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“Are you satisfied?”
The answering smirk sends shivers of adrenaline up Akira’s spine. Akechi meets his gaze boldly, tongue flicking out to catch the small cut on his lower lip. Heat coils in Akira’s core.
“Of course not, but if we went any further we’d both die, wouldn’t we?”
The conversation wouldn’t make sense to the average passerby, of course. Akira and Akechi had just come back from an intense duel in Mementos, an event boldly suggested by Akechi in response to the back-and-forth tango they’ve been dancing for months.
Akira shoves his hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance while adrenaline and something else simmers under his skin. Akechi tongues at the cut on his lip again, which is still bleeding slightly. The way he’s hunched tells Akira that the wounds they inflicted on each other in the Metaverse haven’t quite healed yet.
There are so many things Akira wants to say, but what comes out is “I really did a number to your shoulder in there. I still have some healing stuff on hand, why don’t I help you get it fixed up? You don’t want to have to explain that you got into a fantastical dual with your fated rival to a doctor, right?”
Akechi laughs lightly, and Akira can see the same adrenaline in his eyes. “Of course. You do owe me, after all. Let’s find a bathroom here in the subway, since it’s close by.” And he turns on his heel and heads into the JL Line building. Akira hurries after him.
They find a one-room handicap bathroom easily, and after locking the door, Akira waits for Akechi to unbutton his jacket, watching him wince in the mirror as he slides the Kosei uniform jacket from his arms. Akira hangs it up over the hook on the door, and then moves to Akechi’s side.
“Let me help you. I was the one that hit you, after all.” He says, and is surprised when Akechi acquiesces. He is unsurprised by the binder under Akechi’s white dress shirt, and taps the stiff fabric gently. “Do you mind if we take this off? The wound goes down your shoulder blade, it looks like.”
He can see Akechi pause for a moment before nodding. “Of course. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.” A flush dusts itself across the brunet’s cheeks as he references the night they shared the bathhouse, reaching up to help Akira undo the strong velcro holding the chest binder in place.
Akira hangs it up over Akechi’s jacket and dress shirt, trying to be subtle about admiring Akechi’s body. He isn’t large-chested, which is fine. Akira’s more of an ass person than a boobs person anyways. But the defined muscle hiding beneath the layers of clothing makes his mouth water a bit.
Akechi is lean and sinewy, his abdomen toned but not overtly muscular. Akira recalls that Akechi had told him he cycles and goes rock climbing in some of his spare time to blow off steam, and it shows. Akira forces himself to look away before he can be accused of ogling, and digs in his bag for one of the bacitracin-based poultices that Takemi sells him, uncapping the bottle and upending it into his palm.
The substance is about what you would expect. Creamy, but thick in the way topical medicine usually comes in. It does smell good, to Takemi’s credit. There’s a hint of shea butter for hydration and to lend to the creamy texture.
Akira rubs his slicked hands together and motions for Akechi to pull his hair away from his neck and to lean forward over the sink so he can smooth the medicine over the gnarly-looking scrape that Akira left when he called down a lovely little slice of Eigaon. Akechi had expertly dodged, of course, being weak to Curse attacks, but he had rolled across the dingy Mementos floor and tore his outfit and scraped the shit out of his shoulder and back.
The moment his hands touch Akechi’s bruised and tender skin, an electric current seems to flash its way through them both, and the startled look in Akechi’s eyes in the mirror makes Akira believe he felt it as well.
Swallowing thickly and ignoring the electric tingling passing from his fingertips to his stomach, Akira smoothes the thick medication over Akechi’s shoulder, taking care to rub it in thoroughly but not open the wound more than it is. He hears Akechi sigh, and the tingling in his fingers grows stronger as he dares to look at their reflections.
Akechi’s face is flushed, his eyes closed as he bites his lip, worrying and opening the cut again. A fleck of blood coats the skin before it disappears under Akechi’s tongue. Akira shivers, a full-body motion that Akechi seems to feel as well. His maroon eyes open and their gazes lock.
Akira’s heart is hammering wildly in his chest. Images that he’s thought of but only vaguely entertained dance through his mind. And who can blame him? The way Akechi bent over the pool table, showing off that magnificent ass and making Akira’s mouth water? That night in the bathhouse, where Akira had played with the image of reaching over to touch Akechi’s skin, but never acted on it. The stray thoughts here and there over the past few months that have become a bit more frequent now that Akechi has joined the Phantom Thieves...
It’s no use to deny that he finds Akechi very attractive, and there’s just something about the detective that has always drawn Akira to him like a moth to a flame. Whether it be morbid fascination, entertainment, or a death wish, Akira doesn’t know. What he does know is that the sight reflected in the mirror currently is far more tempting than anything he’s ever felt before in his life.
Akechi’s eyes are wide, face flushed in a gorgeous shade of pink, and the moment he parts his lips in their reflection, Akira’s willpower shatters. He starts to move his hands again, but this time, they slide down Akechi’s shoulders to caress and follow each rib divot down to his hips. Akechi’s breath has gotten faster, and a cursory glance shows the brunet’s nipples are pert. Akechi is enjoying this.
The knowledge spurs Akira on, and he rests his hands on Akechi’s slender hips, leaning in to shakily breathe against his rival’s ear. “Would you like a rematch?” He says softly, and Akechi audibly swallows. “I don’t think we’re quite finished yet.”
The detective looks like a deer in the headlights. He swallows thickly, Akira mimicking the movement, and breathes out slowly. The air around them is charged, and Akira knows Akechi feels it too. It’s almost as if the oxygen in the small room has thickened, ripe with something Akira can only assume is sexual tension.
“Hmm, you do still look pretty cocky.” Akechi’s face reddens when he realizes his choice of phrase only serves to make the situation a lot more concrete, but he pushes on without a flinch. “I don’t think I quite wore you down enough to warrant a tie-breaker, Kurusu-kun.” His voice, normally light and airy, is rough with something akin to hunger . And that change in Akechi’s tone is enough for Akira to spin him around and crush their lips together with a wild gasp. Akechi’s hands fist in Akira’s wild black curls as he gasps into Akira’s mouth, immediately letting Akira in to plunge his tongue past Akechi’s teeth. Akira clutches Akechi closer, one hand in the brunet’s hair and one on his hip, pressing their bodies together in a way that nearly punches all oxygen from Akira’s lungs..
When they pull apart, Akechi is panting, pupils blown as he stares up at Akira defiantly. “Is that the best you can d— hn !” Akira leans in to suck a mark into Akechi’s clavicle, just under where his shirt would hide it. He’s avoiding Akechi’s chest until given explicit permission to touch him, but that doesn’t stop Akira from sucking a deep bruise into Akechi’s pale skin.
“Fuck.” The expletive falls from his rival’s mouth, and Akira smirks against the heated skin. He pulls away, lips feeling a bit swollen and bruised already, and gives Akechi the grin that he normally only uses as Joker. The effect is staggering, Akechi leaning back against the sink, chest heaving, and Akira can’t help himself from glancing at the pert, rosy nipples standing at attention. His mouth waters.
“Akechi, can I—?”
“Shit, yes .” There they go again, constantly on the same wavelength as Akechi grabs Akira’s wrists and lifts them to his chest, giving Akira the permission he craves to fondle the small mounds of flesh under his hands. Akechi’s heart is thundering against his fingertips, and Akira leans down, pinching one nipple between his fingers and taking the other into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth as Akechi gives him a stifled moan.
The gravity of the situation still hasn’t fully sunk into Akira’s lust-muddled mind. Every responsible thought has been wiped clean from his brain as he sucks on the nipple in his mouth, heat coiling low in his gut when Akechi moans again. His pants feel atrociously tight, and he fights the urge to palm himself through them as he sinks down the length of Akechi’s trembling body.
Akechi’s hands slide into his hair, fingers clutching the thick, black curls as Akira nips the flesh just above where pale blond hair disappears under the hem of Akechi’s pants. The brunet’s breathing hitches and he jerks Akira’s hair roughly. “Don’t fucking play with me. If you’re going to do something, do it. I don’t have all year.”
Akira glances up at Akechi, his eyes glinting silver between strands of hair and under his glasses frames. He smirks. “Didn’t take you for such a needy slut, Akechi-kun.” He purrs, fingers deftly unbuttoning the other boy’s pants and yanking them down. Akechi’s boxers have a prominent wet stain between his legs, and Akira dares to slide two fingers against the spot, admiring the way Akechi’s legs tremble when he presses against the fabric covering his clit.
“Don’t be an idiot.” Akechi growls, yanking on Akira’s hair again savagely. Shamefully, Akira’s dick twitches in arousal at the rough, painful feeling.
He shoots Akechi a deep smirk before dipping his head down to eye level with the stain. Akechi has only a second to grasp what Akira is about to do before Akira leans in and slides his tongue roughly over the fabric. Above him, Akechi lets out a whimper, fingers tightening in his hair as Akira repeats the motion before playfully nipping and catching the skin lightly between his teeth and lips.
“Oh god, Kurusu—“ Akechi’s words choke off on a high-pitched moan when Akira presses his lips to the small nub under the fabric and sucks . More warmth stains Akechi’s boxers, and Akira hums, reaching up to tug the fabric down. He’s met with fine brown hair and glistening skin, punctuated by the twitching skin of Akechi’s pelvis every time Akira so much as breathes against it.
Excitement thrums in Akira’s veins, hot and almost so electric it skitters through his skin. He pushes Akechi’s legs apart, and the older boy slumps against the sink a bit more so Akira has the best angle possible as he leans in and slides his tongue over the wet folds of Akechi’s lips, punctuating the movement by suckling roughly on Akechi’s clit.
The infamous detective prince has been reduced to gasps and whimpers above him, Akira’s name on his lips as Akira leans back in to repeat the action. He smirks at the realization as he pulls back, sticky pre-come clinging to his chin. He slides two fingers through the slick leaking freely from Akechi’s entrance, grinding both fingers against his clit until Akechi is nearly shouting his name.
“Close— I’m— Mmm !”
“What a needy boy.” Akira whispers, replacing the fingers with his tongue. “Go on then, come for me, Akechi.”
Warmth gushes out to slide down Akira’s chin as Akechi locks up above him, fingers dug into the sink as he comes with a wordless cry. Akira laps at his clit through his orgasm, milking him through it until Akechi is trembling from overstimulation.
But they’re not done yet.
Akira dips his fingers into the fresh lubricant dripping from Akechi’s entrance, fingertips teasing the twitching hole as he looks up. Akechi looks thoroughly fucked out, chest heaving and nipples pert as he tries to catch his breath. When Akira presses one fingertip against the fluttering opening, Akechi looks down, and Akira enjoys the searing lust and arousal in those maroon eyes.
“Have you ever played with yourself before?” He asks casually, sliding his finger teasingly over the hole, and Akechi scoffs, face pinking up.
“I’m not a virgin, Kurusu. I can handle it.”
The thought both delights and disappoints Akira. He had been silently hoping to be Akechi’s first, but that just makes things a bit easier as he spreads Akechi’s legs a bit more and presses one finger up into the searing warmth that closes around him. Akira’s neglected cock throbs with need, but he continues to ignore it for now as he inserts a second finger soon after the first, spreading them gently, and then a bit harder when Akechi snipes that he is taking too long.
“I’m not a fragile flower.” Akechi snarks, tugging at Akira’s hair again.
Akira snorts. “Be patient, Akechi. I don’t want to hurt you.”
There is another savage yank at his hair, and Akira shudders, slipping three fingers inside of Akechi and spreading them wider. Akechi’s breath hitches and he stifles a choked moan when Akira curls all three fingers backward. “You’re not going to hurt me so just fucking fuck me already , goddamn it.”
Desire streaks through his veins like a live wire, and Akira can’t hold himself back from stumbling to his feet to kiss Akechi again, all teeth and tongues and panted moans. Akechi reaches down blindly and undoes Akira’s pants, palming him roughly through his jeans and then shoving them down to take Akira’s cock in his hand. Akira’s knees nearly buckle at how good it feels.
He’s wondering if one of the topical gels they use in the Metaverse will serve as an appropriate replacement for lube when Akechi groans Akira’s name and sinks to his knees abruptly.
He only has a second to process the movement before Akechi’s mouth is taking his cock in, wet heat enveloping the head before he immediately takes it in as far as he can manage, his tongue sliding against the sensitive vein on the underside. Akira can’t stop himself from moaning loudly and shoving his fist to his mouth to muffle the sound.
Akechi doesn’t give him time to think, immediately setting a quick and hungry pace, head bobbing as he stares up at Akira with tears clinging to his long lashes. The brunet’s face is flushed, pre-come already dribbling down his chin, and goddamn this is the hottest thing Akira has ever seen. He reaches down to curl his fingers tightly in Akechi’s fine brown hair, trying so hard to keep from fucking his rival’s mouth with abandon.
It doesn’t take long for Akira to realize that he’s nearing the precipice, and roughly he pulls Akechi off of his dick before he can come. His toes curl in his shoes as he feels that edge slip out of his grasp, but he knows his self-restraint will be rewarded. Akira pulls Akechi to his feet, kissing him and holding him so close he wonders how their bodies haven’t melded into one solid being.
“How do you want to do this?” He gasps once they pull away for air. Akechi is panting, eyes wild and hungry, and Akira wishes he could take a picture of the expression on his face to jerk off to in the future. “I don’t have a condom.”
The way Akechi’s eyes darken leaves Akira feeling as if he was at the top of a roller coaster hill and then plummeting downwards. Akechi gives Akira another searing kiss before backing up and turning to lean on his arms against the wall, his perfect, round ass swaying tantalizingly in front of Akira’s eyes.
“Fuck it.” Akechi growls. "Just fuck me already, Kurusu."
Swallowing thickly, Akira reaches for his bag and rummages through it, pulling out a bottle of Relax Gel and shaking it. The relaxing effects probably won’t work outside the Metaverse, but it’s better than nothing.
Pouring an overly-generous amount into his palm, Akira reaches down to slick up his dick, hissing at the cool stimulation, and then reaches for Akechi’s hips. They fit so perfectly in both hands, and when he slides his dick between those thick, luscious asscheeks, Akira thinks that Akechi must have killed him already and he’s in heaven.
A low keen of his name makes Akira shudder, and he reaches down to line up his dick against Akechi’s vagina before breathing out a soft “I’m pushing it in now.” so Akechi can brace himself as Akira sinks into his warm body. Akira is absolutely breathless at the tight clutch around his cock. Despite Akechi’s insistence that Akira wouldn’t hurt him, Akira takes it slow, sinking in centimeter by centimeter until he bottoms out and they both release the breaths neither realized they were holding.
It feels incredible.
Akira has only ever used toys before, and the most experience he has with sex is a messy handjob with another guy at his high school in Inaba. He doesn’t want to admit out loud that Akechi is technically his first.
He leans over Akechi, pressing open-mouthed kisses and bites to his uninjured shoulder and back, letting Akechi get used to the stretch. Then he grasps Akechi’s hips in both hands again and pulls back before slamming back in so hard they both gasp at the sensation.
“Again.” Akechi commands, burying his face in his arms. Akira repeats the motion, arousal making his ears buzz as he listens to the slap of his hips meeting Akechi’s ass.
“Again. Faster .” The brunet keens out a whimper when Akira does as he says, pulling out until just the tip of his cock is hooked inside of Akechi before pounding back in and punching choked moans out of both boys.
Akechi keeps begging for Akira to move, to fuck him, to make him scream, and Akira can do nothing but comply. He grips Akechi’s hips tightly in both hands and slaps his hips forward, grinding with intention until Akechi’s back bows like a fiddle string and he lets out an unrestrained squeal.
Found it.
He’s so glad that they came back from Mementos late in the evening. The trains will stop running here soon and most of the crowds have thinned out. No one will notice the frantic sounds coming from the small bathroom just off the main hall.
He knows he’s chasing his own bliss to its end, but Akira also wants to savor the fact that he has Goro Akechi on his dick, moaning and gasping his name like they are prayers. He admires Akechi’s heaving body, his shoulders and cheeks flushed with rosy color, the way he arches and shoves back to meet each of Akira’s thrusts.
Leaning over Akechi again, Akira wraps his arms around Akechi’s body to fondle his breasts again, teasing his nipples with both sets of fingers, and Akechi gasps against him, throwing his head back and giving Akira the opportunity to bite and suck at the junction of his neck and shoulder.
Their movements grow more frantic, and Akira realizes that they won’t last much longer. He bites down on Akechi’s shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to mark, pistoning his hips. It only takes a few more thrusts and his fingers pinching both nipples for Akechi to spasm around him, arching backwards with a shriek of Akira’s name as he tightens almost unbearably around Akira’s dick.
Akira only lasts one more thrust after that, his hips stuttering as he releases into Akechi’s body, vaguely thinking in the back of his mind that he should have pulled out.
The two boys slump against each other and the wall for several long moments, and Akira waits for his legs to regain some semblance of solidity before he straightens up and releases Akechi’s body, wincing as he pulls out and watches a trickle of cum slide down Akechi’s inner thigh.
Immediately he grabs some paper towels to help clean them both up. Akechi is shaking, his legs weak, and Akira urges him to sit on the toilet while he cleans the cum clinging to Akechi’s skin. He starts to try to clean the cum out from between Akechi’s legs, but the other boy lightly swats at his hands with a muttered “I’ll do it.”
Akira wipes his own dick free of cum and slick before tucking himself back into his pants, still trying to catch his breath and realize what the fuck just happened.
He glances away as Akechi reaches between his legs to get the cum out of himself, a facade of privacy as he hobbles over to the sink to wash his hands, his heartbeat slowing as he splashes water over his arms and face.
“That was fucking amazing.” He says finally, breaking the breathless silence between them. Akechi stands and tugs his boxers back up after scrubbing at the wet spot on them with more toilet paper, then looks up at him for the first time. Akechi’s cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen, and any hint of rivalry is gone in that moment of vulnerability. Akira almost reaches forward to kiss him again but he thinks better of it.
“It was adequate.” Akechi says, and Akira rolls his eyes and hands Akechi a wet paper towel to wipe the sweat from his face. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again sometime.”
"I’m on board.” Akira agrees with a smirk, moving to help Akechi back into his binder and uniform, and when they are both presentable, with little to no hint of what they just did, both boys leave the bathroom.
Good, there’s no one around. Akira can’t imagine what kind of scandal there would be for anyone to see the Detective Prince leaving a single-stall bathroom with some nobody high-schooler.
They pause at the ticket gate, and Akira grins at Akechi. “That was fun, for my first time.” Akechi’s eyes widen, but Akira gives him no time to respond. He merely pushes his glasses further up his nose and winks. Akechi’s face flushed a brilliant pink, and the sight is so staggering that Akira wishes he could kiss him before he leaves.
“Be careful going home, okay?” Is all he allows himself to say. “Let me know when you get home safely.”
It’s something he says to all of his friends. It’s in Akira’s nature to dote on his friends, earning him the title of “Team Mom”. He’s said it to Akechi several times already in their friendship, but the breathlessness in his voice makes the words insinuate so much more that his chest aches.
Akechi gives him a smile, one that is laced with something less savory than his usual Detective Prince facade usually allows. “I will indeed. Goodnight, Kurusu-kun.” And he’s gone, hurrying to catch the last train to Kichijoji for the night.
Akira is left standing there, heart pounding, and he momentarily has to check himself to make sure that wasn’t just some amazing wet dream. Nope, it was definitely real, if the burn in his hips from exertion says anything about it. He grins and turns to leave the station, pulling out his phone and shooting out one last text message as he heads toward the trains heading to Yongen-Jaya.
Akira (21:24pm) : i win by the way ;)
Akechi (21:26pm) : 🖕🏻
Akechi (21:26pm) : This was only one round. Next time I won’t be so easy on you.
Akira (21:27pm) : love you too honey 😘 xoxo gnight!
Akechi (21:30pm) : Goodnight, Kurusu