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Ryuji groans, pushing his full weight against the pile of precariously stacked items in the wayback of the Morgana bus. “Come on, you guys. Can’t you move your asses over any more?”

Akira sighs, pushing himself against the door on the opposite side. “It’s not like we haven’t already tried. We volunteered to sit back here with all this stuff, so maybe ask a little nicer.”

Akechi, in between both Akira and the haul, holds back a sigh as he scoots over further, trying -- and not succeeding -- to keep his thigh from pressing too hard into Akira’s.

“Well, I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get, anyway,” Ryuji says, before slamming the door shut as fast as he can.

Akechi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You okay?” Akira asks, smirk on his face as he looks at Akechi.

Akechi’s sigh comes out half as a small laugh. “More or less.”

He could think of worse people to be squished next to.

According to the Thieves, it was unusual for them to come back with… this much loot. Combined with having another person -- Akechi -- riding in the bus now, it did make things somewhat… cramped.

The wayback was composed of the procured items, Akechi in the middle, and Akira beside him. In the middle, Ryuji, Yusuke, and Ann, with Futaba on her lap. Makoto was revving the engine with Haru next to her.

Ryuji sighs, shifting uncomfortably. “Can’t I move up to the front? Or someone here? You only have two there.”

“Of course not!” Haru says, shaking her finger. “What if someone bumped Mako-chan while she was driving? It’s a safety precaution.”

At this, Ryuji nearly snorts. “Oh yeah, real safe, having Makoto driving in the first place…”

“Excuse me?” Makoto’s voice is sharp as she turns to stare daggers at Ryuji.

“Oh you guys, come on, please, let’s just get going,” Ann says.

Makoto revs again and hits the gas.

“Why’re you complaining?” Ryuji says, looking over at Ann. “Is she too heavy for you? What is she, like half a kilogram?”

“Ah! No talking about a girl’s weight!” Futaba reaches across Yusuke, smacking Ryuji playfully on the arm.

The bus hits a bump and everyone jostles, Futaba nearly falling entirely off of Ann.

There’s some continued bickering. Akechi closes his eyes.

It was going to be a long trip out.

His eyes shift to Akira. His gaze seems fixated out the window, his elbow resting on the door and his chin on his hand. Even so, Akechi can see Akira’s face in the reflection. His eyes convey their usual nigh unreadable calm. But his mouth is something almost close a pout; a sharp contrast from his usual cunning smile he seemed to wear whenever they were in the Metaverse.

Within the glass, Akira’s eyes move, meeting the reflection of Akechi’s.

Akechi turns his gaze away before he can see whatever expression Akira makes.

“Hold on to something,” Makoto says, and before the first word is even entirely out of her mouth the bus turns, sharp and hard.

Nearly everyone lets out some kind of yelp or gasp as they careen to the left. Akechi manages to keep quiet -- mostly due to the fact he falls straight against Akira, face-first.

The pile of things pour down next to him, some of it falling onto the bus’s floor, but most of it where Akechi had been sitting.

“Oi, would you watch it?!” Ryuji says, picking himself off of Yusuke.

“It’s dark!”

“Then slow down!”

The argument continues as Akechi pushes himself off of Akira -- or tries to. There’s really no more room to scoot away now, but god they were way too close, and if he pushes himself off any further he’d have to put his hand on his thigh or something --

“Are you two okay?” Haru asks, looking back at them.

“Yeah, just… a bit squished,” Akira says.

Yusuke looks back, observing their predicament with only mild interest. “Why not just sit like Panther and Oracle?”

“Whoa, dude! No way!” Ryuji says, shaking his head fast. “I mean, that’s kinda…”

Yusuke meets his gaze, tilting his head curiously.

“I mean, you know…” Ryuji trails off with a vague hand motion.

“I -- I think my head would hit the roof if we did that, anyway,” Akechi says quickly. Though honestly he’s not sure what the lesser of two evils here is.

“Then just… listen, that can’t be comfortable. Your back looks broken. Here,” Akira says. He places a hand on Akechi’s shoulder, pulling him over. Akechi glances at him before going along with it, sliding himself over Akira’s leg and bending forward to keep his head from hitting the roof. And then, Akira’s leg slides out from under him, lowering Akechi right in between Akira’s legs.

“Whoa, that’s even weirder,” Ryuji says, staring wide eyed.

“Oh, would you grow up?” Ann says with a sigh.

Futaba cranes her head back. “I mean, it does look like something out of a doujin, but it can’t be helped, I guess.” She nearly cackles, turning her attention back to the front.

Akechi stares down at his knees. Akira lets out a short sigh.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, quiet enough that no one else hears. Probably.

Akechi opens his mouth to reply, but there’s a distinct half a second where no sound comes out. “As much as I can be,” he manages.

The bump they veer into says otherwise, jostling everyone and sending Akechi flying to the side. Akira’s arm is on his shoulder before he crashes into the loot, though, securely holding him.

“Here,” Akira says, “Just… because I don’t think this ride is going to get any smoother.” Slowly -- slowly -- he winds his arms around Akechi’s waist, barely making contact.

Akechi flinches as Akira’s hands brush against his stomach, coming to a total tense when Akira recoils them and his fingers slide along his thighs. “Sorry,” Akira says quietly. “You’re just going to go flying again otherwise.”

“No,” Akechi mumbles, quickly shaking his head. “It’s -- fine. …Thank you.”

Akira’s hands are back around him much faster than they had retreated.

The bus continues to chatter, everyone talking about this or that, but they seem somehow quieter, now. They run over another bump and Akira tightens his grip a bit, pressing Akechi closer into him.

Akira is warm against his back.

Akechi’s eyes watch the others sitting in front of them, engrossed in their own conversation… thankfully.

He feels Akira take a deep breath behind him. Akechi is taller than Akira, even if only by a few centimeters -- just enough that it makes Akira’s breath tickle down his neck, makes the ends of his hair brush the back of it.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Akira nearly murmurs. “There’s no need to be so tense.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then relax.”

Akechi closes his eyes. And he takes a deep, silent breath.

“Everyone hold on,” Makoto says.

Again the car jolts, and again Akira's grip on Akechi tightens -- though this time he brings Akechi flush against himself, with even the curve and dip of Akechi’s back meeting Akira’s chest. Akechi’s breath catches silently in his throat.

After a moment, the ride smooths a bit.

Akira’s grip does not loosen.

…Not that it mattered, because surely there would be more tosses and turns, and the last thing Akechi wanted was to be sent careening somewhere.

Akechi’s gaze drift back to the window. His reflection meets him, and then his eyes look to the mirror image of Akira. This time, he can’t see Akira’s face much at all; his head is tilted a bit down, letting his tousled hair veil him.

It makes Akechi acutely aware of how Akira is pressed into his shoulder.

Swallowing, Akechi shifts -- as much as he can. Akira still has a secure grip on him though, so he more or less just ends up rubbing his lower half back against him.

He feels Akira’s fingers curl into him, just a bit.

Akechi’s looks ahead -- the thieves that weren’t immersed in chitchat seemed content looking out the windows.

“One second,” Akira says, in a voice that’s much too low. Without waiting he moves, pushing his hips against Akechi as he adjusts himself. Akira’s body is warm and firm against him, and the way Akira presses a hand too firmly into Akechi’s thigh sends a jolt of down his spine.

“You okay?” Akira murmurs, close to Akechi’s ear.

Akechi only nods, trying to ignore how hot it had become in the cramped space.

He hears Makoto say “hang on” despite how far away her voice sounds.

But he does as told, and holds tightly onto Akira’s thighs.

With a force much stronger than driving over a bump, Akira bucks his hips against Akechi’s ass, a hardness rubbing against it that makes Akechi shiver.

Akechi bites his tongue, and then he feels Akira laugh silently behind him.

“What, are you enjoying this?” He whispers.

No, Akechi wants to say -- not as much as Akira clearly is anyway -- but unlike Akira he’s also not hidden behind anything, and anything he says has too much of a chance to be heard.

So instead he pushes his lower body backwards, rubbing himself against Akira’s growing hardness. Akira breaths out a quiet moan and Akechi feels his own cock twitch.

Shit.

Maybe it’s because Akechi’s body tenses or maybe Akira just knows, but either way something sets Akira off. Because it’s not an accident when his hand runs from Akechi’s hip down to his thigh and squeezes it.

Akechi does jump, this time. Thankfully as they hit another small bump so it’s not so weird -- nonetheless, his eyes glance about the others in front of them. All still looking elsewhere.

Akechi all but shoves himself into Akira. A fleeting smirk of self-satisfaction pulls at his lips when he hears Akira’s breath catch, but it’s gone in less than a second as Akira grabs his hips and holds him in place.

Being this close, the smallest of movements become noticeable -- such as how no matter what surface the bus drives on, it’s enough jostling to have Akira’s hard cock continuously pressing and sliding against Akechi’s ass.

Slowly, this time, Akechi grinds his hips up, and then back down again. Akira bucks into it, his hardness pressing in between Akechi’s ass as much as it can through their clothing.

Akechi bites his tongue hard.

But he moves again -- he wasn’t about to lose this. Whatever this was.

He grinds his ass against Akira and Akira rubs against it, their movements slow, steady, and deliberate. Akechi’s eyes carefully watch the others in front of them, alert for any sort of --

“I didn’t expect you to try something like this,” Akira murmurs against his ear. Akechi only responds by adding force to his movement, making Akira’s grip tighten around his hips. “Or be so good at it,” he adds, and Akechi shivers up against him.

Not wasting a second, Akira skims his fingers down the crevice where Akechi’s leg meets his hip, sliding them up the hem of his shirt to run along where his cock presses against his pants. “You’re even harder than I thought.”

Akechi’s eyes barely skim the others in front of them before he pushes into Akira again, this time using some leverage from his feet against the floor. Akira moans, barely audible, into his neck, and Akechi’s cock jumps against his fingertips --

“You are so into this,” Akira whispers, pressing his fingers into the tip of Akechi’s cock. A jolt like electricity runs through Akechi’s body and he bites back a moan, throwing his hips back with enough force that the seat jostles.

“You two okay?” Ann asks, turning her head back as best she can as Akira’s hand flies back to Akechi’s waist.

“Yeah,” Akira says, meeting her gaze over Akechi’s shoulder. “Something just fell.”

“I’ll slow down,” Makoto says, not taking her eyes off the road.

“It’s fine,” Akira says. “Don’t worry.”

Not a second after Ann returns to her conversation with Futaba, Akira pulls Akechi back closer to him. “Careful,” he murmurs, slowly trailing his hand down Akechi’s waist. “You’re so good at this, don’t ruin it…”

Heat rises from where Akira’s breath dances on his neck all the way to Akechi’s cheeks, and he pushes his hips back and up again, taking in a deep breath as Akira’s cock presses back into him.

Akira returns the motion in an even rhythm, moving his hips in time with Akechi’s. Their grinding keeps steady, even as Akira’s fingertips run along the end of Akechi’s cock again.

Less than a minute later Akira brings his free hand up to the end of Akechi’s hair, brushing strands aside to expose more of his neck. Akira’s mouth feels nearly cool against how hot Akechi’s skin has become, but Akechi maintains rhythm and composure, even as Akira’s tongue runs up to his earlobe.

Akechi brings his hands down to Akira’s thighs, gripping them to press himself back with more force. He feels more than hears Akira’s breath hitch, and this time when Akira pushes up into him he bites into the junction where Akechi’s neck meets his shoulder.

Akechi bites his lip but the moan still escapes him, thankfully muffled by the large bump the bus passes over -- one that causes Akira’s already bucked hips to push even harder into Akechi, his cock so hard against him that Akechi feels precum dripping down his own.

He takes a shaky breath, eyes glancing back to the window. It’s hard to tell details in the dark reflection, but what little of Akira’s face he can see through his curtain of hair seems certainly flushed.

But instead of a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, this time Akechi just holds onto Akira’s thighs tighter and pushes against him harder.

As if expecting it Akira returns the force, cock throbbing against him, before sliding his hand up to the hem of Akechi’s pants, sliding his fingertips under --

“Alright,” Makoto calls loudly as the bus slows. “Everyone out.”

Akira’s hand snaps back to his side and Akechi brings his promptly to his lap. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, eyes watching carefully as the other Thieves start to pour out, paying them no mind.

Without looking back, he follows them out one of the middle doors.

Ryuji is already opening the back door, picking up a few items from the seat. “Jeez. How are we going to do this?”

“I mean, it’s a lot of stuff, but none of it is that big,” Makoto says behind him, before walking up and grabbing some things. “Between all of us, I think we can fit it in our bags. Here, let’s at least take it all out of Mona so he can transform and help us carry some of it.”

Akechi stands behind them, waiting for a space to step in. His eyes wander up just a bit -- Akira stands off to the side, head tilted down at his phone.

After a minute or two the luggage is all laid out on the ground, and Morgana returns to his usual Metaverse form. “Oi, Joker,” Ryuji calls, picking up several items off the ground. “Get your ass over here. I wanna leave.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Akira says, pocketing his phone and walking over. Akechi glues his eyes to the ground.

It’s tough even with them all -- several people have things stacked so high they can barely see -- but they manage to get everything, and begin a slow ascend up the stairs.

“Aren’t we gonna look weird with all this shit?” Ryuji asks.

“We’ll just make sure to exit off the side, and once we’re in the real world we’ll have our schoolbags and we should be able to fit everything,” Makoto says.

“We should celebrate,” Ann says, craning her head back to look at Akira. “Right? Let’s get some sushi tomorrow or something. Oh! We could go to that one place -- Ah, Joker, wait --”

She cuts herself off as Akira’s elbow bumps into the wall of the entrance landing, sending a couple of things toppling from his pile and down the flight of stairs.

“Ah, no! I think those would have sold for a lot!” Morgana says. “Someone go get them!”

“I will,” Akira says quickly. “Someone just take these so I don’t have to go down and up with them again.” Without waiting for an answer he crouches and sets his items down on the floor.

“Oh come on, man,” Ryuji says with a sigh. “I can still hear that stuff falling, it might’ve even gone all the way down to the tracks, can we just go?”

“No!” Morgana says fiercely. “A great thief never leaves treasure behind!”

“You guys can just go,” Akira says. “Besides, we’re such a big group now it’s not as safe for us to all exit here at once.”

“Wait, at least take someone with you,” Makoto says. “I know you’re capable and it’s not too far, but you never know with this place…”

Akechi’s body moves on its own as he crouches and sets his own items down. “I’ll go with him.” He can see, as much as they try to hide it, the rest of the group sans Akira tense.

“Fine,” Akira says. “Come on.”

He’s already headed down the stairs and Akechi follows him.

On their way they say nothing. Akechi stares at Akira’s back -- how his hair bounces with each step, the draft bringing even more of a billow to his coat than usual. It blends him into the encroaching darkness.

A few steps after the stairs end, Akira stops. “I can’t believe you actually followed me.”

Akechi walks in front of him, hand on his hip. “I can’t believe you’d purposefully drop something just to bait me down here.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Akira brings a hand to his face, taking off his mask and letting it fall to the floor. He steps closer to Akechi -- who, in turn, takes a step back. “Are you saying you didn’t follow me down here for this?”

Akechi’s breaths come in short and shallow. Even though he’s still two paces away, Akira feels so threateningly close, closer than they were in the bus. Not only that, but the overtness of his actions was truly something -- Akechi was used to seeing Akira be reckless, often dangerously so, but this was something else. Akechi was suspicious, and Akira definitely knew that, and Akechi knew that Akira knew that, so…

Akechi’s reminded a bit of how he himself acts on TV. How much harder he has to push a façade the more he’s lying. Even if it’s to himself.

Akira takes another step and this time Akechi doesn’t back up. He meets Akira’s gaze steadily, even as Akira slowly -- maybe hesitantly -- reaches up and pulls Akechi’s mask off.

It happens so fast -- Akechi tenses as his mask hits the floor, but relaxes almost immediately as Akira’s lips crash into his. They moan into each other as Akira’s arms wrap around Akechi’s back, pulling him as close as he can.

Akechi nearly gasps -- Akira is warm against him, much warmer than he felt earlier. His lips are soft but firm, fitting against Akechi’s too well. Akira pushes his head harder into the kiss -- almost needy, desperate --

Akechi wraps his arms around Akira’s shoulders, opening his mouth, and Akira’s tongue is sliding inside in an instant. Feeling their tongues touch sends a jolt down Akechi’s whole body, one that makes his legs nearly wobble and his hands grip into Akira so tightly his knuckles go white.

Akira slows, sliding his tongue in a steady motion across Akechi’s. His arms tighten around Akechi in a firm, secure hold.

Akechi makes a frustrated moan into their kiss, sucking at Akira’s tongue. In less than a second Akira returns it, before giving a quick nip at Akechi’s bottom lip.

The kiss deepens again and Akechi lets his grip loosen, sliding his hands up to tangle in Akira's hair. The strands curl and toss between his fingers. Only when Akira starts to pull back does Akechi notice his lungs burning for air.

He pulls back, too, taking in a deep breath that eases his discomfort. But now his lungs and his mouth burn with aching need for something other than oxygen.

When Akira leans forward again his lips only connect to Akechi’s for a moment before they slide down, pressing brief kisses along his jawline and to his neck. Akechi tilts his head as Akira unfastens Akechi’s top, sliding the fabric down and exposing the entirety of his neck. His kisses make their way to his pulse point, sucking at it almost gently.

Akechi pushes Akira's head down.

Akira sucks again, harder this time, enough so that Akechi moans and falls back a bit -- Akira's hold, of course, keeps him from collapsing, but his body still falls back enough that it finds the ticket gate.

Resting his lower half against it for support, Akechi wraps his legs lightly around Akira’s calves. Akira sucks harder, and again Akechi moans, fingers curling tighter into Akira's hair.

Dragging his tongue along Akechi’s neck, Akira slides a hand down to one of Akechi’s thighs. He brings his fingers up the side of it, squeezing when they meet his hip. Akechi jumps just a bit, putting the distance between them needed for Akira to start palming at his cock through his pants.

Akira opens his mouth and Akechi has no idea what he’s going to say, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

He leans up and shoves his lips into Akira’s. Returning it with a light moan, Akira brings his other hand down and up under the hem of Akechi’s shirt until he finds the top of his pants and tugs at them.

Akechi just leans into and bites at Akira’s lip.

With only minor difficulty Akira pushes Akechi’s pants down, just enough so that his cock is freed. As if forcing himself, Akira pulls back from the kiss, bringing his hand up and pulling his glove off with his teeth. He lets it fall to the ground as he reaches back down and runs two fingers along Akechi’s length.

Akechi nearly squirms, back arching a bit into it. Akira’s other hand drifts down from his jawline, to his neck, skimming along where Akechi’s shirt’s been unfastened to slide his fingertips along his chest.

Akira leans forward further, pressing his lips to Akechi’s ear. “You feel so good,” he murmurs, and a jolt runs down Akechi’s body all the way to his cock as it nearly jumps into Akira’s hand. Akira curls his fingers around it, squeezing it lightly before running his hand down its length. “Better than I thought you would.”

After a somewhat shuddered breath Akechi manages to look Akira in the eyes. “What, you’ve thought about this?” He asks, voice more strained than he was hoping.

“Don’t act like you haven’t,” Akira says, sucking at Akechi’s pulse point with a force that makes Akechi gasp. “I’m not blind. Especially not after earlier.”

Akechi brings back a hand to cover his mouth as Akira sucks at him again, this time while skimming his fingers down to the tip of his cock.

By now Akira has leaned down enough that Akechi is all but laying flat on his back on the ticket gate. Akira runs his tongue along Akechi’s neck and up to his earlobe, flicking against it before murmuring, “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Akechi’s grip tightens in Akira’s hair. Akira squeezes his cock.

“Just let it out.” Akira’s voice isn’t any quieter, but it’s softer, somehow.

Fine, if he wanted to play it like that.

Akechi surges up and shoves his lips into Akira’s -- hard enough he thinks they might’ve both been bruised, but that doesn’t stop Akechi from diving his tongue right into Akira’s mouth. It seems to take Akira aback at least a bit -- he leans back and lets out a low noise -- and Akechi takes the chance to sit up nearly entirely.

Akira’s bare hand leaves his cock and comes up to the back of Akechi’s neck, brushing past the ends of his hair to pull him deeper into the kiss. Their heads tilt and Akechi moans a little as their tongue slide across each other, and back again.

For a minute -- or maybe an hour, perhaps two -- that’s the only motion between them. Occasionally, Akechi’s fingers tangle further into Akira’s hair, or Akira pushes his hand against the back of Akechi’s neck.

When Akira starts to lean forward again, Akechi pushes hard, bringing a hand back to the give himself leverage off the ticket gate. It gives him enough space to stand, and he gives a light push to Akira’s shoulder, spinning them so that Akira’s back is to the ticket gate and Akechi is in front of him.

Surprisingly, Akira offers no resistance to being moved around -- Akechi had half-expected him to grab his wrist, or at least push back, or something --

But Akechi doesn’t pay it too much mind because the next second he sinks to his knees.

Hands on Akira’s thighs, Akechi feels the shudder than runs through Akira's body and a rush of heat crashes down Akechi’s own. He immediately undoes the front of Akira’s pants, grabbing his hard cock and pulling it out.

He hears Akira’s sharp gasp, but keeps his gaze focused. Akira’s cock is fully erect, and runs the more than the length of Akechi’s full hand. Without waiting for even a heartbeat Akechi licks at the tip, collecting the precum on his tongue and swallowing it back.

Above him, Akira’s moan is the loudest sound they’ve made since they came down here.

Akechi feels the self-satisfaction pulling at his lips, but he gives it no time to take real form, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the tip.

One of Akira’s hands fly to Akechi’s head, tangling into his hair. “Not too fast,” he says, voice strained.

Akechi gazes upward, aiming to shoot him a look, because Akira is not about to tell him how to do this --

But whatever look he intended to give probably wouldn’t have the effect he wanted with Akira’s cock in his mouth.

Despite himself, Akechi moves slower than he intends, running his tongue along the underside before taking more of it in his mouth. He feels Akira sink back, his weight now mostly supported by the ticket gate behind him. Sucking lightly, Akechi trails a hand down Akira’s thigh, then up along the inner side of it, until he reaches the base of his cock. He slips his still-gloved fingers inside Akira’s pants, skimming along his balls as he takes more than half the length into his mouth.

Akira moans and bucks his hips -- and goes to pull them right back, but Akechi is faster, holding him in place by the thigh and sucking hard, his tongue flicking against the tip of it.

Akira’s breath hitches and he exhales sharply, and Akechi feels his cock twitch in his mouth. “You’re -- so good at this,” Akira manages.

Akechi moans around his cock, pressing his swollen lips against it as he leans forward and takes it in to the base, the end of it touching the back of his throat. The noises he makes are muffled, Akira full in his mouth, his cock against every part of it --

His throat burns a bit and he pulls back halfway. Slowly, slowly, he continues to lean back, eyes looking up and desperately trying to get a glimpse of Akira. Between both of their bangs and Akechi’s slight lightheadedness, it’s a bit difficult, but despite that he can clearly see how flushed Akira’s face is, he can see how dark his eyes have become --

It gets to the point where there’s only the tip in and he circles his tongue around it.

Akira lets out a shuddered breath, grip loosening on Akechi’s head just a bit. “Ake -- ah --”

It tightens right back as he cuts himself off when Akechi quickly pushes his head forward, shoving most of the length back in his mouth. Immediately he pulls back again, leaving just the tip, and then pushes forward, and back, his head bobbing in an even rhythm.

“Akechi --” Akira stops again, inhaling sharply as Akechi starts to tighten his lips with each forward motion. “You’re so good at this, this is so good --”

Akechi sucks so hard his mouth hurts, but it does little to hide his deep moan. Akira’s cock nearly jumps against his lips and Akechi’s own aches in its hardness.

It makes him falter, just a moment, before he pulls back and leans in again.

“You’re so amazing at this --”

Akechi leans back enough that Akira’s cock slides out of his mouth, and he takes in a ragged breath, the next few coming in short. He looks up at Akira with half-lidded eyes, licking his lips as he feels a new level of heat burning through his body.

A new level that’s immediately beat when he meets Akira’s gaze.

“You look so good like this,” Akira says hurriedly, dropping to his knees and all but crashing his lips into Akechi’s. Akechi moans loudly, and it hitches into a gasp as Akira nips at his bottom lip before starting to press hard kisses along his jawline. “You look so good,” he repeats, and Akechi nearly whimpers, body writhing as Akira wraps an arm around his waist, holding him up. “And you felt incredible, I couldn’t take it --”

“S-stop,” Akechi stammers, despite the fact that his body jolts into Akira’s touch as he curls his bare fingers around his cock.

“Try being honest,” Akira says, squeezing lightly. Akechi’s hands fumble to Akira's shoulders, gripping them as Akira runs along Akechi’s length, coating his fingers in precum and sliding them back down. The slick movement sends a shiver up Akechi’s body, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest when Akira presses a distinctly wet kiss to his neck.

“Here,” Akira murmurs, lips moving against Akechi. He then pulls back and brings his hand up from Akechi’s cock to hold him by the wrist, pulling him up with himself as he stands, other arm still around Akechi’s waist.

As if drawn by magnetic-like force Akechi takes a half-step forward to bring their lips together, sucking at Akira's bottom lip. Akira licks at him at Akechi presses nearly his full weight onto him.

Slowly, like he’s pushing against several tons, Akira pulls away, and quickly steps behind Akechi. He pushes him with forearm against his back so that Akechi takes another step forward, bumping into the ticket gate.

Akira leans forward and brushes Akechi’s hair aside from the back of his neck, planting a light kiss there that turns into two -- Akechi shudders -- and then a gentle bite -- Akechi’s knees buckle -- and then Akira pushes down on his upper back and Akechi bends forward with the motion, over the ticket gate.

Akechi’s whole body tenses, and for the first time in a while he hears his brain screaming coherent thoughts -- to push Akira off, to move, because it would be easy to stop Akira from handling him like this and --

It would be, right? Couldn’t he? Could he?

The tension leaves his body and his brain goes back to warm static when Akira kisses the back of his neck again, leaning over him, his hard cock pressing against his ass. Akechi lets out a shuddered breath, legs trembling.

“Hold still,” Akira murmurs, and the warmth of him being so close leaves. Akechi turns his head, straining to see, but his peripherals only barely make out Akira standing behind him before he pulls down Akechi’s pants.

He bites his tongue -- fighting the urge to jump from the cool air hitting his skin and also the deeply contrasting rush of heat to his cock -- though it doesn’t stop the near-whine that escapes him when Akira’s fingertips start to run down the end of his back and over the curve of his ass. He hears Akira’s other glove come off and then it’s both of his bare hands squeezing him and Akechi’s back arches a bit, and he bites his lip so hard he nearly draws blood.

Akira’s hands trail down to Akechi’s thighs, fingertips just barely skimming them. They slide in between and Akechi's legs tremble lightly before Akira starts to push them apart.

Akechi hears Akira moving -- dropping to his knees -- and Akechi’s breaths come in audible and strained, pure anticipation making his body shake. After what seems like ages he feels a distinct wetness sliding up his leg, and he lets out a whimper.

Akira’s tongue moves back down his thigh, stopping in the middle to suck lightly at his skin. He repeats the motion on his other leg, sucking harder and trailing his tongue close to Akechi’s ass. And he does it again, and again, and each time Akechi’s legs shake harder and he moans louder.

As Akira’s mouth drifts into his inner thigh, Akechi is sure he’s sucking hard enough to bruise.

With a whine, Akechi rolls his hips back, cock aching.

Akira presses a quick kiss to his thigh and then Akechi feels his fingertips run the course of his length, tip to base. He moans, the contact like salve on burned flesh, and it turns into a shuddered exhale as Akira’s fingers curl around him.

Slowly stroking him, Akira drags his tongue up Akechi’s ass, biting where the skin is its most supple. Akechi’s breaths shorten as he trails kisses higher, pushing his shirt up to reach his lower back. When Akira reaches the base of his spine he nips again and Akechi’s whole body jerks with a high-pitched moan.

He feels Akira’s lips curve into a smile against his skin before he plants light kisses downward, trailing them to the rhythm of his strokes. After only a few inches he stops, bringing his other hand up from Akechi’s thigh to spread him further.

Akechi’s breaths become their most shallow as Akira’s tongue slowly -- too slowly -- dips, sliding along the side of his entrance. Akechi whimpers, high and drawn out, eyes shut tight. Every detail of Akira’s tongue is tangible, sending sparks up Akechi’s body that turn into jolts of hot pleasure as Akira flicks at his entrance.

Akechi bucks his hips, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet as he arches up into it. Akira’s tongue pushes firmly against him.

Curling his fingers into his palms, Akechi’s whole body starts to shake, coming to a punctured exhale as Akira’s tongue enters him. It simultaneously relaxes his body and sends a wave of pleasure up it, one that makes Akechi’s insides tighten. Akira’s hand kneads at his ass, pushing against tense muscle. His tongue moves from his entrance and slides up, then back down, dipping inside and then sucking at sensitive skin.

When Akira goes back to fully pumping his cock Akechi jumps and yelps, senses overloading to the point of near numbness. Akira's tongue dives deep and Akechi’s moan is loud as he rolls his hips back. The sound he makes when Akira pulls away again and sucks at his skin is more like a mewl than anything else.

Again Akira’s tongue enters him and even if it’s just as deep, it only accentuates all the untouched parts of Akechi more, his insides burning and aching. “K-Kurusu,” he says, stammering as the other flicks his tongue inside him.

Immediately the warmth of Akira’s mouth leaves him and Akechi feels himself being pulled up, Akira’s arms wrapping right around his waist. Akechi leans right back into him, tilting his head as Akira presses wet kisses to his neck. His hands wander down Akechi’s stomach, one palming at his hip bone and the other skimming the exposed skin just barely above his cock. Reaching up behind himself, Akechi tugs at Akira’s shoulder, and Akira’s teeth graze against him.

Then he pulls back and steps to the side, taking Akechi by the hand and leading him along. In a few steps they’re at the wall and Akira pulls Akechi so that Akechi’s back is to it and Akira stands in front of him. Akechi’s arms slide right up Akira’s chest, gripping tightly at the fabric --

And then he tenses as he realizes he’s not sure if he’s about to push Akira away or pull him in.

He meets Akira’s gaze -- this close, even in the dim light, Akechi can see every little detail of Akira's eyes and all the softness he stares at him with, a tentativeness -- an uncertainty -- at contrast with his flushed face, his dark pupils. A question.

Akira brushes a few loose strands of hair away from Akechi’s eyes, his hand lightly cupping his face as it runs down.

Akechi pulls him close and kisses him on the mouth.

It’s just pressing their lips together more than anything else, but despite the chasteness of it Akira moves his hands down to Akechi’s thighs, and as soon as Akechi steps out of his pants entirely Akira lifts him up, after Akechi had already started curling his legs around him. Akira steps forward, their cocks rubbing together as he presses so close that it’s more his hips holding Akechi against the wall than the support of his hands.

It’s enough, at least, that he’s able to take one hand away and quickly slip it into his pocket, taking out a small bottle.

Akira’s eyes glance to Akechi as he hurriedly opens it, perhaps expecting Akechi to say something, maybe expecting him to be surprised, or suspicious. And maybe Akechi is a bit surprised -- but more than that his mind wanders to why, what was the reason Akira had that -- who was the reason --

He jolts as Akira’s coated finger prods his entrance, tracing it in a small circle. Akechi’s legs tighten around Akira.

“Try to relax,” Akira murmurs against his ear.

Akechi takes in a deep, shuddered breath.

Akira’s finger enters him with ease, curling the deeper it goes. Again, Akechi’s insides ache, every untouched part of him feeling like it’s on fire. He pushes his hips down, forcing Akira’s finger in down to the knuckle.

Akira breathes heavily against him, pulling his finger nearly entirely out and adding in another, pushing apart with both. When another one slides in past them, Akechi starts to tremble, and Akira presses a kiss to the base of his neck.

His fingers push in and Akechi tilts his head back, leaning his whole lower half into the motion, hips wriggling when he feels himself meet the end of Akira’s fingers. Akira pushes hard, rubbing his fingertips against Akechi’s insides, and Akechi jerks forward, his moan muffled against Akira’s shoulder.

Akira pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in, and then again, and again, and each time Akechi shakes harder against him. On each back motion he stretches his lube-soaked fingers further apart, sliding and pushing easily against Akechi’s entrance.

Each time Akira pushes in Akechi feels sparks run up his body, but each time it’s duller, each time his body aches more than it feels pleasure. He raises his head, nipping at Akira’s earlobe.

Taking a deep breath, he leans back, and then brings his arms in front of him, letting go of Akira entirely. Despite having no warning Akira quickly pushes his hips closer and hooks a hand under Akechi's ass, keeping him in a secure hold.

Slipping two fingers under one of his gloves, Akechi slides it off with ease. Akira’s fingers stop moving inside him.

Akechi’s eyes flicker up to meet Akira’s. Except they don’t, because Akira’s gaze is fixed intently on his hands.

Hooking a single finger under his other glove, Akechi pulls it off, slower this time. He then brings his hand up to Akira’s chin, tilting it up with two fingers so that he meets Akira’s gaze dead on as Akechi slides his tongue out to drag along the index finger of his other hand.

He feels Akira’s fingers push inside him, probably more a result of his whole lower body jerking than anything else. Still, it gets Akira thrusting in a rhythm again -- not nearly as even this time, faltering immediately as Akechi slides his finger into his mouth.

Closing his eyes, Akechi takes his whole finger in, pursing his lips tight against it before pulling it back out. He swirls his tongue around his three middle fingers, and slowly slides them in.

Akira shakes against him.

Akechi pushes his head forward so that his lips go up to his knuckle, and then pulls back until just his fingertips stay inside. He bobs his head up and down, moaning as Akira twists and pushes inside him. Saliva starts to trail down his palm and Akechi slides his fingers out, curling them as he drags his tongue up his hand, starting at his wrist, licking up the excess fluid.

He opens his eyes when he’s halfway up his hand, meeting Akira’s gaze. Akira’s cock throbs against his, and Akechi trembles as Akira bites his bottom lip and then swipes his tongue over it.

Hurriedly looking down, Akechi fumbles a hand into Akira’s pocket, taking out the lube. He coats his whole hand in it before reaching down and sliding his fingers along Akira’s cock.

Akira exhales with a tremble, body tensing as Akechi runs his thumb over the tip, and then relaxing as he starts to pump him with a slick ease.

“You’re so good at that,” Akira breathes, “it feels so good just watching you.”

A shiver runs up Akechi’s body and he squeezes Akira’s cock.

“You’re so good with your mouth,” Akira continues, pushing his fingers hard up against the deepest part of Akechi he can reach. “And the inside of you feels so good --”

Akechi moans, loud and high, his cock throbbing in pain and his muscles tightening around Akira’s fingers, each part aching to be touched. “Kurusu,” he manages, voice nearly cracking in between deep, hard breaths, “please --”

Akira’s fingers leave him in a quick motion and the void left in Akechi feels like agony, and his hips move on their own, rolling down onto nothingness. Hurriedly, Akira brings both hands to where Akechi’s ass connects to his thighs, pushing him up. Akechi’s arms wrap around his shoulders as Akira’s cock presses at his entrance.

“Akechi,” Akira says, looking up at him, but it’s only for a split second as Akechi leans forward into his shoulder and pushes his hips down.

The tip of Akira’s cock slides in easily enough, and Akechi pushes harder, moaning as Akira stretches him. “Please,” Akechi says, reaching the limit of how far he could lower himself, “Akira --”

Akira pushes his hips, burying himself into Akechi.

Akechi’s high moan is nearly that of a scream, his whole body shaking as he presses flush into Akira. Akira fills him entirely, nearly too much so, the feeling bordering on outright pain. But more than that he touches every part of him, the tip of his cock pressed against such a deep part of him --

Akechi lets out a deep, shaky exhale, warmth rushing through his whole body.

Akira pulls his hips back until just his tip is left and then pushes back in with a moan.

Akechi feels tears start to prick at the corner of his eyes, despite the discomfort ebbing with each second. Again, Akira pulls out and pushes in, and Akechi starts to feel weightless.

“You feel amazing,” Akira says says, moving quicker this time, thrusting back in with more force. “You’re so good --”

Akechi’s insides coil and he whimpers, bucking his hips forward. His cock brushes against Akira’s stomach and Akira brings a hand up to curl around it.

He pumps him in time with his thrusts, slick noises accompanying the moans from both of them that punctuate each movement. After less than a minute their rhythm is lost, becoming more sporadic, uneven motions.

“I can’t last long,” Akira says, voice strained. His knees shake and he leans forward until Akechi is pressed back against the wall. “You’re too good, you’re so tight --”

Akechi shivers and tenses, tightening around Akira and drawing out a loud moan from him. He buries his head into Akira’s shoulder, letting out a muffled, pleading noise.

Akira thrusts with fervency, his strokes of Akechi’s cock sloppy and the kiss he presses to his jaw sloppier. His grip on Akechi’s hip tightens, fingers digging into his skin so hard Akechi can feel the bruises forming. Every time Akira’s cock pushes in he feels filled further, but at the same time it leaves him aching for more --

“C-close,” Akechi says, voice cracking as Akira all but slams his hips into him, a numbness creeping through his body outside of the jolts of pleasure, heightening them each time.

Akira leans closer, pressing their chests together and Akechi manages to coherently wonder, if only for a moment, if Akira can feel Akechi’s heart pounding against his chest.

“You feel amazing,” Akira breathes against his ear, “I want to feel how tight you get when you come, you’re so good, Goro --”

Every sound turns to white noise and every part of Akechi’s body becomes weightless as searing waves of hot pleasure course through his body. He bites down on Akira’s shoulder to quiet his drawn out cry, his cum spilling between them as Akira’s hand pumps him jerkily through the orgasm.

Distantly, he hears Akira moan loudly and then hears it hitch, his cum hot inside Akechi as it fills him deeply, sending prickling jolts up his overwrought nerves.

Akechi takes a deep, shuddering breath, realizing only then that is lungs were burning. His whole body loosens and becomes dead weight against Akira, his head buried in the crook of his neck.

Against him, Akira’s breaths are hard and deep, his body hot. Akechi can feel his heart against his chest, almost louder than Akechi’s own.

Akira’s hips start to tremble, and Akechi uses every ounce of strength in his body to unhook his legs from around him, lowering them to the ground as Akira pulls out. Legs feeling like jelly, Akechi nearly stumbles forward, and Akira holds him around the waist.

They stay like that a moment as their breaths even out, and their heartbeats quiet, bringing apparent the silence around them.

Eventually, Akira brings a hand to Akechi’s face, pulling back a bit himself to meet his gaze. He runs a thumb over his cheek, and Akechi just stares back, his mind blank.

But he finds himself sliding his arms around Akira and leaning forward, their lips brushing as they close their eyes --

“Joker! Crow!”

Morgana’s voice calls from up the stairs and Akira and Akechi pull away from each other, though their arms keep them from becoming too distant.

“What is it?!” Akira calls up, a slight breathlessness to his voice.

“Are you guys okay?!” Ann yells. “We texted you a bunch --”

“There were Shadows,” Joker says quickly.

Akechi brings his arms hurriedly to his side.

“This far up?!” Ann says.

“Yeah, it was weird…”

“Just come up here, I don’t wanna yell,” Morgana says. “Anyway yeah, we came back because you weren’t responding. We were worried.”

“Coming,” Akira says.

Akechi can feel Akira look over at him as he hurriedly adjusts his pants, uncomfortable against the stickiness that had run down his legs. As he fastens his collar and slips on his gloves, he catches Akira doing the same in the corner of his eye.

He makes for the stairs quickly, but not before Akira walks in front of him.

“Akechi,” he says quickly.

Akechi looks down at his mask in his hands.

“Not right now,” he says.

His eyes flicker up. Akira has yet to put on his mask, his unprotected gaze the same as the one that looked at Akechi so closely only minutes ago.

“…Right,” Akira says. Despite his words, he steps forward.

Akechi’s grip on his mask tightens.

The way Akira brushes hair from his face is gentle, but not as gentle as the quick kiss on his mouth. Then he turns, taking a step up the stairs.

Only to stop yet again. He looks back at Akechi, holding out his hand.

For a moment Akechi stares at it. And then he just shakes his head once, and puts on his mask.

Akira’s gaze lingers on him for what feels like eternity, his hand still outstretched.

It’s only when he finally, finally fully turns and starts walking up the steps that Akechi reaches out his hand. Just a bit.

But he lets him go.