Work Text:
"Sit."
Denji sat cross-legged. He was shaking. His eyes were distant, glassy; his face still stained with Power's blood.
"I, uh, I don't know about this," Makima could imagine him saying. She could see it in the slackness of his jaw and the sweat that ran down his arms in sticky rivulets. But she had drilled through him, and his thoughts poured out of his body before they could collect and form words.
"Take off your pants. Here, I'll help."
Makima reached around him to undo his fly. Her breasts pressed against his spine, and he shivered. Her shirt was growing damp from sweat, and she pressed her nose against the crook of his neck to inhale the scent.
Denji pulled his pants down the rest of the way, yanking them past uncooperative knees and finally staring blankly when they tangled around his ankles.
"It's fine like that. It's like a hobble, you know? I used them when I was force-breaking Mochi - he was the first dog I had as an adult, a hunting dog. I prefer huskies now, but he was sweet. He was very good at this, too."
She took his hands, gently, and placed them on the floor in front of him. Denji didn't get the hint, so she struck him on his ass once, neither lightly nor harshly. He took the cue, and got onto all fours.
"This next part needs a bit of preparation. Stay."
Makima rose and headed for her bedroom cabinet. When she returned with the lube, Denji was still trembling in position. Tiramisu and Cocoa were nosing at his limp cock. She smiled.
"This'll be a new thing for you, right, Denji?" She coated two of her fingers and brushed them against his hole. He shuddered and his whole body tensed. "Shh, relax. I'm here. Think of this as one way of getting to know each other."
On her command, Denji went slack, barely using enough force to keep himself in position. She slipped one finger in, curling it against him until he panted. The second finger followed. It was rote, mechanical. She had planned this out long ago, turned the idea over in her head until it was smooth. She did not lust, but she could admit to fantasizing. She was a fan, after all.
Makima pulled her slick fingers out of Denji's ass. He jerked, yelping or whining. It didn't matter.
"Shush." She ran her fingers down over his perineum to cup his balls and hardening cock. "You're being a good boy." She gave his cock a cursory pump as she shifted out of the way. "Tiramisu, come here. Denji, stay."
Tiramisu trotted over, tail wagging. She reached beneath to stroke him to arousal as he resumed nosing at Denji's crotch. Makima had to agree with him - so many interesting scents. Tiramisu was used to this, and he shuffled forward as she let go and gave him a scratch on the ears. Denji gasped as Tiramisu put his full weight on him and scooted forward until his cock was rubbing against Denji's ass.
"Ah - Ma - !"
"Shh. Don't think." Makima moved in front of him and placed a finger against his lips. Denji swallowed and sucked in his lips. "Good boy."
Tiramisu rutted against Denji, searching for his hole. When he finally slipped in, Denji's arms shook so hard they gave out. Makima caught his shoulder and cradled his head in her lap as Tiramisu scrabbled to adjust to the change in position. Denji pressed his forehead into the fabric of her slacks and moaned. The friction made bits of Power's blood flake off and land around her feet. His saliva dripped into the fabric, and Makima slipped a finger into his mouth. He bit down gently.
Why won't you eat me, Chainsaw Man?
"Fuck," Denji slurred as he came, the first real word he'd spoken the whole time.
This isn't Chainsaw Man. Chainsaw Man is silent. He doesn't talk like this. Chainsaw Man leaves hordes of devils broken. This thing fucked raw before her is beneath her.
If only she could believe it. If only she hadn't seen Chainsaw Man's maw swallowing flesh from shapes she could no longer picture and beings she could no longer name. If only this body didn't stink of that monster.
Instead, she stroked his cheek. "Did you do this with Pochita, Denji? Or is this your first time?"
Tiramisu yelped, distracting them both. He slid out of Denji whimpering, his knot swollen and flushed. Makima sighed. She had wanted to see them locked together. Oh well. There would be a next time, after all.
"I'll get each of you good boys a towel," she said. As she moved to rise, Denji tapped her knee. "Oh?"
He held up one finger. His first.
Makima smiled.