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To be fair, Aki kind of deserves it. He’s reaping what he stupidly sowed.
Why did he always let Denji get under his skin? It was incredibly annoying to watch the half Devil half human would so overtly fawn over Miss Makima. And Aki hated the fact that Denji always acts so obsequious around her, but the second she turned her back, Denji would convert into the damn brat that he was.
“Always trynna be—be uh fuckin’…goody-two shoes. But just look at you,” Denji panted out.
So when Miss Makima asked if someone could accompany her on her next day trip, Aki volunteered. The reasons being he could chauffeur her around. Secondly, because he maybe kind of wanted to see Denji’s face drop at having the opportunity to be around Miss Makima ripped away right in front of him because of Aki.
Aki even explained to Miss Makima why Denji’s incompetence would only burden her, to which Denji lost his temper and started swearing like a sailor. A finger pointed right in Aki’s face.
“You’re a pervert who likes it—likes it when I say you’re being good—”
Each word had Aki’s strained cock twitch, and he really hates that.
Objectively, Aki would be Miss Makima’s best choice because between him and Denji, guess who’s legally an adult with a driver’s license?
But even after Aki attempted to explain that to Denji, the idiot just wouldn’t listen.
His argument: “I don’t need a damn driver’s license! Driving is common sense, ain’t it?!” And Power had annoyingly interjected with “I concur!”
Which is stupid because didn't she run over that one hit-man with Kobeni’s car?
Didn’t she kill that hit-man?
And didn’t she also ram into Denji with the same car, nearly killing him too?
“—or bad. You’re so gross, Aki.”
Aki keened and sniffled. Mortified when he felt himself twitch again in response to Denji’s words, which did not go unnoticed.
“Y—you like that? Aki? Getting off on all’uh this?”
Denji isn’t faring any better. On a regular day, he could carry a conversation with ease, speaking a mile a minute. Now he couldn’t even enunciate one word without stuttering.
That’s why Aki is in this position in the first place. After the brief meeting with Miss Makima, Aki, Denji, and Power headed home. Along the way, they decided to eat dinner at the sushi restaurant because Aki wasn’t in the mood to cook.
When Aki went to use the restroom, Denji barged in a moment later, lips pursed with an annoyed look on his face.
They had devolved into an argument seconds later. But suddenly, Denji was close enough to grab Aki by the buckle of his belt, pulling them both into an empty bathroom stall.
Somewhere down the line, Denji had said that Aki needed to be put in his place for once and had a massive stick up his ass and was always trying to get on Miss Makima’s good side.
But by the time Denji had told him those things, Aki was already mentally clocked out from Denji’s hands roaming his body like he owned him.
(Aki was thoroughly enjoying it. Enjoying the way Denji was angry at him, yet still trying to act like he called the shots when his movements proved differently: clumsy and inexperienced; Denji had no idea what he was doing.
But Aki still liked it. That’s why he didn’t shove Denji off of him when the boy crowded him against the door from behind. Didn’t resist when Denji’s hands unfastened both their belts, pulling their pants down.
Hell, Aki started getting impatient when Denji’s movements became hesitant. He even looked over his shoulder to direct Denji on what to do.
The point is, Aki wanted it bad; he’s not as arrogant as Denji thinks to deny he probably wanted Denji to fuck him more than Denji wanted to in that moment.)
His thighs are wet and glossy with precum and spit, and there’s the incessant slick slide of Denji’s cock in between them. The sound and sensation of skin slapping against each other all overlap.
Aki cannot keep up. His knees are weak, a second away from buckling. Legs burn from the strain of keeping himself from collapsing as he endures Denji’s brutal pace and his filthy words.
Denji had been panting and moaning in Aki’s ear, smearing saliva on his neck, shoulder, and some of his loose hair. He continues whispering brokenly that Aki is messed up in the head for enjoying this, and Aki wants to deny it in the name of his self-dignity but it would be pointless.
They both know the truth.
::::::::::
It hurts. Aki’s cock aches and it feels like it might explode. He hasn’t gotten the chance to touch himself yet, so he reaches for his curved and bobbing, leaking pathetic thing, but Denji is quick to detach the hand clutching Aki’s hip to slap his hand away. The other hand wrapped around Aki’s middle—keeping him in place, in the ideal position—tightens. A warning.
As if that is not enough, Denji makes a point to growl and says, “Not allowed to touch yourself ‘less I say you can.” With his freehand that just slapped Aki’s away, he smacks Aki’s thigh meanly.
Aki chokes, spit flying out of his mouth and begins to blubber. He tries to stifle his hiccups and the initial stages of waterworks, but Denji’s indifference and continuous thrusting is what eventually makes Aki break out in a sob. Tears trail down his already heated cheeks, and he hiccups and whimpers like a child.
Denji doesn’t care. Doesn’t stop. In fact, hearing Aki cry eggs him on. Makes him feral.
“Tighter. I need—squeeze your legs tighter you fuckin’ freak,” Denji stutters, pulling Aki closer. The stall’s door rattles from the force of Denji slamming his hips into Aki. Aki’s shoes squeak against the filthy tiles.
He can’t reel in the whimper that escapes him.
He blushes even more from having his pride stripped away and dragged in the mud by Denji, and nearly comes right then and there. But he pulls himself back together in time, swallows down the obstructive lump rising in his throat. All that sneaks away from Aki is a shaky Guh.
Denji’s demand and derogatory remark makes Aki sob harder. Squeezing his quivering and messy thighs closer, Aki feels his inner thighs mold around the shape of Denji’s cock. He does as he was told. He listens to Denji. He’s being g—
“Good Aki. Good Aki.” Denji says as if praising a dog. “You feel so fuckin’ awesome…”
Aki’s neglected dick leaks more, weeping just as much as himself.
Denji hammers in the final nail in the coffin by saying, “You’re a—like a good puppy.”
And Aki’s balls tighten. His cock twitches one final time before he’s pushed to his peak. He tosses his head back, colliding with Denji’s sweaty shoulder and comes, his release bursting in an arch from the flushed head onto his abdomen and Denji’s forearm. Eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape. A reedy moan is punched from his lungs as his head rushes, and his limbs prickle, on the verge of going numb.
Although, it doesn’t get to that point because blonde hair tickles his temple and the next second, there’s a dull, then sharp pain on his auricle. After a second, the pressure is gone, leaving a burning buzz in its wake.
Denji just bit him. Bit his ear.
The pain, it should stay as just that: pain. A bad sensation, something he shouldn’t like.
Aki doesn’t like getting injured. Tries to avoid injuries as best he can. Of course, in his field of work, it is inevitable. Even then, Aki is very cautious, using his agility and abilities granted from the contracts he made with specific devils to his advantage.
Which means he should hate Denji for biting him. Should hate how there is still a persistent sting lingering about his ear.
Denji and Aki—they both aren’t new to pain, especially when it comes to inflicting it on each other. During their first meeting, the two of them exchanged fists longer than they had their first civilized conversation.
As it stands, Aki does not have a penchant for pain. Doesn’t derive any sense of pleasure from it. Once he learned the difference between a masochist and sadist, he had determined that he was neither.
And yet…
Here Aki is, failing to keep his knees from imploding with his sticky forehead pressed against the bathroom door of this dilapidated sushi restaurant. His head hangs low, gaze entirely on his spent cock and Denji’s cock that peeks out from between his thighs to greet Aki before retreating to do the same thing all over again.
The parts Aki can’t see, he sure as hell can feel, like the continuous glide of Denji’s wet cockhead from his inner thighs and underside of his balls, to the cleft of his ass. Aki doesn’t need to see to know that even though Denji’s cock is a good distance away from his hole, it is still messy. Still glistening from Denji’s precum because the boy’s thrusting is all over the place, errant. Sometimes his dick will slide where it’s supposed to perfectly, rubbing against his own dick, and sometimes it won’t, leaving Aki a bit unsatisfied with just the feeling of Denji’s warmth making space between his legs and clinging to his back, dipping all the way down to his spine as compensation—Aki likes how warm Denji is.
And yet…
Here Aki is, palms slipping down the door as he watches his cock, flaccid mere seconds ago, wake to life again. Swelling and hardening and curving up to his navel. Again. It’s a gradual reaction, yet happens within a time frame that has never been possible for Aki; he wonders where his refractory period went.
Aki isn’t an idiot. He knows why his body reacted like that. He doesn’t need it spelled out, can’t delude himself either since the truth is evident from his hard cock for the second time in the span of fifteen minutes.
He hopes Denji won’t ask him about it.
Denji needs to hurry up and come already. They’ve been in this shitty bathroom for a bit over fifteen minutes, and even though Aki knows that Denji, Power, and himself are the only ones dining at this restaurant, he’d rather not risk it. Besides, Power may very well get suspicious or impatient and bust into the men’s bathroom to summon their presence. Or maybe Power’s too busy stuffing her face or harassing the waiters and restaurant owner.
“Hurry, Denji,” Aki says in a hushed tone.
Something warm and wet latches onto the skin between his shoulder and neck.
Pressure settles over his skin.
Sucking sounds click below his ear.
Realization slides in exactly how Denji’s hand moves lower from cradling Aki’s ribs in a firm grip to curving around Aki’s waist, fingers gently digging into his stomach. Denji continues to suck on his skin. After a few seconds, he moves his mouth upward to latch onto another spot, this time higher up Aki’s neck. It’s a difficult area to cover up with their current attire as Devil Hunters; the white button up and blazer doesn’t hide anything higher than their clavicles and just a little bit of their neck.
“You can’t—”
“Aki’s hard again,” Denji interjects idly.
And damn it, Denji does not have to bring that up. It only makes Aki fixate on the feeling of Denji sucking hickies on his skin, and the dull sting of his ear—like when he got his ears pierced—from where Denji bit him.
His hard cock that seems intent on making Aki’s life miserable because it throbs, attributed by Denji. Denji. And more Denji. His damn mouth and damn hands and damn dick fucking his thighs.
Aki falls silent. At this rate, Denji might actually make him orgasm. Twice.
“Just shut up and finish quickly, you idiot,” Aki grumbles, cheeks aflame.
Denji whines. “Then help me,” he says after finally detaching his damn mouth off Aki's neck. There are two spots along the curve of his neck that feel especially tender. “Help me come.”
Affronted, Aki wants to slam his head back into Denji’s face.
He doesn’t.
“Can’t do anything on your own,” Aki says under his breath.
Aki begins to slowly rock his hips back, picking up his pace when Denji catches on and attempts to mirror Aki’s movements. When Aki pulls his hips forward, Denji pulls back; and when Aki thrusts his hips back, Denji thrusts forward.
Aki will never admit how mesmerized and a little bit in love he is with seeing Denji’s dick pop out between his legs, like he’s got it trapped and completely at his mercy. The sight is maybe, just a bit cute.
Soon enough, the telltale signs of their climax show. Denji’s rhythm becomes sloppy and frantic, same as Aki. They’ve thrown out following their system for self-fulfilling reasons, solely focused on chasing their respective release.
Denji presses Aki further up against the bathroom door, both hands gripping Aki’s hips as he whimpers and pants and slobbers by Aki’s ear.
Aki’s hands clutch onto Denji’s wrists, nails biting into his skin. With each drive of Denji’s hips, Aki accompanies it with a chant of Denji Denji Denji.
Denji comes first, then Aki follows not long after, the trigger being the warm feeling of Denji’s cum spilling on his thighs.
They wipe each other clean with toilet paper before exiting the bathroom stall to wash their hands.
::::::::::
As they wash their hands, Denji notices Aki staring at his own khaki pants, blotted and smeared with white. Some spots dried off, while others are still wet.
“Why’re dudes so gross?” Denji mock gags. “Always gotta leave a mess behind.”
Ironic. Talking as if he isn’t the one who caused a mess himself.
Aki wants to punch Denji, and he was so close to actually following through with it. But instead, he says, “It’s not gross. It’s natural. And it’s not that bad once you get used to it.”
When Aki looks up from shutting off the water faucet, Denji silently stares at him with raised brows. A subtle sparkle in his honey-brown eyes.
“Do you…you like it?” Denji says. Voice light, but with something in his tone.
“Well—that’s…I didn’t say it was terrible,” Aki settles on. “But—”
It’s too late, Denji has already shut down all hearing functions and turned on his heels to head out of the bathroom.
“‘Kay, ‘kay, Aki. Guess that means I’ll just finish on or in ya from now on. Deal? This is—hmm…this is our contract!” Denji says in revelation once he finds the right word. He snickers at his ow joke.
Unknowingly, he leaves a red-faced, gobsmacked Aki behind.
::::::::
Denji returns to his seat at the table, food already served with Power not sparing his return a glance as she eats away beside him. Blissful and ready to dig in, Denji claps his hands together. “Thanks for the meal!”
Come to think of it, Denji doesn’t even remember why he was so angry with Aki in the first place.