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It’s freeing to fight in the Metaverse. It’s the one place where Goro can really let go and let out steam, and it’s a refreshing catharsis in a way.
Unfortunately, the company could usually be better these days, as he and the Phantom Thieves don’t exactly have the best relationship. Their trips together are awkward at best. As vital as they are to success against Maruki, he finds himself reminiscing about before they rejoined the team, that brief moment in time when even Yoshizawa was gone, and it was just him and Akira.
Which is why it’s so satisfying when Akira agrees to train with him one-on-one in Mementos.
Goro is almost certain Akira has not told the rest of the Thieves about this arrangement, because there’s no way they would agree to it. Letting their precious leader be alone with his would-be assassin was unthinkable. Never mind the fact that Akira had already been alone with him in the Metaverse, while they were off indulging in their own fantasy lives, and they had done just fine for themselves.
They’re doing just fine now, too. Goro would even say they are doing better in certain ways, working in tandem as a team, without other people to slow them down or complicate things. He knows Akira is much stronger than his other teammates, on par with Goro’s own skills, and it’s satisfying to work with someone who can keep up with him.
He has to admit things would be a bit easier with Mona for transportation and Oracle as a proper navigator. But he and Akira work well together — they don’t really need anyone else.
Still, being a duo with no backup has its downsides, like when they get into a fight with a formidable group of Shadows after they’ve already been fighting for a while already, fatigue setting in and making their movements sloppy.
It’s still nothing they can’t handle.
That is, until one of the Shadows counters back with a powerful physical attack, and Akira takes the brunt of it, flying off of his feet.
“Joker!” Goro swears loudly, summoning Loki to hit the enemies with a Megidolaon.
The attack hits, white light enveloping the arena of battle. When the dust settles, the enemies are noticeably weakened, but still standing. He barely has time to be surprised before one of them rushes him in retaliation and he, too, is knocked off his feet.
Spitting blood from his mouth, Goro sits up from the ground, unable to suppress the manic laugh that bubbles out of him. “Finally, a real fight!”
But before he can get up, he hears a peculiar noise to his right — a deep, animalistic snarl, before a blurred dark shape streaks by his vision and barrels into the shadows.
Goro blinks. His head is still spinning from that last hit, but he doesn’t think he’s hallucinating the sight of Akira, in a frenzy of raw power and fury, tearing into the Shadows viciously with his dagger.
The guttural scream Akira lets out as he mercilessly rips the enemies apart is indicative of only one thing: Joker is enraged.
Goro has seen Akira inflicted with Rage before, during their previous trips to the Metaverse. He can’t deny that he enjoys seeing him that way — the usually quiet, composed Akira, who he has never seen angry before, in normal circumstances. There is a certain intoxicating allure to seeing him lose his composure.
Even now, he’s mesmerized, as he watches the shadows be reduced to dust at Akira’s hands. And as he, still furious, whips his head around frantically in search of something else to destroy. And when his gaze locks onto Goro, his lip curling in disgust, and he growls “You,” turning toward him and stalking forward with the bright eyes of a predator — rather than trepidation, Goro feels a thrill. A shiver runs down his spine, one of intrigue and excitement at seeing such a side to his rival.
This feeling is slightly complicated when Akira grabs him, rips his helmet off, and presses his dagger against his throat.
Or rather — it should be, if he were a normal person. As it stands, he can’t suppress the wild, satisfied grin on his face.
“You,” Akira says again, his voice a low growl, simmering with fury and frustration and sounding nothing like the normal Akira he knows. “You have no idea how much I want to fucking wreck you.”
Despite what rationality would call for in this situation (and despite the fact that Akira may very well have no qualms about slitting his throat right now) he can’t help but poke at the beast.
“Is that so, Joker?” he sneers. “I’d like to see you try.”
Akira snarls, his eyes flashing dangerously behind his mask, but before he can move, Goro musters his strength into a full body shove. It doesn’t put much space between them, but creates just enough of an opening for him to deliver a solid punch to Akira’s jaw.
It is quickly apparent that this does nothing to cure Akira’s status effect. On the contrary, he’s even more enraged than before. Goro has just enough time to unsheathe his sword before Akira lunges at him with a feral roar.
Their blades clash and then they’re off, matching each other step for step, hit for hit. The sheer, raw strength that Akira has, enhanced by the rage effect, has Goro on the defensive, twisting and weaving around him, using his speed to his advantage. Goro’s heart is thrumming loudly in his ears, a manic giddiness bubbling up in his chest, until he can’t suppress the delighted laughter spilling from his lips as they move together.
It’s all of the best parts of sparring with Akira — his rival, his match, this infuriating person who always met him toe to toe without even trying — and more, like all the chains of civility have been broken and Akira is finally giving it his all, unleashing all of his power with all of the chaos and violence that Goro loves to indulge in himself.
Akira’s anger grows as Goro continues to dodge and par his attacks. It culminates as he lets out a ragged cry and launches himself at Goro, slamming into him and knocking them both to the ground. Goro’s sword goes skittering across the floor and Akira is upon him.
They roll around as Goro tries to gain the advantage, kicking and punching and grabbing and scratching, and Goro barely knows what the hell he’s doing at this point, just that he can’t remember having more fun in his life.
That is until suddenly when Akira rolls on top of him, pinning him down and grabbing his wrists with one hand, and his other raises high, his dagger glinting in the light as it makes a wide arc in the air down to Goro’s body.
Goro has only one second to process that he’s about to be disemboweled and he squeezes his eyes shut reflexively, bracing for the pain.
Instead of the agony he was expecting, there’s a light stinging and he hisses, his eyes blinking open curiously.
Akira has used his dagger to cut Goro’s Metaverse suit, slicing it open along his chest and down his torso. The thin material parts easily, and tiny beads of blood well up in shallow cuts that are left along Goro’s skin.
Akira stares down at him for a moment, eyes blazing, before he ducks his head and licks a long line up one of the cuts, lapping at Goro’s blood.
And — well — this is certainly going in a different direction from what Goro was expecting.
He’s stunned for a moment, laying there motionless as Akira moves his head up, latching his mouth onto Goro’s neck, licking and biting the skin there.
“Mine,” he growls, and an unexpected, powerful jolt of arousal floods through Goro, causing him to shudder.
At this point, Akira seems more frustrated than furious, and Goro is realizing that he may have misinterpreted what Akira meant when he said he wanted to wreck him.
He’s also realizing that he does not have any reservations about that idea.
Except for the fact that Akira might not be in control of himself. But he sure seems like he knows what he’s doing, and it’s hard to remember to be concerned when he continues to touch him, mouthing at Goro’s throat and running his hands along Goro’s body. His gloved hands drag roughly along Goro’s bared skin and Goro shivers, arching automatically into the touch.
“Joker,” he tries, and he barely recognizes his own voice, pitched low and ragged.
“Shut up,” Akira snaps back at him, tightening his grip on Goro possessively, his hands digging into his sides. “You’re so — fucking — infuriating sometimes —” As he speaks he rolls their hips together and Goro sees stars, his mouth falling open in a gasp. “I’m going to show you exactly where you belong.”
This isn’t how Goro imagined things would go with them — and yes, he can’t deny that he has imagined it, many times. He thought he would be the one in control, to have Akira come undone beneath him, and the idea still has appeal, to be sure. But he’s surprised to find how excited he is to goad Akira into dominating him instead.
And goad he does, squirming against Akira’s grip and sneering at him. It’s all for show, really — if he really wanted to get Akira off of him, he could. His efforts are solely to piss Akira off more.
“And you think I belong to you?” he scoffs. “How arrogant, Joker. You have yet to show me you’re worthy of that.”
Akira’s lip curls and he bites down on Goro’s neck. Unlike the nips he was receiving before, this one breaks the skin. At the same time he feels Akira reach down to palm his crotch, which Goro realizes now is already half-hard.
Pain and pleasure scramble together in Goro’s brain and he cries out, a desperate obscene sound he didn’t know he could make.
Akira pulls back to survey him, his wild eyes dark and burning. Goro can only imagine what he looks like right now — utterly debauched, surely, panting and flushed and trembling ever so slightly with anticipation.
Whatever he looks like, it must spur Akira on, because he growls and grabs at Goro’s ripped suit, tearing it open the rest of the way. His hand continues to palm Goro’s quickly filling erection, now freed from the confines of his clothing, and Goro whines.
“Mine,” Akira says again, and it sounds affirming, like he’s proven to both of them that it’s true.
Goro can’t exactly argue otherwise right now; not with the pleasure buzzing in his veins as Akira touches him, with the way his body presses into his touch, craving the contact.
He sobers abruptly, though, when Akira’s hand dips lower, between his legs, and he feels gloved fingers circling his hole.
He clenches instinctively, squeezing his legs together. “Hey. Get away from there, you fucking animal. We don’t have any lube and there’s no way I’m letting you fuck me dry.”
Akira glares at him, grumbling in annoyance, but he doesn’t push the issue. His hand moves away from his hole and grips onto Goro’s thigh, lifting his leg up, and he grinds down, rutting against Goro and pressing his clothed erection against Goro’s.
“Y-You—” Goro nearly chokes on the words, moaning unabashedly. “You really are a fucking animal — humping me like you’re in heat — ”
Akira’s hand wraps around Goro’s throat and then he really does choke, for a moment. “Shut up, Crow,” he snarls, and Goro hopes he doesn’t realize how his cock twitches at that.
He’s really never thought of himself as a masochist, but there’s just something undeniably exhilarating about seeing Akira like this. Getting to coax this kind of response out of him — it’s a shame he can’t be like this more often.
With a whine of frustration, Akira pulls down his pants, just enough to free his own erection. Goro licks his lips at the sight of it, reddened and leaking, and he finds himself wishing they did have lube. His regrets don’t last for long as Akira presses their erections together, continuing to rut against him desperately.
“Fuck,” Goro gasps, his voice trembling along with his body as he wraps his leg around Akira, pulling him closer. He can’t help the noises that fall from his lips every time Akira grinds down, heat building rapidly in his belly. His hips move involuntarily, rolling up to meet Akira’s movements, trying to get closer, get more, anything he can get, it’s not enough and too much all at once.
“That’s right,” Akira mutters darkly, a breathiness to his voice that somehow turns Goro on more than anything else so far. “I’m going to take you apart.”
Akira’s fingers and mouth are everywhere, groping and biting Goro, drawing blood and pressing marks onto his skin, and his every nerve is alight with the overwhelming sensation. Held in place by Akira, his wrists trapped together, he can’t do much more than writhe beneath him, arching and bucking into Akira’s touches, chasing that delicious feeling building up inside of him every time their cocks grind together.
He doesn’t know how long they spend like that, but it seems like it’s over too soon as suddenly, all at once, Goro falls apart, a constellation of pleasure whiting out his vision and wracking his body. Akira continues using him as he shakes through his orgasm, the overstimulation becoming painful for a moment, before he finally follows suit with a long groan.
Goro lay limp on the floor, sucking in deep breaths of air. Akira collapses on top of him like a puppet with its strings cut, all of the energy and aggression gone out of him in an instant. Goro lets him lay there for a moment before he gathers the strength to push him off, where he rolls into the floor beside him, looking effectively unconscious.
Akira’s eyes blink open a few moments later, looking around blearily. He winces, like he’s waking up with a bad hangover. “Crow?”
“Hm?” Goro sits up, flexing his wrists, his arms a bit stiff and sore from where Akira had held them. “Are you back to normal now, Joker?”
Akira shoots upright, his gaze darting around frantically as he takes in their collective state — disheveled, half dressed, covered in cum, Goro with his suit in tatters and skin no doubt littered with marks and bruises. “Shit — I didn’t — I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Are you okay?”
He looks genuinely distressed, his eyes sad and guilty, such a far cry from how he had been only a minute before.
Goro misses it, but not as much as he thought he would. Evidently he likes how Akira normally is, too.
Not that he would ever admit that.
“I’m fine,” he says. “Don’t apologize. You weren’t quite yourself.” He pauses, suddenly wondering if he should be the one who feels guilty. Despite the fact that he feels utterly blissed-out at the moment. “If anything, I’m the one who took advantage.”
Akira’s face reddens. “No, I… you didn’t take advantage.” He glances away, a hand coming up to play with one of his curls. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Oh?” Goro smirks, intrigued.
“Yeah.” Akira looks back at him. Despite his embarrassment, he looks determined, like he needs Goro to know he’s being serious. “Honestly, you drive me crazy all the time. That was… still me. I was just angry.”
Goro hums, a warm feeling sizzling under his skin. “Perhaps you should get angry more often, then.”
Akira blinks at him. After a moment he looks amused, his mouth twitching. “I have a feeling you’ll see to that.”
Goro laughs, grinning at him with a smile like a knife, because he’s not wrong. If the results of making Akira angry are anything like they were today, Goro will definitely see to that.
He can’t wait to see how his rival will impress him next time.