Bulat is lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell has just happened.
What the hell was that just earlier? he thinks incredulously. Just what the hell was that just earlier?! The normally confident smile on his face is shattered into a million pieces, burning cheeks and twitching mouth galore as he recalls the vivid feeling not too long ago. A feeling, in which, still persists inside his stomach.
It all happened at the practice field. Bulat was about to train by himself as usual when one of his comrades approached him. In a monotonous but friendly tone, she asked if she could join him on his training, to which he readily agreed.
Now, this wasn’t the first time Bulat had sparred with her. Although it was less frequent compared to him sparring with Tatsumi, Bulat also looked forward into training with the girl. There is a reason for this: once in a while, it feels nice for the man not to spend so much time clashing staffs with a rookie. Tatsumi’s great and all, but there are times when Bulat longs to clash with someone so skilled, so deadly, that it leaves him nearly breathless.
Of course, comparing the fighting styles of Tatsumi and the girl is essentially comparing the abilities of a fledgling and a hawk. Regardless, it caught Bulat by surprise of how much he enjoyed sparring with her. He hesitated the very first time she had asked him (probably due to associating sparring as a “men’s only” activity), but repeated encounters afterwards made him far more comfortable with her presence.
However, growing too comfortable never registered itself onto Bulat’s mind. Until now.
Why did I get a boner?! Akame’s not even a guy for God’s sake!
He recalls through mind-boggling embarrassment of how he pinned her to the ground when it looked like he had gained the upper hand, only for her to turn the tables and pin him before he realized it. With a body straddling him and a staff pressed against his neck, Bulat gazed at the Red-Eyed Killer above him. Not even Tatsumi has yet been capable of staggering his breath, nor flooring his thick wall of muscle with flawless ease. To have a petite girl dominate a burly man with such intensity, the sight of inner strength mesmerized him.
So much so that the normally stone-faced Akame felt startled upon feeling something protruding near her groin. The next thing he knew, Bulat ran away like a scared chicken.
And she definitely noticed it! She must think I’m weird now!
Groaning loudly, Bulat plunges his face in his hands. He is gay! He knows he is! So why now, all of a sudden, does he find himself attracted to a girl?
There can only be one explanation for this: Bulat is secretly straight all along!
No. No, that can’t be it. Bisexual? Maybe, but that would imply the man regularly feels attraction to both sexes—and Akame is the first girl to ever get him hot and bothered.
Yet Bulat’s situation is incredibly ironic: more than half of Night Raid consists of incredibly attractive females, whilst males are a rarity for no good reason; not only that, but the females far outmatch the males in terms of beauty, to the point that Night Raid can be summed up as, “Killer goddesses with limp-dicked peasants on the side.” One can only wonder how in god’s name a perverted macho man bears this kind of twisted seclusion while maintaining his lust for impotent twinks—especially since the group’s two measly guys become terrified chickens in his presence, sprinting and bawking for their lives in a heartbeat.
And what about the other ladies? It could be that some of their irresistible beauty is starting to rub off on him after a long time of ignoring such taboo thoughts. Yet out of all the colorful options he could’ve chosen from, he ends up choosing the most unromantic, dispassionate, carnivorous glutton he’s ever laid eyes on. Maybe he could’ve pined after a lady who at least has an idea of romance: the sexy Leone, the adorable Sheele, or maybe the boyish Najen—
“DAAAHHH!!! WHAT AM I THINKING?! I’M SCRAPING AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BARREL HERE!”
The pompadoured man groans again upon realizing his pitiful situation: no new guy is ever going to join Night Raid. There is no time for meaningless recruitment. No current guys are ever going to give into his advances. They are simply not interested. He could always take the shortcut and fool around with the Capital’s male escorts—and either risk himself of getting caught due to all his wanted posters flyered around or catch an STD. Or both.
The point is, being a long-time assassin is stressful enough—Bulat is a man who has needs, and if no guy is going to give it to him, who will?
“Why, I’ll start with Akame, of course!” Sarcasm and defeatism pour through him as he talks to the empty room, bitterly chuckling at what he said. Before he bashes his head against a wall for lusting after exotic boobs instead of a dull dick, he thinks about just what about Akame does he find so attractive.
Well... she’s strong. Very strong. Probably just as strong as I am, even though she doesn’t look like it. And that appetite of hers... wow. That girl can gobble up anything without any problems. Especially with meat...
The fabric of his pants rises slightly.
And when she’s not blank-faced all the time, she’s actually kinda cute? That little smile of hers really does her wonders sometimes. But her normal face when she fights is pretty chilling too. Then again, if she smiled at me with those cold eyes, all while I was looking above her...
Bulat can feel himself shudder as his thoughts roam around.
And if she could have her way with me while keeping me down... touching me everywhere...
The man closes his eyes as he trails a hand down his bare, eight-pack abs, trying to imagine the frozen touch.
All the way... down there...
Eyes pop open as Bulat reaches the fabric of his pants, which is now fully protruded the same way as it did earlier. Realizing what kind of fantasy he just had, he wonders whether he should continue it or not.
Oh well. It’s just this one time. Nobody’s going to ask him anyways. How bad can it be?
Taking a deep breath, Bulat slides his hand into his pants—and frees his well-endowed erection. Grasping his shaft firmly, his breathing hitches as he slowly begins to stroke it. Eyes shut down, closing the outside world around him.
He sees Akame straddling him, wearing nothing but the tightest sparring outfit to accentuate her curves: black, sleeveless crop top along with matching thigh-length shorts. Glaring down on him with crimson eyes, her lips curve into a devilish smirk as she grips him with small, yet strong hands. In utter silence, she takes her sweet time pumping him at a slow pace, sending euphoric tremors throughout his body.
The husky moaning of the midnight beauty’s name only encourages her to speed up the pace, pleased to bring the mighty man to his knees. With trembling legs, Bulat moans louder as he feels a hot mouth engulfing the sensitive head. Akame always loves her meat, so she bobs her head and swirls her tongue to savor the salty juices brimming out.
The ragged breathing turns more unbearable by the second, and Bulat can feel himself getting close. The pair of lips devouring him leaves his sight, and he gasps upon feeling a different pair of lips grinding against his shaft.
Akame is magically out of her shorts, leaving her bare folds to tease the man mercilessly. She licks her glossy lips before pursing them shut, resisting the urge to moan. Bulat can see it now: she’s deliberately resisting to moan, as if she’s refusing to enjoy the full carnal pleasure being given to her—given to her by a man clearly alien to the female desire. Yet her teasing lips want to show she’s the only one who can pleasure him, not the other way around.
It’s quite the perfect punishment. Not quite entering, not quite penetrating. Up and down. Over and over. No stop. Not ever.
“G-God... I can’t... I cahn’t...” Just seeing that image is more than enough to strangle his words into submission. Bulat can’t tell whether he can’t contain himself any longer or he can’t believe how good it feels to have such a guilty fantasy; how good it feels to be pleasured regardless of boundaries; how good it feels to be driven over the edg—edge... edge...
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
A pleased cry tears the man’s senses, hips jerking erratically as pearly fluids spurt from the tip. Strands of his heart-shaped pompadour have already fallen to his face, and his muscles soon relax with a drenched sheet of sweat. A dreamy smile forms in the midst of heavy breathing. He can regret about the sinful dream later, but he is too deep in a daze to even think straight. The daze of unexpected bliss continues until he hears more—
“Oh shit! ” Bulat jolts up upon hearing urgent knocking coming from the door. Of all the times he could’ve been interrupted, did it really have to be after an intense orgasm?! Seeing the essence on his hand, Bulat frantically wipes it on the side of his bed. He hurriedly pulls his pants up and runs to the door.
And opening it makes a part of him that wants to shrivel up and die.
Akame is right in front of him, wearing the very same outfit he fantasized about just a moment ago. Although responsible for fist-slamming the wood, she appears to be calm as ever. Bulat fantasizes about breaking that calmness by blurting out what he did in such a nasty and degrading manner that she draws out Murasame to slash his throat. A befitting ending for a troubled gay man.
Though the blade isn’t with the raven-haired girl at the moment, and instead she is carrying a long, drawstring sack.
“Bulat. May I come in?”
The dumbstruck sinner doesn’t even register the girl’s request. “A-A-A-A-A-A...” After endless stuttering on the A letter, he finally says, “Akame! What are you doing here?! ... Is it urgent?”
“Yes. Now may I come in?” Although she speaks in her typical blunt tone, it sounds more forceful this time. Bulat suspects something far more sinister behind that tranquility.
“S-sure...” As he lets her in, he comments, “J-just sit on that chair over there...” He doesn’t want her to notice the stains on his bed, and can feel himself burn just by thinking about it.
When all's said and done, the Hundred Man Slayer and Red-Eyed Killer now face each other in a battle of who can intimidate the crap out of the other. Akame sits on the chair, properly upright with her sack by her side. Bulat sits on the bed, slouched down with twiddling thumbs between his legs. Her poker face is up at arms as always, albeit darker this time. His dry mouth gets dryer and his sweaty palms turn sweatier by the second. He swears she’s already winning the match.
“We didn’t get a chance to finish that fight,” Akame starts. “Normally the only times we would stop are when one of us becomes the victor or one of us gets tired. And you sprinting like that meant you were not tired, nor did I ever feel victorious. Care to explain yourself?”
Care to explain myself? Now that’s just pulling teeth, as if Bulat’s burning cheeks and nil eye contact aren’t already enough to explain the full scenario. “Oh... right... I wonder about that too, you know... Silly me, ha ha ha...”
The forced chuckle at the end does absolutely nothing to alleviate the girl’s menacing aura. He gulps. There’s no way he can laugh himself out of this. Not out of a shamefully deviant matter. Bulat almost feels like a child about to be whipped by a stern teacher.
“You of all people should know that training is a very important thing to do. How else are we going to keep ourselves in shape? And I am not the type of person who likes to leave events hanging. So I came to finish what we started.”
Blunt and to the point as always. No mention of the boner part so far. Maybe she forgot about it. “I-I’ll be back in the field in a few minutes...”
“No. We’re going to finish it here.”
Finish it here?! Bulat has absolutely no idea where Akame is going with this. Does this mean she came all the way just to pick a fight with him? And potentially annihilate his room as payback?!
“Because I know you want to finish it too.”
“Wha... What do you mean?”
“I heard you call my name, Bulat.”
Though there is no silence for the tomato-red man, for his internal screaming blasts his mind into oblivion.
“...Thatwasn’ttraining...” he blurts out, barely processing the fast-paced words. Just a simple “Eliminate” out of her and it will be all over for good.
“Oh? It wasn’t?” she asks curiously. “Well then, what were you calling my name for, Bulat?”
He gulps. Hard. It takes a staggering, staggering amount of willpower to lift his head up, catching a glimpse of her face. The red orbs gazing upon him seem to have gotten softer now, which confuses him to no end.
“Why did you call my name in your bedroom, Bulat?” Akame stands up and strolls over to him, almost in a cat-like manner.
“And what are those stains on your pants?” To spine-chilling shock, Bulat feels delicate hands placed on each sturdy leg. Akame is stooping over him, keenly examining the remnants of his dream. “They look too white to be sweat drops, you know...”
Lump big, throat suffocating, the man needs to ask why is the girl examining far too close for someone about to give him a proper thrashing—but a barrage of shivers rack through his body as she runs her hands through his legs, tightening and weakening his muscle with every stroke. Blood shoots down between his legs, and the once guilty member starts perking up with newfound excitement. In the man’s mind, however, two words clash in what can best describe the situation.
Arousing and unsettling.
There is no way in hell that Akame can ever be the seductive type. Leone is a prime candidate for that role, but Akame ? Never. Social cues never come to the unsociable girl easily, and there were times where she unknowingly touched her comrades in ways that are deemed inappropriate: stripping Tatsumi down to underwear to check for wounds, squeezing Leone’s belly and waist to comment on her weight, groping Mine’s flat chest to compare breast size, etcetera, etcetera... By all means, there should be nothing ulterior here.
Yeah, that’s it. Nothing ulterior here. She’s probably just displeased about not being able to finish the fight, and—given her limited view on sex—is incredibly dense enough to wonder what the white spots are there for, and her feeling them up is an unintentional act of making the man horny as hell. Yeah, that’s it! Nothing ulterior here, really!
Then she palms her hand to his crotch.
The provocative act is more than enough for Bulat to grab Akame by the wrist before she goes any further. It only occurs to him that their faces are barely inches apart. Expressive sapphire eyes gawk at expressionless ruby ones, but the soft, yet intense gaze from the latter tells the former of their true intentions.
“You’re not pushing me away. So do you want me?”
Y-yes! I mean NO! I mean, maybe?! Wracked by the inability to answer, Bulat turns dizzy as the tantalizingly taboo dilemma spirals out of his mind and out of control and he doesn’t know how to deal with it and a freaky minx and the kettle steam gushing his ears—only to abruptly still as lips brush against his trembling mouth.
Young. Female. And…
Softer than any of the men he used to kiss back in his military days.
Bulat had always known that women are naturally softer than men, but that was only through basic anatomy. He never brought himself to actually experiment with the opposite sex, because, quite frankly, he didn’t feel the need to experience it. He was so sure of who he was, so sure of who he wanted, that he’d be lying to himself if he ever locked lips with a she-creature. The lips of a flabby, pasty, nasty, vile, all-around repulsively alien she-creature...
... Which he finds himself liking it.
He can feel his guard go down a little, enough for her to lock their lips shut. Raising a hand to her back, he feels the silky smooth hair that flows all the way down past her hips. None of the men were able to grow such mighty hair like this; they all had varying degrees, from crew cuts to shoulder lengths. Still, what they all had in common was that their hair was rougher to fist onto, like their kisses.
However, the softness of the kiss dissolves as Akame gets rougher, plunging her tongue through his mouth, alarming Bulat greatly. Before he knows it, she rummages her hands through his hair, ruffling and ruffling it enough that his iconic heart-shaped pompadour is no more, leaving his shaggy strands as an unrecognizable feature.
The onslaught continues, with her bombarding his mouth with acts such as sucking his tongue, biting and sucking his lower lip, swirling her tongue around his, all at once, one at each time, the order doesn’t matter, because Bulat can feel himself being devoured by her. He swears he almost feels teeth clicking. A kiss tends to leave someone breathless, but this kiss is sucking the oxygen out of his lungs.
He pushes her away to regain some air, but she wastes no time going for his neck, planting a trail of kisses and hickeys to it. More devoured than ever, the normally confident macho man begins to feel anxious at this rapid pace.
“Waitwaitwaitwait...” Bulat frantically repeats, but Akame is too immersed by the sensation to heed his warning, so he snaps her out with a violent tug and a desperate cry of “WAIT!!! ”
Once he manages to revert her back to her “normal” state, Bulat spends about roughly a minute panting for dear life—all while Akame has her arms around his neck, still stradling on his lap, but maintaining a little space so he could recuperate a bit.
The man lets out one agonizingly final breath. A beat follows. He finally blasts a question. “Were you in heat this whole time?! ”
A shy, simple nod. “Mmm. Yes.” The girl has been in a near state of afterglow for the past couple of minutes, despite not even hitting second base. Her cheeks flush a fresh shade of red, and her ruby eyes sparkle with affectionate wonder. (He inwardly admits it’s a rather cute sight, almost enough to make him forget about her trying to bite off his face earlier.) He guesses she’s still mesmerized from seeing him without the pompadour.
“I want beef, and you are a beefcake,” she adds, stunning him with her not-so-innocent use of slang, “so it makes sense to me.”
Analogy aside, he lets out a sigh. Guess he isn’t the only frustrated member of Night Raid. “Listen, I’m not quite used to this...”
“About me being in heat?”
“No! No, I mean, I’ve never seen you act this primal, but, you know...” He gestures at the situation. “This...”
She cocks her head.
“It’s no different than being with a guy, right?”
“YES IT IS! ” Bulat shouts, not comprehending the confusion Akame is having. “With a guy, it feels more natural, it’s more natural to me. But with a girl? I’ve never slept with a girl before. Honestly, I’m at a complete loss on how to handle one anyways. So if you’ve expected me to be some kind of Adonis who will sweep you off your feet, you’re looking at the wrong person.”
After a moment’s pause, she simply responds by grinding herself against him, sending flustered shockwaves down his spine. He promptly lifts her off and puts her on the corner of the bed, facing away from her in a slouched position with a hand to his face. He sighs again. “Oh god, I think there’s something wrong with me...”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Akame comments. “You’re just curious, that’s all.”
“Curious?” Bulat retorts. “Me? Curious? HA!” As if some harmless curiosity equals to some heinous crime to him. “I hear that case when it comes to straight people, but to me?! Folks like me?!”
“You’re no different from someone who is usually attracted to the opposite sex. There’s no shame in that.” The raven-haired girl starts to play with the raven man’s hair, appreciating his natural beauty beneath all that heavy combing and gel. “Even if you’re with me, that still doesn’t erase your interest in guys.” Her cozy massage of his scalp may have eased his concerns a bit, but that still doesn’t reach his bigger picture.
“What if sleeping with a girl somehow makes me a traitor? What if it means I’m lying to other people of who I really am?”
“You’re not lying to everyone. You’re certainly not lying to me,” Akame says. “You are Bulat, Hundred Man Slayer, bearer of the powerful Incursio, capable of wiping out several Empire soldiers at once, all with the strength that is said to be as powerful as General Esdeath’s, which comes to great benefit for Night Raid and the Revolutionary Army. These are not lies to me.”
“... Go on.”
“You are also a powerful assassin who happens to have an affinity for men, but is now curious to see what it’s like to be with a woman. And that’s okay, if it will help you relieve yourself. You don’t have to tell anyone if it doesn’t make you feel comfortable, for none of this prevents you from being the passionate, strong-willed man who always stays true to his sense of justice and being the reliable voice whenever we need advice. No matter who you bed with, you will always be a precious comrade to all of us.”
Of course that isn’t a lie. Everyone in Night Raid has already accepted Bulat even though they’re aware of his sexuality; Tatsumi idolizes him despite not returning the man’s flirtations, Leone hangs out with him as his chummy drinking buddy (despite him not returning her drunken flirtations either), Mine listens to his fashion advice with earnest attention, Sheele appreciates his efforts in trying to make her less clumsy as possible, Lubbock admires his tenacity even though he’s coy in admitting it, Najenda commends him every time he successfully completes a mission, and Akame loves having him as her sparring partner…
It’s okay if he goes against the flow once in a while, right? He wants this, it wasn’t forced upon him. It’ll be a private training session between comrades, nothing more than that. The rest probably still wouldn’t think differently of him even if they were to find out. (Okay, Tatsumi and Lubbock would probably think he’s gone insane and it’s a sign of the end of the world, but who cares what they think?)
“And a handsome one too,” she coos, moving her hands to knead his sculpted shoulders.
“Aw geez!” He can’t help but chuckle by her sweet words. “You don’t have to butter me up so much!”
“But it’s true. You say so yourself, don’t you?”
“Heh, yeah, I do say that...” After a moment’s pause, he adds, “Okay, so I may have exaggerated a bit. About being at a loss with a girl, I mean. I guess it’s sorta similar to a guy. There’s the kissing, foreplay, and I guess penetration can be similar, but… do I have to do it in the butthole? Where do I finger when I put them in a girl’s private parts? I don’t know what pussy tastes like, and I don’t even know if I want to, I’m so used to the taste of dick in my mouth and I’m so used to jerking off guys a lot and knowing the motions and hearing them gasp and I just—”
It only takes one finger to his lips for Akame to silence Bulat. All this rambling would not be present if he was with a guy; he would be as suave as ever, not babbling like a nervous teenager waiting for his first kiss.
“I knew you weren’t quite used to something like this, so I brought some extra help.” She stands up and walks over to grab the sack that is lying beside the chair, and loosens the string to dump the contents on the bed.
And seeing the objects makes his jaw drop. Not only does the girl have a ravenous libido and is knowledgeable in the art of sex, but she is also into stuff like that.
There lays what appears to be a long metallic rod with cuffs on each end, while the cuffs themselves are thick around the wrists, giving the impression that they’re intended for larger men than the average. There is also what appears to be a small bottle of lotion. But the most noticeable object of all is this hot-pink phallus lying next to some kind of harness. If its size can be estimated, it looks to be somewhere around eight inches.
“A strap-on. Should’ve figured it out sooner.” Bulat thought he was going to experience the vanilla kind of sex. “Where did you even get this from, anyways?!”
“Leone loaned it to me. She lets me borrow it in case I need to get freaky with a guy.”
That actually is no surprise to him. “Tell me something: did Leone have in any way, shape, or form, played a part in you acting like some sex-crazed monster?”
“... I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“The truth, Akame.”
“... I just wanted to learn more about the adult world. And she was willing to teach me all about it...”
When this is over, he may want to have a little chat with the kinky blonde over her scary ways of corrupting the innocent. “Figures again. Also, what’s with the bar-cuffs?”
“Well...” She flashes a devilish smirk. “I think it also helps me chew my food better while my meat stays in place.” It’s such a corny line, but the way she says it stokes a flame inside his stomach. “Let me take charge like a man, if you may.”
Taking charge like man. It’s almost hilarious. That should be something he would do. But it’s not like he’s never taken things up his special spot before...
“... Bulat, you’re drooling.”
Not that he notices. At least he knows his first time with a female won’t be the boring kind.
“My burning passions have been smothered for long enough, so you better please this forsaken man.”
“Whatever you wish for, Handsome.”