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Akira’s head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. The past weeks have been especially hard on him. With exam week coming soon and so many metaverse requests, he did not have any time to rest. If he was not studying, he was helping his confidants with whatever problems they had or working double shifts so he could afford new gear for his teammates. He was the leader after all. It was his responsibility to keep them as safe as possible. And as much as Iwai gave him for the junk from mementos – which was still shocking he bought anything at all – and with the discounts Akira acquired, the good stuff was still expensive. Queen needed accuracy adjustments for her revolver, Skull’s shotgun could use few more rounds of available ammo, and Mona’s slingshot did hardly any damage anymore. And that’s not mentioning all the expensive medicine they go through on the regular now.
The leader was really hoping to get at least some rest while he slept, but that was not in cards for him either it seemed. He knew the routine by now. He fell asleep but his body and mind were still aware of the world around him. Soon the clinking of chains would be heard, and omnipresent somber sound of a piano would fill the room. Out of all days Igor just had to choose today to call him into the Velvet Room. Hopefully it would be quick visit. The teen waited and waited, but something was different.
Akira could not feel the hard prison bed under him, there were no shackles binding him down. He couldn’t feel anything at all, actually. Nothing under his feet, no clothes against his skin. It was as if he was floating in nothingness. No piano nor singing could be heard, not even the idle chatter of the twin wardens, actually there was no sound around him either. He opened his eyes, or at least he thought he did, there was no difference.
Suddenly he was enwrapped by a bright warm light. He had to shut his eyes; the change too drastic from the inky void. The gravity turned back on. He fell with a thud into something soft. He was sitting now, it felt like an armchair, comfortable and plush. The familiar weight of his Joker coat rested against his shoulders. His signature mask was also on, snug and concealing his identity.
The light dimmed and Akira could open his eyes again. He was looking dead ahead into a massive antique mirror set in heavy looking metal frame decorated with intricate details. Even though the dim lighting, it reflected him perfectly, surrounded by nothing but darkness. He was indeed sitting in an armchair, slim and tall. The red fabric looked expensive, but without touch Akira could not determine what it was made of. He tried to take his gloves off to test the fabric, but he couldn’t.
That’s when he realized he was frozen in place. No matter how much he tried, his limbs would not move. Head was stuck staring into the mirror, arms relaxed on the armrests, knees only gently spread since the seat was narrow. His heartbeat quickened; this was all too strange. The strangest thing was the fact he could feel his muscles move as he tried to get up. He could even hear his voice yelling for help inside his own head, but his mouth was shut. Only thing he could do was look around with his eyes. Was this what sleep paralysis felt like? Unable to move or call for help, while you’re somewhat aware of the world around you? If that was the case, then surely soon a demon would appear to torment him.
As if on que, he could hear footsteps coming closer. Rhythmical sound of high heels striking the invisible floor. Even though his heart was beating as if he just ran a marathon, his lungs were calm, forced to stay that way by the stone prison his body became. But even his racing heart calmed when familiar face – or the lack thereof – came forth from the darkness. Arsène was standing behind the armchair, almost twice Akira’s height. Did Akira accidentally enter some unknown part of mementos? A weird palace? The Velvet Room? Arsène was here and Akira was in his Joker outfit, so it must have been either that or some kind of weird dream.
“Both and yet neither, Trickster,” Arsène’s suave voice broke the silence, “we’re on the edge of realities. Where yours and ours meet.”
That explained some things, but most was still a mystery. Akira guessed Arsène could read his mind as he did before, when they first met. ‘Why am I here? Why can’t I move?’ he asked wordlessly. With Arsène there he was not in any danger, so he managed to relax a bit, even if his form did not give anything away.
“Why do you think you’re here, my dear Trickster?”
It sat back on its haunches. Akira did not think that would be possible with how tight and tall its boots were. Its long legs on either side of the armchair, the persona draped itself over the backrest. Arsène’s head found its place on Akira’s left shoulder, gently leaning its mask against Akira’s. Its long arms gently patted and explored his upper half, mindful of its long sharp nails.
Akira did not have a slightest idea why he was there, but he liked the attention of his persona’s hands on his chest. Come to think of it, he never had a physical contact with Arsène, he always assumed it did not have real solid form. Now its giant hands roamed Akira’s chest and the teen was unable to do anything to stop it.
The hands stilled as Arsène spoke again, “you keep running around for the sake of others. You work yourself down to the bone just so Emperor doesn’t starve. You strengthen your body despite the fatigue with Chariot, and the study sessions with Priestess leave you just as exhausted.”
Akira couldn’t say anything against that, it was true. But he was the leader, he needed to take care of his team. They all had their own lives and problems to worry about. The Phantom Thieves were everything Akira had. Haru had to run her family’s business, she did not have time to go buy them a new round of protectors. Ann was keeping company to Shiho in the hospital and Morgana-
“You do so much for them and yet you’re too selfless to ask about anything in return. Or maybe you’re too selfish to give up control? No matter the reason, I can sense your desires, my dear. I know you wish someone would take just as good care of you.”
Giving up control was something Akira was terrified of, ever since his arrest. He did his job as the leader, and he did it well. He was there to shield the blows, to pick his fallen teammates up. He could not take a sick day or just leave someone else in charge. He would not be able to face himself if someone got hurt because he wasn’t around.
The big hands started moving again. “What if it was a part of you, who was still in charge?” Arsène asked. “The other you within, that is.”
The scene in the mirror changed for a split second. Instead of Arsène draped over the chair, there was another Joker standing there. Their eyes met for a moment before black smoke enveloped the other Joker and Arsène came back. It seemed shorter now, maybe two heads taller than Akira, but for sure not twice his height. Arsène leaned down, mindful of its horns and protectively wrapped its arms around Akira’s chest and shoulders, locking him in. Its long black wings wrapped around the sides of the armchair, further shielding them from the void around.
“But if you do not wish so, just think of an escape and you’ll be back in the waking world. I will not hold you here, my dear Trickster.”
Akira was given a choice. He had pretty good idea what Arsène meant by ‘taking good care’ of him and he was sure it would not involve clothes. In his waking hours Akira did not have mindset nor time for those things either. Back home he preferred doing it in a shower and the nearest one was in the public bathhouse across the street, so that was out of the question. This was Arsène’s way of getting Akira’s consent to touch him.
The teen sighed heavily, even though his form did not move a hair. His mind was racing. Should he do this? Sure, Arsène was offering to take care of him, but if the offer came from Akira’s own desires, wouldn’t it be the same as just pushing Arsène into it? Akira would lie if he said he didn’t miss the attention of Arsène’s dangerous hands on his chest, nor that his pants became a little tighter when it did so. He watched Arsène waiting there, it was not watching him in the mirror. The mask that made its face was turned downwards, looking at Akira’s chest instead.
Akira took a deep breath as he finally spoke. “Please. Arsène, help me.” And for the first time that night, his lips actually moved.
“I am glad you managed to find your voice again, my dear.” Arsène’s mask was always smiling, but now Akira could actually hear the smile in its low seductive voice.
It sent shivers down his spine and straight into his groin. He guessed in the past that even voices did stuff to him – interactions with Iwai only helped that theory – but now that he was desperate for any kind of attention, he was sure. Even though his lips moved before, his head still could not.
“There’s no need to hide from me, dear. Let’s take this off, shall we?”
The persona’s long nails grabbed for the mask and took it off. It disappeared in a cloud of the same black smoke that Arsène’s smaller form came forth from before. Akira’s breath hitched a little as the sharp nail scratched against his cheek. There was a mark there, almost like a papercut. Blood seeped into the wound, but not enough to spill over. Arsène pushed side of its head against the small cut as if trying to kiss the wound better in apology.
Akira’s head moved under the pressure. It actually moved. As if his phantom mask was the sole reason it couldn’t before. The teen finally turned his head towards Arsène, kissing the mask. He hoped Arsène would kiss him back, he was wondering how it would feel. The mask was warm to the touch, almost like a skin. The feel was the same as his own mask against his face. None of that mattered now, however. Arsène was not returning the kiss.
“I am sorry my dear Trickster, my body does not possess parts required to return your kiss.” The smile in Arsène’s voice was gone. “Maybe we could call forth Dionysus or Lilith instead of me, they could-”
“No.” Akira spoke over it. His lips still pressed against the mask. “I want you, please.” His voice was barely above whisper, but in the endless void it was clear. “Don’t leave me Arsène…”
The arm still wrapped around Akira’s shoulder tightened. “I promised I would never. I am thou, thou art I… Now let me take care of you.”
Arsène let go of Akira and rose back to the full height of its smaller form. It slashed through the backrest of the armchair with its razor-sharp nails and that too disappeared in a puff of black smoke. With the barrier gone, the demon could sit directly behind its master. The only thing separating their thighs were the armrests Akira’s forearms were on. Arsène’s chest pressed against Akira’s back. Even without the backrest, it was still rigid.
The big hands gently kneaded Akira’s thighs before moving upwards. They travelled over Akira’s hips, up his sides to his pecks and wrapped gently around his neck. They rested there for a while. Akira swallowed hard, feeling his Adam’s apple bob against the restriction. The sharp nails descended onto the fabric of Akira’s Joker outfit. They traveled back down, tearing the clothes in their wake. When they rested back on Akira’s hips, another black smoke took away the rest of the clothes on his upper body.
Akira could only watch as his bare chest got exposed. The rigid feeling disappeared, now only the furnace that was Arsène was pressed against his bare back. He gently rolled his shoulders as not to disturb the persona because its hands were slowly travelling back up, now exploring the naked skin. He still couldn’t move his arms, the gloves that were not yet destroyed still keeping his hands nailed to the remnants of the chair. The demon’s claws gently scratched Akira’s forearms, before rhythmically tapping the red leather with its fingers.
“I think I’ll leave those on.” Arsène basically purred. “Otherwise, you might want to take charge and that would be counterproductive.” It interlocked their fingers together, giving its master a gentle squeeze on both sides.
Akira watched the scene unfold. He was not sure how he felt about the restrains. He wanted to explore Arsène’s body just as freely as it could explore his. But he supposed Arsène was right, this night was about him, and he should just sit back and let himself be taken care of, even though it still made his stomach squirm with uncertainty.
“Besides, I like the color on you.” Another stronger, more secure squeeze.
“It’s your color, isn’t it? Same as your coat.” Now that Akira saw them back-to-back it seemed it was. “Did that happen on purpose?”
There was a low chuckle. “Perhaps. I though you’d like reminder of me while in the metaverse.”
Gentle smile grew on Akira’s lips. He never really thought about it that way, but Arsène basically marked him. “I do.”
Satisfied sigh left Arsène and after one last squeeze, its hands started moving again. One found its way up to Akira’s hair, gently pulling and massaging at the unruly black waves. Akira’s eyes shut at the pleasant sensation, he liked to have his hair played with. It just took someone special to do it, he did not allow many people close enough to do so. Arsène was indeed special. He almost got lost in the sensation when another hand joined in. This one lower, on his chest.
Arsène was carefully caressing the teen’s left peck. Mindful of its sharp claws as it rolled the nipple under its fingers. Akira made an unvoluntary gasp and his chest rose at the sensation, pushing further into the touch. Arsène liked that response very much. The first arm returned from its master’s hair onto his chest. Gently, it traced the definition of his muscles. Just enough to leave a mark but not to draw blood. More pleased sounds started escaping the immobilized leader.
They kept at it for a while. Air filled with the sounds of Akira’s low grunts and soft breaths. Arsène finished its ministrations by pinching both of Akira’s nipples, which drove outright moan out of his mouth. The persona then gave the teen a little breather. He finally opened his eyes, looking at them in the mirror. His skin shimmered with sweat and his chest was a chessboard of thin red lines. He admired Arsène’s control and ability not to draw any blood. He saw what the persona could do to shadows, just how much power was in those hands caressing him so gently. The slight burn of the marks was heavenly in opposition to the tight feeling of his pants around his neglected crotch.
The back of his head hit the demon’s chest. “Arsène… please.”
“Of course, dearest.” The smile was back in Arsène’s voice.
Arsène scratched on the teen’s thighs and with a puff of smoke his pants disappeared. He was left in his boots and underwear. He never realized it changed with Joker outfit as well. It was the same shade of red as his gloves, aside from the darker wet spot at the head of his leaking cock. He might be turning the shade of red himself, he didn’t know because when Arsène’s palm made contact with his bulge he closed his eyes again. The big hand palmed him through his damp underwear, coaxing louder grunts and soft moans out of his lips.
“M-more… please…” Akira begged. He was wound like a spring for who knows how long and now that his release was so close Arsène kept teasing him though the fabric of his underwear.
“We’ll need more space then. If you allow me.”
Akira just wordlessly nodded. Anything if it meant Arsène would touch him directly. It carefully slid its hands under Akira’s knees, lifting them up. Arsène had no problem moving his body parts around. Even if they were still clothed and Akira himself couldn’t move a muscle. It draped his legs over the armrests, making him spread and lean more into its chest. If he wasn’t blushing before, now he surely was. The warm feeling crept over his cheeks up to his ears. His head still resting against the warm chest behind him.
“Don’t you want to see how beautiful you are right now, dearest?” Arsène massaged the inner parts of his soft thighs.
Akira just shook his head. “Please. Stop teasing… I- I need you…”
All the masks were off. Akira was fully vulnerable and at Arsène’s mercy. He realized the uneasy feeling in his stomach disappeared. He handed his first persona all control and just leaned back and waited.
“As you wish.”
One of Arsène’s hands left Akira’s thigh. The teen hoped it would rip the underwear straight off, but it could not help with one last tease. One sharp nail found its way to Akira’s bottom lip. It pressed there and dragged down, down over his chin, down over his Addam’s apple, down over his sternum and over the soft stomach. It started as a featherlight tickle but when it arrived under Akira’s waistband it was back to the arousing pain. It tore right through the underwear, exposing Akira to the void around.
Just that act alone made Akira moan softly. He didn’t realize how shallow his breathing was until his dick finally sprung free and he took a relieved gulp of air. He cracked one eye open to look at himself then, and what a sight he was! His hair even bigger mess than usual, chest full of scratch marks, the newest one just finishing developing basically halving him. His privates on full display, hard, and leaking precum a bead after bead.
The hand that tore through the underwear came back to Akira’s face. Palm facing up. The teen understood the unsaid request. He leaned down and kissed the fingers that brought him so much pleasure already, before spitting into the open palm. When it deemed the amount sufficient, Arsène ran the hand in loose fist over Akira’s dick from the base to the top, further slicking him up. The touch was enough to make Akira twitch a little. A needy whine escaped his lips, and he hid his face in the persona’s ruffle tie. Arsène would take care of that later, now Akira’s member required its full attention.
One hand started gently rolling Akira’s balls in its palm, massaging them. The other pulled the foreskin back, thumbing on the exposed slit and coaxing more precum to leak out. Arsène’s hands were big, warm, and exactly what Akira needed. The fingers long enough so that it could wrap tight around him without the risk of accidental cut. When Arsène started pumping its hand up and down in slow and deliberate movements, Akira’s eyes rolled back. The teen gave up on any chance of holding his moans in. Arsène’s name was escaping him like a prayer between labored breaths.
Arsène’s movements got quicker and rougher, twisting so its thumb was running alongside one of Akira’s pulsating veins. It took immense pride from hearing its master so pleased. It knew he needed that, he deserved that. Someone who would take care of him. It just wished it could do more, but limits of its form were something not even this space between the worlds could break.
Its dark thoughts were dispelled by Akira’s growing moans and desperate bucking of his hips. “Please- I’m- I’m gonna-”
The hand that wasn’t stroking grabbed Akira’s throat and gently squeezed, turning the teen’s head back towards the mirror. The surprise him inhale sharply and open his eyes just in time to see himself release all over his abdomen. He gave a loud cry followed by deep panting as he watched Arsène stroke him through his orgasm. Thick ribbons painted his stomach and Arsène’s hand white. He could feel it drip over his balls and down his ass pooling at the velvet seat.
“So beautiful, my dearest.” Arsène purred, wiping Akira’s cum from its hand onto its pants.
White spots danced behind Akira’s eyes. His heartbeat was roaring in his ears, and he could barely register Arsène’s voice around him. Aftershocks of his orgasm hitting him hard. His eyes started to close and if Arsène wasn’t holding his head up, it would loll to the side.
He could feel the body behind him shift and soon his gloves and boots disappeared as well, finally freeing him. Although he was too spent to move, there was no need to, Arsène gathered Akira’s legs and closed them back up. It gently picked its master up, sitting him on its lap and cradling him against its chest. It ran its clean hand through the teen’s hair. Akira crawled into a little ball; knees held tightly against his chest. Arsène wrapped them in its wings. The black feathers were so soft on Akira’s naked skin.
Akira’s eyes closed shut and leaned his head onto Arsène’s chest. There was no heartbeat to be heard, so sign of life under him except for the warmth. The demon’s hand was back in his hair again. Stroking though the black waves, pushing them away from Akira’s eyes. He was slowly falling asleep, Arsène could feel it. Its job was done then, for that night.
Akira’s voice was barely above a whisper, rough from how vocal he allowed himself to be, in contrast to his usual quiet self. “Thank you Arsène…”
The arms wrapped around its master’s fragile form tightened protectively. “Of course. I am always here for you, my dear Trickster. Sleep and when you wake, you’ll be back in your own world.”
Akira just made agreeable sound and allowed himself to fall asleep, wrapped in safe fortress that was Arsène. Before the sleep overtook him fully, he heard one last thing.
“Should the need arise, I will meet you here again.”
When Akira woke up the next morning, he was actually well rested. Which was not something that happened often since he was forced to move to Tokyo. His sheets were wet, soaked with sweat and other – stickier – liquid. It’s been a while since he managed to come in his sleep. If he moved fast, he would be able to manage quick shower in school. As he scrambled from the bed, he caught his reflection in the old mirror.
There was imprint of a hand around his neck and countless scratches on his chest. It made him recall the dream he had that night. If it could even be considered a dream with the aftermath clear on his body. Arsène said it was a place on the edges of their worlds. So, it must have really happened. He got jerked off by his persona in some weird limbo between worlds. That might be better name of any for the place. He decided to keep that for himself, it was too personal to share with the others.
On the other hand, it was the best rest he’s gotten in months. What did Arsène say when Akira was leaving? That he could come back? Akira hoped he would be able to, there were other things he wished they could try. And he wished to test the limits of the Limbo.