Work Text:
♠
It's been a long couple of weeks for Akira.
First, being the only sane one until Akechi showed up, then finding out Maruki is fucking distorted beyond belief. Then going one-by-one to prompt his team out of the same distortion, then comforting all of them to keep up morale.
Needless to say, Akira's thrilled to be just sitting down tonight, enjoying some live music, and not counseling anyone. He taps his fingers against the wood of the table in time with the music.
"Tell me, Kurusu. Do you bring every one of your little friends here?"
Not even Akechi's accusatory comment can throw him right now. "No," he responds, "This is your place."
He doesn't say, "Our place. Not to be shared."
"How very kind of you," Akechi replies, but he may as well have said, 'Eat shit and die'.
♤
It's been a long couple weeks for Goro too. He was released from custody against his consent, evidently a symptom of an entire reality that he's been swallowed into. Then, he spent long days and nights researching the issue while Akira apparently got closer than ever to every one of his little teammates. Even though not 7 days ago, they were neck deep in delusions and questioning none of it.
Even though Goro was the one who was wide awake from the beginning. Goro found their leader and saved his ass in that Palace. Could Joker have handled those battles totally alone? Probably Of course not! It's essentially thanks to Goro that they've been broken out of their stupor.
And yet, Akira took the time to see every single one of them. And in their homes no less??? What the hell are they doing in there? Goro kept tabs on these people for months and they've never brought him home with them. All of them, at the same time? One has to wonder if there isn't something salacious about all of this.
Anyway, when he's apparently done crusading 8 people in a row, he has the gall to text Goro, and asks to meet at Jazz Jin. Of all fucking places. What is his aim here? It's like he's checking off a list, and Goro's the last item.
What if Kurusu asks to go to their place? Is he expecting that tonight?? He'd better not be. He can't be that stupid, right? I killed him! And more importantly, I would obviously not be interested in something so—
"Do you even like this place?"
Goro blinks and looks across the table. Akira stares back, his dumb lenses flashing excessively as he sips his drink. The question throws Goro off-kilter but he's not about to show it.
Instead, irritation pricks at the back of his skull like little needles. "What? So you assume I lied about Jazz Jin, too?" He scoffs. "Go ahead and tell me what's really on your mind, Kurusu."
♠
It's hard to tell if Akechi is doing his normal prickly thing or if he's mad about something specific. It's a good thing Akira finds it interesting (and kind of funny).
He shakes his head and gestures his hand loosely toward the stage. "I'm just enjoying the performance. Is something on your mind?"
"If you're trying to get something out of me, it won't work." Akechi tugs at his gloves. "I know how your little schtick goes and I refuse to be coddled. Least of all by the likes of you."
What is he talking about???
Akira doesn't have the patience for this vague, dancey bullshit. He straightens his slouch a little and properly looks away from the stage, facing Akechi directly. He twists his mouth a little and speaks sincerely.
"I'm not coddling you."
Akechi's eyes only sharpen. "Then explain why you've been treating me with kid gloves since we were put into this reality."
Akira's palms fly up, the only thing keeping his voice hushed. "What am I doing?! I'm just sitting here." He tilts his head so his eyes shine through. "You started talking."
The ice in his glass clinks as Akechi slams his fist on the table. "You're the one who invited me here!" They huff at each other like bulls, but now people at the other tables are staring at them. Akechi glances at them and rolls his eyes because he's oh-so-annoyed, but still lowers his voice. "I shouldn't have to tell you why it's a mistake to spend time with me outside of our mission."
Between the staring eyes and the mini-lecture, Akira's fury pops a leak and he deflates. Akechi's right and Akira knows it. He's being selfish. Why would a no-bullshit guy like Akechi overlook that?
He glares half-heartedly at the table and mutters, "You could have said no."
♤
This is true. Why Goro even bothered saying yes is beyond him. He attributes it to the amorphous void Kurusu Akira creates in his brain. The same void that makes him strangely uneased when Okumura giggles sweetly at Akira's terrible jokes, or Yoshizawa's eyes light up when he offers to help her with anything. All any of them do is reward him for merely existing. It'd be no wonder if he pursued them… intimately.
"Perhaps I'm trying to figure you out," he hears himself saying, "Why me, Kurusu? Why not one of your…"
No no, shut the fuck up before you embarrass yourself.
♠
Hidden by his fringe, Akira blinks with a start. Akechi always acts like he's got it all figured out so, what is this exactly? Another of his games? Akira grunts a laugh just thinking about it.
He tugs at a piece of hair and finishes Akechi's sentence, going for mocking but not quite sticking the landing.
"My… 'faithful lackeys'?"
Akechi pulls back immediately, hesitance gone and replaced by his superiority complex.
"Based on what I've seen," he says, "they rely on you more than you do them. They see you as their confidant, their counselor. But I hardly see the favor returned."
Shaking his head, Akira declares, "I'm the leader. Moral support's part of the job." It never really occurred to Akira to lean on the Thieves in that kind of way, but he knows if he ever asked they'd be there in a heartbeat. The thought of it makes him protective.
"Everyone else contributes in their own way. You probably don't agree, but… you haven't spent much time with them, anyway." Akira taps the side of his glass with a nail. Was that too confrontational? Probably. "Not saying you have to, obviously," he tacks on, "Just that… You don't know them like I do."
"What is this, then?" Akechi asks with an extra edge to his voice. "Is this your strange version of 'moral support'?"
Akira shuts his eyes tight, reaching for patience. They're going in circles, but if he tells the truth, wouldn't it ruin the whole night? He's getting nowhere by deflecting, though. It's obvious he'll never win a battle for honesty against Akechi, so… maybe this is turning into moral support, after all.
"I just want to relax," he grumbles in defeat. "I know this is all fake. I guess it was fake before too, but to me it was still fun…"
Akira stares at his lap, picking at his nails. God he feels stupid. Because he is. This is why he keeps to himself to begin with. It doesn't really matter what he says, because there's never a good enough excuse.
His eyes start to sting and shit, how pathetic could he be? Akira clears the small lump forming in his throat. The last dregs of his will power spike his voice with a bitter defiance.
"Sorry for wasting your time."
Across the table, Akechi winces, then he sits back in his chair and pointedly watches the singer. He lets it hang for five, six, seven seconds before he speaks. "It wasn't—"
One, two seconds. "It wasn't… fake."
The way he says it feels… genuine. The lack of eye contact, the placating posture. Does he really mean it, though? Akechi's not the type to spare pity and besides, what does it matter if he's going to spend every other waking moment acting like there's nothing between them?
Something sinister crawls along the back of Akira's skull. It fills his head with vengeful retorts, urges him to give Akechi a taste of his own medicine.
"You're just coddling me."
"What do you really want?"
"Liar."
And it would feel so good. He feels the words loaded up, ready to fire if he so much as opens his mouth. But Akira's smart enough to know this won't change anything. He settles for looking at his drink and lifts it with a skeptical hum.
"Hmm."
Akechi balks. "That's all you have to say?!" he exclaims (quietly), seeming to surprise even himself. He backs down but clenched fists press into the leather of his gloves. "You can't, I—" For a split second, Akira could swear he sees doubt cross Akechi's eyes as they flit back and forth.
But then they flash. "Something's on your mind," Akechi spits, "Don't test me, Kurusu."
Nothing's on my mind, shut the fuck up!
Ugh, this is not who he wants to be right now. It's not who he wants to be ever, unless it's shitty authority figures. He's supposed to be the calm one here, but dammit Akechi gets him so riled up, and that's what Akira loves about him, but one of them has to budge and ughghhhhHHHH—
Okay fine. Fine. If Akechi wants him to talk so damn bad, he'll talk.
♤
Akira's skeptical hum was a knife to his chest, twisting an old wound with its indifference. But Goro's accusations must hit the mark, because suddenly Akira plants his elbows on the table, fury in his eyes. It's a marvelous sight.
"Nothing's on my mind, Akechi," he spits. "It sounds like something's on your mind, since you won't let me enjoy the show like I said I want to do. What is this really about?" Akira pauses to finish his drink bottoms up. Once he's done, he sets it down with a decisive clink on the table. "Or do I have to walk you through it? I thought you didn't want to be coddled."
The world spins off of Goro's axis. Is Akira calling him childish? That damn cat's words ring through his head.
"You're really nothing more than a little kid throwing a temper tantrum."
Behind it is a chorus of the other Thieves. Their comments of compassion. Their looks of pity. It turns his stomach inside out.
Instinctively, Goro pushes back his chair. "You're the one who's childish," he says, at the end of his rope. "Hanging out with all your friends for moral support when there's work to be done. While we're stuck in a reality like this, you're– you're—!"
Say it, says Loki.
"You're going to their rooms, probably doing fuck all! It's sickening!"
Goro can’t hear the music anymore, only the sound of stunned silence between them and his thrumming heartbeat. He bites his lip and prays a hole in the ground swallows him up.
Akira leans back into his standard slouch and tilts his head back and forth, like he's working overtime to put it all together.
"What, you think I'm… hooking up with the entire team???"
Goro bites his lip harder, hoping for blood or some kind of pain to obscure how flayed open he feels. He tries to remain calm, but still his eyes dart everywhere, anywhere that isn't directly at Kurusu.
"You can't deny the way your teammates look at you, especially Yoshizawa. It's only logical to assume…"
His instincts tell him to run, but he can't get his legs to move.
♠
They do look at him like that. Akira notices.
It actually made him uncomfortable to be invited into so many homes in a short span of time. The first couple times he was tickled, honored even, but then it kept happening and it started to feel weird.
Wait, how does Akechi even know about that??? Whatever…
Akira rubs at the back of his neck, his eyes roaming the table. "I— guess I'm flattered, but you've got it all wrong." Horribly wrong. Hilariously wrong. "I don't— have that much game, really."
With a sudden chill he feels like he's said the wrong thing. He ducks his head lower, praying his hair will cover the heat on his face. "I mean I get it, you're right, but. I don't… Anyway, it's not like that with them."
Akechi is silent, probably watching him with hawk eyes. Then, he sits a little straighter. "Tch. People love you," he says, "And of course they do, because you have this annoying talent for getting them to spill all their secrets." He mutters to himself, "It's infuriating."
"People like… you?"
No, don't go there.
Maybe he should though, especially after stuttering so much. Akira has no clue how the score works, but he feels that Akechi's ahead right now. He leans back with crossed arms, throwing one leg over the other.
"Wouldn't be a very good vigilante without it," he says, and throws in a smirk.
Something sparks in Akechi's eye, and it spells danger. Suddenly he props his elbows on the table with an intimidating aura. "A 'good vigilante'," Akechi drawls, "Is that all it is?"
It strikes Akira across the face, and he remembers that this guy plotted to kill him once. So maybe it also makes him feel useful. And maybe he's nosy. Maybe it's even a survival tactic. Who knows?
He deadpans, "I mean, it has other perks too."
No good. "Such as?" Akechi leans forward, closing in with a faux curiosity.
Akira doesn't know what to say without sounding like an asshole. But it seems like Akechi is… enjoying himself, his eyes shining with mirth. Well, that's good at least.
Come to think of it, Akechi's done some pretty underhanded shit himself so, he's in no place to judge, really. Yeah.
Akira twists his lips into a thoughtful pout. "I also like learning about people," he starts, "but their hidden parts tell me a lot more about who they are than what they say, or even do. I'm sure I don't have to tell you why it pays to quietly collect intel."
He ends with another smirk, but then hunches back up and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His last truth is a decibel lower.
"It also feels good to have people rely on me. I feel useful."
♤
It is… something else to see Kurusu shuffle so rapidly between Joker's bravado and his everyday doormat schtick. Goro feels needlessly envious about it.
That said, he's conflicted. On one hand, Kurusu finally acknowledges that he's flawed, thus proving Goro to be correct and superior. But on the other… if Akira really doesn't share this sort of thing with anyone else, stepping all over him now feels a bit… gauche.
"You don't need to feel 'useful'. Not with me, at least." he says. Before he's even done saying it, an oppressive haze hangs over his head.
However, to his surprise Akira meets his gaze and nods. "I agree, and that's why I invited you here." A beat later his eyes flit away. He mumbles, "Honestly, I figured you'd refuse if I suggested anywhere else."
It hits him. Refuse to meet anywhere else? While all the other Phantom Thieves have been seemingly inviting Kurusu to their bedroom? No, Goro can't fold in this regard, not if he's going to force himself above the rest of Joker's confidants.
"We could…" He tugs at his gloves. His heart beats like a jackhammer, which is ludicrous and shouldn't be happening. He has this under control, dammit. "Didn't I say I refuse to be coddled? I shouldn't be treated any differently when it comes to location."
He steels himself. "For example, my room isn't… not an option."
Across the table Akira's eyes nearly pop before darting around.
"I…"
For the second time tonight he looks stunned. Akira's voice stops and aborts twice more before finally managing a quiet, "Really?"
Only now it occurs to Goro just how… scandalous that sounds. Goro'd been so preoccupied with his jealousy that he hadn't considered what the hell he was really asking. Every inch of his body says to flee now or he'll spontaneously combust.
But when he really looks at Kurusu's expression, it gives him pause. It's not one of pity or disgust, it's… awe. As if he'd never thought the day would come. A thousand implications swirl in Goro's mind and he has no means to make sense of any of them.
"Don't act so shocked!" He bravely defends. "I'm sure this concept is hardly foreign to you, after all."
♠
It is when it's you.
Where was this coming from? What did it mean? Hadn't Akechi thought he went to the others' rooms to… ?????
No, he shouldn't assume. Maybe he actually does want a bit of moral support, but he's too embarrassed to say it.
Akira clears his throat. "Of course, yes. If you really want to." His face flushes. "Uhh, like. Like, right now?"
Akechi presses his lips together. His eyes flit back and forth like he's weighing a decision, then he abruptly stands up.
"Right now. My apartment's not far." He pulls out a wad of bills and tosses them on the table. Then he glances at Akira, who's frozen in his seat. "What?" he taunts, "Aren't you the least bit curious what your murderer's apartment looks like?"
Akechi's apartment… Akechi's room… Akechi Goro's apartment…
"Yes, sorry!" Akira snaps out of it and grabs his coat. "Just a second."
Once he's mostly put together he follows Akechi up the stairs and out of the bar, head full of cotton. Just as well, since Akechi's unusually quiet too for once. He's probably thinking of "rational" reasons to back out last second.
♤
What the fuck am I doing?
This is your chance to kill him again.
What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—
Get it together. Show him you're just as good as any of the Phantom Thieves. Show him that he's YOURS—
Shit, did I leave my Red Eagle mug out on the coffee table?
Suddenly, they're at his front door. Blinking, he grabs his keys and steps inside.
Goro braces himself and turns the lights on. If he'd known Kurusu Akira was going to show up at his apartment tonight, Goro would have at least decorated. The place is so barren, save for empty cups all over the coffee table, and dammit, he did leave that Red Eagle mug out this morning.
"Just to warn you, I don't have much to eat in here," he says reflexively, "Don't expect a meal, or tea, or any bullshit like that."
Kurusu stifles a chuckle. "What? No room service?'
"Unfortunately not," he says, missing the humor entirely.
Surely this is at least more organized than that bumbling oaf Sakamoto's room, right?
"Well," Goro gestures to the general space. "Here we are."
Akira wordlessly walks over and plops down on the couch. He looks around but doesn't comment on anything. Goro doesn't know if that's a relief or an insult.
"So…" His guest finally breaks the silence. "What did you have in mind?"
Goro freezes. Looking around the room, he realizes he has almost nothing in terms of entertainment. He's probably spent more time in this place during Maruki's reality than he did all of last year.
All he can really do now is just… be here. With Akira. Who agreed to this apparently, and Goro's still not sure why.
"Well… Whatever you do when you're in your friends' homes," he says like it's matter-of-fact. "'Moral support', as you so-lovingly called it."
Akira glances away dryly. "Well," he starts after a beat, "the last couple weeks, I've mostly just been sitting there while they vent their worries. I— really don't expect you to do that, but it's fine if you do."
Oh.
So he really does mean… genuine moral support. Now this is something Goro has no script for, whatsoever. He wasn't exactly asking for a vent session, but what the hell else is he supposed to do now? Fuck him?! No, god no! Why did Goro even think that??
His mind goes into bullet time, trying to think of something, anything—
"I– I was—"
Oh for fuck's sake. Relax, Akechi! Goro takes a deep breath, releasing the tension building in his shoulders.
"I was happy to know you were sane in this reality," he parses out. "It's been— so strange, to be free when I shouldn't be. If you weren't normal then I… I would've slapped you awake.”
♠
"Me too." Akira nods. "I was almost losing it when you walked into Leblanc."
Akira doesn't think he's ever seen Akechi stutter this much, and his place is… kind of a mess. Akechi's a control freak, so for it to be in a state like this shows he wasn't expecting company. Which would mean this was… impulsive? Something about that warms Akira, and he feels like the distance between them is smaller than ever.
He watches Akechi shift his weight back and forth, standing around in his own space. Akira gestures to the cushion next to him. "Have a seat?" he offers. "You look halfway to pacing."
Goro blinks, then silently sits down next to him. He doesn't look very relaxed, but it's not long before he speaks softly.
"I struggle to believe you'd ever be even halfway to losing anything," he says. Then, after a quick glance, "That's not a lie, either. You're… interesting, in that way."
Well, Akira doesn't know what to say to that. In a lot of ways, it feels like he's always halfway to losing everything. Arrest, after court date, after serial blackmailing... After steel door shut tight.
But it's true that people seem to see him as this guy who has it all together, and he pretty much encourages them to. Akira's been playing it cool for so long he's not sure when he's pretending anymore.
"Hmm," he muses aloud, "That's usually what I'm going for, I guess."
To his chagrin, Goro scrutinizes him. "Doesn't that get tiring?" he asks.
Life is tiring.
Of all people, Akechi must know that already.
Akira leans back properly into the couch, crossing his arms and legs. "Sure, but at some point you have to pick your battles," he reasons, his eyes trained on the blank wall in front of them. "If it's for something important, how much I benefit isn't the priority."
"Hmph. Brainless," Goro says, and Akira suppresses a smile at his signature insult. "If you never benefit, always thinking of others… then what's the point?"
Akira's not sure how to describe it, but he shakes his head. "It's not like it's never. Just not all the time…?" He lets his head lull to the side, resting his cheek on the back of the couch. He examines the fabric as he muses aloud, "My friends needed me, so I helped them. And now, we have a full-sized team to fight Maruki." He smiles to himself. "I mean, not that we were struggling on our own but, it's like you said, right? He's trying to brainwash everyone, so it doesn't hurt to have extra hands."
"We could beat him on our own." Goro mutters with a pretentious air.
Akira looks up, then melts into an easy smile. "I think so too," he agrees quietly.
Here, in this space Akechi's allowed him into with no pretenses, Akira feels content to his core. It shouldn't make sense, but it does. Fighting at his side, especially with his more sinister Persona, is terribly fun. The others seem intimidated, but Akira could spend his life in the wake of Akechi's merciless carnage.
"We make a good team, don't we?"
♤
Goro stares dumbly at Kurusu: the way his lips curl delightfully, the way his dark eyes pierce into Goro's own. And, it could be just a trick of the light but… Goro sees a light pink dusting Kurusu's cheeks.
Suddenly the air feels heavy, charged with static electricity. Goro needs to do something, anything, and before his brain can stop him he rushes forward and captures Kurusu's lips with his own.
He barely gets a moment to regret it. Akira's pressing back in a heartbeat, reaching fingers into Goro's hair and locking his head in place. All of it is punctuated with a contented sigh. He kisses like he's fucking starving. The pads of his fingers settle at the nape of Goro's neck and linger there, rubbing circles around the skin as he deepens the kiss.
This is insane. They're both insane. Goro's brain tries to devise a single cohesive thought or explanation but it doesn't work. He's never felt anything like this, and apparently he's starving too as he prods his tongue into Kurusu's mouth with a groan.
He's welcomed eagerly, teeth grazing his tongue lightly as it slides back and forth. They stay like that for a while, discovering each other on a new level. Then the air shifts and Kurusu pushes him down, his back on the sofa. It's a shock to Goro's system and he opens his eyes with a tremble.
Above him Kurusu is flushed and panting, but his glasses are catching the room's lighting. Goro reaches up, slowly as if there were spikes hidden beneath, and removes them from Kurusu's face. His pupils are dark, blown wide.
Just the sight of it gives Goro pause. Goro bites his lip. "This isn't some… strange byproduct of this reality, is it?" he asks tentatively. "That you would…"
Kurusu laughs softly before grinning like an idiot. "I was wondering the same thing," he says. He leans back in, but hovers with just enough space to share breath. It's a question.
Goro can't help but bark out a laugh. "Unbelievable," he says. "After everything, after all I've done, you still…"
You think I'm the one who wouldn't want this?
When he trails off, Kurusu's mirth fades and they simply stare at each other. Without knowing why, Goro reaches a hand up, this time placing it over his throat.
He doesn't even squeeze, merely observes. He feels Kurusu's pulse thrumming, but otherwise there's no reaction. They stay locked in a loaded eye contact, and Goro's not sure if he's predator or prey right now.
"You really trust me?" he whispers.
♠
Yes, Akira thinks first as Akechi trails off.
Definitely, he thinks with a hand over his throat. Akira does his damndest to stay calm. He's so patient. A pillar of control.
But the longer this goes on, the more Akira's waiting for a pressure that doesn't pop. He searches those burnt maroon eyes, for what he doesn't know. Maybe some kind of venom, the type designed to keep everyone at arm's length. Or rejection, a refusal to forgive Akira for being so, so very sentimental. There's nothing like that though. He sees only apprehension, and the smoldering ashes of hope.
Now that he can see it, Akira's grabbing on and not letting go until he's thrown off. "Akechi," he starts, but has no fucking clue how to end it. He grits out three sentences, separated only by a second as he coaches himself.
Okay, let's start with the facts.
"I trust you."
Good. Question addressed. What else?
"I need you."
…Okay, very honest, but that's the point now, right? No misunderstandings. No masks.
All night Akechi's been talking about the others as if they're on the same level as him. As if he wasn't the only sane one when this shitty year began. How can he not understand?
"No one else. Just you."
Akechi's hand twitches around his throat as something in him snaps. Then his other hand grabs a fistful of Akira's hair and tugs him back into a breathless kiss. Caught off guard, all Akira can do is groan into it.
Akechi breaks the kiss and looks him dead in the eyes. "If you really mean that…" His eyes flicker. "Prove it to me."
Thunder claps and something sinister settles over Akira's shoulders like a cloak.
Mine.
Akira dives to the side, finding a spot just below Akechi's ear and planting a kiss there. He allows himself a deep inhale where his nose is buried in stupidly soft hair, and of course it smells incredible. Probably some prissy conditioner that's specific and expensive. He keeps his mouth there, kissing, biting and tasting along the column of Akechi's neck. The skin lights up beneath his touch, and Akira's frame shudders.
Mine!
Akira's hands run down Akechi's sides with a firm grip, mapping out his ribs and the sinful curve of his waist. Finally, they fist into the outer layers of Akechi's clothes and work to tug them loose. He smiles into Akechi's ear. "I'm gonna need more access, if that's okay."
Beyond a tense exhale, Akechi doesn't respond, opting instead to start unbuttoning his shirt. Akira tries to help him out and their hands tremble against each other in a graceless affair.
"Stop trembling," Akechi says hypocritically. Akira just nods fondly and wrestles his own shirt off instead.
With their chests bare, Akechi experimentally presses them together and gasps a moan directly into his ear. That, plus the sensation of warm skin all over his, wipes Akira's mind blank and he's a man on a mission.
He dips down and hovers over a nipple, making eye contact as he lightly runs his tongue over it.
"Fuck—!" Akechi gasps, then clasps his mouth.
Akira seals his lips over the area and laves around the hardened bud. Even with his mouth covered, Akechi makes a series of sounds that could sustain fantasies for a lifetime.
Before he knows it Akira's got his arms wrapped around the waist beneath him, overcome by the need to somehow pull tighter. It's then that he feels Akechi's hardening cock against his gut, and that knowledge pulls a gasp from his own lungs, laced with a wordless desperation.
♤
Pleasure surges through Goro's chest as Akira holds him impossibly close and runs his tongue over his nipple. He'd known he was sensitive, sure, but Goro had no idea something like this could feel so good when someone else did it. The possessive grip around his waist is quickly becoming the only thing stabilizing him, lest he lose the last of his control.
Goro is well aware now that he's hard. Extremely hard. Embarrassingly hard. There's no way Akira doesn't know, given the way they're pressed up against each other. Goro can't just sit idly by while Akira fills his head with cotton, leaving him dazed.
He'd hardly be a worthwhile rival if he didn't one-up this move, so he reaches down past the waistband of Akira's pants and finds his cock. Goro's eyes widen when he finds it equally hard. Extremely hard. Akira moans a whole octave higher than before, bucking into Goro's cautious grip.
Okay. So he's definitely not repulsed by this, Goro concludes with mild relief.
He grasps Akira's pants to properly pull them down, and his cock springs free. Goro's too chicken to look as he grabs it again but it feels hot and, much to Goro's chagrin, a bit longer than his own. He stiffens his grip and starts to experiment. With one stroke, Akira shudders. With two, he groans. By the third stroke Goro's developed a good rhythm, setting the ball of his thumb at the underside of the shaft for extra pressure.
Akira shifts closer and tucks his head next to Akechi's on the couch. He pants openly, meeting Goro's strokes halfway at each turn. But just when Goro thinks he's really hit his stride, Akira pushes back onto his heels. He kicks his own shoes off then reaches for Akechi's pants.
Oh god.
Goro lifts his head and catches a glimpse of Akira's cock in all its glory. Big, is his first thought, and his head swims. Unthinkingly he squeezes it, marveling at how it leaks at the tip from the pressure.
Fuck. Blood rings in Goro's ears, and his body acts on its own as he reaches with his other hand to cup Akira's balls. Akira's eyes roll back before he shuts them, and his arms tremble under his weight. All of it gives Goro a competitive sense of satisfaction, and he's very pleased to be in control. But then Akira's back on his lips, kissing him like he's fucking grateful, and that satisfaction increases tenfold.
He keens under Akira's lips, whimpering into his mouth. It's awful. It's embarrassing, but at this point he can hardly help himself. Some strange desperation builds in Goro's chest, for what he doesn't know. All he knows is that he doesn't want this to end. And Akira was so close to touching him…
"You were— getting to something, if I recall," he pants between kisses. There. That seems like a fairly casual way to bring it up.
♠
He's asking for more.
Akira breaks the kiss with a cat-like grin. "You distracted me," he teases, before pulling back and out of Akechi's grasp, ready to wrestle back control of the situation. The push and pull between them really does bleed into all aspects of their relationship, and Akira'd hate to admit that it turns him on that much more. Time to get serious.
He grips Akechi's pants and properly strips them off his legs with no fanfare. Then he grabs the newly bared hips to keep them in place. Finally, he dips down and licks a long, broad stripe up his rival's sorely neglected cock.
"Gahhhh…!" Goro groans, long and slow as Akira lowers his mouth, covering the shaft with a wet warmth. "Hah— Kurusu—" he parses out, and it's only a few more bobs before he cries out for real.
"Stop— Stop, I'm gonna come, you— piece of shit!"
Akira pulls off with a 'pop!', and sits back between Akechi's legs, wiping at his chin with a fist. "Sorry," he says, "Or, not really that sorry I guess." He tugs at a lock of hair with a nervous chuckle.
It sounds like Akechi doesn't want things to end, but if they're avoiding orgasm then Akira's not really sure what to do. "I could… try somewhere else?" he offers, trying to recall anywhere he touched Akechi's body that wasn't obscenely reactive.
Akechi throws an arm over his eyes, panting softly as he catches his breath. Akira patiently waits an eternity for him to make a decision. Then, with his face still covered, Akechi takes Akira's hand and slowly leads it lower, far between his legs.
Akira's eyes flutter as his heart skips a beat. He pulls in a labored breath.
Okay. Yeah. He can do this. He's never done it before but it's basically a matter of patience, right? Giving and taking, a little at a time. Action and reaction, just like everything they do. Yep. Plus, if Akechi's actually asking then, fuck. Akira couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least try.
He gently puts his other palm on Akechi's thigh, encouraging him to spread his legs wider. Wordlessly he obeys, and Akira bites his lip as Akechi's entrance reveals itself.
For the millionth time, the reality of the situation hits him like a shot of vodka. It's insane that he started this night not even sure if he'd get a reply. Leave it to Akechi to be so impossible to read, full of surprises. Akira should probably hate how often they're bad surprises, but moments like right now are worth a hundred bullets to the head, a thousand betrayals.
Akira runs his fingers around the rim, gently prodding. He does know enough to gauge that they'll need… something, to make this part easier. Slicker. He has some fucking relax gel in his bag, but isn't it a little weird to whip that out like it's a perfect solution?
"Not sure if you've got uh, the stuff for something like this?" he says, his bravado in shambles. "If not, I can make it work."
Akechi freezes, before turning his head away with a pinched expression. A few tense seconds pass before he replies haughtily.
"No. I'm not a degenerate."
Akira notes the long pause, and the snobby reasoning, and the fact it makes no sense given where they are and what they're doing, but this is no time to push his luck.
He nearly trips as he stands and goes to scavenge through his supplies. Akechi can say what he wants, but Akira prides himself as a leader who is always prepared for a mission.
Once he finds what he needs he turns to find Akechi's nude figure standing at the start of a short hallway. Nodding in that direction, Akechi turns to walk through it, and Akira obediently follows him until they've arrived in what must be his fucking bedroom.
It's about as lived in as the rest of the place. Stray clothes strewn about, no pictures or trinkets. The nightstand is piled with cup noodles and a separate stack of philosophy books.
It's so authentically, beautifully flawed. There's no way he planned this. It really was on a whim… Wow.
Akechi sits tentatively on the bed, watching carefully as Akira takes a seat beside him.
Akira pops the cap and squeezes some onto his hand. It's cold. He forgot that's how gel works. If he rubs it around it should warm up, right? But how much does he need? Akira does his best to one-handedly spread the substance all over his fingers.
Beside him, Akechi suddenly asks, "There's no one you've done this with before? Ever?"
This must be the fifth time he's brought up Akira's sex life, but it's the first time it feels like a genuine question, not an accusation. The sincerity of it makes Akira pause. He wants to look over, search Akechi's face for any trace of deception. But if he does that, won't Akechi just pull back into himself? Instead, he keeps his eyes trained on the task of not getting this shit absolutely everywhere.
"Would it matter if I had?" he says.
There's a pause, then a hand lands on Akira's thigh. He looks up and Akechi watches him with a dark interest. "Yes," he says, "Because…" His hand squeezes the muscle under his palm. "You're my rival."
The words ring in Akira's ears.
My rival. Mine.
The thought pierces him like a drop of ink in water. It trickles through his blood until it's spread all over, burning brightest where Akechi still holds his thigh.
Akira tucks his gelled-up hand behind his back and rises, then collapses over the body beneath him. He wraps his clean hand behind Akechi's neck and pulls him closer, connecting their mouths with reckless abandon.
Akira kisses him once, twice, then pulls away just enough to lock eyes. He runs the knuckles of his prepped hand down the seam of Akechi's hip, then circles around the rim of his hole.
"Only yours," he says.
♤
Goro thought he'd feel something after he killed Kurusu Akira.
Joy, relief, satisfaction. But he felt nothing of the sort after he shot a bullet through his skull. At the time, he looked at the smoking gun, confused.
Wasn't this the point? Haven't I won? Why do I feel so… numb?
It's only after hearing those words fall from Akira's lips that Goro understands. His chest floods, his skin burns, and electricity jolts through his core as Akira circles his rim. He feels… Goro feels— feels like— like it's the first time he's ever felt anything.
"Fuck!" He shudders. "Fuck, just… Get on with it!"
That seems to get the message across, and Akira presses in slow and smooth.
It's strange. Foreign, but hardly unwelcome, especially when he's being so gentle. In his fantasies, Goro had always pictured this part being more rough, fast and heated. Somehow this languid pace has him much more worked up. Kinetic energy pulses through his body, and on a particularly good pass it surges forth.
"Ah– Akira—!"
Goro clasps a hand over his mouth. Oh god, what the fuck. He hadn't meant to call his given name, especially not in the middle of a wanton moan. He can't bear to look at Kurusu like this, and throws his other arm over his eyes.
There's no response for a beat, the fingers inside him still. Then suddenly he's… being swatted at?! Akira's free hand smacks childishly at his arm.
"Akechi," he hears, and ignores. Then, something grabs him by the wrist.
"Akechi!" As the hand covering his mouth is wrenched away, the fingers inside him shift with the motion.
"Ah, haah—!" Goro blurts out, shuddering. "I— ah, just—!" he groans in frustration. "I'm… realizing I'm a bit… v-vocal. Unfortunately."
Unsympathetic, Akira quickly replies, "No, it's great! I love it."
…Really? Goro only has half a second to consider the notion before Akira adds a second finger. And as if that wasn't enough, his other hand reaches for his chest, swiping a slick thumb over his nipple and giving it a pinch.
He moans and arches his back as pleasure assaults him above and below his core. This only reinforces Akira's behavior, and the pace of his fingers heightens, fast and all-consuming.
"Asshole. You're— ah— doing this on purpose!" Goro grits out.
"Yes?" Akira replies, merciless as ever. "I want it to feel good. Is it too much?"
He slows down again, scissoring his fingers with a slow drag, and dammit, Goro's not even vaguely upset that he's being played like a fiddle, especially when Akira keeps talking.
"You sound amazing, Akechi," he says, breathless. "Don't hold back, okay? I want to hear you. I…" He shoves his fingers deep, bringing his knuckles to Akechi's rim. "I want the whole building to hear you."
Akira moans when he clenches hard in response. Between the words and the pressure Goro's mind rots irreparably.
I'm doing this to him.
No one else. Not Okumura, or Sakamoto, or Yoshizawa. Out of everyone he knows, Akira wants to hear Goro. Wants to pleasure him and no one else.
"Only yours."
The dam breaches, and moan after moan tears from Goro's throat as Akira works him open, dragging his fingers along his walls, scissoring and circling. His damn body is melting under Akira's command. This started as a competition, yet Goro feels far too connected now to fight back. Instead of working against each other, it's more like… a synthesis.
Akira adds a little more gel to the area then adds a third finger on his next pump. It's… a tight fit, and he gasps at the pressure but works patiently. Praise rains down on Goro like petals in the spring.
"God you're incredible. You're taking me so well, Akechi. You— You know you've ruined me, right?" Akira starts playing with angles, widening and bending his fingers as he works Goro open. "When you're there, I don't care who else is looking at me. If I can't hold your interest then what's the point?"
The impossibly sweet praises seep into Goro's veins and flood him with pure want. "Ku– Kurusu." He trembles, struggling to push out any words at all, but the only thing he can do is drown. He's hardly even ashamed anymore as he cries out with each press. This is by far the most vocal Akira's ever been, and every word he says shakes Goro to his core. To think he's ruined Kurusu— beautiful, perfect Akira— who has no idea how bright his light shines.
Akira begins pumping faster, and he ducks down to kiss and bite at every inch of skin he can find. His lips warm Goro's skin, a soothing balm compared to the scorching stretch below. He glances down and sees that Akira's rutting his hips into the bed in time with his hand.
It seems clear they're equally desperate for more. With a tiny thrum of nerves, Goro realizes he should spit it out before he blacks out from pleasure. "K– Kurusu," he says, "Please, I… I want… I'm ready."
With a shiver, Akira stutters out, "Yeah. Yeah of course." He pulls his hand out and Goro despairs at how empty he feels without it. Squeezing out a little more gel to slick his cock, Akira runs his hands up Goro's hips before grabbing and pulling them closer. He bows over and steals a kiss, cupping Goro's face and running a thumb over his cheek.
Fucking sap, get on with it already!
He does, groaning into their kiss and he finally presses in. It feels nothing like his fingers. Akira's cock is much bigger, wider, and warmer. It's practically burning as it makes its way in.
Goro tries to give himself room that isn't there, opening his legs wider. Shit, it can't be more than halfway in but he already feels so full. What if he can't accommodate the whole thing? He starts to panic and takes a deep breath, willing his body to melt into it.
♠
Akechi doesn't speak but his actions say everything: legs spreading, nails digging into Akira's back, chest heaving as he tries to relax. It's possible Akira may be more in love than ever.
He pumps his hips in slow thrusts, making desperately sure he doesn't blow his load in 5 seconds. Even though he absolutely could because he's inside Akechi Goro, his first and only. If Akira wasn't ruined before he'll never be the same now.
Every time he pushes in Akechi welcomes him just that tiny bit more, and he can't stifle a moan with every pass. "So good," he mumbles. "So perfect for me. Only me." He's almost fully seated now. Akira opens his eyes. "Okay?" he whispers.
Akechi's expression is pinched, but he doesn't look miserable at least. "It's… a lot," he says, digging his nails deeper and turning away. "I need a moment to adjust to… how you feel. Would you mind…?" He frees one hand to point to his lips and then his chest.
Akira tracks the movement, his eyes darting up and down. He dutifully lowers his head and plants kisses all over Akechi's chest, aimlessly biting and sucking.
He's left a nice smattering of marks when Akechi grabs Akira by the hair and pulls him up. He latches onto Akira's neck, sucking with clear intention. Akira groans as his head spins, imagining the evidence that's sure to be there later, marking him as claimed.
Once he's satisfied, Akechi seals their lips with one last, possessive kiss then touches their forehead together with a maelstrom in his eyes.
"Move," he commands.
That sends his head completely off its axis, and Akira's eyes crackle and spark as he tightens his grip on Akechi's hips. He pulls out a little over halfway then slams back in. It's a dazzling shock to the system, and Akira cries out so hard he's only half sure he heard Akechi too.
"God, you're perfect," he hisses, starting to properly move back and forth. He thrusts a little lighter than that first hit, but probably not for long. Akechi's walls cling to him like it's the end of the world, and Akira delusionally wishes he could spend the rest of his life right here, connected and closer than ever before. The heat and sweat and skin, the moaning in his ear all erase any sense of caution. Akechi could pull a gun on him right now and Akira would die happily. Gladly.
Thoughts he's kept for months start to spill from his mouth. "I've wanted this for so long. Dreamed about it." Akira slows down and really rolls his hips, reveling in the ease with which he slips back in from different angles. "So gorgeous and smart, and mean. Scheming." He takes a couple of ragged breaths. "When your smile's full of venom and you tell me— I'm too good of a person." A breathless laugh. "How could I even look at anyone else?"
♤
Akira's voice rings through Goro's ears as he presses into him, over and over. Barely conscious, Goro can only parse out a few key words.
Wanted this. Perfect. Gorgeous. Mean. Scheming.
"You're— insane," he says.
Goro's shocked to hear all of it in the same vein as compliments. He feels crazy. He feels alive. He would say he could die happy, but deep down he knows that's not true. He wants more, so much more of Kurusu Akira than just tonight.
Now's no time to go down that road though, not when Akira feels so intense and divine against his walls. Goro closes his eyes and pulls Akira flush against him. They're both soaked with sweat but all he wants is to feel him. To feel every inch, every pulse, as he moans into Akira's ear again and again.
Something suffocating settles in the back of his throat and he whispers, "Where were you… Why couldn't we…?"
Akira pauses, lifts his head, and tries to capture his gaze. Goro twists his head away, paralyzed with fear. He's really laid it all out now, his heart on a silver platter.
A hand catches his cheek and turns him back. Akira captures his lips in a kiss that's reverent, and there's… It can't be. Are those tears landing on his face?
When Akira breaks away there are indeed tracks running from his eyes, but he steels his expression. It hardens with that determination he always carries, despite it all, despite being trampled over and over by a terrible world. A will power Goro trusts with his life. Then, as if that weren't enough, he starts up some saccharine speech, grinding into Goro with each phrase.
"I'm so glad I got to meet you at all." Push.
"And to hold you like this." Push.
"Even if it's not enough." Push.
"It'd never be enough, anyway."
This finally, truly shatters Goro like fragmented glass and dammit, now he's crying too. He's barely cried ever, beyond some tearful bouts of grief in foster homes, and this is something entirely different. Quite the opposite, they're tears that flow in spite of it all, mirroring Akira's. Despite all the shit life's thrown at them, Goro is here now, in this fleeting moment with his antithesis. With his light…
His wish.
He splits apart, and his hands are everywhere. He kisses Akira on the lips, his neck, his collarbone, chest. Goro commits every divet to memory, wishing he had more time to memorize Akira's body as it drives into him.
A frantic desperation builds in his core. Goro weighs his options: staving off his orgasm, prolonging this moment, versus the carnal need to let go completely. They war against each other, but Akira, as he always does, wears away any patience Goro had left to give.
"Ak– Akira," he gasps. "I need… Close."
In one frazzled heartbeat Akira's got a hand between them, pumping Goro's cock in time with his thrusts. "I got you," he whispers back.
And for once in his long, miserable life, Goro finds he actually believes it. He feels Akira's want, his care, and his body presses onward even as he tries to savor it.
"Ah– ohh. Ohhh, Akira, I—!"
I love you.
He could never say it, not with so many uncertainties, but it fills his every breath unspoken. It's the least he can give to Akira, who deserves so much more.
It only takes a few more strokes before Goro falls over the edge, come spilling between them. He moves his hips through it, chasing the last waves of fiery pleasure and powerful relief. He falls apart, brick by brick, all of it to show exactly what Kurusu Akira does to him.
♠
Akechi comes and, true to his nature, does so theatrically. His back arches, his head falls back, and he grabs his own hair like a man lost to passion. It's a high compliment, and Akira's doubtful it's something he could do unknowingly. Like every other part of tonight, Akechi has chosen to let him see this.
It warms Akira from head to toe, and it doesn't help that Akechi's body is milking him for all he's worth. He should pull out, but if he tries to move at all he's afraid it'll send him over the edge anyway. With nowhere to go, he enjoys the beautiful sight in front of him, and the searing pressure around his cock.
Just when he thinks he's got a grip on himself, Akechi's entire body shudders and shit it's happening. The pleasure is blinding, and Akira shuts his eyes, willing his mouth to work.
"Akechi— Sorry, I—" He has to stop and gasp for air. "You're too good." No, shit that sounds like an excuse. "I swear I tried!"
Akechi only groans, then steals a kiss before getting a palm under Akira's chin, tilting his head upward. Like this, Akira physically can't suppress the inelegant hiccups pouring from his mouth. "Ah— ah! Ahh—!" He cries as his body seizes up. Akira understands Akechi's embarrassment from earlier a little better now.
"Ah– Ahhhhkechi!"
Desperate for dignity, Akira lifts a hand and shoves his palm over Akechi's face in an attempt to stop him. It's too little too late as his core finally untenses, and his staccato breaths turn into one long moan that echoes off the walls. Really not his coolest moment.
When the last threads of energy leave him, Akira lets himself slump over, his head next to Akechi's. On the other side, his hand finds the knob of Akechi's shoulder, and he runs his thumb slowly over the skin there. It's a small tether that keeps him conscious as they catch their breath. Eventually Akechi speaks, still winded.
"Well. That was… adequate."
This fucking guy.
Akira laughs into the sheets where his face is buried. He turns his head into the column of Akechi's neck, indulging in a couple of kisses and muttering into the skin there.
"I didn't hate it."
Akechi audibly flusters. "Yeah, I… I didn't hate it either."
Akira's lips form a smug grin against his skin. Akechi must be able to tell, because he moves away and hits Akira square in the face with a pillow.
It drops Akira back into reality in a way that doesn't bother him like it should. Instead, it's familiar. Grounding. The world feels just as right when Akechi is giving him shit, as it does when he's falling apart with Akira's name on his lips.
When he pulls out, Akechi shivers before foolishly trying to get up. He quickly stumbles into his own dresser and Akira shoots to his feet.
Ah, wait. If he tries to help now, Akechi will probably just complain. Akira crosses his arms and patiently observes.
Akechi takes a couple of steps on wobbling legs before he gasps, and grimaces at his own backside. Akira can't see much from where he's standing in the dim light, but he can gather what it's about. When he looks back up those fierce eyes are trained directly on him, accusing.
"I said it was an accident…" Akira raises a hand to the back of his neck, before abruptly pulling it away because it's covered in fluids. With a wince he says, "If you're looking to clean up, count me in."
♤
Now that he's thoroughly disgusted and humiliated, barely carrying his own weight while Akira watches, Goro gladly takes the change in topic.
"I'll run the shower then," he says, before quickly seeing himself to the bathroom.
He thanks the heavens it's at least halfway clean, and clears a few of his skin products(and his Red Eagle toothbrush) from the counter before starting the water.
While he waits for it to heat up, Goro takes a peek at himself in the mirror. His skin is flushed pink all over. His hair is a tangled, matted mess, and his chest is littered with pink and purple marks. Last but not least, dried cum and lube stick to his lower half, especially his inner thighs.
To be blunt, he looks completely and utterly fucked out.
I can't let Akira see me like this. To hell with waiting.
He quickly steps into the shower and lets the freezing water wash over him. It's actually rather soothing on his burning skin, and he basks in it for a moment that's quickly broken when Akira knocks on the doorway.
"Uhh. Are we taking turns?"
Goro frowns. "There's hardly anything to be squeamish about now, is there?" He calls out, "No point wasting time for decency's sake."
Cleared for entry, Akira saunters in. "Cool, just checking," he says, taking a quick sweep of the bathroom. Then he joins Goro in the shower and makes himself right at home.
It's another breach of the walls he's always had around him, and another thing Goro is dismayed to find he doesn't mind at all.
While he washes himself, Goro peeks at Akira. His eyes are closed, clearly enjoying the water as he scrubs his skin with Goro's body wash. When he tilts his neck for better reach, Goro sees the marks he left are dark and plentiful. A darker part of his mind whispers again.
Mine.
Akira glances over, catches Goro openly staring, and reflects that dark hunger back in his steel eyes. He steps closer and gently grabs Goro by the hips, pulling closer until they're a breath apart. Add on that cocky smile and he's hypnotizing. Goro marvels anew that none of the others have experienced Akira this way. No one but him.
He runs a thumb over the jut of Goro's hip and murmurs, "You're hogging all the water."
Goro feels his entire body flush again and he panics. "O– Off," he says. Akira doesn't move.
"Off!" Goro exclaims, grabbing the detachable shower head and spraying directly in his captor's face.
Akira yelps and backs away with his hands up. Goro watches as he shakes his hair out like a wet dog, then struggles to get it out of his face. It's actually rather amusing, and when he settles with slicking it back like a seasoned yakuza, Goro can't help but laugh.
Just as Akira's lowering his hand Goro sprays him again. "Pew pew!" he adds for good measure. Akira laughs along, and sharpens his grin before reaching for his weapon.
Fat chance, thinks Goro.
Suddenly they're roughhousing, swatting and shoving each other in Goro's little box of a shower. Water sprays in every direction as they wrestle for the nozzle.
A weightlessness settles over Goro, and he realizes it's because he feels like… a kid. Like this is the only fight they've ever had, and the world that hates them doesn't exist. As if Goro hasn't already fucked up any chance they had for it to always be like this.
Akira shoves him and his back hits the knob of a shower handle. Not to be outdone, Goro pushes right back, sparing no mercy. They're both laughing until Akira loses his balance and slips backward.
"Akira!" Goro reaches out, but before he can help Akira grabs his wrist and they're both going down. Goro grabs a shelf for purchase but it's nowhere near enough, and they knock skulls as Akira hits the floor.
♠
The blow to his head only makes Akira more loopy, wondering how they managed to make one shower so ridiculous (and fun).
Unconsciously he runs his hand up and down Akechi's back: an apology, a comfort, and an anchor all in one motion.
"W– Will you stop laughing, you moron?" Akechi says, once again a hypocrite.
"You started it!" Akira retorts, still laughing as he pulls his legs in, making room to get up. What he's not expecting is for Akechi to stop him. Lacing their fingers together, Akechi goes for a kiss, and it's so gentle and sweet Akira can hardly believe who it's coming from.
When they pull apart, still connected at their foreheads, Akechi squeezes Akira's hand. "Stay with me," he says, stern yet fragile, "At least, just for tonight?"
Akira's heart shatters into a million pieces and he's definitely crying again. His free hand pulls Akechi back in by the neck, returning a kiss that's gentle but eager. With a breathy laugh, Akira breaks it and locks their eyes. "I'll stay as long as you'll let me," he whispers.
There's a crack in Akechi's composure for a split second, before his eyes sharpen with mischief.
"Good," he says, "Because you're mine."
Akira smiles softly. "Only yours?"
He nods with a smirk.
"No one else."