Chapter Text
“Dude,” groaned Ryuji into the paper-stacked space between him and whoever followed through with his request that day, “I’m starvin’.” He stretched his arms in front of him on top of the table and bonked his forehead into the wood.
He’d made study plans with Ann at Leblanc with hopes Akira could show up to help as well, but the somewhat elusive boy was already caught up in something or other to do with learning gun tricks to overpower a particularly stubborn target in Mementos. For some inexplicable reason, Yusuke and Futaba had tagged along too and pulled up chairs to engage with their session. It had Ryuji cocking his head in confusion when they stepped in; it wasn’t like they were even doing anything worth hanging out for, so what gives?
Ann balked at him, demeanor annoyed from their already torturous session. “Seriously? Didn’t you literally just stuff yourself with tons of Boss’s curry?”
“That ain’t what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” he responded, propping his chin up on the table to look up at her. “There’s this manga series I was totally hooked on, but it was real short and I’m effin’ starved of the characters, that’s all!”
She sighed. “Time may go on but you really never get less simple, huh?” She twirled a finger into her hair, attitude suddenly shifting into a very easy-to-read attempt at slyness. “Sometimes I wonder why Ak-”
“OH!! I know what you’re talking about!!” Futaba interrupted suddenly from the stool she was perched on, flinging both her arms in the air. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt that way, Ryuji?!”
He sat up slightly, still staying hunched over the table with his arms crossed. “What the hell’re you gonna do ‘bout it?”
The girl snickered. “Send ya links to the deepest treasure troves of doujinshi for your precious boys that I can get my hands on is what. Don’t you doubt me. I have connections.”
“Oh…” Yusuke seemed to finally pick up on the conversation now from where he sat idly sketching in between graceful snacking. “A truly unique form of art, but valid nonetheless. One’s interpretive perspective on another’s existing story can say quite a bit about transformation within the self.”
“Pause,” Ann put her pen down, face a bit scrunched up. “What is this for? Did you say ‘boys’?”
“What! Nothin’!” Ryuji sat up straight then, grabbing a stack of papers. “How did question six go for ya, Ann? ‘Cuz I totally don’t-”
“Fail,” she cut in, pointing at him. “Ryuji. And, don’t freak out okay. It’s fine. I promise you. But what kind of manga are you reading?”
Yusuke casually tapped the end of his pen into his sketchpad. “Oh. Is this about how Ryuji managed to embrace his sexuality via a Boy’s Love series and seduce Akira into a relationship with him at last?”
The table was thrust into stunned silence, and all faces stared open-mouthed at the accuser.
“...Dude, what the eff.”
“How did you know that.” Futaba deadpanned.
Ann slammed her hands into the table in a vaguely interrogator-esque way. “I KNEW it! What the hell–Akira actually crossed over his painful pining stage and sealed the deal with you and he didn’t even TELL ME?!”
“It was like a week ago!! Two… ish… two and a half?” All eyes immediately turned to Ryuji, and he felt the sudden urge to cover his rapidly warming face. “Doesn’t matter! He sure didn’t seem to exactly find it a matter of importance! Also, it was me who sealed the deal, thanks very much for your confidence.”
Ann couldn’t help but grin, even if she was acting annoyed. “You mean to tell me I was about to sit here to try to get some info out of you to set you two up. And you’re already dating? Oh my god…”
“Ann, you’ve been doing that for like the past…” Futaba paused to make a quick mental count in her head. “No, wait. Since whenever it was that I first met you guys. Seems I take the win on that front, Pantherrr.” She drew out the mention of her codename smugly.
Ryuji groaned. “So this is why you guys all showed up today. Okay.”
“I for one revel in your company, Ryuji.” The other boy at the table gestured towards him, legs crossed.
“I’ll take what I can get.”
“Is nobody going to bring up Ryuji’s unconventional taste in romance manga?” The door to the café gave its telling chime at being swung open, and in stepped the man of the hour. Akira had a small smile on his face, and easy words came to mind to describe it, calm, sweet. He was never any less enlightening to see. Ryuji felt so spoiled now, to be able to appreciate it without any guilt.
Ann whipped around, slamming the table once again. “You have SO MUCH to explain, seriously. You know I’m desperate to see gays succeed! You’d really lead me on like that?!”
Ryuji leaned back in the booth and made another exasperated noise. “I’m so sorry, dude. They ALL walked in here with an agenda.”
“And you still call him ‘dude,’” she continued, her tone of voice flat.
He stepped towards them casually, with his usual off-balance thanks to the heavy cat peeking out of the bag on his shoulder, thankfully not appearing to be too mad. Quite the opposite honestly, which was a relief. “It’s okay, okay? No need to worry, I have no complaints. Plus, it means I get to do this.” Like it was the most natural thing in the world and not the event of the month for the entire table party, Akira leaned down with a pleased twinkle in his irises and gave Ryuji a modest kiss on the side of his temple. Ryuji looked down at the table and couldn’t suppress a reactive grin and dust of blush. He put his drink to his lips to hide his dumb giddiness while everyone cooed.
“Ugh,” whiskers twitched in annoyance, and a predictable feline tongue stuck out in distaste. “I didn’t think it could be even worse than having to deal with you crushing like a lead teenager in those weird dramas you make me watch. You know what he said to me the night Ryuji confessed?” Morgana drew eyes, an easy feat when dangling relationship lore at one’s gullible companions. “Okay, no. I’d rather barf acid than repeat it.”
“‘He’s MY idiot now, and I’m going to make breakfast for him every morning in an apartment with stupid trinkets on the counters,’” Akira supplied helpfully in his place, keeping an ironically straight face the entire time. “After Morgana called him an idiot.”
“Stop, stop! I’m already dead,” Ryuji put his face in his hands again, and the group burst into laughter.
Futaba gave Ryuji’s elbow a pat, grinning. More ammo to unload. “You know Sojiro has just been behind the counter with the paper listening to us this whole time, right?”
Ryuji spat out his soda. Many pairs of hands scrambled to save their papers.
-
About a week later, a discreet package arrived at Ryuji’s apartment alongside a telling ping on his phone.
Futaba: The goods have arrived. You can thank me later ;)
Completely unmarred cardboard, with nothing but his address on it. That’s what almost made it suspicious. He sighed and felt too self conscious to respond, so he set his phone aside. He brute-forced it open on his bed to find a hefty stack of thin books inside, all their covers just as questionably cheesy as those on the source itself. Ryuji couldn’t help but wonder how his friend had managed to procure such a collection. At least she knew better than to hand it to him out in the open.
He took whatever his hand reached first and plopped back on his bed in his ever faithful manga reading position, mentally putting aside whatever responsibilities he was supposed to be shackled with that day.
Ryuji had known of the existence of fan-published work, and that there was a whole culture around it to the point a massive convention had people talking every year, but not much else regarding it. He gave the cover of this first book a scan, thinking. The art style was for sure its own thing, a sharper edge to the characters’ angles as they posed like they were facing a phone camera, sweet, fluffy, welcoming the reader into their lives.
Well, at this point? He definitely wasn’t a stranger to new territory with manga, so he sat rather unfazed while he flipped along the first few pages to start the story, taking in the new style the characters were portrayed in and quickly getting used to its quirks.
Asahi and Botan found themselves alone. Common, seeing as they were roommates– but the framing of the story implied that this was during a time that the both of them had been very busy, and out of the apartment all the time. It made them start to make annoyed quips at one another, argue in a halfhearted way, but it was clear the tension was split between genuine anger and interest in one another.
They got physical, lightly. Asahi grabbed Botan by the elbow and made him step back to hit a wall. There were fan-serving point-of-view panels of each of them in that position, naturally. Feeling cornered, Botan confessed that he had been selfishly missing having him around, and it strung the tension tighter than ever, so ready to snap.
In the next page, there was a full-page illustration of Asahi pressing closer and settling his knee into Botan’s crotch, revealing the fact that they were both in some other adrenaline peak that involved more than just bickering.
Something sparked in Ryuji like a small flame where he lay, trickling quickly down to his gut. As the panels went on there were more–hands atop clothes, wanting eyes at one another, kissing, too, a lot of kissing–this was getting way… further than he expected, but the (in a way, literally) growing interest that heat up slowly in the core of his abdomen nudged him just enough to keep going, little by little.
There was no expectation to brace himself when he turned the next page and yeah okay. That was a penis.
He quickly closed it with his thumb still between the pages to re-assess the cover, sweating a little. Okay, yeah, shit. Not sure how he missed the nice bold “R18” in the bottom corner, but whatever, it only made him totally unprepared to get smacked in the face with ALL THAT. Uh, metaphorically.
But it wasn’t like… the first time he’d had porn in his room, or in his hands. Pfff. Not even close. It just wasn’t ever Asahi and Botan. It wasn’t even ever…
…Gay.
He swallowed, uncharacteristically nervous about the whole thing. He guessed… he was basically gay now, in a way. He’d had his curious sinful deep dives on the Internet in his time, gave himself glimpses of the things gay dudes did even before he had his awakening, but stopped himself there every time. Always ended up clicking away when he became aware of how tauntingly excited his body got, working like an enemy against his conscience.
This time, he re-opened the slim book where it had been marked with his thumb. The more self-accepting person he had recently become had won.
Asahi had sat down and pushed an eager Botan to his knees, who did the honors to free him and revealed the dick in the panel that had slapped Ryuji into shock. Uh, metaphorically. Again. That wasn’t… whatever.
In a genuinely sinful Asahi point-of-view shot, Botan took him in one hand and kissed his exaggerated length from the other side. Shit. Ryuji squirmed a little, kind of uncomfortable in his pants now. He was so effin’ hot there. Botan’s gumption as he pressed forward to lick and slobber over Asahi, his glasses slipping out of place, further guided by a shaky hand in his hair to actually throat his partner, made him genuinely start to twitch with guilty need. It was like his groin was begging for relief, for a snap of its own tension that was stronger than he’d felt via visual material for a long while.
He bit the bullet after quickly zipping down his slacks and flopped himself out of his underwear, wasting no time in starting to stroke his dick without much charming introduction.
Listen, he was not ashamed to admit that he did kinda make a hobby out of it, okay? It made him feel better super easily! He was that age! And also constantly surrounded by hot people, real or not! Not to mention, how all over the place his hormones had been now that he had a boyfrie-
At the thought of Akira, Ryuji felt himself straight up stutter. His gut became hot in an oddly pleasant way. This wasn’t really–he hadn’t–well, like, was it allowed?
He grunted, confused, but unwilling to stop. No, that’s stupid. Akira wouldn’t know, and… (he bit back a whine that came with a shudder.) he was his boyfriend, so this was like, the point, right? To picture him sweet and soft, or desperate and wrecked, in whatever way his mind thought beneficial and not at all valiant at the moment. It’d happen, if they weren’t cowards, the intimacy spelled out on the amateur pages before him.
It’d… happen. He pictured it, twisted and sped up his hand, and saw whatever he let himself imagine as pleasure clouded over his self awareness, Akira’s dark eyes gazing right into his soul with want, and his perfect soft swathe of hair, hair that was so easy to grab and maybe yank forward, forward towards his hips, his neck, collarbones that he could bury his forehead into and skin he could smell, and, and his shoulders, the shape of them bare from behind, what it’d look like to see them in front of him while he-
Ryuji had to bite his lip hard to suppress the groan that coming the hardest he could possibly remember ever doing tried to rip out of him. Yup, they didn’t lie, that post-nut bliss could knock someone out of order worse than sprinting a mile. He laid there panting for a second to just. Recover. When the world stopped spinning, he inhaled, and swallowed. Holy shit. Holy shit.
He ruffled around in his dresser for some tissues and wondered how he was going to look Akira in the face without clamming up at school tomorrow.
-
In contrast to Okumura’s desolate metal halls, the flashy night-life swing of Sae Niijima’s booming Palace felt truly alive. All the others before hers had maddened Ryuji in some way, with the exception of one more tragic case. This one, though, it was almost… fun. Everything about this Palace was an improvement, and felt so much more enjoyable to work through.
Well, except for one thing.
“I don’t doubt your leadership, honest,” a precise gesture from sharp beaks and princely attire punctured the talk of the group as Goro Akechi stood almost without respect at Akira’s front. “It was just an opportunity, and I took it.”
The other man scanned him, demeanor masked, expression hidden by dark hair and hard harlequin plate. “The agreement on this team is for my guidance to assist our cooperation. Working against that is a hindrance to our efficiency, Crow.”
“Or perhaps you’re mad I took your kill.” He smirked devilishly.
Akira shook his head, but was smiling in turn. “So then that means you agree that I’d have finished it off just as well?”
“Well you are the highest talent among you, so I wouldn’t doubt it, Leader,” Akechi stood up straight, confident. “You say you’re all very willing to just do as he says, correct? Have been, for all your run?”
The rest of the group, who had been standing there somewhat awkwardly as the two had their very one-on-one spat, gave various affirmations with hesitation. Sensing that tear in their isolated scuffle and daring to rip it open, Ryuji stepped forward. “Proud to tell ya that I trust whatever he wants from us, yeah.”
“Hm,” Akechi gave Ryuji an unreadable once-over and turned back to his cloaked subject. “Maybe, if I could then. I’ll humbly point out that I seem to be a unique case among you all? Your strength comes from taking Joker’s orders, but I have no issue with implementing my own strategies.”
Ryuji didn’t like where this was going.
The white figure slunk up to Joker with a sly finger pointed up at him, and the intentional charm of the action directed at the man made something acidic tinge the back of Ryuji’s throat. Akechi, grossly close now, poked his gloved pointer into Akira’s chest, and the taste became more like sickly bile. “Some might interpret it as you finally coming up against someone of equal standing to you. But that’s only if you do your follow-up a little bit quicker next time.” He pressed in. On his toes, he leaned even further forward for emphasis.
Ryuji couldn’t stop his feet; completely out of his control, body acting before mind, he was at Akira’s side. He hooked his chin menacingly over his shoulder, protectively wound an arm around his midriff to hold him close. Akira made a small shocked noise, something between a light gasp and odd squeak. “I think what my partner is tryin’ to get through your thick skull is that ya better do what he says or yer gettin’ booted to the tail for clean-up.”
Blinking, the smaller man took one step back (Good. That ought to humble him, Ryuji thought). He rested his other hand at Akira’s other side without even glancing away from him, shooting bullets at the man with just his eyes, warning, daring.
“Uh-” Akira cleared his throat, and Ryuji felt the vibration of it on his ear. “Put a bit bluntly, Skull. But seriously, Crow, do save the dramatics for outside the Palace? This job is important, and we have no room for messing around like that.”
In the corner of Ryuji’s vision, he saw Futaba roll her eyes. Having some thought about how that absolutely wasn’t the problem, or something.
Akechi backed off, occupying himself with scouting some corner for hidden treasure or the like, and the rest of the team fizzled into chats amongst themselves. Akira turned his head towards where Ryuji’s own was placed on his shoulder. Ryuji raised it to better meet his eyes. “Uh, hey?”
Suddenly, with those eyes on his, a feeling in his stomach turned sour. “S-sorry,” Ryuji stammered out, peeling the rest of himself off of his boyfriend. “God, that was, uh. I mean I know you’re–I trust ya and you can handle it on your own, I just–I dunno.” Shit, what the hell? Ryuji wasn’t some clingy little girl, so why was he acting like if he let Akira out of his sight, the man’d be jumped instantly by his stupid ”equal?”
“Hey, wait, Skull-”
“I’m just gonna,” he gestured towards where Ann and Yusuke were comparing various items they’d picked up on their route so far, “yeah, talk to ya later!” He shot him a grin and a very affirming finger-guns-snap before turning around and feeling his expression fall.
As the hours pressed on, when he thought about Akechi acting so… sultry with his boyfriend a well of rage sprung up in his heart, even after many times of mentally slapping himself in the face for it. Akira didn’t deserve the kind of guy who felt the need to go all possessive-angry mode whenever someone shot a very easily rejected advance his way.
So he clenched his fists and decided to not be that guy. Or more straightforwardly, pretend that he very much hadn’t done that and that there were no strange feelings associated with the very not-a-threat-to-his-relationship detective.
-
“Why don’t we head to my place this time?” Ryuji returned to Akira with two sodas in hand, flipping the one in his right in the air idly.
Yeah, he was interested in showing the guy the place at some point. But also… something about the totally casual and not suspicious suggestion made something in Ryuji’s heart relax with security. He’d been itching for some alone time with Akira, and since their last infiltration, they’d finally found an afternoon to mess around. In Ryuji’s room… Akira was on different turf, less advantaged. It was Ryuji who’d have him all to himself.
With the calling card and a daring plan held off until the last possible day, there was nothing to do but wait for action. Victory… or disaster.
“Sure,” the other boy accepted with a grin, taking the Dr. Salt NEO from Ryuji’s left hand and cracking it open. “Uh, hey.”
“Mhm?”
“Nothing really, I just,” Akira shook his head, “thanks… I could really use the relaxation right now.”
Ryuji took his hand. The other boy looked down at their brushing palms, turning adorably rosy. “Who would I be to let my boy down?”
He must have looked lovestruck as he separated their hold briefly to twist his own Monta open, but yelled suddenly when the liquid fizzled over his fingers, jolting back. Akira’s unhelpful laughter sounded as he scrambled to gain control of the mess, in an expressive panic.
-
“And… gotcha!” Ryuji gave a victorious whoop in company with Akira’s own defeated groan, happily waving his controller. The TV softly rang winning music into their ears, and flashed sweet light onto their up-too-close faces in the room.
The apartment was empty, Ryuji’s mom having just stepped out for work and barely missing them when they casually slid in. He’d shown Akira what he could of the modest place, being sure to focus much more on where he could get a drink and much less where his nosy hands could find a photo album. A little embarrassed, he’d apologized for its lack of grandeur. Akira had simply looked on affectionately, and confessed he found it charming; and still much better than a café attic, anyway.
They ended up trying out Ryuji’s console, which was of cute interest to Akira, being far more modern than the retro games he usually spent his free time with. The visitor placed his controller down on the floor, and sat slouched with an endearing air of mild irritation. “So, maybe you win at this,” he admitted, allowing the other boy to nod matter-of-factly, “buuuut in terms of us not being found out… I think I take the cake.”
Ryuji gaped at the sudden unnecessary dig. “Oh yeah?” He challenged, lighthearted. “What about Ann apparently coaching ya through likin’ me?”
“I’ll have you know that getting wingmanned by her was unconsensual on my part,” he said, putting up a finger matter-of-factly. In contrast, Ryuji still noticed a light blush play on his face, as if he was embarrassed to think about back when he was crushing.
Score. “Looks like I win at the game and getting ya a bit flustered,” he grinned, unapologetic.
“You…” at a loss of response, Akira searched for another way of escape. A pause, a thought; and then he lunged, hand aimed high at the controller still gripped between Ryuji’s fingers.
He jolted his arm back, making the other boy fall down onto the right side of his body. Using the opportunity where he could, Akira repositioned his hand to go for Ryuji himself, in an attempt to grip him into place; Ryuji did the same in tandem, prompting them to playfully wrestle and smack around for ownership of their prize.
“Using my emotions against me just isn’t fair, you know!“ Akira stuck his arm out and pulled at the cord connected to it, which simply unplugged it from its socket.
Ryuji shook his head, and shoved the other boy forward, gaining control for a second. “Oho ho. You’re one t’talk ‘bout not arguin’ with emotions when you n’that prissy detective go back n’ forth so ’emotionally’ over dumb shit-”
Akira regained his strength suddenly and managed to get a grip on both of Ryuji’s wrists– swinging him down all the way to the floor rapidly with both his hands pinning his arms above his head. “I’m not the one who told him off so bluntly.” He started seriously, but a teasing smirk traced the ends of his words. Above him, Akira was huffing, locked on, angelic. “Now remind me. Who would that be..?”
He gulped.
It was then that Ryuji realized that he was in fact definitely kinda very. Hard.
And–Well it wasn’t like this was anything new exactly, it happened on the regular. Or… maybe that was a bit of an understatement. When they kissed? Duh. When Ryuji got a good look at his ass? Definitely. Hugged or innocently cuddled each other? Unfortunately. Were literally just in the same room as each other? Flip a coin.
But this was different; here they were really actually in a position that truly highlighted it for once, and it made Ryuji’s blush reach all the way to his neck without much encouragement. The tone between them instantly flipped from sweet to alarmingly tense. Positively. Heatedly.
Akira slowly leaned down and pressed his forehead to Ryuji’s, and his breath was hot under their noses. Recognizing and reacting to the new atmosphere–because of course he was. “Hey,” he started in a new tone of voice, just slightly lower and huskier, enough to send a spike of heat down the other boy’s front.
“Hey yourself,” he responded, almost cringing at how nervous it sounded, so contrasted to his words.
“Tired of kissing me yet?”
“Not even close.”
Answer taken–Akira moved the short distance needed to let their lips meet, and raised a hand up to run his fingers through the side of Ryuji’s scalp, around his ear. He proceeded more recklessly than usual, skipping over a modest front to get straight to gifting him his tongue through ready teeth. Ryuji received it, opened up and licked beneath a lip in turn, pushing his nails in a familiar way into the long curls that started shorter at the top of Akira’s neck.
It was all so rapid and fast, but at the same time heavy and deliberate; at a bold move from Akira to trail hot kisses down Ryuji’s jawline to his neck, he actually genuinely moaned out a reaction for the first time and panicked–in a flash, his mind returned to the doujin that he’d had an intimate moment with just a few nights before–and mimicked Asahi’s action to bend up and press a brave knee between his legs.
Akira stopped suddenly and let out a strangled gasp-breath-moan-thing. And oh okay yeah. Ryuji could totally feel it. It being the other boy’s similarly at-peak boner.
“Jesus, Ryuji,” he breathed out in a wild new tone of voice. As if on instinct, his hips ground down slightly to gain some friction from Ryuji’s knee. Distantly he realized that it was his right one, seeing as the action made his leg feel sore for a second in that spot. But Akira was–he was so turned on, he didn’t seem to even think about it for a second. Fuck. That’s hot.
Ryuji pushed himself up so that he was sitting facing the other boy, hands behind him. It drew his attention, and at once, the atmosphere was tense again, sparks sizzling across the tatami floor under them. “I wanna do something.” He said softly, half confession, half suggestion. Said lightly, but heavy in truth.
“You do?” Akira’s eyes honest to God sparkled like he was a cat with a treat at his nose, but he kept his expression neutral otherwise. Still couldn’t mask how obvious his excitement was, though.
“Yeah.” His response kind of rumbled. He pressed his lips together and looked to the side briefly, thinking. A not so new idea that he’d been haunted by recently at night crept up, a desire infected into him by the stupid porny doujin mentioned previously. Akira’d have to thank War on Fireflies for this.
And Ryuji. Most importantly of all, Ryuji, and nobody else, would give him this. His gut twisted a little with uncertainty, his fluttering chest exceptionally nervous.
Akira took the signal into his own hands. He wrapped his arms around the other boy’s shoulders and planted himself straight down onto his lap, and he leaned into the pressure of it, following his gut. Ryuji gasped; it was cut off by the press of his partner’s lips against his, hungry and eager now that the interest was out there. No more hesitation; and Ryuji was honestly more than happy to be of service.
The strange, new sparky feeling of the back-and-forth grinding press of their hard fronts let free a muffled whine from Ryuji’s throat. Akira didn’t let up with even a little exhaustion, which was admirable, and shit, attractive as all hell. Still, the human stutters, and hesitation before grinding forward, and continued moments of tension that waited for either of them to roll, or press, or move in the next mere second; it all built unstable towers that began to beg for a toppling, a snap. The split focus on Ryuji’s mouth and groin weakened him significantly, had him overwhelmed, even, but understimulated at the same time.
And fuck it felt so good.
Their breathing had quickly become ragged, even more so to make way for Ryuji’s small moans and Akira’s grunts, which all went straight downstairs in fierce rushes. When the boy on top finally broke away for some recovery, they were panting and indescribably worked up. It was exciting unexplored territory, and they were right in the middle. Ryuji felt as if his zipper was almost going to burst.
But for this, he’d have to ignore it.
“Go sit on my bed,” he ordered suddenly, voice somewhat hoarse. When Akira nodded, sharp curiosity in his gaze, and actually stood up to do so, it hit Ryuji. He was actually going to try this. Oh shit.
No backing down now; as if he’d want to, with Akira looking all… that leaning back on Ryuji’s bed, face flushed deep red, breath sweetly huffy.
Akira made a beautiful face, somewhere between shocked and embarrassed and needy, when the boy still on the floor shuffled over to fit himself between his legs, on his knees. He rested careful hands on Akira’s thighs, and looked straight up.
“Let me suck you off?” He offered, low tone tinged light with anxiousness.
He couldn’t exactly say he was expecting the ever so graceful Akira to respond by dropping his mouth open and delivering a choked, “Wh-whuh.?”
“I mean,” Ryuji swallowed, relaxing his hands down off his thighs slightly. “It’s cool if-”
“Okay.”
The blunt acceptance cut into Ryuji’s words smoothly, grounding him again. He didn’t resist a delighted grin’s attempts to spread across his face. He would do this for him, Akira’d let him– always at his side, or his feet, to connect to him like no one else and break down his walls. Simply, intimately– a natural process for them both, simply because of them caring.
“Welp, buckle up.”
Akira raised a concerned eyebrow, but it was quickly humbled down when a large hand was pressed firmly against his crotch, shamelessly feeling him up. Yeah, felt more like a rock than a dick at this point. What really caught Ryuji’s attention, though, was the way it made the other boy sharply stiffen up, shuddering every now and then with a little huff, the smallest of low noises escaping his throat. A noticeable tension pooled in his own groin, an unconscious excitement in response to his senses.
“Mh, it’s uh,” Akira licked his lips, “rreally different having someone else do it.”
“Y-yeah?” Ryuji took in a large breath to calm his nerves. Fiddled with the belt, the button, used caution with the zipper so it wouldn’t catch in the thin cloth of the underwear beneath it. A wet spot already marred it where the fabric was straining, more than ready for release. He bit his lip. And since it reassured his mind, he thought back to the doujin.
Pulling back the basic white cloth just enough to free him, Ryuji gave him one good look– shit man, that expression, felt like it knocked him backwards, the way it melded desire with embarrassment so recklessly. His shoulders, tensed upwards to hold himself up with his arms behind him. Curving down to where his shirt was pushed up somewhat, where a trail of thick hairs disappeared into, from where they began at the base of his cock. The humble hard-on itself poking out from wrinkled unbuttoned plaid pants, a strangely cute but alluring thing– but he stopped himself from staring too long, and took him up in his hand instantly with a few testing strokes.
“Ah-”
What Botan did was unfortunately seared into his mind, and he took the cue, leaning forward to kiss the side of Akira’s shaft sweetly at first while he continued to jerk him gently.
“-AHh-”
Good sign, he thought, feeling accomplished all of a sudden. It fueled something in him, a need to see this through. New confidence pushed him into escalating to stronger strokes, and more ambitious sucks and licks along his length, all the way down to his underside and up to tease the sensitive tip.
“Gghhah, Ryuji,” the encouraging moan held with it a note of what the hell to it, which only ignited further desire in him to push that pleased shock to the brink.
Akira was HIS partner. HE was Akira’s number one. He was going to give him the best thing he’d ever felt, so he could FORGET about stupid annoyingly flirtatious rivals.
”I’ve got you,” he muttered low but a bit commandingly with the side of his mouth still pressed against his underside, before taking the plunge and taking Akira into him, at last.
It wasn’t fully, at first. Just his tip was submerged into the space past his lips. Ryuji wasn’t past playing around and tested a flick of his tongue on the flat of it, and the boy above him jolted slightly and made a noise he’d absolutely never heard before. Needed to hear again.
Gumption. Right, that was what was hot, not hesitation, and thank God for that; he gave a thoughtful hum onto Akira’s dick as he pressed down, tongue circling, intent to get more reactions. It was like Akira couldn’t catch a break, which was honestly fun to push, getting even less restricted with his groans as Ryuji got less careful with his mouth. From where he was, he could crack an eye open and give the boy a glance; and he did so just in time to see him looking already spent and unsteady, chest shuddering slightly, moving a reassuring arm forward to clutch his fingers into his light hair.
“Ohhfgh God,” he whined in a higher tone that cracked through the usual character of his voice when Ryuji responded to the grip of his stuttering hand by eagerly slobbering up and down and around and through and wherever he could, abandoning any pornographic influence to just indulge in the moment. Now that made a moment; Akira couldn’t help himself from twitching his hips slightly forward to chase even more, and Ryuji could only imagine he was holding himself back from shoving it wholly down him in brainless desire.
“R-Ryuji, I’m gh, I’m gonna-” prickly fingernails raked through his short hair in an attempt to minimize damage. Ryuji didn’t let up on his mission, pressing so far forward that his nose squished into skin, and he made a racy sloppy sound as his throat was breached. A high-pitched groan tore from the other. “Nnnnh, w-wait, Ryuji-”
Akira pushed at his head and wiggled his hips back, sweetly but lazily trying to pull him off despite the haze of lust for his sake; but he was not fazed. Doubling down, the boy shifted the weight of his body forward and laid his forearms over his thighs, pinning him. He didn’t do things halfway for Joker–for Akira. He saw everything through with full effort, his battles, his kisses, his sacrifices. And that was his place–only he was Akira’s truly devoted equal. Akira was only his to spoil, and absolutely no one else’s.
A breathy wail left Akira’s lips at the gesture. “Fhh, fuuhh-” there was no more fighting back he could do, and so he squirmed less against him and more in response. His chest shuddered as it rose and fell heavily. “I’m- Ryuji, fuck-”
Valiantly, Ryuji didn’t even hesitate to keep at it just as intently as he had been as Akira whined his throat dry and twitched, full-bodied. Not even as a salty tang coated the back of his tongue, spilling into him, wet meeting wet. All the way. Nothing half-assed. So when Akira relaxed a little in relief, a signal it was all over, Ryuji swallowed. Because why wouldn’t he, for Akira?
At the very first moment he was sure he’d cleaned up all of it, he whipped his head backwards and breathed. Despite being the one treated, Akira wasn’t faring much better, looking incredibly perplexed as he took shuddering breaths in and out, parts of his body weakly wobbling.
“That’s definitely something.” He eventually let out quickly with a large huff out. Ryuji stared back at him to see him smiling, his world at least a little rocked; he’d call that a success.
He wiped the side of his mouth with his knuckles indiscreetly, grinning back. “What? Didn’t expect the best from me?”
“It’s just… wow,” he played with a seam on his pants, still heaving a little. “I really thought I was gonna be the first one to do that.”
“I guess I’m… full of surprises?”
Akira laughed a little, huffy. “I might be too, if the confession that I think your jealousy is really hot is surprising.” He smirked before finally putting himself back together, lazily reaching for the tissues on Ryuji’s nightstand to clean away the remaining spit, and then fitting his not-entirely-spent-looking cock back into his pants with a look of satisfied disbelief on his face.
Ryuji sputtered. “I– w. Wwasn… okay. Okay! Maybe I was. A tiny bit.”
“A tiny bit.” The smugness on him only grew sharper.
He made a defensive noise. “I swear to you I am totally one hundred percent secure in your choices when it comes to…him.” He pointed in some vague direction to the side accusingly. “I just. You know.”
“Uh-huh.” He’d heard nothing more sarcastic in tone.
“Just shut up about it!” Ryuji stood up and joined him in sitting on his bed, intentionally throwing himself down roughly to shake the two in a distracting manner. Akira giggled in response, apparently finding it entertaining. Weirdo. At least that’s what Ryuji thought, until he took in the rewarding sight of his boyfriend laughing with genuine joy, and couldn’t help but join in on it, too.
Eventually it died down, and there was comfortable silence for just a few moments. “Aren’t you…” Akira stopped to breathe a little more, smiling. “I mean, you’re still all… excited, yeah? Do you need anything?”
“What I need,” he responded, “is a soda. Or a glass o’ water at the very least.”
He chuckled sweetly. “I mean, you’re the one who knows where your drinks are. But don’t forget about the vending machine outside if you happen to be out.”
“Great. Be right back, promise.”
On his way up, he got a gentle kick from behind him, and turned around to find a serious expression looking at him. “But really dude. Let me at least… touch you? Or something.”
Despite all that had just happened between them, that coupled with Akira’s bashful expression, further cute becoming as he smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, made Ryuji blush something fierce. He swallowed, ears still hot. “I mean. If you want to.”
“Alright!” He did his dumb little fist pump, making Ryuji kick him playfully back before rushing out for a much-needed throat refresher. His laughter followed him out of his room.