he won't have to deal with it for longer than a night. He hisses as he pokes himself in the side - yeah, he definitely cracked a rib. That might take a little longer to knit itself back together. 

Dude had a gun. Ryuji doesn't think he's ever even seen a gun before. Is that normal? Do most people have guns? He doesn't know. 

Also, there was that tattoo. Normally, Yakuza have stuff like oni and dragons, cool shit like that… a yōkai is certainly a strange choice. Maybe he just likes the look of tattoos? It's big, but it's the only one he has. Well, it's not like Ryuji knows much about the Yakuza anyways. Most of the exposure he's had to them is from video games and b-movies. He could be entirely wrong, for what he knows. 

Ryuji will chalk up the rumor about Akira Kurusu being part of the Yakuza as a big, fat maybe. More information required. 

Now that he thinks about it, he's pretty sure that the guy talked more to wolf-him than he's ever talked in class. Maybe he feels more comfortable talking to animals? Is that why he works at the shelter? Or, at least, Ryuji assumes he does, as he runs the bath cold and crouches atop the lid of the toilet, waiting for it to fill. Why else would he smell like that? 

His apartment smelled like it, too - like he takes dogs home a lot. It didn't smell bad or anything, though. If the dogs he brought there were scared or something, Ryuji would know - but, no, just normal dog smell. Big dog smell. Like, shepherd breeds, Akita Inus, huskies. He smelled like treats, too. Maybe he trains dogs?

Ugh, it's so much information and so little Ryuji can actually confirm. He also needs to figure out how the hell to get those clothes back to him without Akira knowing that he's the one who… accidentally broke and entered. 

For now, they are carefully folded over his towel rack for him to mull over later. Inhaling sharply to prepare himself, Ryuji steps into the bath - “Cold, cold, cold!” - His teeth chatter as he stiffly sinks down into the frigid water, but the aches from his bruises immediately begin to feel a hell of a lot better. He hates cold baths, but… his mom always used to put him in cold baths after he got scraped up outside. It inexplicably works, the icy water enough to both numb the pain and kick whatever weird super-healing he has into high gear. 

He sighs in relief when his hearing suddenly dampens - he can no longer hear his neighbors three doors down fucking against the wall, is no longer aware of the squirrels rustling around in the trees outside. When Ryuji touches his head, he no longer finds pointed ears - he has normal, fleshy human ones again. “Oh, thank god,” He murmurs, reaching behind him and finding only a smooth, human tailbone. Well, that's one problem solved. He's gonna have to work on how long he can transform for… if he gets trapped like that again, he could end up in deep shit. 

That will have to involve him actually going out into the woods more. Which, after getting caught in a snare trap? Could be a really, really bad idea. Who the hell is setting traps in the woods anyways? It could be Akira, but he doubts it. He acted like he didn’t know much about the trap in the first place. 

Ryuji lets his mind wander as he sits in that cold tub, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about his plans for tomorrow. He's studying with Ann and the other girls; maybe he'll poke them a little about Akira Kurusu. One of them has to know something, right? Ann's the big gossiper, but Makoto is pretty good at digging up information and Haru often overhears a lot of stuff from other students. Selfishly, he wonders if any of them know if he's into guys… 

One thing at a time, Sakamoto . 

---

“Ryuji! Where did you go last night?!” 

Ann Takamaki folds her arms over her chest. She looks… she looks pretty cross with him, and so do Makoto and Haru as he lumbers up to the study table they've commandeered in the library. They all have their notes out; all four of them are in a literature class together. Ryuji calls it waking hell, the girls treat it like a goddamn book club. 

Sometimes, that quiet artist kid will join them too - though, he's not here today. Something about an exhibition? Ryuji finds it hard to remember after everything he dealt with the night before; he's pretty short on precious sleep and his mind is still all over the place. “I had something I had to do,” He explains vaguely, plopping himself down into the free seat and tugging his old, shitty laptop out of his bag. It whirs loudly and angrily as he boots it up. 

“Yeah? Like stalking the new kid?” Ann huffs; Haru giggles a little to herself as she highlights something in her textbook. Ryuji leans over, reading what she's highlighted and quickly tapping it out into his own notes sheet on his computer. “Did you see him when he came back through the courtyard?” 

“Y… no?” Ryuji's not a very convincing liar, but they'd have no way of knowing he was actually there. “What happened?” 

“He was on his motorcycle,” Makoto explains, tapping her pen against her chin. “Also, he had a… a dog? He must be a good rider, to balance such a large animal behind him like that.” 

“I heard he works at the animal shelter,” Haru murmurs as she writes something in her notebook. Ryuji dutifully copies her; Makoto will give him shit if he tries it with her, and Ann's bad at this class, so Haru is the prime target for pilfering notes. “Isn't that sweet? I wonder what kind of girl is his type…” 

“Don't get your hopes up,” Ann rolls her eyes, popping a mini donut from her bag into her mouth. “One of my club members saw him at Crossroads the other night.” 

Oh, shit. So there's a chance he's not straight after all? “The gay club?” Ryuji asks, brows raised. Maybe he shouldn't get his hopes up - chances are a guy like that's taken, but… he can dream, right? 

“Yes, Ryuji, the gay club.” Ann replies flatly. “Aren't you a journalism major? Shouldn't you know this stuff?” 

“ Sports journalism,” Ryuji corrects her. “It's mostly photography. I've told you this a million times!” 

Ann huffs, laughing a little to herself. “You still write articles for the paper, though.” 

“Of course I do. I ain't gonna leave you hangin’.” Ryuji reaches into his bag, unwraps a piece of gum and presses it between his lips, thinking as he chews. So, Akira Kurusu may or may not be gay. He also may or may not be single.  

Interesting. 

“I see that look on your face, Sakamoto,” Makoto narrows her eyes. “I wouldn't get mixed up with him if I were you.” 

“Why? ‘Cause he's Yakuza or whatever?” 

Ann shushes him loudly as a couple students whip their heads around to listen. “Ryuji, keep it down!” 

“There's not even proof,” Ryuji puts his legs up on the table - Ann and Makoto frown at him. “‘Sides. He's kinda hot. Haru agrees.” 

Haru flushes a little, looking down at her lap. “I never said it like that ,” She mutters. 

“Just-” Makoto sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Be careful, okay? I get the vibe that he's bad news.” 

“Yeah,” Ann nods in agreement as she slides her finger over a line in the textbook. “We can't bail you out all the time!” 

“Sure you can,” Ryuji shrugs nonchalantly, squinting as he skims over the notes he’s both stolen and taken.  “Not that I need you to…” 

“You absolutely do,” Makoto groans. “I swear, you're like a toddler. Every time I turn around, you're…” 

“Trying to put a fork in an outlet?” Ann supplies. Ryuji feels his face warm with embarrassment. 

“That was one time!” He sputters; all three of his friends laugh. He's really not doing much to help his ‘hapless idiot' reputation, is he? “I was tryin’ to clean it out, okay? Not my fault the landlord painted over it.” 

“ Anyways, ” Makoto raises a brow, folding her hands under her chin. “What's with the sudden interest, hm?” 

“I like dangerous guys, alright?” Ryuji scoffs. “Can I have a type? Is that allowed?” 

Ann shakes her head. “Your type is going to get you killed.” 

“I'll be fine, ” Ryuji waves a hand, leaning over again to copy another few lines of Haru's notes. “I’ma go to Crossroads tonight, I think. You guys wanna come?” 

Makoto narrows her eyes in that way she does when she’s about to mother him. “Ryuji, have you studied at all this semester?” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, it’s just - more important things are happenin’, y’know?” 

“Right,” Ann rolls her eyes. “Because getting your dick wet is so important.” 

“It is , okay? I can’t focus if I’m-” 

Makoto raises her hand to silence him. “I’ll stop you right there. I don’t need to hear about your escapades with the latest twinky guy you took home.” 

“Kurusu isn’t really twinky, though,” Haru cuts in. “He’s more… buff? Not like, buff-buff, but- skinny buff.” She laughs, covering her mouth with her palm. “Also, his tattoo… it’s cool.” 

Ann raises a brow. “You’ve seen it?” 

“Well, yes.” Haru nods. “He chose swordfighting for phys ed. Takes off his shirt a lot.” 

“No wonder you’ve got a crush on him,” Makoto sighs. “Swordfighting, though? I thought usually only rich kids took that elective.” 

“I don’t know if his family’s wealthy or not, but…” Haru bites her lip, grinning. “He’s pretty good! I think he was trained from a young age.” 

Ryuji is beginning to think that he should maybe drop his physical therapy sessions and take up the blade. Well, not that the girls would let him, but… hmm. Akira takes his shirt off a lot, Haru says? That sounds like something Ryuji would pay to see. 

“Where did you even meet this guy?” Makoto asks as she takes a sip from her thermos. 

“He’s in our philosophy lecture,” Ann explains for him, crossing her legs. “He’s one of those weirdos who sits at the front of the class.” 

“Ah, a man after my own heart.” She smiles softly, tucking her brown hair behind her ear. “Well, he can’t be all bad, then.” 

“Wh- just because a dude pays attention in class, you magically think he’s just fine?!” Ryuji balks a little. His friends are all… strange in some ways, and they definitely have weird criteria on which to judge people. “I’m beginning to think taking dating advice from y’all is a really bad idea.” 

“Did you just figure that out?” Ann barks out a laugh. “Good job, Ryuji. You just found out all your friends are losers.” 

“I mean,” He offers a lopsided grin, leaning back a little more in his chair. “I knew that part already. Just thought you guys might have a little more game.” 

“I suppose I can see how you could consider courting someone a game,” Haru ponders aloud. 

They’re rapidly getting off-topic; Ryuji clears his throat and tries to bring them back to his original question. “So. Anyone wanna go with me to Crossroads tonight?” 

All three girls go silent. His brow creases. 

“C’mon. Not a single one of you wants to go out tonight?” 

Ann twiddles her pen between her fingers. “I think we all already have plans… I have to meet with the newspaper committee and push the final edits out.” 

Haru nods sadly. “I have to go to a company dinner.” 

“And I have to stay home and study,” Makoto sighs, looking a little weary. “I have a big exam coming up.” 

“ Ugh, ” Ryuji groans. Is he really going to have to go alone? He doesn’t want to go alone! 

Going alone is dangerous!  

He can’t lie - being around his friends makes things easier. Makes him feel more normal. More… human. They don’t know his secret and he’d like to keep it that way, but having at least one of them around makes it easier to, y’know - not grow a set of ears by accident. Maybe he should just stay in? 

No, no. Not an option. He’s gotta learn some more about Akira Kurusu. Even if he isn’t there, he can ask around. Ryuji can keep a lid on the wolfy stuff for one night, right? 

“What about Yusuke?” He asks weakly. 

“Yusuke is at his art exhibition,” Makoto tells him. “He’s staying in a hotel across town. I doubt he has time to take the train all the way to Shinjuku.” 

Well, looks like he will have to go alone. Ryuji deflates a little, exhaling softly and fogging his laptop screen a little - he rubs it clean with the sleeve of his hoodie, narrowing his eyes at the text he’s hastily copied. Something something metaphor, something something clauses… agh, he can’t pay attention right now, his mind is a thousand other places. 

“Just go on your own,” Ann prods him in the side. “Right now we need you to help us analyze this chapter.” 

“I can’t focus in these conditions,” Ryuji pouts, but Ann’s sharp glare has him shrinking back a little, setting his hands on his keyboard. Just a few hours of work, then he can go out. C’mon, Ryuji. Hard work means good rewards, but he’s gotta do the work first.  

Even if he’d much rather be running through that park again on four legs, instead of sitting here with two. 

“Okay, okay,” Ryuji finally relents, hunkering down behind his laptop. “...What was this chapter about again?” 

The three girls groan collectively; Ryuji laughs sheepishly as they start their review. 

Chapter Text

Akira Kurusu has been around the block, and Crossroads is a new-old avenue of pleasure for him as he tries more and more to separate his mind from business.  

It’s early in the night; twilight is just starting to fall over the stark faces of the red-light district as he pushes his way into the seedy little club. Right now it feels more like a regular bar - just a handful of patrons enjoying mixed drinks, jazz playing softly in the background, faces and glasses illuminated by a gentle red light from the sconces on the walls. His nose wrinkles at the smell of booze and young men that are a little overzealous with the body spray. 

“Hey, Lala,” He greets, hanging his coat in the closet by the door. He’s been here enough that the bartender and proprietor knows him well; back in the day, he even used to pick up some part-time work here. Given that he wasn’t really there for the money - Lala is scrupulous enough and her cross-dressing on the job makes her ideal for scoping out targets without being caught. Crossroads didn’t start its life as a gay club, but it’s become one over the years which, incidentally, makes it a pretty good place to get information. A weird amount of overly-masculine gang members and troublemakers are into dudes. Projection, maybe? Trying to compensate? 

Much of his life has been absorbed in gathering intel, taking notes on the innocuous things he sees in his day-to-day. Crossroads is a good place to do that, but… he’s not here for that today. He shouldn’t be here for that, not anymore. Akira is desperately trying to leave that kind of life behind - at the very least, as much as he can . He just wants to live a normal life, with normal friends and normal activities. Is that so much to ask? 

Apparently so, because Akira Kurusu is not very good at making friends. Acquaintances? Sure, but actually caring for someone? 

That’s hard, with people. Animals are easier. He can talk to them, and all they do is listen and lick his face and wait patiently for him to give them orders. People are more capricious than that, more complicated. Some might call him a control freak; he just likes to have everything neatly organized into their perfect little boxes. He can do that with dogs; humans, however, are an entirely different ball game. 

“Been a minute, Kurusu,” Lala greets him with a wave - she’s busy, pouring drinks with both hands and sliding them over the bar, over to a couple tangled together a few seats down. “How’s pops?”

“Boss?” Akira has to clarify; Lala knew his actual ‘pops’, but he’s not around anymore. “He’s fine. Same old, same old.” 

“Well. Glad you’re not getting put on the front lines anymore.” She smiles curtly before sliding his drink across the bar to him as Akira takes his seat at the corner. The leather of the bar chair is practically molded to the curve of his ass at this point; this position lets him see the majority of the place, including all the dark corners less-than-savory individuals like to skulk in. 

Vodka soda, four slices of lime, his usual. He tries to hand her money but she waves a hand at him in refusal. “How’s college life treating you?”

“Alright, I guess.” He sips at his drink, eyes darting around the bar. No one particularly interesting has shown up yet; mostly just the older regulars, queens who have been coming here since before Akira first discovered the place. Some of the more attractive ones he's slept with - one-night stands are a good way to get your mind off of shitty situations, not to mention a good way to kill time while waiting for his actual target to show. Shinjuku is ripe with criminals, after all; Akira supposes he’d include himself on that list, but he and his family haven’t made themselves known just by stirring the pot. They keep the peace where the police cannot; in return, the police leave them alone. Until someone calls them about errant gunfire, apparently. Then they’re all up in his business like they belong there. “Lots of rumors. Pretty sure they already know all about me.” 

“Nothing they can prove, I hope?” Lala raises a manicured brow at him as she washes a glass. For a time, she was part of their extensive web of contacts. She still is - sort of - but there’s less and less they need her for these days. At any rate, she’s one of the few people Akira finds easy to talk to if only for what she knows about him. A friend, in the loosest sense of the word, though Lala would probably call herself more of a mother. 

He curls his lip. His mother by blood was hardly deserving of the term. Lala fits better into that niche in his heart. 

“No,” Akira shakes his head. “Nothing they can prove, but I don’t want that assumption to come back and bite me.” 

Lala nods slowly, adjusting the obi of her kimono. “Well, if you need anything, you can always use the back room. As long as you clean up after yourself.”

Akira cringes a little. Yeah, he’s used that back room before - it’s often reserved for private parties, a curved, squishy bench seat that extends across three of the walls with a table in the center. Mostly, he’s used it as a quiet place to gather intel, and he’s definitely spent a good amount of time and money cleaning the place out after some of the… bloodier altercations.

…He’d rather not revisit that part of his life. It feels so long ago, but - only a few years have passed, right? Not a lifetime? 

He misses his parents, but… is it selfish, to be glad that they’re dead? It gives him a shot at normalcy , something better or just different than what they made him to be. Sure, he’s still part of it all, but… Sojiro Sakura would never ask him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. The three of them, the last three actual surviving members of the family? They’re all classier than that. White collar crime is cleaner, less messy. Akira prefers it that way. 

His parents’ passing meant freedom for him, and that freedom is , indeed, sweet. If not a little jarring. 

“I hope I don’t,” Akira murmurs finally, stirring his drink idly. He thinks that his days of beating up local gang leaders is behind him. Or it should be. 

“I do too, darling,” Lala leans over the bar, flicking her eyes up and behind him as she lowers her voice. “Now. Go have some fun. Hottie at six o’clock.” 

Akira turns his head; just enough that it only looks like he’s checking the time with the clock on the far wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the ‘hottie’ in question, sitting up at a high-top and lighting a crumply-looking cigarette.

…Hm. He feels like he faintly recognizes him from somewhere, though he can’t quite put a finger on it. Bleach-blonde hair, dark eyes, wide shoulders. He’s pretty attractive, all things considered. Not the worst sort of guy Lala’s attempted to set him up with. 

“You know him?” Akira whispers, lifting his drink closer and sipping at it inconspicuously.

Lala nods. “Nice kid. Bit of a meathead, but he picks up guys here a lot. I think you’d like him.” 

“Why’s that?” 

She makes a face, thinking. “He’s… how do I put this? He’s like a dog. Easy to please, wears his heart on his sleeve.” 

“Hm,” Akira swirls his drink in his hand as he watches his movements, his mannerisms. The guy’s looking his way, but as soon as he catches Akira’s eye he turns away swiftly, blowing cigarette smoke out in front of him as if trying to hide behind it. If Akira’s honest, he is kind of like a dog. Right now he looks like a stray, all mopey and lonely as he stretches himself over the tabletop with an air of boredom. He’s wearing a tanktop a size too small - probably on purpose, he gives Akira marked gym rat vibes - a pair of jeans that hug his ass just so. Hmm. Hmm, indeed. 

“Go talk to him,” Lala nudges him. “You need to make some friends your age.” 

Admiring him is one thing. Talking to him? “...I don’t want to loop anyone into my drama. That wouldn’t be fair.” Last night was definitely a bit of a wake-up call. He might be a touch paranoid, but trying to rope anyone into his mess sounds like asking for trouble. 

“You know,” Lala crosses her arms. “For someone from a family like yours, you’re pretty bad at making connections.” Akira glowers at her. She just laughs into her sleeve. “You know I’m just playing around, hon. Go.” 

“Alright, alright,” Akira huffs, lifting himself out of his seat. Jeez, Lala is pushy sometimes. He knows she just wants the best for him, but… he’s not good at this sort of thing. He echoes his own sentiment from before - animals are easier. They can’t disagree with him, they can’t make him say or do anything he doesn’t want to do. 

With the dogs, Akira has full control. Clicker in his hand, treats in his pocket, he is their world. He likes it that way. 

Though, as he approaches this strange classmate of his, he’s got a similar look in his eyes. Like… like he’s lost, looking for someone to show him the way. Maybe he’s seeing things, maybe he’s making assumptions, but… he’s willing to risk it and be an ass for one night. 

Lala, as usual, is right. He likes this guy already. 

---

“Hey,” Akira Kurusu is standing before him in the flesh, dressed in a smart black button-down and dark jeans. He is holding a drink with a couple too many limes that he sips at demurely as he watches him. Analyzes him.  

Akira approached him?!

Ryuji’s flabbergasted; he quickly begins to panic. Does he know something? He- he can’t , right? It was way too dark for him to see, Ryuji hardly even looked like himself, the cops didn’t even chase him. He can’t - 

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, yeah?” Akira chuckles at him, and Ryuji’s face goes red. Yep, he was just… staring. Openly. Well, that’s one way to show that he’s interested in the proverbial goods. The man sticks out a hand. “Kurusu Akira.” 

Ryuji shakes his hand dumbly. He’s got calluses, thick ones, on his palm and fingers. Haru said he practices swordplay. Gunplay, too, apparently. Just who the hell is this guy? “Sakamoto Ryuji,” He greets haltingly. “I- um - you-”

“Saw you looking my way a minute ago,” He says, retracting his hand, but leaving it still against the edge of the table. Does he… does he not remember him? The guy who keeps staring at him in class? 

Ryuji supposes he’d have no reason to. It’s not like he’s anything particularly special. Akira, now, is obviously a classy man, holding a drink with fruit in it and carrying himself like he owns the place.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Um - yeah. Guilty. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or anythin’...” 

Ryuji is fairly sure that Akira Kurusu doesn’t know the meaning of the word. The man simply leans over the bar, tricep flexing through the thin fabric of his shirt as he crosses his legs at the ankle and people-watches beside him. The music is getting more energetic now; less smooth jazz and more electronic beats that thrum through Ryuji’s bones, making his head hurt a little with the volume. It’s alright, though. He can take a little pain, especially when the dude he keeps having gross, weird dreams about is right across the table from him. A couple patrons are already stepping out onto the makeshift little dance floor in the back corner. 

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Akira replies coolly after a little while, blinking slowly as he pokes at one of the limes in his glass with his straw. His eyelashes are so long. “I’m used to it. Would you like a drink?” 

“Um-” Is he offering to buy him a drink? Oh, this is going places. Good ones, he hopes - that, or he’s gonna wake up in a tub full of ice tomorrow morning missing a kidney, but isn’t the risk the best part of the chase? “Sure. Just surprise me.” 

Normally, Ryuji’s the one laying it on thick, leaning over tables all suave and the like and making the guys blush. When he does it, it probably comes off as charmingly goofy. When Akira does it, though? When he steps away from the table, fingers lingering on the surface for only a moment before he floats back to the cross-dressing bartender, cocking out a hip in such a perfect way that his ass is immaculately illuminated by the red half-light of the club? 

It’s just plain sexy. He’s good.  

Ryuji doesn’t even see him exchange money with her. This is rapidly getting more and more confusing. Maybe he should have some alarm bells going off by now, but… this is just too damn interesting. Guy’s an enigma; Ryuji wants to solve him like a bonus-credit calculus problem. 

When Akira returns, he is pressing a cold rocks glass into his hand. “You take me as a whiskey sort of person,” He murmurs. “Let me know what you think.” 

Ryuji inspects it - it’s got the caramel color of whiskey, but it swirls like it’s cold and thick. Something else is clouding the liquid near the top, something darker and tinged a deep orange; the paranoid part of him wonders if it’s poisoned, but he takes a sip anyways. He is met with the sharp, citrus-and-smoke flavor of a well-made old fashioned just as he notices the orange peel carefully cut and balanced on the rim. Yeah, he likes it. Akira’s got him pinned like one of Haru’s dead butterflies. 

“It’s good,” Ryuji says, exhaling and smelling the alcohol on his own breath. It’s strong, he can already feel the warmth in his belly, the pleasant fuzziness extending out through his bones. He doesn’t drink nearly as often as some college kids, but he does enjoy the way it dampens his senses. Makes everything duller, less overwhelming. “I don’t think I’ve ever ordered a nice cocktail here before.” He takes care not to accidentally ash his cigarette into the drink as he takes another sip. 

“Lala’s pretty good with mixed drinks,” Akira murmurs, watching the bartender titter back and forth behind the bar. 

Ryuji raises a brow. He mentions her by name - well, everyone knows Lala, but the fondness in his voice makes it sound like they’ve known each other a long time. “You know her?” 

“She’s an old friend.” Akira tilts his head, dark hair falling over his eyes for a brief moment before he adjusts it out of the way. It’s just now that Ryuji realizes he’s not wearing his glasses. He wants to ask, but… he’s pretty sure the guy hardly knows he even exists at school, and is it really a good idea to shatter that facade now? He kind of likes being the mysterious rando here. Gives him a little advantage and god he needs it.  

He has so much he wants to ask. Like - the tattoo, the motorcycle, the dog thing - is he really part of the Yakuza or is all that just some weird, fucked-up rumor going around? Why the hell does he own a gun? Why is he living in a crack shack? Every facet of Akira Kurusu is a goddamn mystery to him. 

Instead of making a fool of himself, however, he decides to just sit in silence and people-watch with his sudden new acquaintance. He can’t tell if it’s awkward or not - Akira is perfectly chill, cool as a cucumber as his eyes pass over all the bodies around them. Ryuji feels like he’s missing something - are they… waiting? For what? Akira’s casual demeanor makes it seem like he does this a lot; he’s just holding his drink at his side, elbow propped up against the table as he tugs idly at the collar of his shirt. 

“You dance?” Akira asks him suddenly; Ryuji takes a larger mouthful of his drink than intended and has to force himself not to choke. 

“Um -” He laughs awkwardly, voice hoarse from the liquor and the cigarette still burning away between his fingers. He’s not sure he’s danced a day in his life, but - “Kind of? I dunno. Not very well.” 

Akira sets his drink down - sets a coaster on top of it, hand positioning it in a very particular way before he holds it out in Ryuji’s direction, slender fingers outstretched. An invitation. “As long as you don’t step on my feet.” 

Oh fuck yes. Ryuji downs the rest of his drink, not even minding the way it makes his throat burn and his eyes water as he hops down from his chair, and he takes Akira’s hand with renewed vigor. His cigarette is snuffed out on his thigh; he shoves it in his drink and the way Akira’s eyes widen in mild shock is the most emotion Ryuji’s seen out of the dude all night.  “I’ll try my best.” 

Akira Kurusu leads him out onto the dance floor, practically floating across the bar compared to his own heavy steps, and Ryuji realizes he might be in a little over his head. This man - he moves like water , body undulating to the music as he slides around him, one arm loosely draped over his head as he braces himself on Ryuji’s shoulder. He’s… ethereal , almost, like he’s done this a thousand times before and knows every single move that’ll make Ryuji only have eyes for him. Hell, the whole bar , because practically every single guy in the place is casting glances over at them as Akira dances. 

It’s definitely working. Ryuji wonders just how dangerous this man might be, as he makes a feeble attempt to keep up. Thankfully there is no toe-stepping involved, but Ryuji still feels like an idiot with two left feet with the way Akira is just melting around him, draping his body over his shoulder and somehow still staying on-beat to the electronic buzz of the music. His eyes are half-closed - dark, thick lashes frame eyes that remind him of cold winter fog. 

Thump, thump, thump, goes both Ryuji’s heart and the bass, almost in sync but just not quite. Akira lines up his body with his own, back to chest, ass pressed against him in such a perfect way that Ryuji has to keep himself from reaching down to squeeze it. Akira Kurusu dances like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do it. Not - not in desperation, per say, but like he’s savoring it, rolling the feeling over his body so that he doesn’t dare forget. Slender, toned arms rise up above his head, swaying in time to the rhythm - the man turns his head to the side, eyeing Ryuji in perfect profile as he is haloed by the red light around them, every strand of soft, dark hair illuminated in stark relief. 

Holy shit, this dude is… 

Wow.

Akira’s grinding on him now and it doesn’t even feel lewd. It’s like a natural turn of events, just the next step in this strange little dance they are doing in both the physical and the psychological; Ryuji’s hands automatically rest on his hips and the man hums, eyes closed as he bobs to the beat of the music. It’s sexy, but at the same time it’s not , it’s just something Ryuji would be perfectly happy watching for the rest of the night without even a whisper of a hard-on. Is this how Yusuke feels when he’s painting? Is this what he’s trying to capture? A man who is more art installation than person? 

Akira Kurusu is definitely, definitely out of his league. By miles, light-years even. Ryuji is an awkward, obnoxious mess of a man; he’s not sure why this guy, so buttoned up and ethereal and enigmatic as he is, even gave him a second glance. But, inexplicably, he did. Luck has certainly shone down on him this day. 

If he had a tail, it’d be wagging up a storm right about now. Ryuji almost, almost has to check. He manages to restrain himself; part of him wonders if Akira does know that Ryuji was the one he shot at last night. Why else would he approach him? 

He almost caught him with that bullet, too, but… it’s a far fetched notion. He would have said something by now, right? Would have at least dropped a hint. Or, maybe, asked? Shit, as much as it’s important that he keep all the wolfy stuff a secret, enough drinks and Ryuji absolutely would spill his guts to a guy like this. Maybe that’s Akira’s plan all along, he doesn’t know. 

“So,” Akira says, tilting his head back to regard him with a sultry sort of interest, and even though his voice is soft Ryuji hears it crisp and clear over the din of the music, “What brings you to Crossroads?”

God, Ryuji is a terrible liar. His knee jerk reaction is to say ‘you,’ but - isn’t that a bit forward? A bit much? Like, buy the guy dinner first or something? “I-” He chokes out a laugh, lost in the thump of the music. “The same reason everyone else comes here?” 

Akira looks up at him through those lashes, impish smile tugging at his lips. It makes Ryuji’s knees perilously wobbly, his heart a metronome in overdrive. A calloused hand strokes the side of his throat and for a second he thinks he might be blowing a fuse. 

Ryuji’s eyes slide down, down, down - from Akira’s dark hair to the back of his pale neck, to the collar of his shirt. Somehow, the top few buttons have come loose - just a corner of that large tattoo is peeking out, a burst of color over his smooth flesh, and now seems as good a time to ask as any. 

“You have a tattoo?” 

Akira hums. His ass is firmly planted against Ryuji’s crotch. “I do. That bother you?” 

“No! No,” Ryuji shakes his head enthusiastically. “I don’t got a problem with tattoos. Think they’re cool, actually.” 

Suddenly, Akira spins around. His eyes dart for a split-second to a door in the back, a room Ryuji’s seen the inside of in passing but never been in himself. A private room. “The tattoo,” He murmurs. “You wanna see it?” 

Does he ever.  

Okay, maybe he’s doing a lot more thinking with his other head because - the way this guy acts? So sure of himself, so cocky, but it’s all earned and deserved. He’s definitely Yakuza, no doubt about it - or, at least, he carries himself like it. He’s dangerous . 

Well. So is he. Maybe he doesn’t have bullets, but Ryuji can hold his own on the sole merit of tooth and claw. Besides, he’s leagues faster than most humans when he’s got four paws on the ground.

He’ll be fine.  

“Fuck yes,” Ryuji breathes, grinning like an idiot because hell yeah, he’s gonna get laid. If he doesn’t get jumped first for breaking into his place, of course. Fingers crossed that’s not where this is actually going. 

Suddenly, Akira has just… dematerialized from his spot in front of him; Ryuji just stands there, half-chub in his jeans and a little taken aback at the turn of events that’s gotten him to this point as the current object of his affections talks in hushed tones to the bartender. A pair of keys are pressed into his hand, then suddenly the man is by his side again, swinging them carelessly around his pointer finger like he’s done this a million times. 

“Follow me,” He whispers into Ryuji’s ear, effortlessly picking his way across the dance floor to that inoffensive little door. 

Kurusu makes fucking into a goddamn sport, the way he’s immediately pushing Ryuji hard against the wall and kissing him breathless. The door hasn’t even clicked shut yet. “Shit-” Their teeth clack together; belatedly, he realizes his own are a little sharper than normal and he has to suppress the urge to change boiling inside of him. Normally, it’s not this bad - but being fully-transformed for so long yesterday… it's like it broke something in him, this hold he had on himself before. He doesn’t fully transform often - usually, four-legs-optional is a better way to go, the image of classic werewolves in literature, but damn did it feel good to run free like that. Even with the threat of being discovered, he can’t really find it in him to regret it. 

Hard-on grinds against hard-on; foggily, Ryuji wonders which of them is larger but finds it mattering little as blunt teeth sink hard into his neck. Unf. Yes, Akira Kurusu has him pinned in more ways than one. 

“Like it rough, huh?” Akira purrs, blunt nails dragging down his back. Ryuji inhales sharply; it’s getting harder and harder to keep control over his willpower. He’s trying to shove it down, suppress it, but it’s damn-near impossible with the way this guy so effortlessly pushes his buttons. Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

High emotions make it worse. Usually, he can stay lucid enough in the throes of passion or whatever to keep his shit under wraps. Right now, though? Akira Kurusu is mysterious and sexy and exactly his type and he just - he can't help himself, alright? It's dangerous, it's selfish, but he's a horny twenty-something and he is one-hundred percent willing to throw caution to the wind for a good lay. A great lay. 

“Do you? ” Ryuji asks, teeth glinting in the low light. His right hand feels for the switch because - because, well… okay, he'll throw caution to the wind but he's not about to jump in front of a bus. He can’t have Akira see what might come to pass. 

“Sometimes, but - woah - ” Akira seems a little dazed when Ryuji flicks the light off, plunging them both into darkness. He’s effectively blind; Ryuji, on the other hand, can see the way the man’s cock twitches in his jeans in silvery low-light vision as he flips the tables and presses Akira against the wall instead. A nervous laugh bubbles out of him, but no effort to escape is made. “Woah, big guy - careful-” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ryuji all-but growls as he covers Akira’s body with his own, breathes at his ear, his throat. The beast is out in force now - sharp teeth, sharp claws, eyes that rove over Akira’s body like he's a whole goddamn meal . It's just something about this guy. He’s so damned cocky and something deep inside Ryuji wants to figure out what’s going on behind those smog-gray eyes, maybe find out what’ll make him break. 

Weird. He’s not usually so… forceful. It’s probably the other him, this weird little primordial ball of instinct that he’s had to deal with since he first learned what he was. It’s hungry, it’s wanting, and it doesn’t like being disappointed. Sharp ears swivel and flatten backwards, tail flicks behind him in anticipation. 

It’s a pleasant and rough give-and-take. Ryuji holds Akira’s hands fast against the door above his head (he doesn't want any errant grabbing of his head and ears ); Akira’s knee comes up to grind into his crotch, making him moan against the other man’s skin. Mmm, that’s good. That’s so good. The transforming problem can wait; this is much more important. 

“Gimme a minute-” He doesn’t release Akira’s hands, but he separates them at the hips if only so he can fumble with their pants. His jeans go first, shucked halfway down his thighs along with his boxers - Akira inhales sharply as Ryuji’s turgid erection presses insistently against his thigh. Kurusu’s pants go next; a little harder with the different angle, but Ryuji messes with the fastener for only a second before he’s worming them down and pressing close again. Their cocks slide against one another deliciously , warm heat against warm heat. It’s perfect.  

“Holy shit,” Akira breathes. “Didn’t expect you to be so- unh- ” 

Ryuji doesn’t let him finish that sentence as he takes them both in his hand; his thumb passes over the head of Akira’s dick teasingly and it’s more than enough to shut him up. 

Shut them both up, actually, because this encounter rapidly turns into the both of them fucking desperately into Ryuji’s grip. He tightens it, forcing them to rub against one another, wanting more friction more sensation just more more more - 

Then, Akira pulls away sharply and it’s like - it’s like he’s giving a tug on the proverbial leash, that look in his eyes even if unseeing telling him it’s time to back off. “Keep doing that and we’re both gonna cut this short,” He breathes into the darkness, and Ryuji swallows thickly at the roughness of Akira’s voice. 

The guy, he - oh, he’s getting on his knees. He only fumbles a little in the dark, even as he settles himself between Ryuji’s legs. “You like it rough, huh?” He asks again; Ryuji exhales softly as he watches him, fists a hand in his hair. He hopes to god his tail doesn’t decide to get in the way. 

Suddenly, blunt teeth meet his thigh; Ryuji has to suppress the urge to kick as the pain bleeds into pleasure then back into pain all over again. Oh, that’s hot. He hopes it leaves a mark. “Rough as you want, babe,” Ryuji says gruffly; Akira grabs him hard by the balls and he yelps.

“Don’t call me that,” He says way too calmly as he releases the family jewels. Jesus christ, this dude actually might kill him. Death by nut? Honestly, not a terrible way to die; the ball-squeezing might have even been hot if it didn’t startle him so bad.

Warm, soft lips wrap around him and it’s like the finest silk Ryuji can imagine. “ Fuck, ” The expletive is out of his mouth before he can stop it and Akira just… hums around him, like the world’s sexiest vibrator, and - 

No, no - he was supposed to be the one in charge here. When did this guy turn things back around on him? He can’t give Akira free reign, that’s asking to be… were- napped or something, he doesn’t know. So, Ryuji tightens that hand in his hair, starts rocking his hips forward instead. 

Akira takes it like a damn champ. He’s into it, too, if the quick movements of his wrist are any indication. Soft, wet noises fill his ears; his cock bumps the back of the guy’s throat and he doesn’t even choke.  

Damn, where’d this guy learn to fuck? He’s way, way too good at this. 

Ryuji’s been around the block too, though, and he’s not about to let him get the upper hand. “Damn, that mouth, ” He growls appreciatively, and maybe he’s showing a little too much tooth in his grin as he holds Akira roughly by the back of his head, fucks his mouth like it was made for this. He’s not normally this rough, especially not the first time, but Akira’s obviously having a good time considering the way he outright moans around his cock.

Akira’s definitely his type. Could kill him. Also, will kneel down dutifully between Ryuji’s legs and give him the best head of his life. Yeah. Maybe next time, he’ll return the favor. 

The thought of a next time, god, so tantalizing - Ryuji’s getting close now, he can feel it. The heat in his gut, the pressure at the base of his spine. Akira must realize it, too, because he’s reaching up and gripping him hard by the ass as he deepthroats him even further and fuck , there’s no way he’s pulling out in time. 

“ Shit, I’m gonna-” 

Akira just hums; apparently so, so pleased with himself as Ryuji’s seeing stars, rocking into his mouth in the aftermath. His skin tingles, he’s a little dizzy from both the alcohol and the lack of blood flow to his brain. Feeling him swallow almost has him ready to go all over again. 

“Hah,” Ryuji’s panting, looking down at him; Akira can’t see him but Ryuji can see Akira, can see the dazed look on his face and the way his lips are swollen, the way he’s still gently stroking himself on the floor. The cum drooling out of the corner of his mouth. His tongue darts to catch it and Ryuji half-moans, half-exhales in awe. “Holy shit. ” 

He feels… different, markedly, than before, a feeling he can’t put a finger on or describe but he knows all the same. When he reaches up, the pointed ears are gone; so is his tail. Maybe a good orgasm was all he needed? He has been feeling a little pent-up lately; school’s been making it difficult for him to actually go out and get some. Well, damn. He learns new things every day. At least that’s one problem solved.

“C’mere,” He says, reaching down - Akira braces himself against Ryuji’s shoulders, almost like he’s trying to push him away, but Ryuji’s not about to let him go so quickly. He scoops his arms under him, lifts him like he’s nothing (he’s pretty dense , actually, if Ryuji’s being honest), and deposits him on the table in the center of the room. 

“ Jesus- ” Akira jumps a little when his ass hits cold tabletop. “How can you even see? ” 

“Ate my carrots,” Ryuji replies as he hits the light - no point in leaving it off now, and he wants to see this dude in full color. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Akira’s wide-eyed, a little surprised, but still very much hard as he lounges on the edge of that table. Definitely some kind of health violation, Ryuji can’t find it in him to care. Who knows what other heinous, filthy things have been done in this private lounge? 

Ryuji can get a good look at him now, in the dim red light glowing from the wall sconces. Damn, he looks good all flushed like this, skin satiny with sweat, hair stuck just slightly to his forehead. Definitely a far cry from the calm, cool and collected guy he was earlier - no, now he’s anything but, biting his lip as Ryuji practically devours him with his eyes. He would be satisfied, but he obviously still has a job to do - that dick isn’t getting any softer and Ryuji is more than willing to pay what is due. He kneels down, rests his chin gently on the edge of the table, hands sliding slowly up Akira’s calves, his knees - his pants have become a useless puddle of fabric on the floor below. He nips lightly at the meat of Akira’s inner thigh - the guy jumps, clearly not expecting the sharpness there, but the soft, pleased sound he makes is enough of a reward. Yeah, okay, maybe he doesn’t have the ears anymore but sucking dick is still definitely off the table. 

Instead, he wraps a hand around him, stroking him gently - his thumb traces a vein that runs up the underside of his shaft before teasing at his frenulum, earning him another little noise. This is a nice angle, watching him from below - Akira’s biting his lip to try to stymie the sounds he’s making, knuckles white as his hands clench into fists at his sides. “You’re awfully good at this,” He breathes. “Have we fucked before?” 

Ryuji laughs at the thought. No, he definitely would remember a guy like this. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to forget, actually. “Not as far as I know,” He murmurs against his soft skin. “Though, I wouldn’t say no to a repeat performance.” 

“ Nf. Me neither.” 

The sounds this man makes when Ryuji touches him, like music to his ears. It’s like - it’s like he can drown everything else out for once even with his damnably- heightened senses, enamored by the sensation and the soft moans and the smells, god, the smells. Akira Kurusu smells like the forest and coffee and gasoline and arousal. It’s dizzying. Maddening. Ryuji bites and sucks at his thighs in ways that’ll surely leave marks; he tastes a little hint of iron on his tongue and that just makes everything even hotter.  “Your teeth-” Akira whines, “Sharp - you-” 

Akira finally comes, messing Ryuji’s hand with a strangled sound in his throat - damn, he sounds so fucking pretty when he does, so impossibly perfect just like everything else about this guy - and Ryuji half-wishes he had a condom just so he could fuck him properly. 

God. He wants to devour this man. Or, maybe, he wants this man to devour him. Both? Both. Both is good. 

“I…” Akira bubbles out a laugh, clear and sweet and almost strange considering how poised he’s been all night up to this point. So poignant and attention-grabbing on the dance floor, but… in here, he’s all Ryuji’s. If only for a short while. “ Wow. ” 

Maybe even another short while, another day. It seems like Akira’s definitely interested in a round two sometime. Ryuji’s a little proud of himself, if he’s being honest. Netting a guy like this feels like winning the goddamn lottery. “Not bad?” He asks hopefully. 

“...No. Not bad,” Akira tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling. He seems… tense, for a second, like he’s suddenly remembered he has something to do, but then he relaxes once more as Ryuji stands, tugging his jeans back up around his hips and wiping his hand on the wrinkled denim. “You come to Crossroads often?” 

“About twice a week, give or take. Been less lately, but…” He casts another long, long look at Akira, unable to hide a tempted little smirk. “I could change that.” 

Akira nods slowly. He’s back to being all unbothered and unperturbed, running a hand curiously over the newly-minted marks on his inner thighs . Maybe a little disappointing, but… frankly, Ryuji’s just surprised that he can code-switch so quickly like that. Snap of his fingers, he’s back to looking emotionless and undisturbed. Kind of scary, in a sexy sort of way. “I’m here every Saturday. Or, we can do your place.” 

He doesn’t mention his own apartment - Ryuji wonders why, but also he sort of understands. It’s not like Akira’s place is really conducive for setting a mood. Even in the short time he existed in that space it felt like the building was going to blow over. Also, he doesn’t even have a real bed. Maybe he likes the hardness of the floor? Not really all that great for banging, though. His knees would hurt so bad… 

Another question yet on the pile. Why does a guy who oozes rich kid energy live in a place like that? 

“Gimme your number, then,” Ryuji says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. 

Like quick escapades always are, the end of their encounter is awkward and halting. Akira leaves first, after cleaning himself up - just gives him a curt wave like they just finished a business luncheon or something - showing himself out with little fanfare. When Ryuji steps back into the club proper a few minutes later, the guy’s nowhere to be found - just a crowd full of happily-drunk gay guys, Akira’s drink left abandoned and untouched on the high-top where this all began.  

Bummer. He always did like a little after-fuck chat. Akira’s just not that type of guy, he supposes. 

Huffing, he plops himself gloomily down at the bar, feeling a little empty now that all the fun’s over, like post-nut clarity but with longing in the place of regret. Lala is giving him a knowing look as she approaches, painted lips pursed assumptively. She leans down, and in a low voice she asks, “How’d it go with mister dark-and-broody?” 

“Huh?” Ryuji raises his brows. Oh - she knows. Well, she probably knows most things that go on around here. No skin off his back. “Um… good, I think…?” He rubs the back of his neck. Mind-blowing is the first thing that comes to mind but he’s not about to wax poetic to a bartender he hardly knows. But, like - holy shit, that was hot. The dancing, the getting dragged to that room, the lights-off blowie… he might actually be ruined. No other guy he’s been with sucks dick like that.

“Looks to me like he had fun,” Lala looks to the door as she cleans a glass. “Normally, he’s not in there for longer than five minutes.” 

Ryuji’s face splits in a grin. “You sayin’ I beat a record? You gotta tell me what my time was.” 

Lala rolls her eyes, though her expression is more playful than anything. “Twenty. I’ll give you a solid B-plus.” 

“Fuck yes,” Ryuji pumps a fist. Passing grade? He’s a college student. Good enough for him. Great, even,  it’s above a C. That’s practically sexual genius territory. 

It seems like the bartender and Akira know each other pretty well. It’s probably not his place to pry, but if the dude’s Yakuza then this whole bar could just be a front. Ryuji didn’t see him pay a single yen the entire time he was here. 

At any rate, he decides he probably shouldn’t stick around much longer. He gives Akira a few minutes to get some distance - guy obviously values his personal space - before finally stepping out of the bar, shivering a little at the fall breeze and half-wishing he brought a coat. His mind’s still running as he makes his way back to the train station, picking his way through the alleys with the shortcut he knows so well, wondering just where things are going to go from here. 

Maybe, he hopes, Akira will finally approach him at school. Surely he’ll say something , right? If he even notices his presence. Ryuji has a feeling the guy spends a lot of time in his own head; maybe he’ll extend the olive branch instead. 

Haru’s gonna be so jealous.  

--- 

Akira Kurusu lies flat on his back in bed, staring up at his tar-stained ceiling as his brain slowly processes what the hell just happened over the last few hours. 

He’s picked up guys at bars before, he’s no stranger to that - Crossroads is an old stomping ground, and he certainly didn’t ever expect anyone to get one over on him. He didn’t think this time would be any different, but… but as soon as those lights went off it’s like the guy was an entirely different person. He plucked the control right out of Akira’s hands, turned the tables on him and showed him a great time regardless. The best he could do was awkwardly shuffle out of there before he embarrassed himself even further. 

And yet. Akira liked it. 

Akira Kurusu likes control. Swears by it, lives and dies by it. If he doesn’t have it, he needs it - he needs everything all neat and orderly and perfect in his head, needs everything under his thumb or else he will inevitably begin to spiral. It’s one of the many reasons why he likes dogs so damned much. They’re so easy, so eager to please. Their lives are so wonderfully simple. 

However, no spiraling of any sort happened tonight at Crossroads. That guy… he took him and used him and Akira was, impossibly, getting off on it. He let him do those things to him, no doubt about it - he could have stopped whenever he wanted to. He didn’t, though. Akira was the one who got on his knees, Akira was the one who swallowed.

He fucking swallowed! Since when does he do that?

Well. Lala was right, the guy was good for him in some weird way. Does sex count as therapy, if it’s allowing Akira to let go of his insufferable tendency to be a massive control freak? 

He rolls over on the mattress, closing his eyes. Akira almost wants to text him right now, but he doesn’t even remember his name. Saka… Sakurai? Sako? Sakata? It’s on the tip of his tongue but he’s just not getting it. Damn his terrible memory. 

Well. He’ll just put his contact in as ‘dog boy’ for now. Good enough. The man has golden retriever energy. Or, maybe - malamute? Akira would have to get to know him better to decide. Either way, he reminds Akira warmly of the dogs he spends his time with at the shelter, all that cooperative, easygoing energy compressed into human form. His life seems wonderfully simple. So carefree, so… unvarnished, uncomplicated. Maybe Akira is a little jealous.

Fuck, and he has practice tomorrow. His hands already ache thinking about it. He supposes another tryst with Dog Boy will have to wait. As much as he’s really only going to school to cosplay having a normal life for once, he’s not one to shirk his commitments. After all, he promised that pink-haired girl a duel. 

His eyes wander over his small apartment, over the animal hair still scattered over the floor. Idly, he wonders what happened to the forest dog, the one he took home last night. The blanket’s still crumpled up near his futon - Akira subconsciously hasn’t picked it up, like he’s waiting for him to come back. He hopes he’s okay, wherever he is. 

Akira resolves to check the woods again when he next has the time. He can at least look for more traps, keep the thing safe if it ventures near there again.

Chapter Text

Ryuji has his philosophy lecture again on Monday evening, and he can’t say that he’s ever been more excited to listen to his senile professor drone on and on about the meaning of life and the ethics of the criminal justice system. Well - he’s not exactly excited about that part, but… 

“What are you looking so cheery for?” Ann slides into the seat next to him, stretching as she yawns. This is her only class on Mondays - it looks like she couldn’t be assed to change out of her pajamas. Her eyes follow Ryuji’s, and when they land on Akira her expression sours. “ Oh, ” She says flatly. “You know, I still don’t believe that you had sex with him.” 

“Believe what you want,” Ryuji waves a hand. “I’m gonna go talk to him after class.” 

“He might be one of those guys who doesn’t like talking to his fuck buddies outside the… y’know, fucking? ” 

“Never know til I try!” 

Ryuji settles himself in to actually take notes for once, if only because it’ll distract him from staring at his new hyperfixation for the next few hours. The more he anticipates, the longer it’ll be, right? That’s definitely how time works. 

Akira’s back to looking like a normal student. Honestly, he’s pretty hard to recognize at school. He had a different aura about him, when he was at Crossroads. He wore his hair a little differently, he wasn’t wearing glasses. With the slightly cooler weather, he’s wearing a light sweater - definitely a hell of a lot different from the getup he had on at the bar. 

Very much a double-life sort of schtick. Ryuji can understand how that feels, in a way. He wouldn’t call the wolfy side of him a whole other life, per say, but… it’s not like he can share it with anyone else. The only other person like him that he knows about is probably either miles away in some remote wilderness or long dead. 

Every once in a while, he wonders if he should tell someone. Ann’s always the first to come to mind; they’ve known each other the longest and he feels like she would be the most understanding. However, every time he’s resolved to do it, he just… can’t. His mom ingrained in him so young that telling anyone could be a death sentence, he just - he’s not sure if he’s willing to dishonor her in that way just yet. It’s only been a handful of years. 

Dammit, Ryuji! Stop thinking about sad shit, focus on the lecture.  

Despite his truly valiant efforts in note-taking and attention-paying, the two hours crawl by at a snails’ pace; by the time the professor is finally erasing the board and getting ready to dismiss them Ryuji is practically vibrating out of his seat. Akira’s shifting below him uncomfortably - unfortunately for him, he’s been subject to Ryuji boring his eyes into the back of his skull for the better part of the last hour. What can he say? He’s excited.  

Though, he’s never been this pumped before about running into a fuckbuddy. Mostly, it’s just awkward. Especially when guys are still trying to navigate the gay thing. Akira doesn’t seem like that kind of person, but… why is Ryuji so excited to see him? 

He just… he relates to him, that’s all. They both have their secrets. Ryuji likes that. He feels seen, in a weird way. Even if he can never actually tell him. 

…Even if they’ve probably moaned more around each other than they’ve actually talked.  

The professor lets them go; Ryuji’s shoving his laptop in his bag and sliding down the railing, leaving Ann in the dust. Sorry, He gives her an apologetic look as he chases after Akira, who - as usual - is already out the door. 

“Kurusu!” Shit, he’s already hanging a right and heading for the courtyard. Is he gonna go ride out into the woods again? Ryuji’s not a great runner on two legs, not anymore, but worse comes to worse he can at least try… When he pushes his way outside, he spots Akira striding out across the pavement, hands in his pockets. Finally! Ryuji can’t keep himself from grinning as he jogs up to him. 

“Hey, man,” He offers a little wave, and - Akira looks stunned, mostly. So he was right -  he didn’t recognize him from school. Ryuji’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Akira looks different, too - y’know, glasses, his hair’s different. He looks more like a nerd than the black sheep of a wealthy family, which is kind of the vibe Ryuji got at the club… “Long time no see! Ha.” 

“Um,” Akira’s eyes are wide behind those overlarge glasses, and it briefly seems like he’s forgotten how to speak. “...Hey.”

Wow. This is a lot more awkward than Ryuji expected. Where’s all that suave energy from the other night? “...Did you not realize we go to the same school?” 

Akira looks back at his bike, lips pursed like he’s thinking about something. “I didn’t,” He replies quietly - then, he shakes his head, blinking a couple times like he’s trying to reorient himself. “Sorry. You caught me at a bad time. I’m going into the park today.” 

Right, right, Ryuji nods along like he doesn’t know this already. “No big! Just wanted to say hi.” 

Akira offers a small smile. “Hi.,” Then, “When’re you free next?”

Oh. Oh - okay. He wants to know, like, now? “Um,” Ryuji can’t help the nervous laughter, it’s just force of habit at this point. “I’m free tonight, if you’re not gonna be done super late. No pressure, though.” 

“I’ll let you know.” His gaze casts out towards the nature preserve. “There was a stray out there last time - um, a dog. I’m worried, because someone’s been setting up traps so I’m just gonna check for signs of him.” 

Oh, shit. Akira’s looking for dog-him. That’s awkward. “U-um, okay! Cool, dude.” Ryuji wants to smack himself in the forehead when he retreats a few steps while doing finger guns. Fucking - finger guns? Really? Of all the stupid things - 

Akira laughs, though, and suddenly everything is all better. “Okay. I’ll text you, then.” 

“Sounds good!” 

Ryuji watches, still kicking himself internally a little for being so damned awkward as Akira climbs atop his motorcycle and kicks off, engine roaring as he speeds off towards the entrance to the nature preserve. 

He just got a round two. 

Fuck yes. 

He’s in the middle of doing a little victory dance when he sees his friends all exit together from the main building, chatting amongst each other. One of them must spot him, because a moment later Ann is pointing and yelling. 

“ Ryuji! C’mere! ” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryuji feels like he’s on cloud fuckin’ nine as he jogs to meet them - it’s the girls, and Yusuke too - looks like he’s back from his exhibition thing. “What’s up, guys?”

“Were you just talking to Akira? ” Haru looks up at him, rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Huh, that?” Ryuji tries and fails to act nonchalant over the whole matter. “Oh, yeah, we’re just… fuckin’ , or whatever, no big deal.” 

“Bull shit. ” Ann crosses her arms over her chest. “No way a guy that hot would-” 

“-Ann, you wound me,” He makes a show of dramatically throwing his hand over his chest, leaning back slightly in absolute horror. “I’ve got more game than you’d think, alright?”

“So I see Ryuji has found a new sexual partner,” Yusuke states matter-of-factly. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Oh, you can’t tell me you don’t fuck your way through half the art department on those trips of yours.” Ryuji makes a face at him. 

“I don’t, actually,” Yusuke sniffs. “I have much more important ways to spend my time. No offense, of course!” He throws his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Just - different strokes, is all.” 

The idea that Yusuke thinks that not getting it on is cool is lost on Ryuji. Who doesn’t like a trip to pound town? Well, maybe he’s a little biased in that regard considering his libido could probably win awards. “Right. Anyways-” Ryuji grins. “He’s coming over to my place tonight. Cool, right?” 

“ Very cool,” Makoto giggles a little into her sleeve. “Ryuji, when was the last time you cleaned your room?” 

…Shit. His house is a fucking mess. When was the last time he did dishes? Or laundry?

“Fuck! I gotta go clean!” He’s sprinting before he can even think about it, taking off across the courtyard.

“There he goes,” Ann grumbles, before calling to him - “Don’t get an STD, you idiot!” 

“I won’t!” Ryuji remembers at the last minute to give his friends a goodbye wave before he rounds the corner and heads towards the main street. 

--- 

Akira didn’t see any sign of the dog today. 

He’s not giving up, he wants to make sure the damn thing is safe, but he supposes that the longer he doesn’t see it the safer it likely is. It was obviously well-trained; it sat in the crate on his bike like he’d done it a thousand times before. 

It had , however, still been dumb enough to fall for a very obvious trap. Hopefully it’s learned its lesson. ‘Fool me once’ and all that. Dogs pick up on things like that pretty quick most of the time - it's likely that it fled his apartment and didn't go back to the park even if the area was familiar. Or, y'know, there's his pet theory with the overly protective dog owner. 

Akira still isn't sure who broke into his house - or why , but after a couple nights sleeping with his pistol under his pillow there haven't been any more disturbances. Thank god , because he'd really rather not accidentally kill some guy who was just trying to get his dog back, or find a warm place to spend the night. For the part of town he lives in, things do tend to be mostly peaceful. Most folks in his neighborhood tend to avoid confrontation; the police showing up is never a good sign, but they'll come running if someone disturbs the peace. 

Ugh. He’s doing way too much thinking about stuff that stresses him out right now. Akira reminds himself that he’s trying to take tonight to de -stress, as he parks back at his apartment and runs upstairs to shower. He's all covered in dirt from digging around in the brush - Akira found no less than four more snare traps set in various trees in the woods. That was concerning, really concerning. What are they trying to find out there? 

Finding those traps and no sign of the forest dog was enough to have him texting Dog Boy - er, Ryuji. Ryuji Sakamoto. Akira’s not good with names, but he’ll try his best. Maybe some good sex and some time out of the house will get his mind off things. 

His mind continues to run as he drops his bag, stripping on the way to the shower. He had no clue the dude went to his school. He’s in the same class, no less. With all the rumors floating around about Akira’s connections to the criminal underworld, why did Ryuji even approach him?

Maybe the guy just lacks some vital sense of self-preservation. That, or he just doesn’t care. He definitely seems like a ‘wild and free’ sort of person - the exact opposite of himself. Akira is careful, calculated, planned - spontaneity is not in his playbook. It can’t be, not when screwing up could mean he ends up just like his parents. 

Stop dwelling on it, Akira.  

He steels himself, shuts his brain off best he can. It was a knee-jerk decision to ask Ryuji out, he didn’t think the guy would actually be free. However, the idea of a round two is tempting enough to follow through. The sex was… good. Better than good, even. Maybe. 

As he stands under the warm water of the shower, his mind wanders back to their little stint at the club, back to that hungry look in his eyes. Ryuji Sakamoto is, no doubt, interesting. He is the only person who has somehow managed to effortlessly wrest away Akira’s need for control, break down his walls in an instant and get him to…

Debase himself. On his knees. 

Maybe Akira’s a little miffed about it. Just a little.  

Ryuji took him by surprise! He turned off the lights, he pressed him against the door. Held his wrists and Akira let him! 

Why did I let him? 

Akira Kurusu likes being the one to pull the strings. Sure, he had the upper hand during most of that encounter - the chase, dancing with him, propositioning him - but there was some desperation behind Ryuji’s actions in the back room. The way he so quickly one-eightied from mildly-brainless jock to… god, whatever that was, him growling in his ear like that and smothering him. It turned Akira into a goddamn puddle. 

He’s not sure if he can do that again - not anytime soon. It’s arousing, sure, but it’s also terrifying. Akira isn’t good with people. Ryuji is people.

…Maybe he shouldn’t have asked him in the first place. 

Well, what’s done is done. Akira finishes washing himself before stepping out, redressing into something more comfortable than what he normally wears to school. He’s a little nervous, sure, but as long as he keeps his cool it’ll be just fine. Maybe he’ll even seek a little comeuppance tonight. Give Ryuji a taste of his own medicine. 

Ryuji Sakamoto seems like a ‘go with the flow’ kind of guy anyways. The least the man can do is indulge him a little. Maybe he'll… pack a bag? He might end up staying the night, so… could be good to be prepared. 

He could also, incidentally, pack other things. A devious little plan begins to hatch in his head. If the guy’s a fan of taking risks, how far might he go? 

Akira kind of wants to find out. 

---

“Oh, hey, man!” Ryuji Sakamoto’s face is bright and cheery as he opens the door to greet him. As Akira expected, he lives in the apartment blocks across from the college, the ones that are reserved for student housing. It doesn’t seem like the guy has a job, though… is he skating by on savings or something? Not like it matters to him or anything - it's not like Akira is really employed either in the ethical sense of the word.

“Didn’t expect you here so soon, sorry,” He looks a little out of breath, a little red in the face as he rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish expression. Akira steps past him into the apartment proper and is met with a pretty barebones looking studio. With a snort, he spots a large pile of laundry half-shoved into the closet. Did he panic-clean before Akira arrived? Kind of cute. 

“Am I putting you out?” Akira asks, if only to be polite. “I can come back another time if you need to take care of chores.”

“No! No, you're good.” Ryuji shuts the door softly behind them; it's quiet in here and Akira finds himself with very little to say. He doesn't actually know all that much about Ryuji - looking around, he sees posters on the walls for some games and anime (pretty expected), a couple dishes in the sink. Not much to go off of - dude doesn't really have a lot of stuff. 

“You want a beer?” 

Ryuji slips past him into his small kitchen area; Akira follows behind. Alcohol’s as good of a conversation stimulator as anything. “Sure.” 

He produces a couple cans from his little fridge; just a cheap brew, probably from the convenience store nearby, nothing special. What college kid is picky about booze, anyways? Akira has to remind himself that he’s still learning how to be a college kid. Or, really, how to be a person in general. Maybe… maybe that’s why he’s taken a shine to this guy, sans the good sex. He’s a very… person kind of person. A lot of person, he could say. Yeah. Akira decides he likes that. 

He gets a small peek inside the fridge while it's open. Maybe it’s a force of habit, you can tell a lot about a person based on what they eat, and - is that - why does he have raw meat just hanging out in his fridge? 

He raises a brow. Organ meat, no less. As Ryuji hands him the beer, Akira asks, “What's with the chicken hearts?” 

For a moment, Ryuji looks a little stunned. Confused, maybe? He turns and looks at the fridge, then back at him. “Oh - those?” He laughs nervously. “Um, I have a… a dog.” 

“Oh! Really?” With a little burst of excitement, Akira looks around the apartment for said dog - though he's rather disappointed when he finds none. “Is it… is it not here?” 

“Oh - um, they don't let us have dogs at the student housing, so he's boarded right now.” 

Akira nods. That makes sense. These apartments aren't really conducive for the space a dog needs, not much place to walk one around here either. He's curious, though - “What kind of dog?” 

“Um - he's a mutt… nothing special. I, uh, adopted him off the street when he was a puppy.” 

Oh, Akira bets he's so cute. He imagines he's probably big, could definitely bowl you over if he jumps. Fluffy, too - Akira now notices the dog hair that is scattered throughout the apartment on nearly every surface. Ryuji must sneak him over here a lot. “Is he well-behaved? Not sure if you knew this, but I work at the animal shelter. I train dogs, too.”

“Oh, really?” Ryuji's eyes widen a little. “He's… he's pretty obedient, but I'll let you know if I feel like I need help!” 

He seems… uncomfortable, and Akira cringes a little at himself. Did he get too excited and overstep some boundary? He doesn't want it to seem like he's telling the guy how to take care of his dog - that’s like, the carnal sin of dog ownership. Akira clears his throat awkwardly. “Um, anyways. I'd love to meet him sometime. What's his name?”

“His name?” Ryuji takes a long sip of his beer. “Pochi.” 

Well… a little uninspired, but still cute. Akira smiles as he cracks open his drink, watching the liquid inside foam and swirl. “I'm a big dog person, if you couldn't tell.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Ryuji leans against his counter - and damn Akira can't help but notice the way his pecs flex when he does. How much does this dude work out? “I mean - I heard about some big dog roaming in the park, and you said you were going out to look for it. I assumed you might be trying to take it in to get its chip scanned or something.” 

It seems Akira’s not the only one who saw the dog - or heard about it, at least. Hopefully there aren't students looking to chase the poor thing out. “Yeah - have you heard anything recently? I didn’t see any trace of it today and I went a good few miles up the trail.” 

Ryuji screws up his face. “...I don't think so.” 

“Damn,” Akira sighs, crestfallen. “I wanted to try and find it… I was worried about it getting caught in another trap.” He pauses, realizing he should probably explain. “Um - I found it a few days ago, caught in a snare. I freed it, but the shelter was already closed so I took it back home. But… I live in a rough part of town, and someone broke into my place. I think the dog ran away in the scuffle.” 

Ryuji listens dutifully, nodding slowly - understanding begins to dawn on his face and Akira is at least glad he doesn't find any of this weird. The same can't be said for other people he's mentioned his little passion to. “Damn - that sucks. I hope you find him before whoever’s setting those traps does.” He raises the beer to his lips again, practically chugging the rest - Ryuji's adam's apple bobs as he drinks and despite his worry for the forest dog Akira finds the whole action strangely attractive. Those sweatpants , too, his weakness. Akira can just barely make out the outline of his cock through the fabric. Mmm…

“Like what you see?” 

Akira swallows - he's bitten his lip and just stood there, staring, without even realizing. Dammit. Okay. If he's gonna keep the upper hand this time, he needs to keep his shit together. Bringing his own beer to his mouth, he half-nods as he drinks, the alcohol emboldening him a bit as it warms his stomach and throat. It's not good beer by any means, pretty bread-y, but Akira's not in the position to be picky.

He supposes now’s as good a time as any to drop the proverbial bomb on him. “I brought some stuff, if you wanna take a look,” Akira explains once he's emptied his can. The small overnight bag he's brought is shrugged off his shoulder, handed over to Ryuji. 

“...Stuff? Like-” He unzips the backpack, sticking his arm in like he's fishing around for a prize. 

“Toys, mostly. Nothing crazy. Wasn't sure what you were into.” 

“Gonna be honest, I haven't really used toys before, but -” Ryuji shrugs as he continues to dig through the bag - Akira’s a little surprised, considering how forward he was the other night. That down to fuck, and he’s never even touched a butt plug? Kind of funny. “First time for everything, right?” 

He produces probably the last thing Akira would have expected, wrapped around his hand as he tugs it out. “...Oh,” Ryuji's face pinks a little, and Akira raises a brow in hesitant interest. Has he unintentionally discovered a little kink of his? How fortuitous.

“What?” Akira asks coolly, abating his excitement for the time being. “Never seen a collar and leash before?” 

Ryuji weighs the object in his hands - the smooth leather of the lead, the comfortable collar with its padded inner layer. “These are for people?” 

Akira laughs. “I do train dogs, but - yes. That one is for people.” 

Ryuji’s face is rather red, but his interest is apparent as he raises the leash towards Akira, one of his dark eyebrows twitching upwards apprehensively. “...You train people, too?”

Oh, he's got him so pinned. Guys like him are so easy to read - he really is like a dog. Perfect. “Sometimes,” He murmurs teasingly, crossing his arms over his chest. That bulge in Ryuji's sweats definitely isn't getting any smaller. Akira’s mouth twitches up in a little mischievous smirk. “Would you like a demonstration?” 

“Uh-” Ryuji's dark eyes are wide, the tips of his ears reddening even further. Akira watches him process this sudden turn of events with mild amusement - it's like he can see the gears turning in that spikey-blonde head of his. “I mean, I don't have a lot of experience, but-” 

“Well,” Akira chuckles darkly as he makes his move, closes the distance between them. Carefully, he releases the bag from Ryuji's grasp, setting it on the floor before brushing a knuckle just beneath the other man's chin, looking up at him through long lashes. “Isn't that kind of the point?” 

“Oh,” Ryuji grins down at him - Ren is reminded of those strangely-sharp teeth, the way his inner thighs still ache from them. It's a little strange, but Akira can't find it anything but attractive - especially when they gleam a little in the low fluorescent light of the apartment. “Yeah,” He finally says. “I guess you're right.” 

Akira pulls away a little - no reason for it, really, just enjoying the chase. Well, he supposes setting boundaries is also kind of important. “Just let me know if it ends up being too much for you.” 

“What, you think I can't take it?” Ryuji growls playfully. Oh, did he - did he take that as a tease? Akira likes this guy more by the minute. “Don’t worry about me. I'll be just fine.” 

“Don't say I didn't warn you,” Akira hums, smiling to himself as he gently takes the collar and leash from Ryuji's hands. There's a metal loop that attaches them together, already fastened, but he tugs at the join to make sure it's secure before reaching forward to wrap the collar around Ryuji's neck. 

He's hot , physically warm - his skin’s already the slightest bit damp with sweat as Akira brushes his knuckles across his throat. Ryuji swallows thickly as the collar is tightened - just loose enough for two fingers to slip between it and his neck, and then Akira retreats to inspect his handiwork. 

Mmm. Ryuji looks good collared; it's like the thing was made for him. He’s testing it out, tugging gently at the leather as Akira picks up the leash, sliding the loop effortlessly around his fingers. 

“So, what now-” 

Akira tugs firmly on the lead, maybe just hard enough to be considered a yank - Ryuji makes a strangled noise in his throat and those sweats aren't hiding anything anymore. Wow . It was different when it was dark, Akira couldn't actually see just how well-endowed Ryuji is, but… damn, the guy’s packing some heat. A different kind of heat creeps up Akira's neck as he gives Ryuji a smug look. 

“What? Still think you can take it?” 

Ryuji furrows his brow. The look on his face is dangerous, it sends a shiver up Akira’s spine. “I can see you staring, y’know. No way I'm chickening out now.” 

Akira is slowly starting to understand this guy's M.O. - he's outgoing, fearless, maybe a little impulsive. Willing to jump into things headfirst and stick around if he likes them enough. Does that mean he likes Akira enough? Would he have agreed to have him over otherwise? 

That, Akira doesn't know yet, but it'll probably be fun to find out. Incidentally, it gives Akira a little flutter in his belly. Maybe, like, one butterfly. He doesn’t really do the romance thing, but… he’d take this guy out for wine and cheese or something. 

“C’mere,” Akira tugs the leash again - softly this time, just a gentle nudge towards Ryuji's bed. It looks hastily made, the comforter spread out a little unevenly over the mattress, but it's miles softer than the floor futon/tatami combo Akira is presently dealing with at home. “Sit on the bed. Take off your shirt, too.” 

Ryuji follows, and Akira drops the leash to allow him to tug off that tank top of his. Inch after inch of muscled torso is exposed - it's the first time Akira's really seen him shirtless and damn . Ryuji’s more cut than he initially thought, all lean, wiry muscle and sharp angles. Goosebumps rise on that lightly-tanned, exposed skin as he pulls the shirt over his head, threads the leash back through it, and then tosses the fabric carelessly on the floor. 

He's a sight, for sure. A damn nice one, as he leans back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. Ryuji obviously knows what he's got - he's giving Akira an expectant look, as if waiting for him to get down on his knees and commence worship of his body. Damn, any other day and Akira might, but he's already picking up the leash and he wants to see what makes this guy tick. 

“Good boy,” Akira flicks his eyes up to see Ryuji's reaction to the praise - the man pulls his lower lip between his teeth, Akira catches his cock twitching in his sweats. Ding ding ding goes the metaphorical game show in his head. 

“Oh, you like that?” Grinning, he tugs at the leash again; Ryuji jerks forward with a pleased little sound that goes straight to Akira's groin. 

“M-hmm,” He now has his hands planted on the bed between his spread legs, feet swaying back and forth as he patiently waits for Akira to make his next move. Okay, so he's pretty vocal about what he's into. Akira likes that. It's… refreshing, he supposes, for someone not to be embarrassed or shy about this sort of thing. Just… openly watching, openly anticipating. 

“Good,” Akira murmurs, trying to figure out how he should play this. Lots of scenarios come to mind, but… “On your knees,” He instructs, pointing to the empty spot on the floor at his feet.  

Ryuji enthusiastically clambers off the bed, settling himself on his hands and knees - he even crouches there like a dog, legs almost perfectly perpendicular as they bend beneath him, just the balls of his feet anchoring him to the floor. From this angle, the tent in his sweats is obvious - Akira trails his eyes appreciatively up the other man’s form, and it’s obvious Ryuji notices with the way he glances up at him with a knowing little smirk. 

Hmm. Ryuji got to see him in this position last time, and fair's fair, right? Akira takes a step closer; Ryuji leans forward as if to close the distance between them but one sharp tug on the leash and he is backing off obediently. His… complacency has a little shiver of arousal trailing up Akira's spine, its tendrils working their way to settle in his stomach. “Wow,” He breathes, a little… awed? Impressed? Akira's not sure, he doesn't think he's ever been with someone so blatantly enthusiastic about, well, anything. Not in the same way Ryuji is. 

Akira gropes himself openly through his jeans - he's already hard, erection pressing firmly down the length of his thigh, and he's a little startled at how sensitive he is. Even just grabbing himself through layers of clothing is dizzyingly arousing, and he’s beginning to wonder if this guy wears some aphrodisiac body spray or something, but - no, Akira’s pretty sure it’s just him. Ryuji exhales shakily as he observes, shifting a little in his position on all fours, licking his lips, and - 

Yeah, it's time for Akira to get a little recompense.

Wrapping the leash a few times around his knuckles to free both his hands, he unbuttons his jeans, sighing softly at the release of pressure. Akira takes his sweet time getting them off, though - mainly because seeing the growing frustration and excitement on Ryuji's face is pretty damn gratifying. “Anyone ever told you that you remind them of a dog?” 

The man stiffens for a moment, like it's a loaded question or something - his face reddens, and… oh, maybe he just likes that. Akira files that little, juicy tidbit of information away for future use. “I get that a lot,” He murmurs, casting his gaze down to the floor; he looks bashful, almost coy. Maybe there's something more there that Akira isn't privy to. An ex-lover, perhaps? Well, it's not his business, regardless - not to mention there are much more important matters to attend to.

Well, can't have him getting all shy now, Akira thinks to himself as he bends down to hook a finger under his chin, forcing Ryuji to meet his eyes. They're wide and intense; his warm mahogany brown against Akira's cold gray. For a second, Ryuji has this expression like Akira is his whole world ; Akira decides he likes that feeling. Likes feeling wanted . Needed.

“Good boy,” He hums, and Ryuji whimpers softly, the sound barely bleeding into an exhilarated little laugh. The way he’s so animated, so… Akira can’t really find words to explain it. Earnest, maybe? He’s never been with a guy quite like Ryuji before. It’s… yeah, it’s sexy as hell. 

His jeans now discarded on the floor, Akira puts on a show of grabbing himself through his boxers, teasing his thumb against his head before stepping even closer - he's only a few inches away now, he can feel Ryuji's hot breath ghosting over his skin. The man looks positively desperate, practically trembling as he sits dutifully in place, waiting for Akira to give him some direction. His lower lip’s tugged between his teeth as he smiles eagerly. 

“Want something?” Akira asks, figuring he has waited long enough. Ryuji nods immediately, collar jingling a little around his neck. “Come and get it, then.” 

And the way this man practically attacks him - Ryuji doesn't even bother trying to get his boxers off, he's just… nuzzling his face against the tent there, pressing his tongue to the fabric, mouthing at him aimlessly as a heady little moan ekes its way out of his throat. Holy shit , Akira didn't think this guy could get any more sexy, but now he is on his knees and practically worshiping his cock. 

Akira exhales slowly, trying to keep calm despite how much the sensations are making his knees weak. “Question,” He realizes he hadn't asked before, and he needs to if he wants the little plan he’s hatched in his head to come to fruition. “Have you bottomed before?” 

Ryuji is silent for just a while longer, eyes half-closed as his hands ghost up the sides of Akira’s legs as he presumably thinks about what to say. “Just because I'm all buff and shit,” He hooks his teeth on the waistband of Akira's boxers; the motion almost seems practiced as he smoothly, perfectly tugs them down to his knees. Impressive, he thinks. Also, what the fuck? Why is that so sexy? Akira's erection bobs free and he can practically see Ryuji's mouth watering. “You think I haven't taken it before?” 

“You just didn't strike me as the type,” Akira retorts, his voice a little strained because wow, this is really getting to him. He’s maybe found a small handful of Ryuji’s buttons; this guy, however, is the person who gets a kick out of the elevator door opening on every floor. He’s a fucking menace. Akira finds it astonishingly attractive. 

“Hm,” Ryuji just shrugs so nonchalantly as he mouths over the head of Akira's cock - he takes him casually in one hand, wrapping his fingers around the base. “Well, I have. And - I cleaned up in the shower earlier, if you were worried about that. Gotta be prepared for anything, right?” 

Okay. That makes things easier. Akira didn't expect Ryuji to be a switch, but it's a pleasant surprise considering how many selfishly stubborn men he's dealt with over the years. A slew of new fantasies come to mind - turning him around, flipping him over, pressing him up against a wall… 

Well, he's got to pick one, so he tugs at the leash again and jerks his chin up in the direction of the mattress. “On the bed, and strip. I'm gonna grab the lube.” 

“Damn, already?” Ryuji laughs a little and this time his tone is just a touch apprehensive as Akira crosses the room, fishes the little bottle out of his bag. “I’m gonna prep myself, though.” 

“Huh? Why?” Akira raises a brow as he returns, halfway through unbuttoning his shirt - Ryuji's making little grabby gestures with his hands as he tries to snatch the lube from him. He's already fully nude, cock bobbing between his legs - Akira finds it remarkable that he hasn't flagged even a little. 

“I like putting on a show,” Ryuji says simply, and - wow his confidence is sexier than Akira would like to admit. Alright, he wins this one. Akira relinquishes the bottle; Ryuji pops it open enthusiastically as he half-rolls himself onto his side, legs crossing over one another as he twists just enough to grant access. 

Akira's not really sure what to do, so he simply grabs the end of the leash again before sitting himself next to Ryuji on the bed to observe. He's slow about it, careful - a little out of character for him from what Akira has seen, but it's decidedly intimate to watch him like this, warming the lube between his fingers before reaching his arm backwards.

Ryuji’s breath hitches as he presses a finger inside - Akira watches his abs clench, his body go stiff like he’s unused to the intrusion. Maybe a little encouragement is in order? He tugs on the leash gently, if only to get his attention - then, he strokes Ryuji's cheek with the knuckles of the hand the soft leather is wrapped around, smiling reassuringly down at him. “Good boy,” He murmurs, and Ryuji shudders. 

“ Jesus, I dunno why but that does things to me- nf-” He's fingering himself properly now - his cock is drooling out onto the comforter, hips twitching forwards every so often as if seeking stimulation that isn’t there.

“What?” Akira teases, eyes traveling over him; he can’t decide what part of him would be best to focus on. The rise and fall of his chest? The way his adam’s apple stutters in his throat? The warm flush, slowly spreading across his skin? “ Good boy? ” 

“ Yes , fuck.” Ryuji half-laughs, half-moans. “Tell me - tell me how I should be doin’ this.” 

Oh, he wants Akira to lead him through this. The idea is dually comforting and arousing - full control, and Ryuji is unquestionably into it. “Just keep doing what you’re doing for now,” He replies coolly, despite the fact that his free hand has now magnetized itself to his cock. “Go ahead, when you’re ready for another.” 

Ryuji nods - his muscled chest is heaving a little as he works that finger in and out. Akira can't see the actual action from this angle, not totally, but the man's wrist is moving, he’s making these delicious little whining sounds and that is more than good enough. Akira touches himself slowly, deliberately; he wants to stoke the flames but keep them from turning into a forest fire, so to speak, just lightly stroking his hand up and down his shaft, feeling his pulse just beneath the skin.  

After a short while, Ryuji pulls his hand away, drizzling it with more lube - his gaze darts up to meet Akira’s for just a moment before he reaches back once more. “ Fuck, ” His groan is soft, desperate as he presses them inside. Akira's cock jumps at the sound; Ryuji is practically undoing himself and while Akira would like the pleasure of doing so eventually, just sitting back and watching is a rather enticing idea. 

“Anywhere else you're sensitive?” He asks, curious - as fun as Ryuji’s enthusiasm is, Akira wants to find more avenues of attack. His ears? His thighs? So many tantalizing little mysteries. 

Ryuji chews on his lower lip with those oversharp teeth, lazily stretching out the arm of his free hand and hooking it under his pillow. “Why don’t you touch me and find out?” 

Oh, a challenge. Akira likes those. Eyes darting from one sexy part of him to another, he zeroes in on Ryuji’s throat. The collar obscures much of it, but the creamy flesh below is definitely fair game. He rises from the bed, taking care to keep the leash slack as he slips around to the man’s other side, intent on half-spooning him so he can have a better angle. 

Ooh, he can see a lot more from here. The way the tendons in Ryuji’s arm are tight all the way from his knuckles to his elbow, the way he’s so nice and pink back there, fingers and perineum slicked shiny with lube. He must stare for a little too long, because Ryuji tilts his head back to look up at him curiously.

“I appreciate you admirin’ the merchandise, but you already have the full package. Just sayin’.” 

“ Sorry, ” Akira rolls his eyes dramatically as he climbs back onto the bed, settling himself on his side behind him. “Jeez.” 

“You gonna actually do somethin’? Or - oh, ” Ryuji is abruptly cut off as Akira secures his mouth against his skin, at the junction between his neck and shoulder. He is not gentle as he sinks in his teeth and sucks- the little whoosh of breath he earns is so damn satisfying. 

“Working on it,” Akira purrs into his ear. Ryuji shivers a little. Now, what next… casually, he slings an arm over Ryuji’s side, ignoring the little sound of discomfort he makes as his busy arm is jostled. The flat of his palm finds a nipple, and as he brushes over the pebbled flesh Ryuji sighs, leaning his head back against the pillow. 

“S’nice,” He murmurs. “I’m gettin’ kind of bored, though.” 

Of course he is. “What, not enjoying the fingers?” 

“Well,” Ryuji shifts a little, half his face buried in the pillows. “You haven’t told me to do much else, so…”

…Oh. He’s not - well, he’s touching himself, but not… touching himself. Akira’s kind of impressed, honestly. That’s an admirable amount of self-control. “Not gonna lie,” He says, laughing under his breath, “I kind of figured you already were?”

“Oh, so you’re saying I can? ”

He's so damn smug . Akira loves it. “Go for it.” 

Ryuji shifts slightly; the angle of his arm changes, straightening just a little as he presses his fingers deeper and oh . Akira’s kind of glad that things panned out this way because he gets to see the exact moment he strokes his P-spot - Ryuji goes stiff as a board, moaning softly into the pillow, and when Akira leans over a little to watch he gets an eyeful of the guy’s cock leaving a sizable wet spot on the comforter. Wow. This is - somehow - even better than he thought it would be. 

“Damn,” Akira says under his breath, a little awed by the sight. “Sensitive back there?” 

“Isn’t- hnn - isn’t everyone?” His voice is already rising to a higher timbre, strained in his throat. 

“Mmm, maybe not this much.” Akira tightens the slack on the leash; it forces Ryuji’s face out of the pillow and he groans, the sound teetering into a weak little laugh as Akira looks down at him hungrily. “Pretty hot, though.” 

“...Yeah?” Ryuji’s a little breathless as Akira lets the extra length go; his head falls limp back down to the bed, short hair messily haloing his face, and - y’know? He’s kind of pretty, in a masculine sort of way. Akira likes the cut of his jaw, the slight crookedness of his nose betraying a break early in life. He’s even prettier with his face flushed like that, his eyes rolling back into his head as he strokes himself from the inside. 

“I know what might be hotter, though,” Akira murmurs; he sits up, intending to grab a condom from his bag, but Ryuji’s free hand reaches out to grab his wrist. 

“Behind you, in the nightstand,” He breathes; Akira twists around to open the drawer. He finds a couple mangled phone chargers, a small bag of… bacon bits? For the dog? Not what he’s looking for, anyways - at the bottom, he discovers a small box of condoms. Akira pulls one out, checking the expiration date just to be sure before tearing it open with his teeth. 

“How do you wanna do this?” Akira asks, rolling the condom over his cock with practiced ease. Ryuji’s already shifting, pulling his fingers away with a soft sigh and wiping them carelessly on the comforter. He's all… loose-limbed, almost floppy but as soon as Akira runs a hand over his hip and thigh he's leaning into it, a goofy little smile on his face. Damn - hot, pretty, and cute, all paradoxically at the same time. 

“I mean,” Ryuji raises a brow, propping his head up with the heel of his palm, “you’re the one calling the shots here.” 

“Yeah, well.” Akira shrugs. It's their first time fucking, he's not sure what's comfortable and what isn't. “It’s your butt.” 

“Alright, alright. I guess…” Ryuji rolls over onto his back, scooting a little to make room; his cock’s hard enough to stand straight up from his hips, twitching a little as he bends one knee, rubbing it gently. 

“Missionary?” Akira snorts. 

“What? No, I'm just stretching.” Ryuji rolls his eyes. “You think I'm that boring? Asshole. I have a bum knee.” 

This is some new information. “You have a bad knee?” 

He nods, extending and bending his leg as if trying to loosen some kind of tightness in the joint. “Old sports injury. Still fucks with me sometimes. Anyways-” 

Akira backs up a little as Ryuji sits up, head lolling gently over to one side as he regards him. The guy’s almost… inspecting him, some emotion behind those dark eyes Akira is surprised to find that he doesn't completely understand. First time for everything, he supposes; everyone has their secrets.

“Wanna do doggy?” 

Akira sputters a little. He was all in his head for a second; the suggestion comes a little out of left field. “Um. Sure? Your knee gonna be okay?” 

“I ain't made of glass , dude. Besides, seems appropriate.” Ryuji tugs at the collar around his neck - Akira has a vivid vision of making good use of the leash while Ryuji takes him from behind. Yeah, okay. He sees the guy's point. 

“Turn over,” He instructs quietly, and Ryuji grins, immediately turning himself around, and dammit, Akira has to stifle a laugh because he's basically waving his ass in his face. He'll add ‘funny’ onto the steadily-growing list of things he likes about this new fuck-buddy of his.

Akira situates himself behind Ryuji, on his knees - it's a nice view, the scant curve of Ryuji's waist into broad shoulders, the man peeking over one of them, watching him with unabashed interest. One of his hands layers over Ryuji's back, tracing up his spine - he can feel the muscles contract where he touches, feel the little shiver beneath his skin. It's fascinating, all these little reactions. He's so damn enthusiastic, so eager, maybe even a little desperate now as he presses his hips backwards, trying to urge Akira closer. 

“C’mon,” He whines, letting his head fall down between his arms. “I've been waitin’ all night for this - hrk -” 

Akira yanks hard on the leash - he feels a little bad, because it sounds like Ryuji briefly chokes on his own tongue. However, as soon as he catches his breath he moans softly, biting his lip - well, Akira already knows he likes it rough. He probably should have expected that. 

“Damn, do that again,” Ryuji growls - the encouragement has heat pooling in Akira's gut, breath quickening just a hair with excitement. Oh, fuck yes. Akira wants to ruin this man. 

“Don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for that.” Akira’s eyes trail slowly down that muscular back - his hand reaches out, trailing up his perineum, and he smiles with satisfaction as it draws out small, wanting sound. Two fingers circle Ryuji's hole and he outright whines , displeased that he's not getting what he wants. 

“Oh, don't be like that,” Akira rolls his eyes playfully, reaching down to snag the bottle of lube abandoned on the mattress. “I'm all for positive reinforcement, but…” 

“I dunno what that means, exactly,” Ryuji breathes as Akira pops the bottle, slicks himself up. “But if you're thinkin’ about punishing me or somethin’, maybe I'll have to run my mouth a little more.” 

“Glutton for punishment, huh?” He presses his thumb insistently against Ryuji’s hole, shuddering a little in satisfaction at the whine he's rewarded with.

“Hah,” He’s got such an easy, cocky smile. Ryuji might be a little… mmm, goofy, but damn if he doesn’t just ooze charisma in the bedroom. “Maybe a little.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Akira pulls his hand away, but not before giving Ryuji a little swat on the ass. The man yelps a little, the sound almost animalistic as his hips jerk forwards, another fat bead of precome dribbling out onto the comforter. “Oh, wow,” Akira’s so, so fucking into this. “You really like that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ryuji’s eyes are closed, his hips just rocking gently back and forth; at this point he’s just trying to be enticing, trying to get Akira to do something. However, Akira wants more, wants to hear it. How far does his boldness really go? 

“Tell me what you want,” Akira purrs, straightening up onto his knees and just… pressing his shaft comfortably in the cleft of Ryuji’s ass, holding his hips with both hands as he grinds up against him. 

Ryuji whines, giggling a little into the pillow. “Oh, damn, um -” He shifts a little, rocking back with a touch more intensity and Akira grins hungrily at how sheepish he suddenly sounds. “...Want you inside me?”

The sound is barely a squeak into the pillow, and Akira decides it’s not nearly enough. With a sharp yank on the lead, Ryuji is forced upwards - instead of face-down, ass-up, he’s now on his hands and knees with a surprised little moan. “You can do better than that.” 

“ Fuck, hnn-” Ryuji shudders something fierce from head to curled toes. “Wanna fuck,” He whimpers. “Please?” 

Akira puts just enough tension on the leash to make the guy wheeze a little. “Can you be more specific?”

“Gh- dammit, I want your dick in my ass, hurry up- ” 

Ryuji is no poet, but something about the raw, unfiltered desire underlining his tone makes Akira so badly want to pound him into the mattress. “Alright, alright,” He finally relents, leaning back a little and taking just another moment to admire the silhouette he cuts against the gray comforter - so angular, so perfectly taut with anticipation. His hand not controlling the leash snatches the lube, drizzling a little more around Ryuji’s hole - he shivers, hissing, but the sound quickly melts into a little moan of relief as Akira lines himself up. 

“Gentle, or?” Akira’s just fucking with him at this point. Ryuji makes a frustrated sound, his breathing labored from both the pressure of the collar and his rampant desperation. 

“If you think I’m into gentle, you- oh holy fuck - ” 

Akira can’t help himself; he hilts himself inside Ryuji in one smooth, clean motion, and holy shit, he’s so punishingly tight, so blindingly hot. It’s like he’s - he’s burning up inside, molten and red and raw, and Ryuji chokes out a pleased, thankful little moan, grinding his ass back into Akira’s hips. 

Yeah, okay, this might be some of the hottest sex he’s had in a very, very long time. Ryuji Sakamoto is… he’s… 

“Fuck, you’re good,” It’s all Akira can say, the feeling of Ryuji clenching around him is overwhelming especially when he makes noises like that. Whimpers, whines, noises that hardly sound human as he arches his back, burying his face into the pillows.

“ You’re good,” Ryuji replies breathlessly, muffled by the fabric - the muscles of his back and shoulders flex in such a sinfully attractive way as his fingers claw into the sheets. “Holy shit, you’re so good-” 

“Wanna hear you, c’mere.” Hefting the slack of the leash, he tugs hard-  hard enough that Ryuji sputters, briefly strangled as his torso is lifted off the bed. Akira’s there to catch him, looping his other arm around his chest to hold him upright, adjusting his hips to rock upwards rather than forwards. 

It's so close - almost intimate, in a way that makes Akira a little nervous because the last thing he wants is for this guy to catch feelings - but Ryuji just groans happily, head lolling back and wow he looks totally blissed out right now. “A little deeper?” He asks softly, breathily, and… shit, maybe Akira should be more worried about feelings for himself because for some reason the way he asks him has his stomach fluttering with something much different than arousal or desire. 

Akira gives him what he wants, hefting the weight of him and snapping his hips upwards, and - “Oh, fuck yes- fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck- ” Ryuji looks like the happiest person alive right now, as Akira grinds deeper into his insides. Normally, guys are blushing and moaning messes right about now, but Ryuji is so… Well, he wears it on his sleeve, just like Lala said. He likes it, loves it, and he is definitely not afraid of showing his appreciation. 

Fuck, that's - 

“Holy shit, Ryuji,” Akira laughs weakly, teeth at the other man's shoulder. He can't help it, it's just - it's so ludicrously sexy , so different to what he's used to and it's driving him maybe just a little crazy. 

“ Unh, don't stop, feels so fucking good-” 

He has no plans to, not even the faintest whispers of one. Akira doesn't have the self-control nor the will to tease him anymore; everything is so hot and so perfect and for the tiniest moment he wishes he could just stay buried here forever. The rhythm is immaculate, the way Ryuji's body is bowstring-tight is absolutely divine. He wants to - he can feel himself getting close, just teetering on the edge - Akira drops the leash, drops all pretense about the little roles they've slid into as his fingers wrap around the base of Ryuji's cock. 

Fuck, he's so hard, so slick with his own precome, pulsing and twitching in his hand. Ryuji croons and it feels like the sound reverberates its way through the both of them, leaving Akira trembling. “Holy shit, dude, keep that up and I'm gonna-” 

Did he just call him dude with a whole dick in his ass? “That's the point, ” Akira chokes out, and suddenly he can't stave off his orgasm any longer. He tenses down to the smallest fibers of muscle, it feels like every nerve ending in his body is exploding all at once - 

“ Nnnnnnfuck, ” Akira rocks his hips so deep, feeling himself pulse as he comes - and holy shit, Ryuji is, too - not even seconds afterwards, he's shouting out into the open air, almost startled. Wet warmth blooms over Akira's knuckles and he just barely registers the way Ryuji growls between breaths, the way his hands reach back to bury themselves in Akira's hair, sharp nails at his scalp. 

They stay like that, so tense, for one more moment - then, they're both collapsing onto the bed, spent and exhausted and so, so satisfied. 

Holy shit, Akira thinks sluggishly to himself. Is that the best sex I've ever had?  

The silence doesn't last long, maybe only a minute or two, the both of them just… lying there, catching their breath and trying to come back down to earth. Then, Ryuji's laughing, giggling like a schoolgirl into the pillows as he rolls over onto his side, reaching to unclip the leash and toss it carelessly from the bed. It's so comfortable and blissfully lazy as Akira swings an arm over his chest, stroking down to his stomach. His hand’s all sticky, but he doesn't care; god, he really needed a good lay but he didn't expect it to be this good. That was… 

“Wow,” Akira murmurs into the still air. Ryuji laughs again, chest and shoulders shaking a little. He smooths a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, body perfectly relaxed into the mattress and wow this guy is pretty, all sharp angles and soft demeanor. 

Maybe he's catching feelings himself, just a little. The idea has weird little tendrils of anxiety coiling their way into Akira's heart, but he thinks that maybe he should just let it happen, see where things go. He wants to be normal, right? Ryuji feels… comfortable. Maybe what Akira really needs is a boyfriend. 

He slips out of Ryuji, and it feels like a monumental effort to remove the condom, tying it off. Ryuji just raises an expectant hand, flexing his fingers in a grabby motion. Does he… oh, he's just snatching it from him, tossing it in an effortless arc and making it into the trash can on his side of the bed like it's nothing. That too, somehow, is sexy. What the hell. 

“That was amazing,” Ryuji breathes, closing his eyes. “I need a nap, I think.” 

Akira snorts. “Just gonna leave me here with cum all over my hands?” 

“...No,” Ryuji looks a little dejected as he sits up, running a hand through his hair. “Let me go get a rag. You want a t-shirt?” 

Akira’s in the middle of a languid stretch as he nods, surprised at the sudden yawn that takes him. Long week, he supposes. Worrying always makes him exhausted.

No longer absorbed in the… throes of passion, all of those stressors are coming back in force - the dog, the traps in the forest, whoever the hell broke into his house. Akira can’t help but wonder if all three events are connected in some way, as far-fetched as the idea may be. He almost wants to go back out to the park, see if he can find any other signs of activity - but at the same time he knows he's just going to come up empty again, and then he'll be in the same place he's in right now. Doesn't mean it's not tempting, though; he can still remember the look on that animal's face, like… it wasn't looking through him, or just simply acknowledging his presence. It was looking at him, it saw him. 

However, the notion of spending a night warm in bed with a very, very sexy man kind of trumps any of Akira's desires to indulge his anxieties; Ryuji tosses an overlarge t-shirt his way before settling at his side with a warm rag and he suddenly finds the concept of leaving to be preposterous. The bed is soft and comfy, the damp rag a pleasant sensation on his callused hands. Ryuji smells like deodorant and sex and, oddly enough, pine underneath it all - it's strange, though Akira has decided there are a lot of strange things about Ryuji Sakamoto and sometimes it's easier to go through life without asking too many questions. 

It’s a strange realization. Normally, Akira has to question everything; to finally be in a place where he feels like it’s unnecessary is strange. He wanted to try and lighten up, live a little - Akira feels like Ryuji Sakamoto is the type of guy who has lived enough to fulfill someone many, many times over. 

“You wanna stay?” Ryuji asks him as he drops the rag in his laundry bin before clambering under the covers beside him. 

“If you don’t mind.” 

“I think I’d mind it more if you didn’t. ” Ryuji’s - oh, he’s wrapping himself around him now. Akira is taller than him by maybe an inch, but yet the other man feels so much larger somehow, especially now as he is pressed against his broad chest, muscular arms leisurely draping themselves around his shoulders. “I’d be a little pissed if you didn’t at least stay for a cuddle.” 

“Mmm,” Akira’s much too spent to respond with words, so he just offers a small, pleased sound instead. He’s never been much for intimacy after an encounter - probably because most of his sex life has been spent in dark alleyways or in the back room of Crossroads - but this is… nice. Comfortable. Safe. 

He wasn’t planning on this being any more than a one-night stand, maybe a casual fling that eventually fizzles out and is left to the depths of his memory, but Akira thinks that maybe he should stick around. Just for a little longer he will indulge in feeling like he is wanted.

Ryuji snags the remote from the bedside table- the television flickers on to some game show Akira can’t remember the name of. Is this how normal people live? He asks himself drowsily, sinking deeper into the soft comforter, the squishy pillows, the warmth of Ryuji’s torso and arms and the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes.

I like being normal people.

Chapter Text

Akira wakes to a sound.  

He jolts upright, immediately on the defensive, hand reaching down for a weapon that isn’t there - his eyes take a second to adjust to the dim light of the apartment as the night slowly comes back to him in bits and pieces.

He is at Ryuji Sakamoto’s apartment, sleeping in his bed - his impromptu lover is snoring softly into the sheets and Akira tells himself he should go back to sleep, but… there it is again, that cry that echoes across the flat faces of the buildings before worming its way into the quiet little building. What is that noise?  

It’s not human. It’s like - it’s like a howl , far in the distance, maybe even out past the campus. If Akira were to hedge a guess, it sounds like it may be coming from the forest, or perhaps even further beyond; compared to the ambient city noise the nearer you are to Shibuya, this place is so quiet and everything feels so much closer. Akira rubs his eyes, feeling around under his pillow for his glasses. 

“ Mori-Inu? ” He murmurs softly, sliding the frames over his nose; Ryuji shifts next to him in sleep and Akira digs his fingers hard into the comforter. 

He feels a sick wash of guilt at the thought of leaving. Would Ryuji be angry if he does? This is so nice, so perfect, but… if that’s the dog he can’t just let it get hurt out there. God knows how many traps he didn’t find. He needs to - 

Yeah, once he’s set his mind on something there’s no stopping it. It’s like his body moves on its own as Akira climbs silently out of the bed, shivering at the sensation of his bare feet on the cold hardwood floor. He finds his clothes - oh Ryuji, the gentleman, he’s folded them neatly on the ground next to the bed for him which only makes Akira even more sick to his stomach. Such a small gesture, but… he cared enough to do it. That matters. Probably more than it should, but - Akira is still trying to figure out this normal person thing. 

The only sound in the apartment is the soft sshfs of fabric as he slides his boxers back on. The guilt compounds inside him when he slips into his jeans, buttons his shirt and smooths it over to free it from the worst of the wrinkles. Akira’s eyes slither over Ryuji’s sleeping form, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way he curls himself up in a ball while he sleeps and god he wishes he could just stay but his fingers itch and he won’t be able to live with himself if he comes back to the forest tomorrow and finds out he could have done something. The image of the forest dog, hanging from one of those traps until the blood rushes to his head and - 

Don’t think about it. Just do. 

He needs to piss - he’ll just go to the bathroom real quick, grab his phone. Once he’s gone, he’ll text Ryuji, apologize and let him know that something came up. Part of Akira wants to lie, but… well, Ryuji already knows about the dog. Maybe he’ll understand? 

If he doesn’t, well. His loss, Akira supposes. He might be painfully lonely sometimes but he knows his worth; if Ryuji doesn’t want him and his strange hobbies then he doesn’t deserve Akira in the first place. 

Akira’s hand pauses on the bathroom door. Why is he thinking about this like they’re already going steady? Has… had Ryuji Sakamoto already broken him that completely, just in the few scant hours they’ve spent together? The guy’s different, sure, but… 

I need to get laid more often, He thinks to himself as he creaks open the door. 

He’s not sure what he expects, but the bathroom is pretty normal. Mirror, toothbrush, hair color supplies haphazardly shoved into the corner of the vanity because it seems Ryuji has the experience and foresight to use actual salon-grade supplies instead of… whatever the hell he’s seen Futaba use. It comes out of a box, not a fancy bottle. A threadbare gray towel on the rack screwed into the wall, a red-and-black shirt and shorts folded atop it…

Wait - 

Akira freezes, narrowing his eyes at those clothes. 

His clothes. 

“The hell?” He whispers under his breath. He doesn’t want to touch them, but… those are his clothes, for sure, right? Maybe - well, it’s a common brand, but it can’t be just a coincidence that these are the exact clothes currently missing from his own closet.

Akira’s mind is suddenly running at a mile a minute, trying in vain to come up with some kind of explanation that doesn’t involve this one-night stand being for naught. If - if Ryuji’s the one who was there that night, then… why? He could be - he could be forest dog’s owner, but then why isn’t he worried? He would have said something about Pochi being lost, unless the boarding company didn't tell him, but then… 

Yeah, none of this is making any sense. He'd think maybe Ryuji's part of some family he's never heard of, but no way they'd let him look like that or live like this , no matter how estranged. Is he just crazy? Or maybe he thought Akira had something he wanted? 

Dammit. The sex was so good, too. Why can’t Akira Kurusu ever, ever have nice things?

Another howl echoes outside.

Shit. Akira doesn’t have time to ask questions about this right now, nor does he have the energy to sit and wallow in his own self-pity. Maybe Ryuji’s the guy who broke into his apartment, maybe he isn’t. Akira can grill him about it later, try to figure out what the hell is going on, answer his questions and get some damn closure. Akira can do all of those things after he knows the forest dog is safe. Maybe it’s not even the same dog, but… 

He keeps remembering the way it looked at him, he can’t get it out of his head. Those dark eyes, so intelligent and knowing. Why do they feel so familiar all of a sudden? 

“Swear to god,” He mutters to himself, darting out of the bathroom to grab his phone, his keys. As soon as his shoes are even halfway on his feet, he’s out the door. 

---

As soon as the door creaks shut, Ryuji’s eyes flutter open, fear and guilt and panic welling up inside him at the little he’d heard from the bathroom. He's always been a light sleeper - blame the superhuman hearing for that - and he is about ninety-nine percent sure that Akira just found out that Ryuji, indeed, is the one who broke into his apartment. 

Fuck! Why didn't he remember to put away those clothes? He could have avoided all of this had he hid them before the guy came over to his fucking house.

It was an accident. It wasn't like he wanted to change back in that moment - he couldn't help it, it happened without him even realizing. Honestly? This is Akira's fault, for being so… tooth-rottingly nice. He's a goddamn bleeding heart when it comes to dogs, apparently - and Ryuji is not a dog but he supposes he looks like one enough to fit the bill. 

Ugh . Even now, his scent lingers everywhere. It's in his bed, his clothes, his hair. So sue him for wanting to have nice things - and god were they nice things - but he needs to be more careful. If someone finds out, it could all be over for him. The life he's built, the lengths he's gone to keep himself safe? One wrong move and the government is carting him away to some… some facility and running tests on him for the rest of his goddamn life. 

Ryuji doesn't want to be normal. He likes who he is, what he is. He's not ashamed. Being a… whatever one might call it, a werewolf, a wolf child? He's not ashamed one bit. He might hesitate to say proud because he didn't really have a choice in the matter, but… he likes being this. He likes having the choice between four legs and two, he likes the undercurrent of instinct at the back of his mind that both keeps him out of danger and keeps life interesting.

He does understand, however, that he can't just wear that part of him like a badge of honor. That would be preposterous, and he'd definitely become a lab rat somewhere. 

Ryuji gets out of bed, tiptoes off to the bathroom - it's not like he needs to be quiet, but tromping around this late at night just doesn't feel right, especially not right now. The clothes are still there, undisturbed, but he can smell Akira where he touched them, where he lingered. When Ryuji looks in the mirror his animalistic features are out in force; tall ears, scruffier hair, sharp teeth. He looks spooked, said ears twitching this way and that, hair messy and unkempt. Obviously, this abrupt end to an otherwise nice night is bothering him, even if he doesn't really want to admit it. 

Dammit! Ryuji kicks his bathroom cabinet with frustration, the hinges rattling. That was so much fun, too. Most fun he's had in a long-ass while, and leaving those clothes in the bathroom probably just fucked it all up. 

There's no real way to fix this, is there? Akira might come after him, actually. Dude had a gun.  

…Is he gonna be okay? 

His nose picks up on Akira's scent - his apprehension, his fear. He got up suddenly in the middle of the night and Ryuji's not entirely sure why, he wasn't awake enough at the time to pick up on anything that might have spooked him. Maybe he just needed to piss or something, but it doesn't smell that way. His sheets smell like panic.

Why would he be freaking out? 

Ryuji hears something strange in the distance. 

It's like - it's a howl, but not quite. Not quite animal. Not quite human , either. It's - it's beckoning , almost, like it's calling him and Ryuji feels like he recognizes it despite having never heard the sound before. A gut feeling, something that plucks softly at the deepest strings of his psyche.

Or - maybe he has . A long, long time ago. 

“No way,” He says softly, ears angled towards the source of the sound. Is that what Akira heard? It can't be real, can't be what Ryuji thinks it is, because - because - well, as far as he knows, he's the only - 

If he's not , though. What happens then? 

Akira could be in a lot of trouble. 

“ Fuck, ” Ryuji whispers. He's already changing - he turns away from the mirror because he hates watching it, hates seeing the fur sprout from his skin - but he can't just sit here and do nothing. If there really is someone else like him out there - 

His mom used to tell him stories, when he was little. Stories about how she met his dad, about how he left. Why he left. Others like him, they - they hear the quiet parts of the world whispering to them. The trees, the birds… stuff like that. Ryuji always thought it was bullshit, he's never had nature speak to him, it never made any sense to him in the first place, but that's not to say there aren’t others that have. The idea of that is mildly terrifying - the fact that there could be someone else like him roaming around in that forest. Maybe that’s why someone set up traps - could some bloodthirsty monster be roaming around, eating people? Ryuji's never seen tail nor hide of another werewolf; if that howl really was from one, Akira could already be a mangled corpse out there in the woods.

Ryuji shivers, bile rising in the back of his throat. 

As far as he knows, he's the last of a dying breed - but Ryuji has realized very quickly over the little time he’s been on his own that he knows precious little. He doesn't want to be right about this. He can't take any chances. 

Terror creeps up his spine for much more than just Akira's safety as he rushes for the door. He's already on four legs by the time his paws hit pavement. 

---

Akira Kurusu left his motorcycle behind a long time ago. A half-mile down the road, maybe? 

Now, he is running because he can hear something up ahead, behind him, around him. The sounds flit around him like the falling leaves and he just can't pinpoint where they are coming from. He's not panicking, he's not , but also why is it so loud? This can't be forest dog. Or, at least, not just forest dog.

Why is someone setting up traps in the forest? He’s seen at least three as he’s jogged through the forest, in the direction of those howls. Evidently, to scare off native wildlife or otherwise keep it from coming too close to the campus. Ren was under the impression Japan didn't have wolves anymore but yet the sounds he's hearing, those heavy footfalls, they couldn't belong to anything but.

He’s at the part of the road where it is not anymore - it turns from semi-packed gravel to a webbed network of game trails that lead up to the coast. Akira’s seen the maps - part of why he even decided to go to this college was because of the hiking opportunity - but he doesn’t think he’s ever actually been out this far. It’s overgrown, hard to run over; Akira almost trips over an exposed tree root as he whistles with two fingers, trying to get whatever’s making all that noise to come out of hiding.

He’s not even sure if he’s trying to find the dog anymore. It feels like something is chasing him, a creeping dread that curls its way up his spine and manifests as a trembling in his fingers, a quiver to his breath. God fucking dammit. This night was supposed to be relaxing - how the hell did he end up sprinting for his life down some old hunting trail? 

Akira is pondering the decisions that have led him to this point when he finally comes up to the end of the marked road. Do Not Enter signs abound; this part of the forest is restricted as a nature preserve only. Shit, he must have missed the side path that loops back around to campus. Should he turn around? He’s not sure if… whatever’s out here is even following him anymore. 

At a loss of what to do he skids to a stop, breathing heavily; he curses himself for not bringing a weapon, not even a knife - he’s good at hand-to-hand but definitely not good enough to fight off a wild animal. If the forest dog’s brought friends and they’re hungry, he could be dead in the water. 

Strangely enough, he is rather calm despite his little predicament. He's dealt with worse before - he will never, ever forgive his parents for the incident with that one CEO - surely he'll be able to make it out of this okay. Forcibly calming himself, he leans back against a tree and watches through the thick darkness for any movement. 

Then, there is something. Something tall and dark moving through the brush, maybe fifty feet away. Akira stiffens; his hand darts down to a pistol that isn't there. It's too tall to be a dog, way too tall. He swallows, squinting through the oppressive gloom to try and get a better look - 

That's a pair of eyes - reflective, just enough in the moonlight for him to see and it feels like his blood runs cold as the thing just… stares at him. 

There are many legends about strange creatures in Japan. Most of them are easily explained as tricks of the light or real, living animals; that doesn't mean they don't fascinate people, though. The things that go bump in the night, the things watching from the shadows. A long time ago it was the oni, now those legends have evolved into yokai and spirits. However, there are stories even older than those, stories told in the east and west alike and could very well hold some odd nugget of truth. 

One of his late ‘family’ members in particular was enamored with such legends. Her still-surviving daughter still swears up and down that strange creatures roam the night. Akira never took much stock in it, but… 

Maybe he was wrong because that is a wolf yet it walks on two legs like a man.

Akira only sees it for a split second - it's there, then it's gone and he has to wonder if he imagined the entire thing. He has to be seeing things, right? The way it walked, the strange proportions of its body, the way its ears tilted towards him as if trying to hear the very breaths he takes. 

He shakes his head, reorienting himself. No - he's not. Akira will definitely have to find some time to apologize to Futaba, though. Get a big, fat I told you so from her next time they have a chance to talk. He’d never believed her, never thought things like this could be real. It’s preposterous. He can't believe Wakaba was actually right…  

Well, it's not like he actually has any evidence beyond what he’s seen with his own eyes. The forest is quiet now; as far as he can tell, he’s safe. He isn’t sure why the creature left or why it was following him in the first place, but… he doesn’t hear it anymore. The only sounds he picks up are those of the trees, the crickets, the night breeze. 

He should get back to his motorcycle before it gets stolen. When Akira spins in a circle to get his bearings, though, he realizes he doesn't recognize where he is. The road is winding, and has a lot of detours - he took a few to get here and he's not sure if he'll be able to remember the exact way back. 

Is he lost? 

There's another rustle in the bushes just as Akira begins to panic. Inhaling sharply, he crouches, ready to… he doesn't know, throw down with a wolf? He's scared, he's alone, this night sucks - 

Oh. 

Akira sighs with relief, the tension bleeding out of his body. It's Mori-Inu.

The animal crawls out hesitantly from the brush, looking spooked; he turns back, sniffing in the direction that Akira saw the other creature, hackles raising all the way down his spine. Akira can't see him too well, but it looks like he's wearing a collar now. Did his owner find him? Did he escape again? 

“Hey, big guy,” Akira slides down the tree trunk he's been leaning against, laughing to himself a little. Maybe in relief, maybe in the sheer, asinine nature of this entire situation. “Funny you show up now. Looks like I'm lost.” 

The dog shuffles closer - maybe about five feet away or so, now - and lays down, head between his paws. Just… watching. Waiting. Akira furrows his brow. 

“You're not a dog, are you?” 

The animal barks softly, wagging its tail. It’s not like the thing can understand him, but now that Akira's getting another look… definitely not a dog. It's too big, its coat too wiry, face too narrow. It's a wolf , he's sure of it. 

Maybe a wolfdog? He's nice enough around humans, not afraid or wary of him like he would expect. Akira sighs, looking up at the sky through the dense trees. “How did I get here?” He murmurs. 

The wolf is just silent, tilting his head. Listening. 

Hell. Akira is alone with any animal for longer than five minutes and it feels like the proverbial floodgates start to burst. “I was having such a good night,” He groans, rubbing his face. If he’s going to vent, he supposes now is the time. “There was this guy and he was so hot and the sex was so good-” 

Akira cards a hand roughly through his hair. “I think he broke into my house. You were there. Right? Where did you go, anyways?” 

He looks down at the wolf; it just croons a little in his throat, looking… apologetic, almost. He knows he’s just giving the animal’s expressions meaning where there is none, but it at least serves to soothe his nerves a bit. 

“I don't know why he did it. I mean - I've got baggage , but no one's tried to get directly to me before.” His stomach drops as he comes to a dark realization. “Holy shit, did he just sleep with me to get close to me?” 

Akira laughs incredulously; he feels like an idiot because it worked. Was that happy-go-lucky personality just a ploy to get him to let his guard down? Was all of that - the sex, his easy-to-please nature, his enthusiasm. Was all of that a farce? He groans, frustrated with himself for being so willingly blind. The guy could be ransacking his apartment right now. 

The wolf, though - it whines , scooching a little closer on his belly. Akira sighs, trying desperately to quell the rampant paranoia. “...Maybe I shouldn't jump to conclusions. I don't know. Nothing makes sense right now. I'm-” He swallows, feeling unexpectedly emotional - “I'm just trying to live a normal life, y'know? Outside the yakuza. I know, I know. No one really leaves, but…” Akira sucks in a breath. “I don't want this life. I never asked for it. Ryuji, he was so… normal. I want to be like that.” 

It's a lot to get off his mind; it feels like he's been mulling over these thoughts for years. He bites his lip, hugging his knees up to his chest. “Is that too much to ask?” 

The animal he's talking to whimpers a little, shuffling another few inches closer. Akira can't help but laugh - such a majestic, dangerous animal, acting like a puppy. Maybe he is a puppy. If it's even a he, Akira didn't exactly get the chance to check, but he has a feeling. 

“I train dogs like you,” Akira murmurs. “Well - I used to. For my dad. He…” 

He exhales softly. Why the hell is he letting this spill now? It's like - it's all been bottled up inside, most of the dogs at the shelter are much too afraid to sit still, much less listen and now he finally has a chance to just… let it all out, lay everything on the table. “He used dogs for personal protection. He ran them real hard. I… I didn't really like that. I thought it would be better to take a more compassionate approach.” 

The wolf tilts his head to the other side, ears perked forward. Akira continues. “My dad didn't like that. He hit me a few times, y'know, kind of what you'd expect from a crime lord parent, I guess.” He laughs bitterly. “Well, he's dead now, so it doesn't really matter. The family I have now is enough.” 

If it's enough, then why is he sitting alone in the forest talking to a wild animal? Akira pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed with himself. He has his reasons as to why it's easier for him to talk to dogs rather than people, why he prefers to talk about his feelings with them, but it's still maddening. Can't he just grow some balls, make a real friend? Get a therapist or something? 

Well, he tried the first part. Sort of. And look where that's gotten him. 

“I'm still lonely, though,” He admits quietly, digging his nails into the muddy denim of his jeans. “Maybe I should just… pretend I didn't see anything, go hang out with him again. If he tries to kill me, then…” Akira snorts, waving a hand. “I mean, let him try, I guess. I can't go through life being paranoid about everything .” Even if he did, maybe, break into my house.  

The wolf barks, wagging his tail. Well, he seems on board with the idea. Maybe this really is Ryuji's ‘dog’. He definitely seems like the kind of dude oblivious enough to not realize he's housing a wild animal. Akira pats his thigh invitingly. “C’mere. I don't bite.” 

The animal finally stands, shaking its coat free of the dust and dirt from the forest. Its paws are muddy - did it chase him here? It had to have heard that thing howling before. Maybe it thought Akira might be in danger. It approaches him slowly, carefully - when it's a mere few inches from Akira's face, he can finally get a good look into those deep, brown eyes. Like… the wood of his father's old desk, like the color of healthy oak bark. They're so… they're so familiar. Why are they so familiar? 

Akira reaches out to pet him - his hands sink deep into that dark ruff of fur, surprised at both its softness and how warm it is beneath the topcoat. “Oh, you're soft,” He says, a little surprised, and the wolf wags its tail invitingly, looking almost… proud of itself? Is that an emotion animals are capable of feeling? 

He's reminded of the collar, as his fingers slide beneath it. A little tight, maybe - he thumbs at the soft leather and it starkly reminds him of - 

Wait. 

“What…” Akira's eyes widen. 

No, it doesn't just remind him of that collar. It is that collar - he realizes now why those eyes are so familiar , why he seems to recognize them, and everything slowly begins to fall into place. 

He went to sleep with this animal in his house. He woke up with a person there instead - a person who jumped out of the window and apparently walked away completely fine. The same kind of fur on the blanket he’s been too afraid to wash was all over Ryuji's apartment. The chicken hearts in his fridge, the odd way he reacted to being compared to a dog. 

Oh. Shit. 

He isn't the monster he saw before - no, that thing was different, and though he can't be sure he has a feeling , but… 

The wolf glances back at the collar. Its mouth falls open in a decidedly human way as he looks back to Akira and - 

There's no doubt about it. This wolf - it's not just a wolf. 

There are no wolves in Japan. 

“Ryuji?” Akira asks softly, carefully. 

The wolf looks terrified . His tail tucks tight between his legs as he backs away, almost tripping over himself as he attempts to put some distance between them. He's turning around to run- 

“Wait! No - please,” He didn't think he was talking to a person. Ryuji knows way, way too much about him. He can't just run away now! Why didn't Ryuji tell him? 

Of course he didn't tell you, you idiot, Akira admonishes himself. You think you would have believed him? You barely know him.

The wolf stops in its retreat. Shivers a little. He tilts his long, sloped muzzle back just so, as if waiting for Akira to say something.

“Look,” Akira opens and closes his mouth. Now that he knows that the wolf can understand him, it's much harder to form the words. “You know some secrets about me. I know a secret about you.” They can make a deal, right? A deal to keep all of this quiet and then, maybe, his night won't be such a loss after all? Maybe he can… maybe he can make a friend , for once. Not someone he keeps at arms-length. Someone like Lala, but who will watch movies with him and play video games and teach him what it's like to be a normal person. 

Obviously, Ryuji Sakamoto is not a normal person, but he's doing a hell of a lot better than Akira is at pretending to be one.

Akira squeezes his eyes shut. “I don't know the way back,” He says meekly. “If anything, just - show me?” 

Silence for a short while hangs thick in the night air. 

Then, “...I’m sorry I stole your clothes.” 

When Akira opens his eyes again, they take a moment to adjust to the dim moonlight. A man, not a wolf, is standing before him, feet covered in mud up to his knees. Naked as the day he was born, too, save for that collar - it's a little shocking but Akira supposes it's not like they would logically bring their clothes with them when they transform. Decidedly inhuman though is a tail, swishing behind him softly. Ears, too, large and fuzzy and pointed. 

Startlingly, Akira thinks that this creature is a strange sort of beautiful, body lit by dim moonlight, skin shimmering slightly with sweat from his effort to arrive here. 

There are other things, too - clawed fingers and toes, teeth even sharper than before that glint in the moonlight. He's so…

“I didn't mean to!” Ryuji says, hugging his arms around himself and casting his dark eyes to the forest floor. “I just - I didn't really have another option-” 

“Wow, you're hot. ” 

The words come out of Akira before he can stop them. It is his first, kneejerk thought. Ryuji is so sharp and dangerous but those eyes make him look like the softest man alive. His ears swivel atop his head, his body tenses as he moves ever-slightly to face him. 

Ryuji laughs nervously, looking a little disturbed by Akira's outburst. His arms squeeze even tighter around himself as he hunches his shoulders a little. “Um… thanks?” 

“Sorry-” Akira shakes his head, a little embarrassed. “It's okay. About the clothes, I mean. Kind of a bad situation all around.” 

“...So you've put it together?” Ryuji asks. “That I'm -” 

“Forest dog? Yeah.” Akira chuckles a little - at the same time, he's kicking himself internally for all the stupid things he said before. “Sorry for calling you a dog.” 

“...No sweat, I guess.” 

Then, the both of them just… remain there, in silence - Ryuji stands awkwardly a few feet away, though he doesn't seem as bothered by his nakedness as he does his… not-so-human bits. His tail is between his legs, his ears are flat to his head like he’s trying to hide them from view. “Sorry,” He says again after a little while. “M’not used to this. You're the first person who's ever found out.” 

Akira raises a brow. It comes as a surprise to him - Ryuji doesn't seem like the kind of person to keep secrets. “Really?” 

“...Yeah.” Ryuji nods. “I dick around out here in the forest sometimes, but I try to stay away from people. I'd rather not become a science experiment, y'know?” 

He laughs weakly, and Akira sighs empathetically. They're not so different after all - both of them trying to escape the hand they've been dealt but being inextricably bound to it all the same. “Well,” He says, pulling himself to his feet, “I'm not going to tell anyone, so… don't worry about that.”

“Okay.” Ryuji nods slowly. “I won't tell anyone you're actually yakuza, either.” 

Akira reddens a little. Yeah, he guesses that he did kind of spill his guts to the guy on accident. God, this is all so confusing . First, he was betrayed and angry and sad , then he was terrified, and now he's just -

Well. He doesn't know what to feel. How are you supposed to feel, when you find out your one-night stand is a fucking werewolf? Did Akira just find himself dropped into some cheesy romance novel?

“What do you…” Akira gestures aimlessly. “Do you know much about it? The - the wolf thing. Also - was that another one in the woods earlier?” 

Ryuji looks nervous at the mention of the other creature; his ears flatten even further and he bristles a little. “Let's - let's get back somewhere safe, and then you can ask me all the questions you want. Yeah?” 

Good plan, probably. Akira has a feeling it's a bad idea to linger in this forest for too long, even if he does have a literal werewolf backing him up. “...Yeah, okay.”

“Just follow me,” He says, and - oh. He's a wolf again, before Akira can even blink. Wow. He thinks it must be nice, to feel so… free, maybe? 

Well, is he really free? He has to hide this part of himself from the entire world. Not unlike how Akira feels obligated to shield his surviving family from past sins by bottling them up, refusing to tell them the truth. 

Perhaps they’re both working on escaping cages of their own making. 

Chapter Text

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.  

Ryuji Sakamoto is freaking out. Completely.

His mom told him he should never tell anyone about what he is. Especially not strangers! Especially not strangers who are the sons of crime lords. Well - his mom never said that specifically, but he’d like to think something like that would be implied.  

Yet, Akira Kurusu knows. He found out - all because of this stupid collar he can’t take off because, for one, he doesn’t have opposable thumbs right now. For two, even if he did, he’s not just going to throw it away. It’s not his! And… it looks expensive. Feels expensive, too. Tossing something like that into the dirt just feels wrong. Why didn’t he realize he was wearing it before he left the house? 

What a stupid way for someone to find out. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He was panicking back then. Maybe even more than he is now. He was afraid, because there might be someone else out there like him, someone a lot more sinister than he is and a lot more willing to kill innocent people just because it feels good. Or something. He doesn’t know. 

Ryuji is still afraid, because he was right. There is something else out there. Some one else. He doesn’t know who - and fuck, should he even care? Akira’s okay. He’s okay. Does it really matter? 

It kind of does, because… well, that was one of him. He kind of feels… responsible in some way? Like, maybe he could talk to them. Wolfman to wolfman, or whatever. Figure out what the hell they were doing tromping around in the forest like nobody’s business. Hopefully, not killing people. 

What if it’s his dad?  

Ryuji shakes his head. No. Not his dad. It didn’t smell anything like him. Given, he hasn't smelled the guy since he could barely walk, but… he does still remember, he thinks. Surely. 

“You okay?” Akira asks, looking down at him - the guy is following him blindly, Ryuji knowing the way by scent alone. Akira’s motorcycle is about a half-mile ahead, the smell of gasoline and engine oil serving as his guide. It's not the main path, but… it is a path. Path enough, though it's a little muddy and wet, his paws sinking deep into the loamy soil.

Ryuji can’t answer in words, so he just makes a small sound in his throat, head dipping lower towards the ground. 

“...Can you not talk when you’re like that?” 

Oh, fuck this. With a groan that comes out as more of a growl, Ryuji stops walking. He takes a deep breath, lets that strange feeling flow through him… and then he's back, back to being about as human as he can get right now. When he’s a wolf for so long, getting all the way back is kind of difficult. He’s pretty sure he’s still got pointy ears, a tail. Maybe some fur where it shouldn’t be. It's hard to tell without touching and his hands are all covered in mud. “I don’t exactly have the right anatomy to talk like a person. Y’know. Complicated mouth structure? Vocal cords? Lips? ” 

Akira looks a little stunned; Ryuji can’t tell if it’s because he’s naked or generally just irritated. The former he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about. The latter, though… 

Okay, he’s kind of being an asshole. It’s not like Akira would know how any of this works. He’s human, and he didn’t grow up with the kind of knowledge he has. This is just… weird, Ryuji isn't used to anyone knowing. “Sorry,” He apologizes after a little thought. “We’re almost there. Ten minutes walk, maybe?” 

“Already?” Akira looks a little surprised. “How did you… did we go straight back? This isn't the main road.” 

“Not straight back,” Ryuji scoffs. “You wouldn’t be able to go where I can go. I just followed my nose.” He taps the side of it, and Akira’s eyes light up a bit in understanding. Well, at least he’s starting to get the picture. 

It’s… strange, to have to explain this to someone. He’s never had to before - his mom learned most of what she needed to know from his dad before he fucked off to who-knows-where, and whatever she hadn’t told him about his… condition died with her. He’s good enough at pretending to be normal around other people, but when they know he’s not? What does he do then?  

Well, it’s not like Akira is exactly normal either.  

“So,” Ryuji hedges. Now that it's on his mind he's gotta poke him a little about it. His bare feet pad over the gravelly road, juxtaposed oddly by the rubbery crunch of Akira's shoes. “Is the yakuza thing, like… a blood relations situation? Or…” 

“I’m related by blood,” Akira tells him simply. “Some aren’t necessarily part of the Kurusu family tree directly.” He pauses for a second, looking thoughtful. “I’m the last living member who’s related by blood, actually.” 

“Woah,” Ryuji’s eyes widen. Sounds like there’s a lot of weight on his shoulders - he mentioned his dad being dead. Does that mean his mom is, too? Or… “Your mom - is it like, a marriage thing? So she’s not considered blood because she’s not actually related, or…” 

Akira chuckles a little, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No. Nothing like that. Both of my parents died in an accident a few years ago.” 

“...Oh.” Ryuji looks down at the ground, fiddling with his hands. “Um - sorry.” 

The guy just waves it away like that isn’t some fucked-up, formative life experience. “We weren’t all that close,” He explains. “It’s not a huge deal for me, so don’t worry.” 

Ryuji frowns. He can’t imagine not being close to his mom. His found family is great - Ann’s family, mostly, has taken him under their wing, but that’s not to say his other friends don’t also support him in their own funny ways. However, his mom? No one could ever replace her. She’s gone now, but… 

“I, uh-” He laughs a little to himself. It’s strange, to be baring his heart like this whilst effectively streaking down a backroad. Hopefully campus security is just as high off their asses as they usually are? “I lost my mom a few years back, too. Big C.” 

Akira looks nonplussed - he seems to have this way about him in public, where his face is just devoid of any and all emotion. Ryuji doesn’t take any offense by it - it’s not like it's his fault mom died - but he does find it maybe just a little strange. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” He says softly. “You make it sound like you were close.” 

Ryuji takes pause at that. 

Y’know? 

He has gotten a lot of sentiment about his mother’s death over the years. A lot of ‘let us know if there’s anything we can do’ (there’s not) and a ton of other vague condolences about how she lived a good life and Ryuji didn’t do anything wrong - which, like, of course he didn’t, it was fucking cancer -

However, he’s not sure anyone’s first reaction has ever been just to say sorry. Sorry he had to deal with that. Sorry that life fucking sucks sometimes. 

Akira’s probably just being polite, but - to Ryuji, it means a lot more than that right now. Probably more than Akira’ll ever know, but… y’know. It’s meaningful, in its own little way. 

“We were,” Ryuji murmurs. “It was just me and her for a long time. Can’t exactly go to normal school when you’re running around on four legs.”

“Dad not in the picture?” 

“Mm, nah.” Ryuji crosses his arms over his head, looking up at the sky. It’s still dark - it’s, what, maybe two or three in the morning? Still plenty of time to get back home and rest up for class tomorrow. “He’s the wolfy one in the family. I don’t know much about it, but… some of us, we…” God, how does he explain this? “Some of us vibe more with the teeth and claws, I guess. Me, not so much. I like havin’ hands and… thumbs.” 

Akira laughs a little. “Thumbs? That's your selling point?”

“Dude. It is so hard to do anything when you don’t got ‘em.” Ryuji wiggles his own thumbs in Akira’s direction; it makes the guy laugh even more. “Anyways. My dad, he… he was one of those types, I guess. Fucked off into the woods and never came back.” 

Akira sucks air through his teeth. “That’s like going to get milk, but worse.” 

“I know, right?” Ryuji chuckles a little, but then he’s reminded of another ‘one of those types’ and he sobers a little. “S’why the other wolf’s freakin’ me out. I dunno if they lose their humanity at all, but… I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t exactly the friendly type.” 

“Mmm.” Akira nods slowly. “So, the other one I saw in the woods - that wasn’t you?” 

“No.” Ryuji shakes his head vigorously. “I’d never let myself look like that around humans. That’s like, asking to get put in some cryptids magazine.” 

Akira looks curious; he tilts his head over at him, raising a brow. “So - that two-legged form. That wasn’t abnormal?”

“It’s kind of like transforming halfway,” Ryuji shrugs. “Somewhere in-between, I guess? My dad had better control over it than I did. I’m still kind of… figuring it out.” He flicks his finger over one of his ears in annoyance. “When I fully change, I can’t ever seem to change back right away. Doesn’t help that I don’t really have time to practice.” 

“Earlier,” Akira cuts in - Ryuji can see the motorcycle in the distance now, and it sounds like he wants to get in this question before everything’s drowned out by the sound of the engine. “You said ‘humans’. Like, you don’t refer to yourself as one.” 

Huh. Weird question. Ryuji isn't sure if he's ever thought about it at length. “Well, I ain’t human, am I?” He shrugs noncommittally. “I dunno. I don’t separate myself from being human, but… it’s the truth. I’m about as human as the wild one we saw out there earlier.” 

Akira looks a little bothered by that - like Ryuji’s going to… tackle him and eat his brains, or something. “I mean, I’m not… bloodthirsty, or anything,” He continues, backpedaling a little. “I dunno. It’s hard to explain. I think if I even met someone else like me I’d probably be weird…” 

The man is quiet for a short while; obviously lost in thought as they approach their ride. “Well,” He says, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “I don’t think you’re weird.” 

“Oh.” Dammit - Ryuji can’t help the way that makes him blush. Why is that making him blush? Has anyone ever said he's not-weird? He rubs the back of his neck, a little flattered. “Well, thanks, man. I don’t think you’re weird either. For what it’s worth.” 

“Thanks.” Akira smiles at him - just a soft, small expression, but it still makes Ryuji’s heart positively soar. “Ready to go?” 

Oh, he means to shove him in that crate again, doesn't he? Not while he's still got four perfectly good legs. “Oh, no. I’m good. I can make my own way home.” 

“Well, I left my bag at your place, so…” 

“You did?” Ryuji didn’t even notice, he was too panicked when he left. He's actually pretty sure he left the door unlocked, too… “Just follow me, then.” 

Akira snorts. “I know the way.” 

Ha. He thinks Ryuji’s going to be keeping up with him. Funny. “You’ll have to follow me,” He says, giving Akira a cocky smirk. “You better believe I can run faster than that hunk of bolts.” 

“Hunk of bolts?” Akira calls back, but Ryuji’s already on all fours, not interested in giving a response. He takes off sprinting down the forest path, tongue lolling out of his mouth - oh, it feels so great. So free. He’s still a city boy at heart, but he can sort of understand why someone like him might want to stay like this forever. It just feels so right, the burn of his lungs and the strain of his muscles. He can’t run like this as a human, but his knee injury is all-but unnoticeable when he’s like this. It just makes the feeling all the sweeter. 

He hears the rev of a motor behind him, and Ryuji pushes himself harder as he flies through the campus courtyard, not a care in the world. 

Chapter Text

Akira and Ryuji make it back to his apartment at nearly the same time - okay, maybe Ryuji beats him by just a hair, but that's only because he doesn't have to use the roads. Still, he's frighteningly fast, slipping through the dark like a furry shadow. As Akira is parking, he spots a sleek form climbing the stairs, expertly pawing at the doorknob and letting himself in like it's an everyday thing for him. Even though Akira knows that's Ryuji up there it's still impressive. Y'know, lack of thumbs and all. 

When he meets him inside, so many little things in his apartment make sense. The fur everywhere, the meat in the fridge. There's even a little hair-catcher in his shower drain and he shivers at the thought of how much he must shed on a daily basis. Well, he's human, or at least human- looking , most of the time, but… still. Right now, the guy has a tail, and from the way he talked about it he doesn't exactly have full control over whether or not it makes an appearance. 

“Is that why you turned the lights out on me?” Akira nods to said appendage, which Ryuji is presently trying to figure out how to wear his sleeping pants with. He was half-caked in mud when they got here, but instead of actually showering the guy grumbled something about dry skin and just… well, Akira isn't sure what he did exactly but the shower didn't run and he came out of the bathroom clean, so whatever he did it worked. He doesn't really want to know. 

At this point, they seem to have silently decided Akira is just staying here, it's not like he has anything better to do. Plus, Ryuji's place is way closer to school. Neither of them have early classes, as far as he knows, but… 

Okay, if he's being honest, he's curious. About - about all of this. The ears, the tail, the teeth.

“Huh?” Ryuji's still fighting with the pants, waffling on whether to shove his tail inside or just… wear them with it awkwardly sticking out over the waistband. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” 

“Don't be,” Akira leans back on the bed, watching him. He's half-amused, half just downright appreciative because, well. Ryuji's hot . He's cut as hell and he's got a cute face to boot. What's not to like? “I had a good time.” 

“Yeah?” Ryuji's expression brightens as he finally decides to leave the tail free. “The way you acted earlier, I kinda figured I might have overstepped or somethin’. You seem like a top.” 

Akira shrugs. “I've been called a control freak. I'm kind of trying to work on that.” 

It's true. Futaba gets on his ass for it all the time, says he needs to… pull the stick out of it, or whatever. It's not that he hasn't bottomed before, that's far from the truth, but it's hard for him to relinquish control like that. Makes him nervous. 

Especially now. Ryuji's so damn sweet, but he's also got claws that look like they could tear him apart. Teeth that damn-near drew blood even when he was fully human (or was he, back in the club? Akira doesn't know). Akira isn't afraid of him, but he is wary. Being wary is safe, comfortable. Being vulnerable in the way most guys want him to be? Not so much. 

“Control freak, huh?” Ryuji laughs a little, plopping down on the bed next to him and scratching behind one of those pointed ears. “Can't say I totally understand, but I can kinda see where it comes from.” 

Akira raises a brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Well - I can't imagine being the kid of a crime boss exactly means you get a lot of freedom.” 

Wow. Ryuji sure pinned that quick. It's probably an easy conclusion to make, but it’s not like he talks about this much. Especially not with a guy he's barely just met. “...Yeah. Pretty much.” 

He nods, sinking down to rest on his elbows; his chest is all… exposed this way and Akira forces himself to keep his eyes level, staring blankly across the room. An awkward silence settles between them; Akira's not really sure what to say. All of the… weird emotional stuff is out of the way, but he's still so pumped up on adrenaline that he's definitely not sleeping anytime soon. Maybe he should ask if they should throw on a movie, or…? 

“Hey, uh-” He rubs the back of his neck. “I know we just fucked, but-” 

Oh, fuck yes. Akira's lip twitches into a smirk. “Round two?” 

Just like that, Ryuji's on top of him - teeth and claws and all, though he is somehow so damnably gentle through it all as they messily make out, tangling themselves together atop the bed. “Guy after my own heart,” Ryuji laughs breathily as he pulls away, but he only meets Akira's eyes for a moment before diving right back into it, teeth just barely grazing over his lower lip. 

“Safe to assume you've never had sex like this?” Akira murmurs nervously against his mouth; Ryuji just grunts and slides down further. Oh , he's - those teeth are at Akira's neck, and when they sink into his flesh ever-slightly the sensation makes him shiver pleasurably, eyes fluttering closed. They're cold and sharp, gentle enough that he can feel them pricking his skin but not so hard as to break it. It's surprising how much self-control he has. One wrong move could mean a very confusing hospital visit. 

Kind of hot, Akira thinks to himself, inhaling sharply as one of Ryuji's hands tugs harshly at his shirt, forcing the first button open. “Nah,” He finally replies, removing his mouth from Akira's neck. Ryuji is grinning, those strangely long canines glinting in the low, fluorescent light. So human but so not. Akira may be developing a strange new fetish. “Kinda curious to see what's different about it, though. Usually I gotta hold back a lot.” 

“Yeah?” Akira laughs a little, the sound much higher-pitched and nervous sounding than he intends. “Just - don't disembowel me. Please?” 

It's only a joke, but - there's a flash of something strange that passes over Ryuji's face, if only for a split second. Sadness? Fear? Contemplation? Akira can't say, and it's gone before he can dwell on it too much - that expression shifts into a mocking, simpering look as Ryuji tuts at him like a disappointed professor. “You think I'd hurt someone I'm about to fuck? I'm not an animal. ” 

You kind of are, though, Akira thinks but does not say aloud; Ryuji is much, much more than that, isn’t he? Instead, he decides to pick apart his words - that, certainly, is easier than trying to understand where the line is drawn between, well… human and not. “Oh, so you're gonna be the one doing the fucking this time?” 

“Well,” Ryuji shifts atop him, licking his lips and the sight of that tongue passing over those damned teeth is enough to have something strange stirring in Akira's belly. “If that's okay…” He rubs the back of his neck, and he's suddenly all apprehensive again. “When I get, uh… like this, I get kind of… aggressive? I dunno.” 

“Aggressive, huh?” Akira can tell. The way he's holding him, the way Ryuji's breath quickens as his eyes slide down to eye the exposed skin beneath his shirt - he's possessive in a way Akira is intimately familiar with from past excursions but yet is still so strangely new. “I don't mind. So long as I’m not getting a bunch of looks in class tomorrow.” 

“Yeah?” Ryuji's mouth meets his chest, and Akira shivers a little. “I guess if things get a little too intense you can just say one of your dogs did it.” 

“Well,” Akira inhales sharply, tilting his head back to expose his neck - Ryuji's tall ears tickle against his face and he has to fight the urge to sneeze. “I don't have any dogs right now- ” 

“You volunteer at the shelter though, right?”

Ryuji's looking up at him, dark eyes almost pleading, lower lip tugged between his pointed teeth as if asking Akira to please, please, let him sink them into his neck. In the… sexy way, not the wants to eat him way. Or so Akira hopes. 

…Fuck it, he can take a little pain. Might even be nice. “Go ahead,” He murmurs, letting his head fall to the side. 

“Hell yes.” A sharp, cold sensation blooms at Akira's throat - he outright gasps when Ryuji sucks, the soft wetness of his mouth against the mild pain of his teeth edging well into pleasurable territory as the guy leaves a hickey that'll definitely be difficult to hide. If not impossible - Jesus, he's sucking hard, Akira can practically feel the bruise forming as they move. 

They are moving, slowly - together, down onto the bed, Ryuji on top of him and covering him. Soft ears brush against his chin, his jaw, flicking against his skin. In a stroke of boldness, Akira reaches out a hand to feel them between his fingers, stroking his thumb over the soft inner skin. 

“Oooh,” Ryuji's mouth leaves him with a rather wet sound. He's tilting his head to one side, a blissful little smile on his face. “That's nice.” 

“You really are like a dog,” Akira murmurs. “...No offense. Is that offensive?” 

“I dunno, actually,” Ryuji looks thoughtful for a moment. “Should it be?” 

“Why would I know the answer to that-” Oh , Ryuji's just pulling his shirt off now. As Akira has been fumbling over whether or not he's being politically correct, the man above him has swiftly unfastened the rest of his buttons and he's now pushing it down over his shoulders. “Oh,” Akira says dumbly. 

“I don't mind talking, but I'm also horny ,” Ryuji growls, tugging at the shirt insistently. Akira sighs, laughing a little as he sits up and helps the guy get it off the rest of the way - a clawed hand trails up his stomach, his chest. “...You're really hot, by the way.” 

“I know.” Akira smirks, a little self-satisfied. He worked hard for this body - hours and hours with a sword or in the gym - so sue him for being a little full of himself about it sometimes. Obviously Ryuji doesn't mind, because the guy just leans down and trails his lips over Akira’s abs, smiling softly. 

“You work out a lot?” Ryuji asks. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“We should go to the gym together sometime.”

“Oh? Are you asking me on a -” Ryuji's tongue grazes over Akira’s nipple and he promptly forgets what he was talking about. The sensation has a shiver running up his spine, something stirring lower despite the activities earlier in the day - normally, he’s not this pent up. As per usual, it seems, it’s just something about Ryuji Sakamoto. The way he moves, the way he’s sliding down, off the bed and between his legs. That tail - it’s wagging, and Akira has to stifle a little laugh as Ryuji pops the button on his pants. 

“What?” He asks, looking a little indignant as he tugs down the zipper. 

“It’s just-” Akira inhales, trying to keep himself from bursting into laughter outright. “Your tail. ” 

“Oh-” Ryuji turns back, glaring at it like it’s got a mind of its own. It stills, and he sighs deeply. “Sorry. Does it bother you?” 

“What? No. It’s just funny, that’s all. In - in a good way.” 

Ryuji still looks a little concerned, though instead of dwelling he busies himself with the task at hand - that is, shucking Akira’s pants and boxers down to his ankles, leaving him exposed and half-erect. He leans in - Akira watches with mild awe as Ryuji’s tongue slides up his length, and though he’s a little scared about how sharp those damn teeth are this is also all just a little too hot for him to really care.  

“You’re good at that,” Akira breathes. Ryuji just hums, flicking those dark eyes up to him for a split-second before he’s diving in again. This time, his whole mouth - it’s surprisingly not sharp and instead just wonderfully warm and wet, his throat convulsing a little as he takes him deep. 

He sputters, though, and pulls off with a little cough - Akira threads his fingers into Ryuji’s hair, giving him a smug look. “You okay?” 

“M’good,” Ryuji murmurs, mouthing lazily over the head of Akira’s cock - god, that feels good. “Just got a little excited, is all.” 

“Excited, huh?” Akira laughs - but the sound is swiftly cut short when Ryuji takes him again, just like before. “Oh, fuck-” 

Ryuji chuckles around him - god, the vibration just makes it all even more intense as he slides up Akira’s length once more. “Feel good?” 

“Yeah,” Akira nods, a little breathless. “I thought you were gonna-” 

“Hey, we’re getting to that. Be patient, jeez.” Ryuji’s hand wraps around his cock, giving it a couple experimental strokes. “Maybe I just wanna play with my food a little first.” 

Jesus, why does that have Akira twitching against Ryuji’s fingers? “Please tell me you don’t actually eat people. ” 

“What?” Ryuji gives him an incredulous look as he plays his fingers up Akira’s length. “Of course not. That’d be, like, cannibalism. ” 

“You just said earlier that you’re not human- nf, ” Obviously, Ryuji doesn’t want Akira continuing on this train of thought, because he’s quickened his strokes and is now laving a hot tongue over the head of Akira’s erection. Fuck, it’s so good, his mouth is so hot, it almost makes him let go of all his apprehension entirely. 

Almost. The guy could kill him easily. Or, rip his dick off. Dude survived a fall from the third story with hardly a scratch. But… the fact that he could yet isn’t ? 

Woof. Sends shivers down Akira’s spine a little. Especially when Ryuji’s looking up at him like that. Like he’s - oh, he’s getting up. 

“Woah, where are you going?” Akira calls after him; Ryuji just raises a finger in a wordless command to wait as he disappears briefly into the bathroom. When he returns, it’s with lube - he must have put it back after their little tryst earlier. 

“Thought this might be a little important,” Ryuji waggles it in Akira’s general direction as he plops down on the bed beside him. “Ass up, please.” 

Akira raises a brow. “What, I can’t prep myself?” 

“Hey, you’re in my house. That means I make the rules.” 

Hah. Okay, the way he’s sliding his tongue over those teeth is, hm. Very, very sexy, in a dangerous sort of way. Has Akira always been this much of an adrenaline junkie? Has the pounding of his heart always so directly translated to being dizzyingly, mind-numbingly aroused? He’s not sure. “Fair enough,” He says, but declines to move, because - “What about the claws?” 

“You think I haven’t figured that out?” Ryuji snorts, shaking his head - his ears wobble a little with the motion and Akira stifles a laugh. “Trust me, it’ll be fine. Just let me know if anything hurts, ‘kay?” 

“...Alright, alright.” 

Ryuji is practically vibrating as Akira rolls himself over, ass on display as he props his lower half up on his knees - his chest presses against the crumpled sheets, hands just dangling over the edge of the bed. It’s vulnerable, maybe a little more vulnerable than Akira would like, but… hey, today is apparently about new horizons. A million of them, all at once. He can live with it. 

Also, everything is suddenly completely fine as Ryuji’s warm, lubed fingers circle his hole - Akira shivers, shifting a little on the bed which earns him a clawed hand gripping at his left asscheek. “Wow,” Ryuji murmurs. “You bottom a lot?” 

“Not particularly,” Akira hums, forcing himself to try to stay calm. “Why?” 

“Just have an ass that’s made for it, that’s all.” Ryuji swats said ass with a pleased little sound, and Akira feels himself go red in the face. This dude really lays it on thick, doesn’t he? He’s not afraid to speak his mind, and certainly not afraid to give praise where it’s due. It’s a far cry from the duplicity Akira grew up with. He was never honest as a kid, being honest would get him in trouble, but evidently Ryuji has not had the same experience. It’s mildly unnerving, but… 

Just like everything else, Akira finds himself liking it very, very much. 

One finger slides in with surprising ease. Obviously, Ryuji picks up on how relaxed Akira is because a second follows shortly thereafter - the stretch has him making a soft noise into the mattress, half-consciously pressing his ass back into Ryuji’s hand, seeking more stimulation. Surprisingly enough, the claws aren’t a problem and all Akira can feel is the warm intrusion of two digits, searching for something deeper and - 

“Mmph,” Akira grunts as Ryuji’s fingers just barely graze his prostate, turning his head further into the sheets as a low swoop of arousal sinks into his belly. 

“Oooh,” Ryuji is laughing behind him, the sound low and dangerous. “That feel good?” 

Is Akira supposed to answer that? Well - he doesn’t get much time to ruminate on that because Ryuji is curling his fingers into him now and any complex thought becomes near-impossible. Fuck, it’s good - his fingers are so thick, he’s so damn strong holding him still with a single hand - Ryuji Sakamato could devour him and Akira’s actually pretty sure he’d die a happy man. “Nnn-holy shit- ” 

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at this,” Ryuji sounds very self-satisfied, the claws of his free hand digging ever-so-slightly into the flesh of Akira’s thigh. “What do you think?” 

Akira takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to collect himself. “Pretty… pretty good.” 

Ryuji scissors those fingers inside of him and Akira chokes a little. “Just good? ” 

Oh, he likes this side of Ryuji. This is a far cry from the eager, submissive man he’d bed earlier in the night - no, this Ryuji will take, take, take and pull no punches, he will leave him pliant and loose-limbed and well-fucked and still have Akira coming back for more. 

Oh, yes. This is the kind of man that could ruin him. 

“ Pretty good,” Akira, always snarky, repeats back at him. Ryuji just growls and presses up against his prostate again - god, it’s so dizzyingly good, Akira can feel his cock twitching between his legs, precome dribbling out onto the sheets. 

“Hah, you’re such an asshole, I love it.” Those fingers are disappearing without warning - Akira just makes a soft sound into the mattress as he feels Ryuji drizzle more lube over him, working his rim roughly with his thumb. “Damn. Your ass is pretty.” 

Being called pretty is strange, especially in such a compromising position - Akira’s not really sure how to reply but the sudden shift in weight behind him followed by a blunt intrusion pressing against him makes it hard to think about it for much longer. Ryuji really does not waste any time, does he? 

Akira could get used to this. 

“Wanna see you stretched around me,” Ryuji murmurs - he’s layered his torso over Akira’s back, one hand sliding up his chest and teasing gently at a nipple. “That okay?” 

“Fff-” Akira shudders as Ryuji nips down his spine. “Fffuck yes.” 

“Enthusiastic! I like it,” The man behind him laughs - but the sound catches in a little moan as he begins to slide inside - damn , he’s big. A lot bigger than Akira remembers, if he’s being honest. Does the - does the wolfy thing change other parts of him, too? Is he - 

“Jesus,” Ryuji grits out. “You’re tight.” 

“You’re… big, ” Akira can’t really find it in him to say much more than that. He’s not trying to butter the guy up, it’s just true. The stretch is deliciously painful, the way he fills him is white-hot and satisfying. And- fuck, he can feel Ryuji twitch a little as he bottoms out and it’s enough to have Akira moaning into the sheets a little. 

“Damn,” Ryuji’s a little breathless as he just… stays there, hands ghosting over Akira’s ass and waist. “...Guess it’s kinda ironic we’re doing doggy.” 

“...Ha,” Akira’s not really in the place to keep up with Ryuji’s jokes, not now - he’s too full and he needs too much - though, a part of him does wish he could see his face. It’s not like they know each other all that well - shit, at this point they’re just fuckbuddies who know each other’s secrets - but Akira wants to see his expression, see how he’s making Ryuji feel.

“No?” Obviously unsatisfied with Akira’s paltry reply, Ryuji leans over him again to - fuck - nip at the shell of his ear, sharp teeth scraping against the cartilage in a way that has Akira’s cock pulsing needily against the sheets. “What? Wolf got your tongue?” 

Akira swallows thickly, trying to bite back a laugh. “...You ever thought of doing stand-up?” 

Ryuji seems to take the question seriously - he pulls away a little, humming softly. “You think I should?” He asks, then - “...You think I’m funny?” 

“Dude-” Holy shit, this guy’s gonna be the end of him. “Your dick is in my ass right now. Do something with it.” 

“Oh - right, sorry.” 

Ryuji pulls out ever-slowly, like he’s still trying to get Akira used to the stretch (all the shifting and talking has given him plenty of time, thanks) but then - oh, then he’s snapping his hips forward to hilt himself again and Akira whines high in his throat. Holy shit, that’s good - it feels like he’s rearranging his insides - 

A hand fists in his hair - Ryuji’s tugging at it, gripping Akira’s thigh with his other hand as he starts up a rather brutal rhythm, fucking him down into the bed like it’s his goddamn job. It could be. Shit, Akira would pay good money for this, but maybe that’s just his parents’ teachings talking. 

“You’re so quiet,” Ryuji tells him, punctuating the thought with a sharp thrust right into Akira’s P-spot. “C’mon. I know you ain’t that buttoned-up.” 

“ Nnngghm- ” Well, his face is pretty buried into the mattress at present, but Akira musters the strength to lift his head a little, turning it to the side. “Feels good.” 

“Just good? ” Akira feels just as much as he imagines those sharp teeth against his shoulder - he jumps a little with surprise when Ryuji’s right leg slides forward - wow he’s flexible, and oh god fuck he’s deep now- 

“Oh, holy shit-” His mouth is suddenly so dry from panting, his eyes are rolling back into his head. 

“There we go,” Ryuji’s so damned proud of himself - maybe any other day Akira would care, but with this manner of dicking? No. Not a chance he fights the guy on having a little pride. “C’mon. Sing for me.” 

“ Fuck, ” Akira wants to touch himself - he reaches down but Ryuji is faster, grabbing his wrist in an instant and pinning it to the small of his back. Akira whines, exhaling sharply against the sheets. “Fuck - don’t stop.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it, babe.” Ryuji’s claws are digging into his wrist, and he sounds so damn breathless - every thrust feels like fire in the best of ways, like he’s burning Akira to cinders from the inside out. “Shit - your ass is too good. M’not gonna last much longer.” 

Babe? Akira thinks dully to himself, but then there’s a wonderfully-warm hand wrapping around his own cock and shit that’s good. Oh, fuck, it’s so good - Ryuji was right, it’s too good- 

“Ryuji - fuck - ” 

“ Nh- yeah, that’s it, just a little more -”

Akira doesn’t remember the next handful of moments with much clarity. Stars explode behind his eyes - he feels a deep pressure and then the release, his stomach bottoming out as he makes a mess of the sheets beneath him. Behind him, Ryuji growls , the sound almost more animal than human as Akira feels a sudden blooming warmth inside of him. 

Everything’s quiet. Akira shifts a little, dizzied by the force of his orgasm. The world slowly comes back into focus around him - he reaches up, loose-limbed, to brush his hair from his face as he tries to catch his breath. “Holy shit,” He says softly - because, well, it’s the only thing that really comes to mind. 

Ryuji laughs, layered bodily over him, lips between Akira’s shoulder blades. “Yeah,” He whispers. “That was… wow.” 

“Wow,” Akira replies dreamily. The pressure that was present before - it’s still there, just as hot and intrusive, and he squirms uncomfortably. “You normally stay hard this long?” 

Ryuji’s quiet for just a beat too long. “Sometimes,” He murmurs, a hand running gently down Akira’s side. 

Is something wrong? Akira frowns to himself - he wants to look, but that would require flexibility that’s currently beyond him. “You okay? I can get some water if you need to-” 

“No -” Ryuji’s hands are suddenly tense and gripping his thighs with a vengeance. His breathing is labored, his voice rough and low. “No, you - you shouldn’t move right now.” 

The hell is going on? Akira asks himself. He’s trying not to panic, but - he leans forward and that pressure becomes blinding, radiating out from his stomach and making his thighs tremble. “Ryuji,” Akira gasps. “Mind cluing me in here?” 

“Um-” Ryuji’s shaking a little - not with effort, more like he’s nervous. Or, perhaps even embarrassed. “Working on it. Sorry.” 

“Working on what? ” 

“How-” He inhales sharply behind Akira, as if trying to calm himself. “How to explain this, I guess?” 

His voice is so small, so vulnerable, and Akira relaxes a little. Whatever’s going on, it’s bothering him, so… “...Okay,” He murmurs. “As long as everything’s okay?” 

“This - god, ” Ryuji laughs, and Akira hears him smacking his own forehead. “S’happened before, when I’ve just been fucking around by myself. Didn’t think it would happen now.” 

“I assume it’s got to do with the…” Akira waves a hand vaguely in the air. “ Wolfy stuff.” 

Ryuji chokes a little. “...Yeah, you could say that.” There’s a short pause - Ryuji shifts experimentally and that pressure is making Akira’s head spin. 

“ Ng- ” Akira bites down hard on his lower lip. “Holy shit, dude, just tell me.”

“Would you be mad if I said we were stuck?” 

Akira pauses. His mind runs through what he knows about dogs and the little he now knows about werewolves, and the pieces slowly begin to click together. “...Oh my god.” 

Ryuji sucks air through his teeth. “...Yeah.” 

Well. Ryuji’s not normal. Something weird was bound to happen, on a level above getting all scratched up and getting tickled by his tail or his ears. It’s not the worst thing that could happen, all things considered. Akira could well have been this dude’s dinner by now, but he’s not, so… 

Yeah. He can deal. 

Honestly? 

Akira shifts a little - the pressure of what he assumes must be Ryuji’s knot has his cock working double-time, twitching between his legs at the overstimulation. His breath hitches as Ryuji groans a little behind him. 

Honestly, it feels pretty damn good. 

“...You okay?” Ryuji probes him softly, his voice wavering a little. 

“M’fine,” Akira mutters in reply. “Just processing.” 

“Are you…” Ryuji pauses for a moment, his hands still tracing up Akira’s sides, skating over his ribs in a way that makes him shiver. “Are you mad?”

“Mad? No,” Akira shakes his head as best he can in such a compromising position. “Just… a little shocked, I guess? Definitely not mad, though.” He leans forward a little, and fuck the stretch and the burn and the feeling of being so, so full is both novel and extremely arousing. “Mmm. Definitely not mad.” 

“Okay.” Ryuji whooshes out a sigh of relief. “Not mad. Not mad is good.” 

Akira’s lost in the pleasure for a brief moment. They’re locked together, though there’s enough room for a little movement - he’s able to rock back shallowly against the length inside him, sighing softly into the sheets. Though - every movement has his thighs burning, his hips aching. He’s gonna collapse if they stay here like this much longer. “...Can we move? We should probably get comfortable, if…” 

“Shit - yeah, sorry -” Ryuji’s strength continues to surprise him. With little effort, he’s wrapping his arms around Akira’s chest, turning them so they’re both on their sides on the bed. The jostling has Akira moaning a little in the back of his throat, but once they’re settled Ryuji wraps an arm around him and he… 

Weirdly enough, he feels safe. A strange feeling, one he hasn’t felt for a long, long time. Maybe ever? Perhaps he only feels it in the quiet solace of his apartment, alone and happy to be so. He’s not alone now, yet Ryuji’s soft breathing behind him is lulling Akira into a comfortable security. 

This is nice, he thinks to himself. 

“You’re hard again?” Ryuji asks, the arm over Akira’s body trailing southward.

“Hm?” Akira tilts his head back to look dreamily up at him. Ryuji’s face is flushed, his ears drooping a little. “Yeah.” 

“Damn.” Ryuji inspects Akira’s face for a moment, the flush over his cheeks only growing stronger. “You’ve got crazy libido.” 

Akira closes his eyes with a smile. “One of my many talents.” 

“ Many talents, huh?” Ryuji chuckles, lips grazing over Akira’s throat. “Damn. You’re making me wanna fuck around and find out.” 

The insinuation has a different kind of warmth blooming in Akira’s stomach. The… feelings kind. He knows he shouldn’t, knows it would probably never work, but… fuck, he’s way too far gone to care right now. He can indulge for one night. 

Just one night. 

“Move a little,” Akira murmurs, shamelessly grinding his ass back into Ryuji’s hips and oh does he oblige, rocking his hips gently back and forth. The stretch is exquisite - Akira can feel him throbbing inside him and it feels like he can hardly breathe. 

“Fuck,” Akira’s hand curls up and over, fingers finding the base of one of Ryuji’s soft ears. “Is it weird that this is pretty hot?” 

“Maybe,” Ryuji says, voice soft and a little strained. “Though, we’re both pretty weird, so.” 

“...Yeah.” Akira’s at peace with that, at least. Ryuji’s weird. He’s weird. It works, in a strange sort of way. They both have their secrets, secrets they’re both now privy to between one another. Akira’s not good at letting people in, and… and this guy just trampled all over his walls like they weren’t even there. How the hell did he do that? 

Well, Akira does really like dogs.

They start a shallow rhythm, rocking back and forth against one another. Akira’s pretty sure they’re both far too spent to go again in earnest, but this is nice and just downright feels good. He’s not sure when he goes from just softly enjoying the feeling to fisting a hand in Ryuji’s hair and whimpering against the pillows - probably somewhere between Ryuji’s hands sliding over his chest and his hips angling up just so in a way that drives Akira wild. 

“Shit, you’re hot like this,” Ryuji murmurs into Akira’s ear. 

“Just…” Akira gasps as Ryuji’s cock drags against his prostate. “Just like this?” 

“Psh,” Sharp teeth scrape against Akira’s jaw. “You’re hot all the time, asshole. I was into you as soon as we started having class together.” 

“Wh- yeah?” Akira’s a little flabbergasted. He didn’t know Ryuji had even noticed him then. “You could have said something.” 

“You have the worst RBF,” Ryuji replies. “I thought, if I came onto you, you might have punched me in the face or something.” 

Ryuji rocks in and out again, and Akira shivers. “Okay. Fair.” 

“You’re just extra hot like this. You’re so…” Ryuji’s lips, against his neck, curl into a grin as he wraps a hand around Akira’s cock. It’s like lightning up his spine, overstimulating, yet he wants more - Akira inhales sharply, whining against the pillows. “ ...Sensitive, ” Ryuji finishes with a satisfied little growl. 

“What did you…” Ryuji’s thumb swipes over the head of Akira’s cock - he knew he’d been leaking precome pretty steadily since this whole thing started, but the sheer amount his hand is now working against his length is a little shocking. “What did you expect?” 

“I’unno,” Ryuji shrugs noncommittally. “You’re just pretty buttoned up. S’fun to see you fall apart.” He traces a claw over the oversensitive flesh in a way that has Akira whimpering needily in his throat. His head’s spinning - it’s so much, almost too much but fuck if he wants to stop now. 

“Like that,” He continues. “Kinda wonder if I could get you to come again.” 

Akira’s mind says no but his body is very much saying yes, please, especially when Ryuji shifts his hips forward and back again - further back, like he’s testing their tie and Akira’s eyes roll back into his head. “Holy shit,” Ryuji laughs. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?” 

Akira just makes an unintelligible noise. Whatever Ryuji wants out of him, he’s not gonna get it. Akira Kurusu does not beg, he does not plead . 

…Shit, unless he starts dirty talking him in that sinfully-low voice. “You like feeling it, huh?” Ryuji growls, teeth playing against Akira’s jaw. “My knot. Inside you. Stretching you.” 

“ Fffuck, ” Akira’s so gone, he’s so broken . He’ll admit it, if only because Ryuji’s hand has stopped moving and he needs it, needs someone to touch him. “... Yes. ” 

“Mmm,” Ryuji shudders against him, teeth sharp against Akira’s throat. “Good boy.” 

Shit - it’s one thing to call someone that, entirely another to be called that and want it. Akira wants to be good, wants to do what Ryuji tells him, wants to indulge all these sudden, strange desires that have unearthed themselves, holy shit this man is ruining him. 

“You like the teeth and claws?” Ryuji asks against his skin. 

Akira bites his lip and nods. 

“Good.” Ryuji growls low in his throat. “Fuck, feels like you’re all mine right now. I love it.” 

Before Akira can even think about what that could mean, a claw traces up his cock again, and - fuck it’s so much, it’s so good, he can’t -

“Oh, damn,” Ryuji says as Akira comes apart once more with a muffled cry. 

When he comes back down to earth, Akira is loose-limbed and sore. He feels a profound emptiness - it seems that Ryuji was able to pull out, finally, and with the way his backside feels he’s definitely going to be walking funny tomorrow. He’s still behind him, hand running up and down his chest, and when Akira opens his eyes he sees the mess he made, ropes of white staining the sheets. 

“Sorry,” Akira murmurs. “You’re gonna have to do laundry.” 

“Ah, it was past time to change the sheets, anyways. Don’t sweat it.” Ryuji’s kissing down his throat, humming softly. All his sharpness and edge and… and downright possessiveness are gone now, and when Akira turns to look back at him he’s human again - no ears or claws or tail in sight. Ryuji just blinks at him, confused, then reaches up as if to check. “Oh. Looks like I’m back to normal. Nice.” 

He sits up, and Akira shivers at the loss of a warm body beside him. He feels so heavy, like his limbs are made of lead, but Ryuji scoops him up like he’s lighter than a feather. “Wh-?” Akira kicks his legs a little, but Ryuji’s holding him fast. 

“Shower time,” He says. “Wanted to wait until I wasn’t furry, otherwise it just smells like wet dog. Not exactly pleasant.” 

“Mmm,” Akira wrinkles his nose, though he can’t suppress a little laugh. “I’m used to it, honestly.” 

“I guess you probably wash a lot of dogs at the shelter, huh?”

“Yeah,” Akira sighs, closing his eyes as Ryuji carries him to the bathroom. “I could have lived with it.” 

“You should probably stay here tonight, by the way,” He says as he deposits Akira onto the toilet, reaching across him to start the water. “It’s, like, four in the morning.” 

“Shit-” Akira perks up a little at that, eyes widening. “Really? Didn’t think we’d been at it for so long.” 

“Guess so,” Ryuji laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, but he doesn’t look bothered by the time in the slightest. “My first class isn’t until noon. You?”

Akira thinks about his schedule this week for a brief moment. “Ugh, I have a ten AM,” He groans. He’s not looking forward to Calc tomorrow. A lot of coffee will need to be involved. 

“Oh! Okay, that works out, I usually meet my friends on campus around that time anyways.” Ryuji smiles down at him. “So long as you’re cool with them being a little nosy.” 

“I assume I don’t know them,” Akira sighs. They’ve probably heard all sorts of rumors at this point, though it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. He is very, very good at dodging questions.

“I think you know one of them. Haru Okumura? Strawberry blonde? She said you do sword classes with her or somethin’?” 

Oh. Akira does remember her. He didn’t know her name, but he does remember having a couple good bouts with her. Okumura. Surely it can’t be the same…? 

Nah. No way in hell. Okumura Kunikazu didn’t have a daughter, as far as Akira’s aware. 

Ugh. No point in thinking about it now. A warm shower is waiting for them - and more time curled up in a well-muscled pair of arms. That is much, much more enticing than worrying. 

So, Akira indulges. Just for one, night, right? They shower, Akira waits in an overlarge t-shirt as Ryuji changes the sheets, and then they are curling up in bed together, a movie playing softly on his old television. 

Just one night. 

Though, as Akira drifts off to sleep, he’s already thinking about how much fun they might have next time. 

Okay. Maybe just two nights. 

Chapter Text

Ryuji wakes up sore the next morning, in a way that has him both reminded of his activities last night and his activities last night - his ass aches, his legs are sore deep in the muscle. Maybe he’d complain about it at any other time, but when he creaks his eyes open to see that pretty yakuza boy, sleeping next to him? 

Bah. He can’t. It was worth it. 

He is not a morning person, as he reaches over groggily to snooze his phone alarm - he’s startled when a hand darts out to catch his wrist, preventing him from doing so. As Ryuji’s eyes trail down, he finds Akira smirking up at him, one eye visible through the messy, dark halo of his hair. 

“Morning,” He mumbles, voice soft. Ryuji’s stomach does a backflip. 

“Um-” Shit, Ryuji, stop being an idiot. You have known this guy for, what, a week? You cannot already be all lovesick over him. Not allowed. “Mornin’.” 

Akira retracts his hand, instead scrubbing it over his face as he sits up. “Sorry. Was trying to wake up a little before you shut it off.” 

Ryuji grabs it now - he’s more than awake enough if Akira’s up, so he just silences his phone and checks the time. Eight-thirty? Wow, he did not get enough sleep, but at least they can take their sweet time getting ready. 

“You have coffee?” Akira asks. 

“Um - yeah, cabinet above the microwave,” Ryuji tells him. “I’ve got a drip coffee machine up there too.” 

The guy hesitates for a second - like he wants to say something, but holds his tongue - before getting up and trodding into the kitchen. 

The smell of coffee fills Ryuji’s apartment, and they sit together in a comfortable silence, checking their phones and sipping at their mugs as they both try to wake themselves properly for the day. They have philosophy together today, at least. Maybe Ryuji will be brave and sit next to him up front. 

“So,” Akira looks over at him as they both get dressed. “Just so you’re aware, I’m not really good at the, ah… romance thing.” 

Ryuji’s heart jumps up into his throat. “Huh? Oh - um -” How is he supposed to respond to something like that? What’s Akira trying to say? “...Sorry?” 

Akira stares at him for a second - just long enough for Ryuji to wonder if he’d said something wrong - but then he just laughs, carding a hand through his hair as he shakes his head. “It’s fine. I just wanted to temper your expectations a little. I dunno if I’m ready for a relationship, but…” 

His eyes trail over to the bed, then back to Ryuji. That stare is like… Akira is devouring him. With his eyes. Ryuji’s cheeks go a little pink. “But the sex is awesome and it’s hard to find a good lay in this town?” 

Akira snorts. “Precisely. So, as long as you’re cool with that, then-” 

Ryuji nods. He’s probably coming off as a little too eager, but god, who fucking cares? The sex was good. Actually, no, not good - it was mind-blowing, amazing, spectacular. He’s not sure if Akira feels wholly the same but Ryuji is so, so, horrendously down. “Yeah, man. I’m kinda - I’m down for whatever, y’know?” 

“I figured as much,” Akira smiles, mostly to himself as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Now. You said I have to meet your friends?” 

---

Akira does indeed end up meeting Ryuji’s friends. They walk onto campus together, and he directs the both of them towards the little outside meeting spot he and Ann originally designated when they started going here - just a bench, far enough away from the building to smoke without campus security being up their asses. Speaking of…

Ryuji nabs a lighter from his pocket, his pack of smokes from his schoolbag. Without even thinking, he passes one back to Akira - the guy hesitates for a second, before placing it between his pale fingers and murmuring a small ‘thank you’ as Ryuji lights it for him. All the while, out of the corner of his eye, he’s watching Ann. Staring.

Her mouth is wide open; Yusuke beside her nudges her gently. “You’re going to swallow a bug, Ann.” 

Takamaki closes her mouth, shakes her head like she’s got water in her ears. “Ryuji,” She says incredulously. “You bastard.” 

“What?” Ryuji layers a hand dramatically over his chest, cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

Ann just rolls her eyes before approaching Akira, sticking out a confident hand. “Ann Takamaki,” She greets him with a smile. “Fashion major. I work for the school newspaper.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” Akira smiles easily, returning the handshake in kind, but… yeah, he’s different again. It seems like the Akira at school and the Akira from the bar are two very distinct people, and he was yet another person in bed last night, especially after… well, after they both spilled the beans to one another. “Akira Kurusu. Business major.” 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Ann replies slyly, raising a brow - but then she is so rudely interrupted as Haru and Makoto approach from around the building, coffees in hand. 

“Hey, guys - oh!” Haru’s eyes light up a little as she spots Akira. “Hi! Long time, no see.” 

“Haru, right?” Akira offers a little wave. “Nice to see you again.” His eyes trail to Makoto - she narrows her eyes at him, and he narrows his right back. 

“Makoto Niijima,” She says. 

Okay, okay, this is getting awkward. Ryuji’ll just - he’ll just do a group introduction. That’ll be easier, right? He knows Makoto already doesn’t have a very high opinion of the dude, even if all the yakuza stuff is just rumors for them. “Akira, these are my friends,” He starts haltingly, trying to break the tension. “Ann and I have been friends since middle school - we’re practically siblings, and then there’s Yusuke-” 

“Hello.” 

“-He’s a fine art major, Ann and I helped him out of a predicament back in high school and then he kinda just started hanging out with us.” 

“You make me sound like a hapless nobody,” Yusuke retorts, though his expression is mostly playful. 

“Are you not? ” Ann scoffs. Yusuke bonks her on the back of the head with his notebook. 

“Makoto, she’s in pre-law, her mom’s a prosecutor -” Shit, that’s probably a bad mix, huh? Akira, the yakuza family heir, and the daughter of a lawyer? No wonder Akira’s glaring right back at her, he probably already knows exactly who her sister is. 

“And then there’s Haru, who you already know.” 

“Hi! Um, again.” Haru giggles a little as she waves. “I guess you probably don’t know much about me, but I’m the, um - I’m the heiress to Okumura foods. I plan on taking over the company after I finish my Master’s.” 

Akira, suddenly, looks very, very pale. Ryuji raises a brow. He was… well, he was kind of weird and cagey about Haru last night, too. He’s got no clue why , but evidently finding out who Haru actually is has stunned him a little. “Uh - dude?” Ryuji nudges him gently. “You good?” 

“Huh? Um - yes, sorry.” Akira bows just slightly in Haru’s direction. “I wasn’t aware you were that Okumura.” 

“Yes, I am.” She smiles sweetly. “I used to be a little quieter about it, but I’ve found that leading with that makes life a little easier.” 

“I can understand that,” Akira murmurs. He’s all… on-edge now, sucking down his cigarette with a vengeance as he pulls out his phone. “Shit, I’ve gotta get to class. It was nice meeting you all.” 

What? Ryuji raises a brow, looking down at his phone. It’s hardly nine-thirty. The hell is up with him? “Oh! Um - later, man.” 

Akira gives little more than a parting wave before disappearing into the crowd, leaving behind only the faint smell of cigarette smoke and a very, very confused Ryuji Sakamoto. 

“Well, he’s kind of weird,” Ann says bluntly. 

“He’s not weird, ” Ryuji sputters. “He’s just kind of introverted. He said he was cool with meeting you guys, but I think maybe he got a little overwhelmed? I dunno.” 

Makoto raises a brow. “Did he stay at your place last night?” 

Ryuji laughs. “Maybe. Possibly.” Okay, he’s a little proud about it, so sue him. 

“It seems he left an impression on you,” Haru giggles, pointing at Ryuji’s neck. “Look.” 

“What? Bullshit. That’s totally fake.” Ann crosses her arms. “You did that with a cup or something, didn’t you?” 

“It looks real to me,” Yusuke comments. 

The entire group begins to poke fun at him over the very obvious hickey on his neck. Ryuji’d normally fend them off, but… but right now, he’s just worried. Akira was fine right up until Haru mentioned her dad’s company. Maybe he… maybe his family has ties to Okumura Foods somehow? Shit. Hopefully Ryuji didn’t just fuck this up spectacularly. Why do all his friends know people? 

His worry only mounts as the day wears on. He and Akira text, but the guy’s only really giving one-word replies and it definitely feels like something is wrong. They were - they had - Ryuji broke down all his weird little walls last night, but now Akira Kurusu is just as unapproachable as ever. Even in philosophy! The seats near him fill up too fast, and then Ryuji is stuck in the back just staring down at him dreamily for the whole class period again, even with Ann constantly pestering him and bickering with him. 

The hell is up with this guy? He was doing fine last night, even with everything that happened. Did Ryuji spook him? 

“Dude, you have got to give it up,” Ann whispers. “I dunno how you got him to walk to school with you, but he’s obviously not about it.” 

“We didn’t walk,” Ryuji grumbles. “We rode his motorcycle. From my house.” 

“So, what, he picked you up?” 

“ No, ” Jesus, how much convincing will it take to get it through Ann’s head? “He stayed the night at my place.” 

“Sure, sure.” Ann rolls her eyes. “Look, Ryuji. I love you, I really do, but I also don’t believe you pulled mister tall, dark and handsome down there.” 

“You have no faith in me.” 

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” She murmurs, ruffling his hair. “You’re a good guy, and he seems like he might be bad news, especially if he’s actually yakuza.” 

“He’s not, ” Well, he might as well try to save the dude’s reputation. 

“And how do you know that?” 

“He told me. He just has a cool tattoo, it has nothing to do with the yakuza.” 

“Oh,” Ann actually seems to believe him for once, which is surprising. “Is he not from here?” 

“I’unno, we didn’t get that far,” He shrugs. “We were a little busy.” 

“Did you actually… ” 

“Yes! How many times do I have to tell you?”

The outburst is loud enough that the professor is shooting daggers at him from the board. Ryuji shrinks down below his desk - but all the embarrassment is worth it when Akira turns around to look at who’s causing the commotion. They lock eyes for a split second before he turns back to his schoolwork. 

“Woah, he looks pissed. ” 

“He just looks like that. I think he’s kind of weird around new people.” 

“ Weird is an understatement.” 

He was acting really strange this morning. He’s been acting really strange all day. Even after class, Akira doesn’t say a word to him, just gets the hell out of dodge and no matter where Ryuji pokes around on campus he’s nowhere to be found. Was it something he said? Was it his friends? Akira won’t fucking tell him and Ryuji’s too much of a pussy to ask him about it over text, lest he stop responding entirely. 

Ryuji is despondent at their study group. Ann leaves well enough alone, Makoto either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice, and Haru keeps giving him sympathetic looks from across the table. 

“I’m sorry, Ryuji, if we made him uncomfortable,” She tells him softly. 

“S’okay. I’ll try and get in touch with him later, I guess.” He can’t just have this guy running around knowing his secret, either. Not to mention he still has his clothes.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Makoto says, tapping her pen against her lower lip. “He seems like bad news.” 

“That’s what I said!” Ann nudges Ryuji in the side. “See? He’s got total bad-boy vibes.” 

“He does,” Haru nods dreamily. “He’s so good with that sword, too.” 

“He’s not in the yakuza, like I said. He’s just not… sociable, or whatever. Is that a crime?” 

“No,” Makoto shakes her head. “But maybe you were a little too much for him? You have to take this kind of thing slowly, you know.” 

Ryuji groans, burying his face in his schoolbag. Maybe Makoto’s right. Did things move to quickly? It’s not like he was introducing Akira to his parents - he doesn’t even have any! - but Ann might as well be family. The rest of his friends, too, they’re closer than most. Maybe that freaked Akira out. 

Or, maybe, rolling with his other theory… he knows Haru somehow, or knows her family. Or maybe he doesn’t like Makoto’s sister? Is he reading too much into this? Ryuji doesn’t know at this point, he doesn’t know anything and it’s driving him a little crazy. 

Really, though, Ryuji just wants to see him again. 

He really hopes he didn’t just fuck all of this up. 

Chapter Text

Shit. 

Shit shit shit. 

She is that Okumura. How did he - 

How did Akira not know that he had a daughter?  

Maybe he wasn’t proud of her, he reasons. Or, perhaps, he kept her existence under wraps. Infidelity, maybe? A love-child? That could certainly be the case. Not to mention that after everything that happened, Akira steered very, very clear of anything going on with that damned company. He wanted to wipe his hands clean of it, forget it ever happened. He hasn’t stepped foot in a Big Bang Burger since he was seventeen. 

“Shit,” Akira swears to himself as he collapses onto his futon. It’s not - it’s not as bad as he’s making it out to be, really. Haru doesn’t know who he is. Doesn’t know what his parents have done. And it wasn’t - it wasn’t like they did what they did for no good reason. Okumura was causing public unrest, he was abusing his employees and - 

No matter what he did, Akira tells himself, We still left a kid without her dad.  

A sick wash of guilt rolls over him, and he curls into himself with a sigh. He should - he should go home. Talk to Futaba, or something. She might not have answers but she might at least have some advice for him, she’s usually pretty good at that despite her general avoidance of people or the outside world. Sojiro, too - he was more directly involved in the Okumura situation than he. Maybe it’s best that he knows. 

So, Akira does. He skips class the next day, ignores a smattering of texts from Ryuji (which, inexplicably, makes him sick to his stomach - he doesn’t want to hurt the dude’s feelings, but he also wants to sort out his own shit before becoming even more entangled). He packs a day bag, slings himself onto his bike, and then he’s off to the country to see his family. 

“Kurusu Akira,” He mumbles into the receiver at the gate. Hopefully it isn’t some hapless security guard - and thankfully, even if it was, there’s a telltale crackle of someone cutting into the line as Futaba’s excited voice buzzes out of the speaker. 

“Kira? Hey!” She laughs - there’s a loud tone as the gate swings open for him. “Long time, no see. How’s school?”

“Fine, I guess. You got a sec?” 

“For you? Always. I’m in the server room.” 

As usual, Akira rolls his eyes as he rolls his bike slowly onto the estate proper. It’s large, though not extravagantly so - it’s less a fancy house and more a base of operations, a good portion of it in classic Japanese style and the newer additions all concrete and brutalist and boring. It was a base of operations, back when they were still doing anything of note. These days, it sits empty more often than not - something the three of them are completely fine with, even if it’s a shame such a nice home doesn’t really get put to use. 

Too many bad memories. 

In fact, he wasn’t even sure Futaba would be here. She’s usually with Sojiro, at the cafe. Maybe something’s going on? He’s a little miffed if that’s the case - he really should be keeping tabs on things - but college was supposed to be a break, a departure from his rather outlandish and annoying reality. He can’t exactly blame Futaba for not telling him. 

Akira parks his bike and enters through the front door, wrinkling his nose at the smell of mildew, frowning at the dust motes floating through the air. They don’t keep staff here anymore, but they probably should get someone out to at least do some dusting and general maintenance. For now, he has bigger fish to fry, so he slips down the hall and into the door leading to the basement. 

“Hey, Futaba,” Akira greets as he creaks open the door to the server room. It’s hot as hell in there, as usual - sweat’s already breaking out on the back of his neck and he has to wonder how Futaba deals with it. Used to it, he supposes - she’s crouched over her computer in the corner, typing at a million strokes per minute. Business as usual, if she’s got a target. Who that target is could be anyone, but sometimes it’s as simple as her just being in the middle of a feud with another hacker or something. “Didn’t think you’d be at the estate.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing big,” She replies, pushing her glasses up her nose. She’s not too different from when she was a kid - just as awkwardly lanky, just as terrifyingly genius - the only real difference is her arms, covered in tattoos, and her hair, which is now cut into an easier-to-manage bob. Still the same shade of brassy orange-blonde, though, even if Akira cannot fathom why she likes that color. “Just some bullshit with another family. They’re poking around at our network protections, so I’m just doing some maintenance.” 

Ah. That makes sense. They do, certainly, have some information stored on their own collection of personal servers that would be catastrophic if released to the public. Surely, some other families would want that, even if the Kurusus have ‘fallen out of favor’ as of late, so to speak. “Which family?” 

“Shido,” She grouches. “The head of the family, that politician guy? He’s such a pain in the ass, especially since we stopped him from getting elected.” 

“Mm.” Akira has some not-so-fond memories of meeting the man at parties - well, more about meeting his assistant , a kid his age who was most definitely his son in everything but title, hiding himself in chairs and behind tables and generally trying not to be seen. It seemed like a pretty miserable existence. He wonders if the kid ever graduated from ‘personal assistant’ to ‘family’, but… it was obvious he was only half-Japanese, and Shido definitely had some more traditional sensibilities. God, who knows. Most yakuza families are a mess - his own is honestly more normal than most. “Well, if his hobby wasn’t sexual assault, maybe he wouldn’t have so many problems.” 

“That’s for sure,” Futaba laughs, typing for just a little longer before closing whatever she’s been working on and turning in her swivel chair to look up at him. “Anyways. What’s up? Didn’t think I’d see you here, either.” She pauses, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re supposed to be in class, you know. I thought you wanted to try and leave all this behind!” 

“I do,” Akira tells her with a little sniff of indignance. She’s not his mom, she’s younger than him, even, though she finds her ways of taking care of him. Like being a creepy little stalker and sending him care packages full of gourmet ramen. “You’re still family. I wanted to talk.” 

“Okay. Then talk, doofus.” 

Down to business, then. “Well - first of all, someone is setting traps up in the national forest area outside of my school. Could you look into that?” Despite the whole Okumura thing, Akira’s been meaning to mention the traps to Futaba for a while. He’s still worried. What if Ryuji goes out there again, gets himself caught? If it has anything to do with his part of the world, Akira would blame himself eternally. 

Futaba frowns. “Traps? Like, what kind?” 

“Animal traps. A couple spring nooses, some bear traps. Like they’re trying to catch something big and dangerous.” 

Akira’s adopted sister worries at her lower lip with her teeth, glancing back at her computer for a brief moment. “I’ve heard some stuff about that forest, but I didn’t think someone had been setting traps. That’s concerning.” 

“ Heard some stuff? The hell does that mean?”

Futaba rolls her eyes. “You probably wouldn’t take much stock in it. It has to do with Mom’s research, and last I remember you thought it was all bullshit.” 

Her snark is not unnoticed, and Akira sighs. Wakaba had always been a bit… eccentric. Whip-smart, and an excellent influence on her daughter, but like all geniuses she did have a couple screws loose. She was obsessed with the idea of… of yōkai , of mythical creatures. Cryptids and the like. She swore up and down that some of them were real, that they walked among us. Not in like, a conspiracy theorist sort of way, she was just curious and there was just enough evidence out there to make her believe it. From what Futaba told her, it stemmed from her having a run-in with what she believed to be forest spirits while backpacking up north. 

Now, though, Akira’s beginning to realize she was right. Not that he can tell Futaba about what he knows, he promised Ryuji that his secret was safe with him and Akira is not the kind of man who breaks his promises, but… still. She was right. Maybe the forest spirit thing was just her seeing things that weren’t there, but Wakaba Isshiki certainly stumbled across something very, very real. Werewolves being real certainly was not on Akira’s bingo card, but even if Wakaba was a little off her rocker sometimes, she didn’t have all those accolades for nothing. 

“Maybe I want to be a little more open-minded,” He says carefully, and Futaba raises an eyebrow in surprise. “What then?” 

“There have been sightings,” She explains, turning back to her computer. She pulls up an array of grainy, low-quality images - at first, they seem to just be of empty forest, but the longer Akira squints the more he’s sure he sees shadows in the trees. Some not too different from what he saw the other night, others more like regular animals. “As I’m sure you know, wolves were hunted to extinction in Japan during the early nineteen-hundreds. But that…” She zooms in on a fuzzy shadow, “That is a wolf, and it doesn’t match the description of any captive ones in the entire country, it’s way too big.” 

“Right,” Akira nods. He can’t argue with her, can’t say it’s a dog. Its silhouette betrays what he already knows to be true - the chest is too shallow, the paws too large, the head too sloped. A wolf, surely. “And the other photos?” 

“What we might think is a…” She sucks her teeth, like she’s surprised about this herself. “A wolf… man?” 

“A wolf-man,” Akira replies flatly, forcing himself to convey a complete lack of knowledge on the topic. “Like, a werewolf.” 

“...Yeah, I guess,” Futaba shrugs. “I wonder if someone’s caught wind of these pictures being real. Maybe that’s why they’re setting the traps.” 

“Do me a favor,” Akira says abruptly. “Keep your own copies, but - wherever you found those? Wipe them.” 

Futaba is nothing if not reliable. She’s already on it, fingers flying over her keyboard. “Sure thing. Why?” 

“I’ve been doing some investigating of my own, and the traps are just getting in the way. I want to try to figure out who’s setting them. If it’s some random conspiracy theorist, that’s one thing, but -” 

“But…” Futaba inhales sharply. “You think that it might be another family or something?”

“Or the government, maybe,” Akira shrugs. “Who knows? If those really are some creatures we know nothing about…” God, he can’t believe he’s saying this. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, Wakaba said she wanted to protect them, right? We should probably try to do the same.” 

Futaba just stares at him for a long moment, blinking a few times as Akira’s words sink in. Then, she shakes her head, laughing to herself. “The hell’s gotten into you, dude? Well, whatever. Yeah, I agree. I’ll pull any mention of the photos, put up some articles explaining it away as an escaped import or something. If the traps are still getting set, then… I guess we’ll have some work to do.” 

“...Yeah.” Akira sorely hopes the traps will disappear, though he’s not so sure. Something about this is fishy, it feels bigger than just some crazy guy going out and trying to catch whatever creature is roaming the night. “I worry about stray dogs out there,” He adds, if only to make himself sound a touch less insane. “What if they get caught in the middle of this?” 

“You bleeding heart, you.” Futaba punches him playfully in the bicep. “Is that why you’ve been going out there all the time?”

“Have you been tracking me?” 

“No,” Futaba lies. “Maybe. Sort of. I just have your bike synced up to my network. That way, if you get into trouble I can at least get an idea of where you’re at.” 

Well, Akira doesn’t like it, but it’s Futaba’s way of looking out, so he’ll let it slide. “Yeah, there were a couple dogs out there and I was trying to track them down. I saved one from a trap a little while ago.” 

He’s getting worried all over again. Ryuji goes out there. Alone. He was caught, even, and Akira had to rescue him. He needs to stay out of the forest for now, especially if someone is out there taking pictures. Without thinking, he’s pulling out his phone to message him. 

[10/24 13:34] Akira: Hey, don’t be going out into the forest for now. It’s too dangerous 

[10/24 13:35] Ryuji: uhhh hey sure?? why??? 

[10/24 13:35] Akira: I’ll explain next time we hang out. Just be careful 

“Who are you texting?” Futaba’s standing now, trying to tilt down his hand and look at his phone. When she sees Ryuji’s profile picture, she gasps. “Oh my god - is that the guy Lala was telling me about? The one you stole away to the back room with at Crossroads?” 

Oh my god, can he have any secrets? “So what if it is? None of your business.” 

“Oh, come on, ” Futaba pouts. “I’m just curious! Are you dating? Is he your boyfriend? Is he-” 

“ No, ” Akira pushes her away firmly. “We’re just having sex. That’s it.” 

“So defensive,” She grins, and Akira really wants to punch her - he just glares at her instead, and she decides to back off. “Alright, alright,” Futaba puts her hands up in the air, stepping away. “You like your privacy. Point taken. Is the sex good, though?” 

Ugh. He might as well humor her. It’s not like he’ll gossip with anyone else, save for maybe Lala. “Pretty damn good, or else I wouldn’t be texting him.” 

Akira makes that sound obvious, even though it’s far from the truth. He texts Ryuji, even in the midst of this micro-crisis he’s having, because he likes him. He kind of wants to be friends, which is a strange new feeling for him. Friends-with-benefits, of course, because the sex is good, but even if it wasn’t… 

Ryuji’s not normal, yet he so very much is. Despite the stranger parts of his life, he’s managed to be sociable, he’s got a group of friends who obviously care about him, and he leads a relatively normal life. Akira envies that, wants to emulate that. 

“Anyways,” Akira clears his throat, averting his eyes from Futaba’s smug, shit-eating expression. “There was something else, too. Did you know that Kunikazu had a daughter?” 

Futaba seems a little taken aback by the sudden change in subject. “Huh? Okumura? No, I didn’t. I kind of stopped following them after everything… ugh, I know I should have kept tabs on them, it was just so messy…” She smacks herself in the forehead. “He has a daughter? How the hell did I miss that? ” 

Akira nods sympathetically. Doesn’t he know it. 

At first, it was really just a ploy to seize power from Okumura himself. Get him out of the CEO chair, because he was way, way too entangled with the government and his employees were on the brink of massive unionization efforts. The unionization part wasn’t bad in and of itself, but the worker strikes it would cause could have crippled the economy. The Kurusus, originally, were going to take the company for themselves, dump their coffers into it, run it the way a respectable Japanese company should be run. Not that Akira’s parents would have operated any differently than Kunikazu, but… that was the plan. 

That was the plan, until another family got involved. They’re still not sure who, but it had to have been someone with a lot of political reach. Akira still suspects Shido, though he has no solid proof. All he knows is that on the day they were going to negotiate with Okumura, lay out all the dirty laundry they had so meticulously collected, he was killed. Publically. During a press conference. 

Executed was a better term, frankly. A bullet right between the eyes at great range. It shook the public considerably; the Kurusu family later got word down the pipe that if they hadn’t meddled in the company’s affairs, it’s likely Okumura never would have been executed in the first place. Akira and Futaba had been the ones gathering information on Okumura - so, in some roundabout way, this was their faults. 

Mom and dad had told them to suck it up. They’re Yakuza, a body count is part of the job, and of course they were the ones who fucked up by not being discrete enough in their intel-gathering. Still, though - he and Futaba were kids. They were in high school. How could they have been expected to just sit by and watch people die - or, even, be directly responsible? Akira’s never killed anyone. Futaba hasn’t, either. 

And then, nigh a couple months after the incident, his parents up and died in some ‘car accident’. Well - accident is a strong term. Futaba jokes these days, calls it a ‘car purpose’, not unlike the incident that killed her mother. It was some malfunction of the vehicle, some freak accident that had them rolled over and stranded out in the forest far from any city or town. It’s suspicious, obviously, though they never found out who was responsible. 

Akira didn’t want to see the pictures back then, but he’s seen them now. They probably died instantly, though the scene was still gruesome, already being taken back by nature as it was. The car was mangled, a massive dent in the side they still don’t know the origin of, the skidmarks on the road indicative of some kind of scuffle. Maybe another car rammed them off the road? Who knows. 

There was a closed-casket burial, a small service where he and Futaba paid their respects by spitting on their graves. Good fucking riddance. They’re still dealing with the fallout of all the fucked-up shit Akira’s parents did. He knows he should , probably, have been sad, should have grieved, but… for him and Futaba, it was just more relieving that they weren’t under their thumb anymore. 

Then, the family fell to him. He hasn’t done much with the assets they still have, doesn’t want to. They keep the peace where they can. Akira doesn’t have the capacity or the mental fortitude to campaign for big changes, but the three of them can do small things. Good things. Maybe it won’t ever make up for the sins of his parents - his father, especially - but he can certainly try.

“His daughter,” Akira continues - he’s not keen on continuing this walk down memory lane, no matter how patient Futaba might be - “She goes to my school. Her name is Haru.” 

“Is she…” Futaba bites her lip, tapping on her keyboard. “Do we need to get involved?” 

“No - no, I don’t think so,” Akira shakes his head. She seems nice enough. She was pretty open about being the heiress to the company, and he has an inkling it’s because being honest keeps her safe from manipulation. People get weird about money sometimes, their true colors not so bright and cheery. She seems like a good fit, honestly. Had Akira’s family known about her… maybe they could have sat on their laurels, waited and let her take the reins from her father instead. 

Then, though, his parents might still be alive. Akira’s not sure how he feels about that. He’s not sure if the two incidents were related or not, but nothing in the criminal underworld is accidental. 

“Yeah, I was gonna say, she seems clean,” Futaba’s looking at a whole lot of information right now, scrolling past so fast Akira can hardly read. Damn her and her photographic memory. “She’s friendly, she’s got good grades, and she’s been pretty active in the unionization efforts at Okumura foods. If anyone’s gonna be CEO, it should be her. She hasn’t sold her shares, either, despite all the bigwigs at the company pestering her about it constantly.” 

Wow. To go through that as a teenager, constantly being manipulated by corporate heads who want a piece of her fortune? That’s a lot. It kind of makes sense that she’s friends with Ryuji. He’s simple, and Akira thinks that of him fondly. He likes straightforward solutions, he doesn’t pull punches, and he’s honest to a fault. A girl like that probably appreciates that kind of person, and… yeah, he does, too.  

“Right,” Akira nods. “I just… wanted to tell someone, I guess. It was weird, meeting her. I already knew her, actually - she takes the same swordplay class as me. She’s pretty good.” 

“Does she now?” Futaba smiles. “A woman after my own heart. I get it, though.” She turns to him with a reassuring expression. “That was probably a lot to handle all at once.” 

“She’s a friend of that guy I’m seeing,” Akira continues. “I’m thinking - maybe I should tell her? I dunno.” 

Futaba makes a face. “I… wouldn’t. There’s no point. She probably already knows yakuza were involved - and, besides, we weren’t the ones who killed him.” 

“But we-” 

“No, shut up. I know we’ve blamed ourselves for Okumura’s death for years, but at the end of the day we were kids. We were just doing what we were told. Okay?” 

Futaba’s right. Akira doesn’t like it, because someone should atone for handling that situation in the worst way possible, but… she’s right. It’s not their fault and it never was. He just needs to accept that, no matter how much his parents’ impossibly-high expectations of him still stick with him to this day. “...Okay.” 

“Crazy that he’s friends with Sakamoto, though,” She murmurs, looking back to her computer. 

“How do you…” 

“How do I not? ” Futaba grins. “You know me, ‘Kira. I can get information on pretty much anyone I please. Not a lot on him, though. He didn’t have a birth certificate until he was five. Did he live out in the sticks or something?” 

“I don’t - I don’t know, ” Akira sputters, overwhelmed at this line of questioning. “I’ve hardly known him a week. I know his mom died of cancer, that’s all.” 

“What about his dad? He doesn’t even have one listed anywhere.” 

Lying to Futaba leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “Not in the picture, as far as I know. Why do you even care? ” 

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Futaba protests. “You know he’s friends with Niijima’s sister, right?” 

“Yeah, I met her,” Akira sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sae Niijima is a force to be reckoned with, and she doesn’t like organized crime. Most lawyers kind of just ignore it, but she’s been out to get anyone involved in the yakuza ever since her younger sister was nearly blackmailed by Kaneshiro. Little does she know it’s Akira’s family who dealt with him, but… so it goes. “There’s already rumors going around, so as you can imagine, she doesn’t like me.” 

“Rumors about you being yakuza?” Futaba snorts. “Eh. Let them talk. The more the rumors go around, the more far-fetched the story will become.”

“They already think I’m the one behind the current disappearances,” Akira mutters, remembering some of the whispers he’s heard behind his back, on school forums, in the hallways. Some of them think he’s some kind of serial killer or something, all because someone saw his damn tattoo. Can’t people just get tattoos because they like them? 

“Those?” She raises a brow. “Right, I forgot, I needed to look into that. We’re still not sure who’s behind it, or if there even is a someone. There’s no rhyme or reason to the victims, they’re all just random people. Another thing for the list, I guess…” 

Feels like another Tuesday, if Akira’s being honest. They’re always on the lookout for upticks in crime, so that they can either get to the bottom of it or quash it at its source before it becomes a problem too big for them to handle. There have been more disappearances than normal - more than can just be chalked up to suicide or domestic violence. It’s got the public in a tizzy, though Akira’s been trying to ignore the whole ordeal because it has nothing to do with him. It could be another family, but… why? None of the supposed victims seem to have anything in common, and they usually aren’t reported missing until days afterwards. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” 

“You say that,” Futaba sighs, “But I have a feeling you’re probably going to be pretty distracted. ” Akira frowns, and she just waves her hand in his direction. “Which is fine! You wanna leave this all behind, and I get it. I support you. But… this is what I’m good at, y’know?” She shrugs. “Maybe I’ll get boots on the ground. It’s been a while.” 

Akira suddenly has a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Oh, no. You are not going to my school.” 

“But where else would I go?” Futaba asks with a simpering expression. “Look, dude. That school seems to be the epicenter of all the weird shit that’s been going on. If I’m going anywhere, it’s there.” 

“Oh my god,” Akira groans, rubbing his temples with irritation. Once Futaba’s set on something, there is absolutely no stopping her. “Fine. Whatever. But you are not living with me.” 

“Ew, no,” Futaba curls her lip. “I don’t want to be privy to whatever weird shit you get up to in your free time. I’ll find a place, don’t worry.” 

“Ugh,” Akira turns away, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna go, I think. I can only handle so much of you.” 

“Love you, too,” Futaba grins. “You don’t wanna hit the range? Might feel good to blow off some steam.” 

…Not a bad idea, honestly. Akira pauses in the doorway. “...I might. Wanna join me?” 

“You get started, I’ll be up in a little bit. Still need to finish bug-squashing this new firewall.”

Chapter Text

Akira spends a good few hours at the range. It’s a large room on the first floor that extends out towards the back of the property - an addition, he’s been told, that happened after his family purchased the estate a couple generations ago. He spent a lot of time here as a kid with nothing better to do - he’s a damn good shot, and it feels good to just empty out a clip or two into some paper targets or sandbags. Since his parents passed, though, he and Futaba have gotten a little more… creative with their targets. Why buy more when there’s so much stuff in this old house that needs destroying?

Today, it’s his mom’s old china. It’s not sentimental or anything, just ludicrously expensive and gaudy - Akira sets them up down the range before donning a pair of earmuffs and some safety glasses (just in case the glass, y’know, fights back). His old pistol is still stored there - not the one he keeps at home, a nicer model more meant for sport than for protection. He has to oil it, take it apart and put it back together, but the process is mind-numbing and comforting, just motions he’s done a thousand times and will do a thousand times more. Then, finally, he can shoot. Deep breath in, out, and pull the trigger. Damn, the recoil on this gun is so smooth. He kind of wishes it was practical for everyday use, but alas. 

He’s about halfway through the plates when Futaba shows up. They don’t talk - no point, with the earmuffs - just stand down the range beside each other and shoot. It’s relaxing, and with every shattered bowl and cup Akira feels the knots inside him untangling, leaving him smooth as an untouched beach. Futaba’s not his sister by blood, but they have more than enough in common - including an intense dislike for his late parents. They have their own ways of dealing with it - Futaba shut herself in for a while, though she’s gotten more brave again in recent years. Akira kind of just… moved on. Forgot his whole childhood ever happened. 

Healthy? Probably not, but it’s how he’s coped. This is how he copes, destroying his mom’s fancy dinnerware and chuckling at the thought of her rolling in her grave. She’d hate this. Akira likes that feeling. 

They make their way through a whole box before tallying their scores. As usual, Akira beats Futaba in clean hits, but just barely - he needs to up his game, though they are both ludicrously good shots. Comes with the territory of being them, he supposes. 

“How’s Boss, by the way?” Akira asks as he tugs off his earmuffs. 

“WHAT?” Futaba is, evidently, still wearing hers. Akira snorts, tapping the side of his head. 

“Oh,” She pulls them off, smoothing out her hair, and he repeats his question. “Um, he’s fine, I guess? No different than usual. Just running the cafe. I have him grab intel for me if he can, though I think he’s kind of in your boat at this point.” 

Good for him, Akira thinks. He never should have been involved in all this in the first place, but he knew Wakaba and he was a dear friend of his father’s. He still isn’t sure how that worked, but maybe Kurusu senior was a better friend than a parent. “Can you tell him about Okumura? I think he should know.” 

Futaba’s face falls a little. That probably won’t be a fun conversation, but it’s easier for her to talk to him than Akira. “Yeah, I will. Thanks for letting me know, by the way. I know you don’t really like talking shop anymore.” 

“It’s not about talking shop,” Akira shrugs, “I think I just don’t like talking, period.” 

“Unless it’s a dog,” Futaba points out. “Then you can’t shut up.” 

“Hah,” Akira laughs to himself. That is what got himself into this whole situation in the first place. “You’re not wrong. I should go by the shelter soon. It’s the slow season, but…” 

“Hey, you can always bring ‘em here,” Futaba shrugs. “S’not like we’re using this place for much.” 

Hm. Turning the estate into a foster home isn’t a bad idea. He’d have to put some feelers out, see if he could hire anyone willing to stay onsite with them, but… yeah. Good idea, Futaba. Not that he’ll ever tell her, her head’s big enough as is. “I’ll look into it,” He says as he puts away his gun, hangs up his vest. “Thanks for hanging out.” 

“Don’t be thanking me,” Futaba snorts. “You’re probably gonna be seeing a whole lot more of me soon.” 

“God, don’t remind me.” 

Akira leaves with little fanfare. Futaba’s not a hugger, and neither is he - they just wave their awkward ‘see-you-laters’ and then he’s back on the road towards town. The forest is… it’s peaceful, the leaves just starting to change and the sun low in the sky. The cool fall breeze is just a little biting on his face, but it’s a nice distraction from everything he and Futaba just discussed. When was the last time they had a decent heart-to-heart? It had to have been at least a year ago, maybe more. He resolves to reach out more often. She sure as shit won’t, beyond texting him silly videos. 

The tranquility of nature soon fades back into the bustle of the city, though, and as he’s waiting at a stoplight his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

[10/14 17:32] Ryuji: hey whatre u up to 

[10/14 17:35] Akira: Heading back from out of town. What’s up? 

[10/14 17:36] Ryuji: o ok cool 

[10/14 17:36] Akira: Did you need something, or…? 

Ryuji doesn’t respond. Well, that’s weird, Akira thinks to himself as he takes the turn into his neighborhood. He hopes the guy actually took his advice. If anyone spots him… god, one half-decent picture by someone with a keen eye and Akira’s gonna have to drag him off to the estate. 

Wait- why is he thinking about protecting him? 

Akira shakes his head. No. He hardly knows the guy. Werewolf or no, he shouldn’t be involved. Or… should he? Hell, he’d literally just told Futaba his sentiments about Wakaba’s research. Maybe he should be trying to keep the guy out of trouble, if that’s what Isshiki wanted. 

Well, the guy’s managed to keep himself from getting killed for the last twenty-odd years. Surely he’s okay now. Akira’s logic does little to assuage his worries, though. Ryuji’s just - he’s unpredictable. I’ll call him once I’m home, he tells himself. Just to… check in. Yeah.  

Evidently, he doesn’t have to, because - 

“ Ryuji? ” Akira hisses as he climbs the stairs to his apartment. He’s waiting there, all wolfed out with Akira’s clean clothes, the ones he’d stolen, set neatly at his feet. “What are you doing here?” 

This idiot, Akira groans inwardly. Someone’s going to see him. That would be bad, really bad. Even if Akira thought he was a dog at first glance, there’s surely plenty of people who might not.  

Ryuji just whines, tilting his head towards the door, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Did he run here? No wonder he didn’t respond to his message. Akira sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face as he finds his house key on the ring and turns the lock. The wolf beside him picks up the clothes in his teeth, trots inside like he owns the place. 

“Dude-” Akira throws up his hands, but it’s no use, he’s already making himself comfortable. As soon as the door shuts behind him, he’s transforming - naked as the day he was born, of course, clothes still clenched between his teeth. 

“ Shhmmgrhf, ” Ryuji mumbles, then removes the obstruction from his mouth. “Sorry,” He says again. “I wanted to give you your clothes back.” 

Right. The clothes. Well, at least Akira has them back now. That is a pretty comfortable shirt, though Ryuji’s probably gone and stretched it out. “Um - thanks?” He’s still reeling a little, unprepared for this guy to be in his home. Well - it’s not like he hasn’t seen it before, but still. It’s strange. Especially because - “You’re really comfortable with being naked, aren’t you?” 

Ryuji looks down at himself and shrugs. “Comes with the territory, I guess.” 

“You know, you could have just walked here.” 

“I did.” 

“No -” Akira presses his knuckles to the bridge of his nose. “Like, as a human.” 

“Oh.” There’s a long pause. “Didn’t think about it, I guess.” 

Akira just stares at him. Didn’t think about it? Does he just… pop down to the convenience store like that? “What if someone took a picture of you?” 

“Um- they’d think I was a weird dog, like you did?” Ryuji raises a brow, offering the bundle of fabric to him a little more insistently. “Take your clothes, dude.” 

Akira does as he’s asked, but he’s still all worked up about this. A litany of worst-case scenarios are running through his head. “What if they don’t , though?” 

“Relax. I run around town all the time. Where’s this coming from?” 

“I just-” He sighs. Well, Ryuji already knows he’s yakuza. It’s unnecessary to hide it at this point, and if this whole situation involves him in some capacity he might as well know the truth. “Futaba dug up some images on the internet. People are snapping pictures into the forest, and I think some of them are you.” 

“Um-” Ryuji blinks a few times. “Okay, okay, first thing - who’s Futaba?” 

Akira swallows. “My… sister. Sort of.” 

“You have a sister?” His eyes light up, like that’s the best thing he’s heard all day. “Oh, man, I’ve always wanted a sister-” 

“Let me finish,” Akira cuts in, trying to prevent Ryuji from going off on a tangent. Is he always like this? Permanently distracted? He supposes it lines up with the… the wolfy stuff. At least, dogs are like that sometimes. Wolves must be, too? “She’s family. Like, family .” He waves a hand around vaguely as he sets his clothes on the counter. 

“...Oh, gotcha.” Ryuji looks a little dumbfounded. “She found… pictures? Of me?” 

“Of you, or the other one we saw. Maybe both.” 

“Well… shit,” Ryuji whistles. “I guess that explains why you told me not to go into the forest.” 

“Yeah. You really need to be more careful or you’re gonna get caught.” 

“Damn, Kurusu.” Oh, god, he’s wiggling his eyebrows now, leaning over Akira’s kitchen island with those stupid sexy biceps flexing as they hold his weight against it. “Almost sounds like you care about me.” 

Akira sputters uselessly. “I mean - I’m just looking out. Okay?” 

“You are bad at this.”

“I know! I know.” Akira groans, turning away from him. How can this guy pin him so easily? Push all his buttons, worm his way under his skin, get him all… flustered and worked-up over something as simple as not wanting him to get caught?  

Why does Akira care?

Blessedly, Ryuji backs off on the quips. A warm hand layers itself over Akira’s shoulder - he has to force himself not to flinch - and when he looks up Ryuji’s concerned expression is all-too genuine. “You had me scared for a minute. After you met my friends, you kind of… dropped off the face of the earth? And you were gone all day today.” 

“That’s…” He hates spilling secrets to those uninvolved, but… well, Ryuji’s here. He wouldn’t be if he didn’t want to be, and with Akira knowing what he knows the guy’s definitely not going to be blabbing about anything to anyone. “It’s a long story.” 

“Does it have to do with Haru?” 

So he noticed. Akira curses himself internally for being so damned obvious about it. “She’s… her dad died.” 

“...Yes?” 

“My family was… involved, ” Akira says carefully. “We weren’t the ones who killed him, but we might have set things into motion. Accidentally.” 

“...Oh.” Ryuji’s brow furrows. “Shit. That must have been a lot for you to deal with.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just-” Akira pushes Ryuji’s hand away, because - he shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be getting Ryuji all wrapped up in this. He already knows way too much. His parents are certainly giving him those trademark disappointed glares from beyond the grave. “I was a little shocked, I guess. It’s not my fault directly, but I still feel…” 

“Guilty.” 

“...Yeah.” 

“I mean, he died years ago,” Ryuji says after a short pause. “You had to have been in high school, right?” 

Akira nods. 

“Jesus. That’s rough.” He sighs as he glances out the window - now fixed, though the guilt, Akira notes, is written all over his face. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, she’s pretty over it. Her dad’s death, I mean.” 

Akira doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t look like Ryuji’s done, more like he’s… trying to find the right words. “Her dad wasn’t a good dude. Was trying to marry her off, get her as far away from the company as possible. She was, y’know, illegitimate. She loved him, but I think she’s happier now that he’s gone.” 

She loved him is like a dagger in Akira’s heart, but if Okumura’s death made Haru’s life better in any capacity, then… well, he does feel a little less bad about it. Only a little. 

“Are you gonna tell her?” Ryuji asks. 

“No. I already talked to Futaba about that. She probably already knows what happened, and we were only tangentially involved. Plus…” He sighs. “No one else needs to know I’m actually… you know.” 

“Fair enough.” Ryuji nods, then slumps over a little with a sigh of relief. “Man, and I was kind of worried it was something I did.” 

“What? No.” Despite himself, Akira laughs a little, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been in my own head about everything.” 

“Well… I’m glad you’re doin’ okay. Or - better, I hope?” 

“Better,” Akira affirms with a little nod. It feels better to know more, to talk about it. He and Futaba haven’t, really, save for some passing conversations, usually when they're both too drunk to remember much about it the next day. It’s nice to have… well, it’s not closure, but it’s something. 

“My friends think I was lying about fucking you,” Ryuji grumbles. “They don’t think I have game.” 

It’s so out of left-field that Akira can’t help but bark out a short laugh. “Um,” He starts, unsure about how to respond. “Sorry?” 

“S’not your fault they’re assholes,” Ryuji shrugs. It seems like he and his friends are close. That Ann girl especially, the one who sits next to him in philosophy. He said they’ve been friends since middle school? Akira’s a little jealous, if he’s being honest. Not many friends to be had in a stuffy private school like the one he went to growing up. 

“Well, thanks for bringing back my clothes.” Surely, that’s not the only reason Ryuji’s here. Right? He could do with a little… stress-relief , of a different caliber than destroying his mother’s precious belongings. Though, the guy does seem to have a one-track mind. It’s just as likely that he didn’t have ulterior motives at all, and now they’re just going to… 

Stand here. 

Awkwardly. 

Which is exactly what happens, for a good few seconds. Ryuji’s still ass-naked, Akira’s trying not to check him out. He’s so… brazen , so nonchalantly comfortable with being nude. It’s one thing when they’re having sex, another thing entirely when they’re having a sort of heart-to-heart in Akira’s kitchen. He almost feels overdressed. 

He can’t lie, though, the confidence is pretty damn sexy. 

“So,” Akira says. “Wanna stick around?” 

Ryuji looks a little shocked for a second, but then his face splits into a grin. “I mean, if you want me to.” 

“I can show you some more toys.” 

“Oh. Yes, please.” 

Chapter Text

Well. 

Ryuji is, at least, glad that Akira is okay.  

Knowing that he’s yakuza, he was - he was worried, alright? When he wasn’t at school, Ryuji figured something might have happened to him, or maybe that he’d fucked things up so completely that Akira had… god, he doesn’t know. Dropped out, changed his name, moved to America or something. Surely, he thought, his personality isn’t that terrible, but at the same time… everyone’s got insecurities, him included. He knows he can be… a lot. Ryuji had worried that, maybe, he was too much. Makoto’s insinuations didn’t help either. She’s great, but man is she blunt sometimes. 

However, all his worrying over the last day or so was, obviously, not a problem, because he’s at Akira’s house now - he just wanted to be nice and bring over the clothes, but now the guy seems intent on showing him his sex toy collection, and he has to wonder. 

Is this, like, a thing now? 

Like, are they dating , or… 

Dating? Probably not. Akira had said he’s bad at romance, and it didn’t exactly seem like an invitation for Ryuji to pick up the slack. He made it seem like that’s not something he wants, and… Ryuji’s okay with that. He thinks. He’s had one night stands before, but a long-term… fuck-buddy arrangement? This is new for him. 

He can handle it, though. So long as the guy’s cool with a cuddle afterwards. That’s his price, he decides. 

“So,” Akira’s opening a closet and pulling out a black bin, about a foot long in each direction. “Don’t be too weirded-out, I guess, I just kind of have a hobby for collecting this stuff.” 

Ryuji raises a brow as he tugs it open. It’s… wow, yeah, that’s a lot of dildos. Dildos, vibrators, other weird silicone things he doesn’t recognize. They’re all meticulously clean and organized - well, what did he expect? Just a haphazard box of penises? “Wow,” He says. “Hobby, huh?” 

Akira shrugs. “I have a high libido.” 

He does. Ryuji’s seen it firsthand. God, that should have been the most embarrassing thing in the world but it really just ended up turning into some of the hottest, most intimate sex he’s ever had. Dude just keeps pulling the surprises out of his ass. Literally, considering most of these toys have probably been there. 

“Some of them I just bought because they were funny,” Akira continues. “And some of them because they’re… pretty, I guess?” He pulls out one that has an impressive black-and-red marbling to its surface. “Like this one.” 

“Huh.” Ryuji’s not weirded out in the slightest, more fascinated than anything - he doesn’t have much by the way of experience with sex toys, and he didn’t know they came in so many shapes and sizes. Reaching inside, he pulls out an almond-shaped one with a flare on one end, rolling it over in his hands. The silicone is soft as he passes a thumb over the surface. “Uh… Buttplug?” He guesses. Wow , that is not a sexy word.

“Yeah.” Akira’s leaning back now, looking up at him with curiosity. Is he… probing him about what he’s into? Would it be bad if Ryuji said he was just into anything so long as it was with him, in this room? “It vibrates, too. Hit the button.” 

Ryuji finds the button on the base, little more than a dimple in the black silicone. He presses it, and the toy begins to buzz. It… tickles, almost, feels nice on his hand - though, the idea of having it doing that inside him? Okay, yeah, he can understand the appeal.

“You’re all red,” Akira points out, and Ryuji laughs a little. He’s a little… nervous, maybe. While he’s no stranger to sex, most of what he’s done has been vanilla or close to it. That whole thing with the collar? That was probably the kinkiest stuff he’s ever done - and, also, rather ironic, considering his own circumstances. Maybe that’s why it was hot? 

Eh. Who knows. Ryuji’s not really the type of guy to psychoanalyze every desire he has. So much of it probably comes from being… wolfy, and it’s not like he’s ever gonna get a solid explanation about any of that. It’s easier to just enjoy it, be along for the ride. 

“It does look like it would feel pretty good,” Ryuji shrugs. “I dunno. I’m new to this sorta thing.” 

Akira looks pensive for a moment - his eyes flash with an emotion Ryuji can’t place. “Yeah? I’ll be honest with you. I’ve had a rough day and kinda wanna take out my frustrations on someone.” 

Oh. He’s looking at him like - like Ryuji is that someone, or at least Akira wants him to be. Fucking - of course he is, who else would he be talking about? Ryuji swallows, trying to ignore the fluttering of excitement in his stomach. “Oh, really?” He replies, and fuck, why is his voice wavering like that? “I mean. Um - sure.” 

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” His voice is still smooth as silk, almost like he was expecting rejection from the jump - that, or he's just good at hiding his disappointment.

“No! No, I -” Ryuji’s just… okay, yeah, he’s just really into… all of this and he doesn’t know how to process that. That’s all. He clears his throat. “Yeah. Yes. I would be into that.” 

Akira laughs, and fuck if that isn’t the prettiest sound. Ryuji makes a mental note to find more ways to make him. “Okay. I know you like things rough, but let me know if it’s too much. Capiche?” 

Ryuji’s head is spinning a little. Probably from all of the blood rushing southward even just thinking about the vile things this guy is about to do to him. Akira could pull out a cactus and Ryuji would probably still be down. “Got it.” 

Akira leans over, takes the toy ever-so-gently from him before rising to his feet. He’s heading over to the bathroom - Ryuji follows him awkwardly, haltingly, unsure what he should be doing. “You know about safewords?” 

“Um -” He screws up his face. “I think so? Like, it’s a time-out button. Basically.” 

“Sure. I usually just go with traffic lights. Red means stop, and… you get the idea.” Akira’s eyes are on the toy as he cleans it in the sink with some fancy foaming soap that looks like it’s there for this purpose alone. Ryuji is just… watching , appreciating the shape of his hands, the muscles in his forearms, though he’s trying his best to absorb what Akira’s saying. Red means stop, et cetera. Understood. 

“Do you have, um -” Ryuji swallows thickly. He can’t remember if Akira took it home or not. “That, uh - the collar?” 

Akira raises a brow at him, sly smile curling his mouth. Dammit - he’s being all coy . Of course Ryuji was into that! It was hot, getting yanked around, the cool feeling of leather around his neck, the feeling of being controlled … 

“ That one is still at your place,” He says, “But I have another one here.” 

“Can we-” 

Akira nods, and Ryuji bites his lip with a grin. Oh, hell yes. This is gonna be so much fun. If he had a tail, it’d be- 

“Oh, your ears are out, by the way.” 

He does have a tail, and it is indeed wagging. Furiously. Akira just glances down at it as he dries the toy, snorting a little. “Well, I guess I’ll know if you’re into it.” 

Ryuji’s suddenly a little insecure. He can’t help it - this is only, what, the second time they’ve had sex while he hasn’t had to keep his secret under wraps? The first time, he was the one in charge. This is way out of his wheelhouse. “You don’t - you don’t mind?” 

“I think, at this point, it’s just adding to the experience.” Suddenly, Akira has a collar and leash in hand. A different one - the first was a smooth black, this one is dark red and velvety-looking, a little more sturdily built. Where - where the hell did that come from? Does he just have toys stashed all around his house? “C’mere.” 

Ryuji steps dutifully closer. He’s already half-hard, maybe more - Akira doesn’t even seem to notice, much more focused on clasping the collar around his neck than anything else. It’s softer than the first one, and when Ryuji reaches up to tug at it, it doesn’t chafe like the leather did. He laughs nervously to himself. What did he just sign up for? 

“This one’s hard to clean, so I don’t use it often,” Akira says - god, he’s so nonchalant about it, like this is totally normal for him. “But I can tug way harder than with the leather, so.” 

To exemplify, Akira wraps the leash around his knuckles and gives it a sharp yank . “Hrk-” Ryuji’s a little surprised by the sudden motion but fuck if it doesn’t do things to him, a tentative heat already curling in his belly. The guy’s just… staring at him, analyzing him through those overlarge glasses, his hair’s not in his face like it is at school but just a little is falling over the frames. Ryuji has to stop himself from reaching forward and brushing those dark locks out of the way. 

He wants to see his eyes. They’re gray and dark, a color he’s never seen before and they shine with a strange sort of intensity as his eyes travel up Ryuji’s bare chest and collar. “Wow,” He says softly. “You’re really into this.” 

Gah, he’s just throwing Ryuji’s words right back at him. Not that he particularly minds . “Y-yeah,” Ryuji stammers - since when does he stammer? - and when Akira pulls him in for a kiss he feels like a man stranded in the desert offered a cool glass of water. 

Their past making-out sessions have been rushed, desperate almost, like they've both been pressed for time and unsure if they would get another chance. This time, though, it’s slow and languid, Akira just leisurely moving his lips, his tongue darting out to taste him. He’s so warm, so soft, he smells like his bike and like a place Ryuji’s never been before. He said he was out of town, and he said he talked to his ‘sister’. Did he go… home? Like, home home? 

If this is what Akira’s home smells like, he likes it. Kind of like… gunpowder, and the cool air of the highlands. 

When they part, Akira’s a little flushed, those dark eyes slowly being swallowed by darker pupils. Like voids set into his face, and shit, they might just swallow Ryuji, too. He looks satisfied, especially as he tugs Ryuji closer with the leash - there’s that coy smile, those long lashes fluttering over his eyes and making him look positively hungry.  

“Good boy,” Akira praises. Ryuji shivers. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks - he’s grabbing the toy, leading Ryuji out to the main room. Akira grabs something else from the box, something Ryuji doesn’t see before it’s being tucked back into the closet. 

“Um-” Ryuji laughs a little, he can’t help it, “Good?” He pauses, remembering the traffic light moniker Akira had just told him about. “Green?” 

“I see you’re getting the picture.” Akira nods to his futon, splayed out on the floor. “Sit.” 

Ryuji kneels down on his haunches, shifting from leg to leg - he just can’t stay still, he’s excited. “Like, really green.” 

Akira laughs, looking down at him with the leash still in hand. “Good. You’re so… enthusiastic. ” 

“Is that… is that weird?” 

“No, not weird,” Akira grins. “Exciting, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone react like this.” 

So, just a roundabout way of saying it’s weird, then. Ryuji scoffs. “I’m not some blushing virgin,” He pouts. “I like what I like.” 

“Never said it was bad,” Akira’s crouching down to his level now, looking him in the eyes with such intensity that Ryuji has to avert his gaze. “It’s pretty fun, honestly.” 

Oh. Okay. Well, that’s good. Akira’s hands are moving - the one with the leash is pulling him a touch closer, close enough that he can get his other hand on Ryuji's head. He cards it through his hair, first, and then he trails a finger up one of his ears.

“They’re so soft,” He murmurs, and Ryuji shudders. He can’t help the excited little sound he makes - it’s half a whine, half something else entirely, and Akira’s breath quickens a little. “Do they feel good to touch?” 

No one’s ever really touched them like this before, but - “Yeah,” Ryuji breathes with a little nod. It feels good. Damn, this guy is gonna Pavlov him into getting hard every time someone touches them. Not that anyone would be, other than Akira, all things considered, but - yeah, he’s gonna be ruined for it. Completely. 

Akira redoubles his efforts, rubbing his thumb over the interior of them, almost inspecting them. It’s sinfully relaxing, even with the low current of arousal - god, he could sit here and have Akira do this all day. Then, though, he moves to scratch at the backside of them, like he’s - he’s petting him - Ryuji’s startled by his own moan, the sensation and the implication both making him feel like he’s… like he’s buzzing, all over, with desire. 

“Woah,” Akira laughs, though he looks pretty damned pleased with himself. “I guess you like a good scratch behind the ears?” 

“Yes,” Ryuji gasps when Akira’s mouth just barely brushes over the edge of it - he’s sitting, now, staggered behind him, pulling the leash just taut enough to restrict Ryuji’s airflow a little. He wheezes, the sound trailing up into an outright whine when Akira grazes his teeth over Ryuji’s ear. Yes, yes, yes. God, that’s good. 

“Guess that’s a yes, too,” Akira purrs, and Ryuji, he’s - he’s just shivering all over at this point, both with arousal and anticipation. Maybe… maybe for some people, this feels like a wounding of their pride, a slight against their autonomy, but - but he likes the feeling of losing control. Very much so. Akira Kurusu, this strange man who has so suddenly been dropped into his life and taken his breath away? Ryuji wants to please him, wants to serve him. 

“It does,” Ryuji says, his voice high and tight. “It- ah! ” 

Akira’s hand is gone from his ear - instead, it’s tugged on his tail, just enough to get a startled little yelp out of him and holy shit why is he getting off on that? It doesn’t hurt, it wasn’t nearly hard enough to, but instead it just has his dick dripping all over the sheets, bobbing a little as Ryuji readjusts himself. 

“Too much?” Akira asks. He sounds genuinely concerned, but Ryuji just shakes his head vigorously. 

“Green,” He manages to say. “Neon.” 

Akira’s quiet for a second. Then, fingers are suddenly massaging at the base of his tail, caressing him gently and feeling where it disappears into his body - Ryuji groans, he can’t help it, it’s like the guy just jammed a bunch of interference right into his pleasure center and his body can’t figure out what to do. Heat races up his spine, his shoulders shaking a little as he leans back, mouth slightly ajar. 

“Oh, wow,” Akira sounds awed as he pulls away to just stroke down the length of it. A pleasant feeling, but not nearly as distracting as whatever he was doing before. “I think I’m gonna like all these extra parts you have,” He murmurs. “Normally, you just get a plug with a tail on it, but this is the real deal.” 

Yep. Yes. Definitely the real deal, and Ryuji’s gonna think about this every time he’s trying to stuff it away in his pants, cover his ears with a hat. They’re annoyances then, but right now he’s much, much less bothered. If Akira likes them so much, are they really so bad? 

“Good boy,” Akira says again. He stands - Ryuji notes there’s a prominent tent in his jeans, and his mouth waters at the prospect. “Lay back. I’m gonna grab the lube, alright?” 

Damn, he’d nearly forgotten about the toy. Ryuji grins, tugging his lower lip between his teeth as he does as he's told, back against the futon and the crumpled blankets beneath. Akira lets go of the leash, and damn his ass is a nice sight as the guy gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. He has to just… take a moment, ruminate on how lucky he's been. Why does a guy like this want anything to do with a loser like him? He'd wonder if it's the wolfy stuff, but Akira approached him before he'd even known.

Ryuji will make a point to ask him someday - right now, though, Akira is coming back from the bathroom deliciously naked , bottle of fancy-looking lube in his hand. God damn he is hot. Ryuji can't help gaping a little, even with the inverted perspective he has from his position on the floor. What a perfect view… 

“Sorry,” Akira sits down beside him, stroking his chest. “I felt a little overdressed.” 

“Not…” Ryuji takes a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself. He can’t stop staring. Akira is built, but lean - maybe just barely too thin, he can count the ribs rising from his pale skin and see the stark outline of his collarbone. He looks… well, Ryuji might call him fragile but he knows that Akira Kurusu is anything but. “Not complaining. At all.” 

Akira just gives him a quick, appreciative glance - it makes Ryuji’s stomach flutter in a funny way before the man turns away for a second to grab the toy. Ryuji spies that tattoo again, the one he'd so lovingly caressed and nipped at just a couple of nights ago. “Your tattoo,” He points it out, nodding in its direction. “It's really pretty, by the way.” 

“Hm?” Akira looks back at him, brows raised, as if he’s not sure what Ryuji is referring to for a minute. Then, realization dawns on him and his expression subtly darkens. “Oh, right. Thanks.” 

Huh. He's less enthused about the compliment than Ryuji thought he'd be. Yakuza do get tattoos, right? Should he have brought it up? Was it a bad idea to mention it? Dammit, he should just keep his mouth shut - 

The words come before Ryuji can stop himself. “Are they… did they make you?” 

“Get the tattoo?” Akira blinks at him for a second - he’s been lubing up the toy, turning it over in his hands, but those hands stop for a moment now as he mulls it over. “You could say that they’re suggested, ” He says carefully. “Kind of a rite of passage.” 

“...Oh.” Ryuji feels kind of like an idiot now. It doesn’t seem like he likes the tattoo much - it’s not that he’s trying to hide it, but the way he talks about it makes it sound like a bad memory. It strikes him, for a second, how little he knows about Akira Kurusu. Sure, they’ve fucked, Ryuji remembers the planes of his body in the fog of his dreams, but… what he likes? What he does with his free time? Ryuji doesn’t have a clue. 

Maybe he doesn’t need to know if they’re just going to be friends-with-benefits, but at the same time… friends is a part of the term, right?

“Do you… like it?” Ryuji hedges, tilting his head. 

Akira just sighs - his hands are moving again, and he’s chuckling a little to himself. “I think it’s a nice piece. The history behind it?” He shrugs. “I think I’m beginning to resent it less. I don’t know.” 

Wow, there’s a lot of weight in those words. Shit - they’re supposed to be having sex , Ryuji shouldn’t be probing this dude about his past, not now. Yet, he can’t help himself. “It’s an Okuri-Inu, isn’t it?” 

The man quirks up a brow. “I’m surprised you recognized it.” 

“My mom, she-” Ryuji laughs a little, looking up at the ceiling. “She told me a lot of those old stories. Something about them being kinda truthful, in a way?” 

Akira is quiet as he settles himself between Ryuji’s legs. “I never really thought about it that way,” He murmurs - it seems like he’s talking mostly to himself, lost in his own head. His eyes are glassy and far away one moment, but then he’s taking a deep breath, shaking his head. “Sorry. Just made me rethink some things. Where were we?” 

Ryuji’s curious, but he knows to quit when he’s ahead. “Um,” Wow, his mouth is dry. That, for some reason, was more nerve-wracking than anything else they’ve done together. Talking to Akira feels like walking through a goddamn minefield sometimes. He’s so cagey, Ryuji’s so scared he’s gonna make him run away. He still worries that he’s too much, that he’s too overbearing, too… well, too everything for someone like Akira. 

Right now, however, Akira is the one eyeing him up like a piece of meat - crouched over him, snatching the leash from the ground and giving it a sharp jerk that has Ryuji giving him his full attention. “You awake?” He asks humorously. 

Ryuji wheezes a little before nodding slowly. Yep, yes. Very awake now. Back to business. 

“Good.” The man above him bites his lip, dark eyes flickering over Ryuji’s face. “Damn. You’re pretty like this.” 

He thinks I’m pretty? “I- oh, ” Ryuji’s breath tumbles out of him as Akira slips back between his legs, a finger already tracing teasingly around his entrance. 

“Oh?” Akira chuckles. He looks… he looks hungry. Starving, even. “Earlier, I said I was going to take out my frustrations on you. You still okay with that?” 

Ryuji nods, not the faintest shadow of a doubt in his mind. “Yes. Definitely. Absolutely.” 

“Good.” He licks his lips - Ryuji shivers as he gently presses a finger inside. It’s always a strange feeling at first, more odd than arousing, but it slips in nearly effortlessly and Akira adds a second shortly after. He - dammit, he scissors them, the bastard, and Ryuji can feel Akira’s hot gaze on him as he throws his head back with a soft sigh. 

“You are really sensitive,” Akira murmurs. “I haven’t even-” 

“ Mf- ” Ryuji feels like he’s short-circuiting as Akira’s fingers reach to gently massage his prostate. Jesus, it’s different when someone else is doing it. His fingers are slimmer, softer compared to Ryuji’s, yet he’s got calluses that are pleasurably rough as he slowly works him open. 

He’s not sure how long this goes on for - time feels like a rather elusive concept, flying out of his grasp every time Akira curls his fingers. He seems pleased, at least, with the way Ryuji’s reacting - every whine and growl has him redoubling his efforts, has those fingers sliding in and out with just a little more speed, a little more force. It’s… fuck, it’s spectacular. Ryuji would be happy to just lay here all night like this, no matter how much his dick’s begging for attention. 

Evidently, Akira has other plans. Ryuji whimpers when he removes his fingers, wiping them carelessly on his comforter before taking the toy in hand. “Hey,” He prods, jerking the leash again. “Look at me.” 

Ryuji didn’t realize his eyes were closed. He creaks them open and wow , Akira is so red, so perfectly flushed. Obviously, he’s getting off on this, his breath coming in short puffs - the cool silicone of the plug presses against Ryuji’s ass and he hisses at the change of temperature for a moment before relaxing, acclimating himself to the feeling. Definitely different from a finger or a penis, but certainly not bad. Not at all. 

Slowly, Akira begins to slide it inside. It’s a shape Ryuji’s not used to - it feels like it’s stretching him farther, almost beyond his limits for a moment before there is a swift decrease in diameter and it slips easily away from Akira’s hands. He’s leaning back, now, teeth set on his knuckle - almost like he’s inspecting his handiwork, and Ryuji can’t help but shudder a little under the intensity of his stare. 

“Not a bad look,” He murmurs. He looks almost like… like an artist, the look on his face is similar to Yusuke’s expression as he inspects one of his own paintings in the gallery, though while Ryuji’s friend is approaching things from a more objective standpoint Akira is in this solely for his own personal desire. It definitely doesn’t seem new to him either - the way his hands skate up Ryuji’s thighs seems almost practiced, fingers perfectly tracing nerves he didn’t know existed. 

“You’ve…” Ryuji takes a deep, shuddering breath. “You’ve done this before?” 

“Mhmmm.” Akira regards him now like he’s an afterthought, eyes roving his body much more than his face. “I was always pretty good at gathering information, back in the day. I guess you could say this is one of the reasons why.” 

Ryuji shivers pleasurably at the thought. Akira, trying to get some important tidbit of intel out of him, teasing him until he gives it up? Damn. Of course he was good at his job. “You gonna make me spill my guts?” 

“I mean,” Akira’s sitting back, his hands rising to his face to remove his glasses. They’re folded neatly, set on the small shelf against the wall, and when he looks up at Ryuji again he’s a little taken aback by the intensity of those gray eyes, dark and stormy and bottomless. “Do you have anything else to spill?”

Ryuji barks out a weak little laugh. Beyond his furry little secret, he's pretty much an open book. “...Guess not.” 

“My intention was more to make you beg, ” He purrs, and Ryuji’s breath hitches. 

God, this man is going to destroy him. 

Akira is moving slowly, as if underwater - every motion calculated, every once in a while flicking his gaze up to study Ryuji’s face before continuing. One hand strokes his stomach, the other… well, it’s between his legs, and - 

“ Oh, ” Ryuji exhales, humming softly as Akira turns the toy on. It’s… oh, that feels good, it feels like it’s vibrating him down to his bones and he can’t help the way his toes curl at the sensation. “Wow.  That’s…” 

“That’s…” Akira parrots as he tilts his head. 

“Good. Really good,” Ryuji laughs a little to himself - his vision just won’t focus, he’s relegated to staring blearily up at the ceiling as Akira watches him succumb to the feeling. It's a slowly-building pleasure, the feeling of obstruction inside him just barely bordering on pain in the best kind of way. He’s not sure if he should be doing anything in particular, but - 

The leash is tugged sharply, and Ryuji comes back down to Earth, so to speak. “Now that you're nice and pliant ,” Akira’s voice is a low growl - his expression is different now, his eyes dark with something beyond just arousal - it’s almost a little terrifying, just enough to set Ryuji on edge, but somehow it just makes all of this even hotter. “It's time for you to put in some work.” 

Those words make Ryuji shudder a little, a tingle at the base of his spine. Akira’s knuckles are tight around the leash as he tugs it again, forcing him to sit up. “H-huh?” He says dumbly, swaying a little as he tries to get his bearings. 

“On your knees,” Akira commands. 

Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes. Ryuji scrambles to sit on his haunches, tilting his head back to look up at him, eyes travelling across the perfect, smooth planes of his torso. He has scars there - scars Ryuji didn't notice before, barely visible and just a touch lighter than the rest of his skin. They stripe his sides, his chest. Maybe he'll ask about them someday. 

“Last time, you seemed to really enjoy this,” Akira’s leaning down just enough to hook a finger under Ryuji’s chin, dark lashes framing those storm-gray eyes. He's guiding him forward, closer and Ryuji groans pleasurably with the low swoop of arousal in his gut as he realizes just what Akira wants from him.

“Yeah,” He breathes. “Got an - got kind of an oral fixation, I guess.” 

Akira snorts. “You like having things in your mouth?” 

“Yeah, dude,” Ryuji scoffs. “Who doesn't?” 

“Show me,” Akira tells him - commands him, with another sharp pull of the leash. Ryuji is suddenly jerked forward - Jesus , Akira's dick nearly pokes his eye out before he's able to reach up, take it in his hand to steady them both. 

Yes, Ryuji has an oral fixation, but - there's a way he likes to do things. It's not hot if he goes all-in right away, he's gotta… he takes it slow, nuzzles his face against the hot skin of Akira's thigh before leaning to run his tongue up the length of his cock, mindful of his teeth but brave enough to offer the man just a glimpse of one of his oversharp canines as he reaches the tip. 

“Careful,” Akira warns, and Ryuji chuckles under his breath. Obviously, he's still nervous - well, Ryuji can put his worries to rest right now. 

Carefully, he wraps his lips around the head of Akira’s arousal - fuck , he tastes good, salty and earthy and warm, his tongue lathing over the soft flesh as he slowly, slowly takes more of him into his mouth. He… okay, yeah, he loves the feeling - the feeling of his throat convulsing around him, the heavy weight on his tongue. 

“Oh…” Ryuji flicks up his gaze to catch Akira's face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide with mild surprise. “You don't… you don't have a gag reflex, do you?” 

Ryuji just stares up at him as he dips his head forward, his movement only stopped once he runs out of length. Akira’s breath tumbles out in a pleased sigh, a wry smile curling his lip. “Oh, I like you,” He murmurs. Nails scratch behind Ryuji's ear - oh that's good, he can't help but hum around the cock in his mouth, tail sweeping over the sheets in a slow wag.

Ryuji's eyes fall closed - it's so easy to just… give in to the feeling, the gentle back and forth, ears finely-tuned to the soft sounds Akira is making - that is, until things suddenly become not-so-gentle. A tug at the leash has him reeling forward; he makes a startled, choking sound as Akira’s cock bumps the back of his throat yet somehow the roughness of it all has heat rising to his face and arousal curling hot in his belly. 

“You like this?” Akira breathes; his voice is dark and low, gravelly with pleasure. Ryuji makes a soft sound in reply - yes, yes, he likes this, he wants more - 

He doesn't have to wait long. Hands roughly grip at his hair as Akira rocks his hips into Ryuji's mouth - fuck, it's so good, he's probably a mess at this point but he doesn't care, he loves this feeling. Why does he enjoy feeling used? Fuck if he knows, but he's getting off on it, so - 

“Fuck,” Akira breathes - his hips pull away, Ryuji chases him but a hand tightens in his hair and the prickling pain forces him to hesitate. When he looks up, he bites down hard on his lower lip - holy shit Akira looks so wrecked, flushed and red with his dark hair damp and sticking to his forehead.

“Wow,” It's all Ryuji can say because, yeah , wow, he's - god damn if this man isn't a work of art, a figure right out of those painting books he's seen Yusuke poring over before. He's… he's pretty and intense and so damned sexy , Ryuji can feel his tail going a mile a minute just looking at him like this. 

Akira looks… a little flustered, to say the least, shit , is he being too intense? Ryuji averts his eyes, instead letting his gaze follow the scant curve of the man's hips. “Like what you see?” He asks gruffly, and Ryuji nods eagerly, a laugh bubbling in his throat. 

“Guess it's obvious,” He mutters as he presses his mouth to Akira's thigh, leaving light little kisses and nips wherever he goes. “You're hot, alright?” 

“Mmm. You're pretty hot, too.” 

Ryuji's ears fold back against his head, his tail still swaying softly behind him. Akira thinks he's hot? Feels like the best compliment he's ever received.

“Hey,” Akira tugs gently at the leash. “Turn over, yeah?” 

Ryuji does as he's told. He's not really sure what Akira has planned, but obeying him just feels… right , in a way - maybe that's the person in him, maybe it's the wolf, he doesn't know, but he's flipping over regardless. Back on his hands and knees, tail swishing gently behind him and - 

“ Oh, ” Ryuji breathes, because - because Akira's deft fingers are massaging at the base of his tail again - white-hot pleasure races up his spine, making his toes curl and his vision go fuzzy. “Hh-holy shit-” 

“What was that?” 

“ Nnh -” Jesus, it's too much, it's so much, it feels like Akira is setting his nerve endings on fire - “ Fuck , that feels good.” 

“Yeah?” His other hand is fiddling with the toy - it's shifting around inside of him, and Ryuji can't help but cry out as he angles it upwards to press it against his prostate. “Ah, there we go.”

Ryuji can feel his cock pulse, heavy between his legs, precome dribbling insistently down onto the sheets below. Fuck , he wants to touch it, wants Akira to touch it, but right now he's subject to another man's whims and despite his desperation there is a sick satisfaction in letting Akira do what he wants with him. 

Especially when he gets rough - Ryuji yelps when Akira tugs at his tail, just hard enough to smart a little. “Did that hurt?” 

“A little,” Ryuji manages to gasp out. “But it's - it's good, it's -” 

“Color?” 

“Green - Jesus fuck just touch me -” 

“So demanding,” Akira scoffs. Ryuji whines as his touch briefly disappears, but then - oh, fuck, then there are blunt teeth scraping down his spine, a tongue lathing over the place where his tail meets his body and - god, maybe that should be weird but it just has Ryuji squirming needily and whimpering into the sheets, clawed hands digging into the futon. 

“You told me to touch you,” Akira teases - his voice is just barely strained, his breath coming in short puffs. Is he touching himself? Ryuji hopes so, wishes he could see. “Is this not what you wanted?” 

“ Hnnn- ” Ryuji’s mind is melting, he can’t find it in him to form proper sentences. “Akira - jesus- ” 

Akira half-groans, half-laughs. “Fuck, it shouldn’t be so hot when you say that,” He mutters - that sinful tongue runs up his spine, hot against Ryuji’s skin. “Tell me what you want.” 

God, what does he want? He wants - jesus the toy feels like it’s vibrating his brains out, he can’t think straight. He wants - he wants - 

“C’mon,” Akira strokes down Ryuji’s back as he babbles incoherently into the sheets. “Use your words.” 

“Rougher,” Ryuji croaks out. “Please?” 

Akira’s quiet for a long moment. Like he’s… hesitant, almost, and for a second Ryuji thinks maybe he said something wrong, but then a hand is coming sharply down onto his left asscheek, gripping roughly, possessively, and fuck if that doesn’t just stoke his flames even higher. He can’t help the choked moan, the way he shudders at the prickling pain left behind.

“I guess you did say you liked it rough,” Akira says, his voice breathless and ragged. Ryuji nods quickly - yes, fuck, yes-  

The leash is taut again, but not like Akira wants him to go anywhere - in fact, there’s a hand at the small of his back, keeping him down, and as Ryuji goes a little lightheaded at the constriction around his throat a needy whine warbles out of him, his shoulders tensing as he forces himself to stay still. 

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Akira says; it doesn’t seem like he really expects a reply, and even with the tautness of the leash Ryuji can tell that he’s doing something back there, shuffling around. “Fuck,” He curses quietly. “You’ve got me all desperate now, too.” 

Ryuji’s heart soars . “Y-yeah?” He asks weakly, forcing himself to stay lucid despite how much he’s buzzing with want. “What are you - hnnn- ” 

Fuck, Akira’s pulling the toy out - so damned slow, too, he’s dropped the leash and is just gently stroking down Ryuji’s inner thigh as he watches him stretch around it. He feels so empty once it’s gone, like there’s a strange void inside him - he jumps when Akira presses an exploratory thumb there, gripping him in a way that tells Ryuji that he’s his.  

“Sorry,” Akira grunts - he’s up on his knees now, a hand at Ryuji’s hip. “Can’t wait any longer.” 

Fuck yes - fuck yes - Ryuji’s body feels like a symphony of pleasure and pain alike as Akira’s hand comes down on his ass again. He grinds his hips back, seeking something, seeking more and he gasps as he feels the blunt intrusion of Akira’s cock. Fuck, yes, yes-  

Akira stops moving, the bastard, just stroking down Ryuji’s back. “Tell me,” Akira murmurs. “I told you I wanted to make you beg, didn’t I? So beg. ” 

Ryuji whines. He’s too far gone to have any pride, too debauched and much too needy to care. “Please,” He gasps, his voice tinny and strained.

“Please what? ” 

He groans. Akira’s really gonna make him say it, isn’t he? “...Please, just-” Ryuji bites down hard on his lip as he’s spanked again, his skin tingling with pain. “Fuck - please - fuck me -” 

Ryuji can’t see it, but he knows Akira’s smiling, knows he’s grinning like the damned bastard he is as he rocks his hips forward hardly an inch. “Good boy,” He growls. 

As soon as he’s said it, please becomes Ryuji’s mantra - it flows from him over and over again, as Akira presses in further, centimeter by centimeter, and - oh, fuck, when about halfway through he grabs Ryuji’s tail and uses it as leverage to rock the rest of the way in? It’s sickly-sweet heaven, pain and pleasure intermingling, running up his spine and settling hot and heavy in his stomach. 

“Pretty nice place to grip,” Akira remarks, though his voice is high and tight with arousal. His fingers readjust on his tail and Ryuji groans, long and low and much too far-gone to care. “Walls are thin here,” Akira warns. “You better be careful, unless you want the whole building to know you’re mine.” 

That’s it. The floodgates are broken, and the sounds come from him wanton and open - Ryuji’s not sure if he sounds like a human or like an animal as Akira grips his tail and roughly fucks him into the futon, every stroke bringing him closer - 

He’s never come without touching himself before - his cock hangs heavy between his legs, but the pleasure builds even as it needily twitches there, turgid and throbbing. Akira is all soft sighs and affirmations behind him - he angles upwards on his next stroke forwards and Ryuji cries out into the quiet apartment, teeth bared and hands clawing at the sheets. 

“Fuck, you’re so good-” Akira groans. Ryuji can sense the tightness in the man’s form, can tell he’s getting close - yet, he’s still got a vice grip around his tail, and around the leash, too, because he tugs it hard enough to have Ryuji choking on his own tongue, his eyes squeezed shut as something inside him snaps . 

He’s never come undone like this, but yet it happens anyways. His cock aches as pleasure takes him, his whole body goes stiff as he messes the sheets with a sound that he forces himself to muffle into the futon. Akira’s rhythm stutters for the briefest of moments, a breathy moan rolling from his throat - and then, oh, he’s leaning over Ryuji, burying himself inside of him. Pain blooms at Ryuji’s shoulder; with shock he realizes that Akira’s set his teeth there, the force of his orgasm enough to have them digging hard into his skin. 

“Hh-” Ryuji’s brain is slowly booting back up; is that the best sex he’s ever had? Is it always going to feel like this with Akira? Like… he keeps pushing the envelope, topping every last encounter they’ve had. It feels like he’s been scraping by all this time on table scraps when he could have been dining on caviar. “Holy fuck, ” He finally manages to whisper. 

Akira sits up, swaying a little. Ryuji hears him open and close his mouth; a hand comes down to the sore spot on his shoulder. “I… oh,” He says, sounding dumbfounded and more than a little apologetic. “I’m sorry.” 

Curious, Ryuji reaches back to touch. It’s wet there, warm and sticky, and when he pulls his hand back to inspect it he smells the sharp iron of fresh blood, sees the crimson staining his fingers. Despite it being accidental, it has arousal settling in him all over again; why that’s hot, he doesn’t know, but subconsciously he’s hoping it might leave a scar. 

“Should I -” Akira almost seems like he’s panicking a little, now, shifting this way and that like he’s looking around the room. “I’ll get the first-aid kit-” 

“S’okay,” Ryuji slurs. “I heal up pretty fast, don’t worry.” 

“You-” Akira gingerly touches the wound again. “Oh. It’s - it already stopped bleeding.” 

“Told you.” 

Akira goes quiet - a hand traces up Ryuji’s back, and then he’s slipping away, leaving him feeling markedly empty . Then, the man chuckles breathily to himself - “Oh, wow.” 

“What?” Ryuji’s much too spent to move, much too satisfied for his muscles to work properly. 

“You’re just -” He snorts a little in disbelief. “You’re hot. That’s all.” 

He can imagine the image. It’s a little debauched, he thinks; he can feel it sliding down and out of him, probably making even more of a mess. At least it’s not my laundry, he thinks to himself. 

What Ryuji doesn’t expect is the sudden panic that rises inside of him as Akira stands - the fur of his tail bristles, his ears go flat against his head - he doesn’t want Akira to leave, doesn’t want to be left here alone and vulnerable. “Wait - where are you going -” 

“Don’t worry,” Akira reassures him softly, his voice far away. “Just grabbing a towel.” 

Blessedly, he returns not long after, and Ryuji relaxes despite the sudden emotional whiplash. There’s a warm wetness behind him and he realizes Akira’s running a cloth over his skin. It’s… strangely intimate, considering the intensity of their encounter. It’s not uncomfortable, but it does have butterflies flitting in Ryuji’s stomach. Is this… is this normal? Or is this… 

“I guess you wouldn’t know about aftercare,” Akira murmurs, sounding mildly amused. “I can’t just leave you like this.” 

Ryuji suddenly feels rather… ashamed for not knowing this is how these things work. Doubly so considering Akira was able to pick up on it. “Sorry,” He mumbles. 

“Hey,” Akira’s knuckles graze his cheek, and Ryuji sighs softly. “Don’t be sorry. I probably should have taken some more time to explain. I was just…” 

He sucks in a breath - the towel’s discarded god-knows-where, and Ryuji jumps a little at the man’s sudden presence at his side. “I had a long day,” He murmurs. “Going home is… emotionally draining, to be honest with you.” 

Akira is rarely this forthcoming. Ryuji creaks open his eyes; the guy is looking at him, inspecting his face, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows nervously. Those eyes, that stare… it’s so damned intense, it’s hard to take sometimes. Especially now. 

“Did this…” Ryuji swallows again, averting his eyes. “Did this help, at least?” 

Akira looks thoughtful for a moment. “It did,” He says. “I definitely feel a lot better now than I did on the way home, that’s for sure.” 

“That’s a relief,” Ryuji relaxes into the sheets. They’re sticky and wet, but he doesn’t care, his legs burn and it feels like the whole of his body is giving out on him. “M’glad I could help.” 

He’s not entirely sure what Akira is going through. Sure, there’s the whole thing with Haru, but the guy is still pretty tight-lipped about his family, about the Yakuza, about his childhood. There’s definitely more beneath the surface, plenty that Ryuji doesn’t know about and maybe will never know. It’s… strange to him - he doesn’t really keep secrets, but he gets the feeling that Akira has to. Still, he’s here with him now. Frankly, Ryuji’s just glad that the guy didn’t run away or ghost him or something. 

Okay, maybe this is a little more for him than just sex. Akira is so close, now - Ryuji can smell sweat and sex and presumably the smell of his home as he presses close, his hands carding through Ryuji’s hair, scratching behind his ears with blunt fingernails. It has his chest swelling with something else, a weird feeling he hasn’t gotten since his juvenile exploits back at Shujin. 

Does he have… does he have a crush? 

“Y’know,” Akira says as he presses Ryuji to his chest - he can hear the steady beat of his heart, the slight uptick in its pace like he’s nervous , almost, to continue. “I originally thought this was gonna be a one-night stand sort of deal, but then…” 

“...Then we both got roped into each other’s secrets?” Ryuji laughs a little, but his chest is whip-tight with anxiety. Don’t fuck this up, not now.  

“...Yeah. That’s part of it.” Akira sighs. “I don’t like getting close to people, you know. It’s a liability. Or, at least, it used to be.” 

Damn. Now he just feels like a burden, a weight on Akira’s shoulders that shouldn’t be there. However, the way he’s looking at him - it tells a different story, like Akira wants to be close and it’s hard, but he at least wants to try. “...Sorry.” 

Akira snorts. “It’s not your fault you’re all goofy and charming.” 

Ryuji’s heart thumps against his ribcage. “...I am?” 

The guy’s quiet for a little while, like he’s trying to find his words. “...I don’t like getting close to people,” He repeats, “But I wouldn’t mind you, you know. Sticking around.” 

Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes. “...Yeah, man. Of course. As long as you’re cool with my friends,” He adds awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know they’re kind of… a lot…” 

“I think I’ll manage,” He replies softly. “Besides. I’ve gotta restore your reputation, don’t I?” 

That makes Ryuji laugh. He’d forgotten about Ann still swearing up and down that he’d made up the whole thing between him and Akira. “They just don’t have any faith in me. I mean, I don’t exactly have the best track record.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Ryuji shifts uncomfortably. “Well. It’s not exactly easy to get close to someone when you’re constantly worried you’re gonna wolf out.” 

“...Right.” Akira strokes Ryuji’s ear between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine that’s easy.” 

“It’s not,” He shrugs. “...But it’s easier now.” 

Akira hums softly. “You have class tomorrow, don’t you?” 

“...Unfortunately,” He groans. “I was thinking about skipping.” 

“Who will bore holes in the back of my head during philosophy, then?” Akira tisks at him. “Don’t skip class, dumbass.” 

“Yeah, yeah…” Ryuji sighs. He’s much too comfortable to move right now, let alone think about going home. “Give me a ride tomorrow?” 

“...Sure.” 

Chapter Text

Akira settles into Ryuji’s little friend group nigh-seamlessly; they’re all still a little wary about him at first, but as soon as he opens up about his work at the shelter and his major they begin to warm up a bit. Turns out, most people are fond of dogs, and Ryuji’s friends are no different; they are happy to sit with him as he flips through photos of the most recent strays they’ve picked up off the street. Yusuke in particular - the artist - he keeps asking for the photos for ‘reference’, and a few days after sending them Akira always gets a nice pencil sketch of one of their adoptable dogs slipped into his bag. It’s sweet, honestly, and he’s not going to complain if it helps them find homes. 

Niijima, however, is still a little cagey around him - though Akira has a convincing explanation for the tattoo, she is not so easily swayed. Comes from being the sister of a prosecutor, he supposes, but it doesn’t seem like she wants any trouble and that is good enough for him. 

Ryuji’s appreciative - at first, that his friends (particularly Ann) no longer think Akira’s just a figment of his imagination or that their relationship is some kind of farce, but then also because Akira is going out of his way to try and spend time with them. He’s curious, he can’t lie - they’re all so unique, yet so normal and they get along so well. Perhaps he’s even a little jealous considering that was something he couldn’t really have growing up. 

Some of the dynamics, though, he recognizes; Ryuji and Ann’s relationship is not unlike his own relationship with Futaba. Ann is headstrong and stubborn, they’re always poking fun at each other or otherwise bickering but it never really seems to be mean-spirited. Siblings by circumstance, not by blood. Akira can understand that well. 

If he’s being honest, hanging out with them makes him feel… boring. In a good sort of way. Studying with them feels normal, par for the course. It feels nice to be just another student, to blend in with the crowd. Of course, it’s all just pretend, but it’s not like Akira wants it to be that way. Maybe one day it’ll feel more real, more genuine.

Fake it ‘til you make it, right? 

Worries still sit at the back of his mind - the forest, the traps, the disappearances. Those, in particular, have only gotten more frequent over the past few weeks. He and Ryuji have taken walks in the forest after class, but there hasn’t been another sign of the other creature they saw in the woods that night. However… 

“Shit - hold on,” Ryuji calls behind him as they walk - he decided to tag along with Akira to the shelter today. Right now, Akira’s doing the actual dog-walking - they trust him, and Ryuji seems to set them on edge. He doesn’t blame them, considering his… condition. 

“You okay?” Akira asks, turning to check on him. The dogs he’s walking tug anxiously on the leash, ready to continue moving, but Ryuji’s crouching on the ground, holding his knee gingerly. Akira frowns. He said he’d injured it a long time ago, didn’t he? 

“M’fine,” Ryuji growls, massaging where his tendon crosses the joint. “S’probably gonna storm. It always hurts when it’s gonna storm.” 

Akira looks up at the sky; there’s not a cloud in sight. They’re well into fall now, and the weather this time of year tends to be rather mild save for a sporadic thunderstorm here and there. “Don’t see any storm,” He replies. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah -” Ryuji grunts as he pulls himself to his feet, with what seems like a lot more effort than usual. “Yeah. I’m good. I just usually don’t walk on two feet for this long.” 

Akira’s gut twists a little with guilt. It is safer for him not to go around transforming willy-nilly, but… if he has an injury, maybe he was using his other form to compensate. Four legs probably means less weight on it, right? Is that why he prefers going around as a wolf instead of as a human? “Have you seen a doctor about it recently?” 

“Nah,” Ryuji is frustratingly nonchalant as he shoves his hands in his pockets, sidling up next to him. He’s not putting his full weight on his bad leg, Akira can tell, and as they slowly start up down the trail again it’s obvious he’s got a bit of a limp. “Don’t need a doctor. It just aches from time to time, that’s all.” 

“It obviously hurts,” Akira points out. “A doctor might be able to get you a prescription brace, or some physical therapy, or something.” 

Ryuji bristles a little, kicking a pebble down the road as they walk. “Haven’t been to a doc since Ma died,” He grumbles. “Too dangerous.”

Oh. Right. Akira forgets, sometimes, that Ryuji isn’t… well, he’s not human and that could definitely pose a danger at a doctor’s office. What if something they do triggers him to transform, what if they find something in his blood? One wrong move, and he’d be the government’s guinea pig for the rest of his life, or worse. 

Guinea pig… guinea pig… 

“I might actually be able to help you out,” Akira says suddenly. 

“Dude, I can’t go to any old doctor. It’s way too much of a risk. Unless you’re saying you’re a doctor, which… honestly, that wouldn’t surprise me at this point-”