Chapter Text
Makoto had difficulty remembering how exactly she ended up here, and found herself caring less and less by the second. Something about bringing Akira some material to study while he's not allowed to go to school, something about her heart aching painfully at the sight of him, increasingly depressed and lonely and unsure about the future. She felt the overwhelming need to find a way to comfort him, to impress upon him that he wasn't alone, and he'd never be while he had the Thieves. While he had her.
It was a powerful sentiment, and it slipping away from her mind was less her not caring about it and more from her mind alternating between frenetic fantasizing and going completely blank when she locked eyes with Akira above her, their hitched breathing overlapping in the empty space between them.
She struggled to swallow, failing to convince her mouth to do so instead of the variety of things it could do, places it could go and fasten itself to.
Akira was deliberately not making any direct physical contact with her. His knees were dug on the bed, by her legs on each side, while his upper body was lifted by his hands, one of them gripping the edge of the windowsill and the other splayed next to Makoto's head. Her clothes were somewhere out of sight, likely on the floor, and she quivered in her stark nakedness for reasons completely unrelated to the chill. There was a dignity to it, a certain something that Makoto had that made her inherently regal.
The only pieces of clothing present were Akira's pants and underwear, something that Makoto would've protested if the enraptured journey of his eyes through her body didn't catch any protests in her throat, competing for space with shaky sighs and barely contained, high pitched noises. He wanted to experience her thoroughly with his sense of sight, and it made her feel warm everywhere, cheeks, chest, and somewhere lower.
Makoto mustered the will to lift one of her hands, careful not to break the spell that seemed to be cast around them. Akira held his breath, and Makoto's knuckles came dangerously near his sternum, stopping before making actual contact but near enough for him to feel the heat from her hand. She broke eye contact briefly to look at her hand's trajectory as it traveled down his chest and stopped at his navel, the appreciation of the details of his toned torso drawing even shakier sighs from her. She swallowed again and her vocal chords made their first actual outward sound in a few minutes, a whimper, when she drew her fingers to the fly of his jeans. Makoto gave herself permision to touch them, without making contact with his skin yet, which made Akira feel deliciously frustrated, especially when the thought of her accidentally brushing against her cock crossed his mind. He felt that as much as he wanted this electricity between them to build further until it became unbearable, if she actually touched him he might just be unable to keep himself from diving onto and ravaging her, after a brief check to make sure she'd still want him to. She would, though. It was patently obvious in the urgency she fumbled with the button of his jeans with, trying her damnedest to only touch the fabric while Akira wished his damnedest that she wouldn't, that'd she slip just a bit.
She did not slip. Makoto's hand retreated after opening his jeans and came to rest on her side by her thigh, clinging strongly to the sheets. Her eyes on his were fiery, they tacitly let him know that it was his turn to move, and to do it now.
Akira caught on fast, and managed to get out of both his jeans and his boxers while disturbing their positioning as little as possible, using one hand to help pull out one leg and then the other, finally returning to their original arrangement. A part of him, however, hung large and throbbing betwen his legs, and its weigh landed it lightly on Makoto's navel.
Makoto could've come at that precise moment. Her high-pitched moan and Akira's grunt were uttered in unison.
With extreme self-control, he tried to lift himself further upwards to break contact. Makoto, however, wouldn't have that, not after the wait to appreciate his cock again. She found the sight of it fascinating, it was just another part of the human body and not a particularly visually pleasant one at that, but it being the very instrument of Akira's lust and the core of the sensations that caused him to make all these sounds and expressions that triggered a flood between her legs made it into a symbol that made a fire burn under her navel just by sight. She'd always loved to touch it as well, found the combination of thin but extremely soft skin covering something so hard, warm and pulsating to be incredibly powerful.
And this is why she lifted her own hips to keep her skin and Akira's touching, answering his obviously pained moan with her own, and a high, needy whimper. She didn't need dignity right now. She needed Akira's cock buried as far inside her as it'd reach, and she needed to hold him to her chest, and she needed them to be joined inextricably so he'd never feel this alone again, and so she'd never feel impotence like she'd felt today.
Akira couldn't hold his arms stretched anymore, they wouldn't hold his weight while shaking this much, so he dug his elbows on each side of Makoto's head, his arms framing her head like a halo. There was still space between them, but it was small enough that they could plainly feel the desire in the form of heat that radiated from each other. Their breath mingled and their eyes struggled to focus on each other's whenever the smallest tremor made their bodies brush where they were touching.
In reacommodating his legs and in Makoto lifting her hips to not break their touch, Akira's cock slipped between her legs, now held between her thighs and her labia. They stared wide-eyed at each other for a moment. Makoto opened her mouth pleadingly but no sound came out, and Akira inhaled her breath with a sigh, staring at her again with half-lidded eyes, renewed intensity in them.
He drew his hips and thrusted them forward, grinding the entirety of the underside of his shaft between Makoto's labia, gifting them both the feeling of its hard ridges pressing against her slit.
Makoto screamed, as if the thrust had dislodged all the sounds she'd held in her throat at once.
With his breath held, Akira drew back just enough for the tip of his cock to rub on her clit, and rocked himself as if his head was fucking the little nub.
The sounds coming from Makoto's mouth didn't stop, they just varied in loudness and length as they punctuated each of Akira's thrusts. Akira knew by now that this meant she was on the brink of coming, and he felt a warmth in this chest that far overshadowed the hardness between his legs, he felt content to see Makoto well and truly come undone in his arms (or between them) to a degree that blew the cobwebs from his mind, made him feel purposeful, and happy, and loved, and in love.
He urgently grabbed his shaft with one of his hands and pressed it against Makoto's clit, grinding against it just hard enough that he felt every relief around it to a exact degree on his glans. He made a point to remember them, to add these discoveries to his mental map of her, of all of her.
Makoto ground herself against him desperately, moaning as if her life depended on it. She'd completely lost track of where she was, all she knew is that she was with Akira, and that right now he was the core of her world. The rest of her thoughts were a scramble on the background, having been entirely displaced by the glow riding from the nerves of her clit through her loins and shooting up to her brain, shutting down everything else intermittently as she shook uncontrollably.
Makoto tended to come with frightening intensity. Akira'd speculated at some point that it could be due to how pent up he imagined she was, and she had rather timidly admitted that it wasn't that at all – sure, she was pent up to a degree, but she relieved herself like anyone else. It was Akira that turned her on like crazy, it was him, and the love she felt for and from him that made her feel so powerfully, devastatingly horny.
Akira retreated when he noticed the end of her orgasms, wary of overstimulating her. He kept hovering over her, and greeted her with a smile when she opened her eyes and managed to focus them enough to tell where his face was. She propped herself up on her elbows gingerly and brushed her lips against his temple, finally feeling able to break the spell and caress him properly. He tucked stray locks of hair behind her ears and plopped down on her side, and Makoto realized something startling.
“... You're still hard.”
“Don't mind it.” Akira wrapped his arm around her waist, burying his face on her neck. “Was it good for you?”
Makoto frowned. Yes, she felt amazing, but the reason she wanted to make love with him right now was to make him feel better, and despite what he'd said, she very much minded it. “Yes. Very.” Makoto's hand ran down Akira's chest and rested on his abdomen. Her eyes were earnest and pleading when she paused and said, “I want you to feel the same too. I want you to know exactly how much I love you.” Makoto's expression intensified. “Don't you want to?”
Akira felt somehow both flustered and relaxed, his black hair clung to his face and the pillow and Makoto's frame and he sighed, blushing, intensely aware of her. That warmth in his chest was flaring up again. Maybe it's because of how abandoned and thrown aside by his previous life he'd felt this year, but being cared for like this, feeling that he truly mattered to someone, meant so much to him that it was both crushing and elating at once.
“Well... I do, yeah,” he inhaled, and the look on his face, eyebrows raised and lips trembling ever so slightly, caught Makoto's breath in her throat again. “I'd rather do it with you, when you're good for it again. I guess I just...” he gulped, “The best part about sex for me is having you come with me, on me, under me, just coming a lot. I was hoping...”
Makoto couldn't believe herself for blushing a furious shade of red at Akira's words after letting go entirely under him earlier, as if there was a reason to feel embarrassed anymore. Her mental admonishments at herself died as he trailed off. He didn't continue.
She brushed one of her hands against his chin and he noticed that the hand that had been splayed on his abdomen was now traveling down her own, fingers whirling briefly around her bellybutton before adventuring further downwards. Akira's mouth went dry, and Makoto lightly brushed her clit, measuring if it was still overly sensitive. Wetting her lips, Makoto teased Akira's chin with the same pattern she'd caress herself with, patiently working her nerves up for another go. It was entirely a matter of physical sensitivity, she was plenty turned on just by having Akira pressed up against her, noticing how horny she made him, feeling the erection that had been receding up to this point stir to full mast again, its outline pressed against her leg.
Once she was sure she was very, very ready for another round, she gently tugged on Akira to invite him onto her, “We barely touched last time,” she licked her lips, “Now I want to barely not touch you.”
He didn't need to be told twice. He was on top of her again in a second, this time not hovering but snugly pressed skin to skin, feeling her nipples stand at attention and rub against his chest. Makoto's hands reached down to his ass and squeezed, she outlined the muscles of his glutes and felt his cock throb in response. Her legs snaked around his. True to her word, she was trying to cover as much of his skin with hers as possible.
Akira slid down her and out of her grasp on his ass and legs to draw his tongue tantalizingly slowly down her neck, down the center of her clavicle and between her tits, leaving a trail of saliva for his fingers to dip into before going on a journey of their own, determined to discover more of this land called Makoto.
Makoto tugged lightly at his hair to pull him back up, missing his embrace and fearing that he might make her come without him again accidentally. She felt his cock sliding near her entrance, and reached down to spread her lips for him, looking at him with a hunger he'd never seen in her before. Akira didn't need to guide his shaft into her, it slipped right into place by her entrance, and it's in this moment that he realized that they hadn't kissed at all this whole time.
Akira surprised Makoto by pecking her in the mouth, chaste and light. This brought the realization to her as well, and she giggled against his lips. They kissed like any other day, like they weren't on the verge of fucking each other senseless.
Which didn't mean they weren't about to. Makoto wrapped all of her limbs around him sans the hand that was spreading her pussy, her other arm hugging the back of his head and her legs around his ass, inviting him in with ceremony. Akira leaned against her forehead, and smoothly slid his hips forward until the head of his cock was spreading her walls and she was practically quivering in his arms. He fucked her only with the rock hard head of his cock to tease her, knowing that her preferred spots were further inwards and upwards.
Makoto frowned at him. She raised the hand she had on her pussy, that felt their union between its fingers, and slid those fingers in Akira's mouth. She groaned. “I d-don't know if... if I should kiss you or slap you...” Makoto slid her fingers back out of his mouth and replaced them with her tongue, penetrating him with it to its full extent, as if to show him what she needed him to do.
“... What is it... that you want me to do to you?” managed to ask Akira, Joker's smirk slipping into his everyday persona.
Similarly, Makoto felt Queen's authoritative influence briefly flare up and remove all qualms she could have about being direct about her desires. “Akira.”
Akira gave an inquisitive grunt, having stopped the slight fucking, head still buried within her walls.
“Fuck me, Akira. Fuck me with that cock of yours and fuck me hard, right now.”
Makoto crashed her lips up onto Akira's, and the moment their tongues delved into each other's mouths, Akira slammed his cock to the hilt in her pussy, making her legs wrapped around his ass tremble violently as both of them let out something between a scream and a moan. She raked her nails on his back and ground herself against him in an effort to impale herself further, as he worked to do the same by roughly grabbing her hips and burying himself up to the last milimeter of his length.
Makoto's breathing was ragged against his, and he took a moment to check that it was the right kind of ragged, that he hadn't been too rough. That worry was blown out of the water the second she looked back at him though, with an expression of adoration so deep and so sincere that Akira felt tears well in his eyes. He knew she noticed, and assured her it was alright with a long, deep kiss. Makoto understood to a degree what it was that moved him, and why, and what made him need her so. She felt validated on some level, but more than anything she felt the need to be there, to be with him. She'd been reiterating this for days, and this was going to be a moment where she'd show him by doing, not telling.
Neither of them moved, both too taken by each other, too grateful and adoring and needing. Makoto cradled Akira's head against her neck, rubbing his back equally comforting and sensually. Akira nuzzled and nibbled blindly, the ensuing gasp from Makoto kickstarting the grinding of his hips, the slight pulling out and forceful thrust back in, as if being even slightly away from her pulsing walls was difficult.
He divided his attention between sucking and lapping at Makoto's neck and thrusting into her slit, daring to adventure longer strokes at times, and at times content to simply relish in both of her embraces. He took it reasonably slow but steady, knowing what angles to hit to draw trembling sighs from Makoto and how often, because after all these months of fucking like rabbits his body had just become accostumed to hers.
Makoto felt him angling towards the particular spot that made her see stars. Akira had an easier time hitting it reliably when fucking her from behind, but she liked to be able to hug him, to pull at his hair and leave bite marks all over him as he thrust and emptied himself in her. Besides, she found that having that spot hit as punctuation rather than all the time usually resulted in cumming far harder.
That train of thought only occupied her mind for half a second before Akira's tongue darted up to her earlobe. Makoto knew he was going to leave hickeys and Sae would get some kind of upset, but right now she honestly couldn't care less. She felt the ridges and every detail of his throbbing cock inside of her and something in her bubbled and tingled and screamed every time he rubbed against her cervix. It was just a matter of time before that feeling peaked again, and the anticipation was turning her on about as much as Akira's deep penetration.
Akira panted heavily; between the emotional rush of burying himself in the woman he loved and the sparks that rushed upwards and outwards from his groin every time he rammed his shaft inside her, the heat like a ray of light climbing from his balls whenever they slapped against her ass and rested there while they grinded onto each other, it was clear he wasn't going to last much longer. He knew that Makoto was extremely sensitive and would come crashing hard if he kept reaching the surface of her cervix like this and clung to this knowledge for motivation, wanting more than anything to push her over the edge.
She wasn't very far from it at all. Akira had shifted to kiss her, or rather to pant over her own panting, and when these became loud moans as she felt the crashing waves of orgasm tear explosively through her he fastened his mouth to hers, feeling her scream at and into him how hard she was coming without any coherent words other than maybe 'fuck.'
In that moment, when her heart was racing faster than she ever thought possible, all she could bring herself to do is cling to Akira and cling hard, with shaking limbs that owed their ability to retain any strength to her physical training and sheer determination. Akira, with his heart racing similarly fast, wrapped one of his arms around Makoto's waist to lift her hips and press them harder against his, and the other around her head, shaking fingers stroking her hair absently while he rammed his cock into her deeper and faster and wildly out of control.
Akira's increasingly ragged breaths and the urgent throbbing of his cock told Makoto he was about to come, and even through the massive waves of pleasure she was still riding she was able to identify some deep, primal part of herself demanding that come inside of her, maybe feeling it'd join them even further, maybe just wanting to see and feel him able to spill himself into her pussy without any cares, a kind of release she felt he desperately needed.
“I'm.. Makoto... I'm coming, fuck, I'm going to come...!” Akira managed to grunt into her mouth, reaching with his hand to grab his dick and bring himself to orgasm with it, elsewhere, somewhere deeply unsatisfying but rationally correct.
Once again, Makoto wouldn't have it. She knew what she wanted, and she was keenly aware of what he wanted too. With strength born out of instinct she pulled his hand back next to her head, using the momentum to pull herself closer to him again and drag him back down, negating the small distance he'd made between them to reach his hand to his shaft. She dug into his back with one hand and directed his face to hers, red eyes blazing. “Don't you dare.”
Akira's eyes locked into hers and didn't close when he rested his forehead on hers, and they didn't close when he switched from shallow thrusts to desperate grinding for a last few seconds before one last thrust of his cock into the once again rippling walls of her pussy, hugging Makoto to his chest, to his everything, with all he had, and grunting as he shot jet after jet of thick, warm fluid, possibly more than he'd ever come before.
They stayed still for what felt like a long time, after his seemingly endless release ended and their breaths started to calm down. Neither of them wanted to break that connection, but as Akira went soft he pulled back with a sheepish, hoarse chuckle. Makoto gazed at him with can only be described as adoration, giggling tiredly at the feeling between her legs. She didn't know why it was amusing, if anything it felt... solemn, but perhaps if she was happy enough the distinction didn't matter.
“Makoto.”
Makoto stirred.
“I love you. It feels... I don't think I've ever been this happy with any person, this... connected, you know?” Akira wet his lips, a bit nervous. “It's almost like my heart is going to burst out of my chest when I look at you like this.”
“I believe it is the norm to have an accelerated heart rate after sex, isn't it? It'd be weird if you didn't – unless you have a heart condition? You would've told me if you had a heart condition, right?”
Akira blinked.
Makoto reached out to his hair and brushed it out of his eyes with the back of her hand. “I kid.” Makoto's closed her eyes, pleased. “I...” A sigh, her eyes opened and she did her best to keep them on his. “I never thought I could love like I love you. I never thought someone could love me like you do either. Out of all the things new to me I have experienced this year, this is the only one that makes me dizzy just to think about. It's almost worrying.” She flashed him a coy smile before swallowing and going back to playing with his hair. “You don't deserve this. I mean, you know... this. The subterfuge, the isolation. And if I have the treasured chance to impress that upon you,” she cupped Akira's cheek, leaning forward to rest her nose against his, “I'll never pass it up.”
She chuckled, it came out hoarse and more like a croak, but she had more important things to feel embarrassed about. “Besides, you're really good at sex.”
A bright grin, “I could say the same about my training partner, you know.”
Akira let out a laugh, he seemed to finally relax. He was free, in this moment and place and with this person, from any fear or discrimination or resentment. Because he had Makoto, and Makoto was a treasure big enough to displace any worry.
Dropping to her side but not finding any place to lie down properly in his rather small futon, he and Makoto switched places, him now splayed placidly on his back and Makoto spread over him. Neither of them seemed to really have a care about getting dressed any time soon, or to mind the sweat and other fluids between them. Makoto noticed the ones seeping between her legs and blushed profusely, looked at Akira, who figured out what she was thinking about, and blushed even harder.
“Um, uh, it's most likely not the best moment to think about this, but I just want you to know that if somehow it turned out that uh... I'd... be with you? And the baby. Yeah.”
“I'm on the pill.”
“Oh.”
Akira turned a variety of colors according to his current feelings on the situation. He ended up settling on a looping cycle of rosy relief and hot red embarrassment. Makoto just stared, trying to fight the smirk tugging at her lips. He'd been really earnest, if awkward, and she wanted to be considerate of that, but...
Makoto chuckled again, quite pleased at the post-coital comedy. “Okay, enough with the pregnant silence--” It was an accident, of course, but she was, again, quite pleased at it, and paused for a reaction. Akira stared back at her, mouthing things but not managing to say anything. “--fine, I know, I apologize. Seems Yusuke has been rubbing off on me.” She sighed, spreading her hand wide and placing it on Akira's chest, right over the heart. She leaned a bit forward to look at him head on. “I guess I'm just... really happy right now. I mean...” she wrapped her legs around one of Akira's and the fluid between them dripped on his thigh. “I mean, I'm not sure if it's necessarily a kink, but I've never feel this... elated after sex before. It feels like we're connected.”
“We are.” Akira smiled, and it was soft and free. “And you know, even if it was a kink, that'd be alright. I mean, I certainly wouldn't have any issue to ending everyday inside you from here on out.”
Makoto fought off a goofy giddy grin, but couldn't fight off the blush. “... You say some extremely embarrassing things sometimes. I don't know how you keep a straight face.”
“Guess I'm the Joker, after all.”
Makoto giggled. “I don't think I'd mind that either, though.” Her voice was quiet but content and willful, a decidedly Makoto Niijima kind of voice.
And apropos of Niijima, they heard something vibrating under the bed. Makoto gingerly stood on her shaking legs and managed to kneel without falling, gasping when she realized that it was the phone in one of her pockets that was vibrating, ringtone muffled by cloth and, if they'd been calling before, deafening moans.
It was Sae. Sis. And she could see the icon on her phone that told her she had missed calls. Akira lifted an eyebrow quizzically and she showed him the phone screen, leaving both of them rather pale.
“H-hello?! I mean, hi Sis, is everything alright?” Makoto answered the phone and immediately flubbed her greeting, but seemed to fix it more or less successfully.
Akira stared at her, pacing around his room with nothing on her but her phone. Nothing. He absentmindedly let his eyes roam on her body, saving the mental snapshots of her, of all of her, for a rainy day.
Makoto mouthed whatever Sae was saying, her expression telegraphing whatever emotion she thought Sae was conveying. “Yes. As I told you in the morning, I came to deliver Akira-kun some material to prepare for tests, whenever he can return to Shujin. Mmhmm.”
“---oh, well, you know, I decided to stick around and help him study. It's hard to go through all this text without anyone to guide you.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“... I assure you there is nothing wrong with my voice. I am perfectly healthy.”
“... Yeah. Alright. See you soon, Sis.”
Makoto plopped down, sitting next to him on the futon. “If she hadn't gotten called from work, I don't know where that conversation would've gone.” She sighed, looking at Akira with resignation. “I have to go, I...” She stared at the soppy mess that was his bed. “Um. I could stay a bit longer and help you wash up, if you need.”
Akira shook his head. “We don't want any more trouble with Sae-san. I mean, she does know we're dating but I don't think she approves of me quite yet. Or that she would approve of... this.”
“Someday, Akira-kun.” She smiled at him, hopeful. He helped her gather her clothes and as he bent down to retrieve a wild sock that had somehow ended up behind the TV, still extremely naked, Makoto's eyes wandered. “You know...”
“Hm?”
“I don't think I've ever told you...” Makoto started dressing back up, smirking. She loved the moments when she could get away with being shameless, even more when she could turn the tables around and make Akira be the one embarrassed. “I really love your ass. I can tell you work on it a lot, with how tight and grabbable it is.”
“Why thank you,” said Akira, unflappable, to Makoto's slight disappointment. “I think your tits are amazing too. They feel perfect in my hands.” He smirks. “Not that the rest of you is any different.”
This unusually frank exchange felt strangely refreshing for the both of them. It was like the events of this evening had unlocked a new degree of trust between them. They shared a chuckle, and Makoto pecked him on the rather sore, swollen lips on her way to the bathroom.
Akira felt a certain desolation the second she left the attic, even if it was just to go downstairs. It was slight, and he realized it was the same kind of feeling he'd been feeling for the last few weeks, and to a degree for the last year. He realized that he was noticing it because for a while just then it had been absent, and that even now it was so much more bearable than before.
He gave a shaky smile to nobody in particular.
Makoto climbed back up the stairs, Student Council President image restored, to find Akira slightly less naked, yanking out sheets and pulling everything that was in varying states of soaking on a pile. She silently apologized for not helping out with a bow of her head and a worried look, that Akira brushed off with ease.
“Hey, come here.” Makoto trotted at Akira's call and let him cup her face and give her a kiss, deep and hot, content to have her leave as horny as he was starting to feel now.
It was a bit cruel, but a bit exciting. She giggled and casually brushed the bulge on his pants when she passed by him to grab her bag, making sure to peck him close enough to the ear to make him shiver a bit. “I will see you soon, Akira-kun. Please remember to reinforce your studies, it's imperative that you score well upon your return to Shujin.” She paused. “Text me, alright? I want to know how you're doing and,” a stare downwards, at Akira's tent, “maybe I'd like an update on this too.”
Akira swallowed. “Oh, don't you worry. I promise you there'll be plenty.”
Makoto would've winked if she was the kind of person that could wink with a straight face, but she wasn't, so she settled for a smirk that very briefly devolved into a proper smile. “I love you. I love you very much.”
“And I can't believe how lucky I am for that.” Akira gave her one last, reluctant kiss on the lips, not too hot and not too chaste. “I love you too.”
With that, Makoto took a step backward and stared at him with a smile. She felt she'd done a good thing, for herself and for the man she was absurdly, embarrassingly in love with. She wanted to leave before any further tingling could happen between her legs, so she turned on her heel and started walking towards the stairs.
She climbed two steps down before turning back in a hurry, genuine worry all over her face. “Akira-kun?”
“Yeah?”
“You do not actually have a heart disease, right?”