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Akira couldn’t take it anymore.

“STOP FINGERING YOURSELF!” he yelled across the room.

Ryuji pulled his hand away from his lap, annoyed, and snapped back, “I’m not!” like he wasn’t just messing around near his crotch and doing, well, what it definitely looked like he was doing from ten feet away. He was still sitting bare-assed on his bed, pants pooled around his ankles, and Akira was trying his best to go easy on him but if Ryuji wanted to test out his new equipment right now, that was not gonna fly.

“Okay then,” Akira said, and rolled back over so he could continue staring at the backrest of his couch. The seams looked caked with dust this close up. He should really call Kawakami over again.

“I dunno why you’re bitchin’ at me when this is the greatest shit that’s ever happened.”

“Oh, is it?”

Because it wasn’t, it was just another thing on the long list of bullshit that Mementos liked to put them through, and as a status effect it ticked off every horrible box he could think of: unexpected; unavoided; immune to his Patra; lingering long after the battle and worse, following them out of the Metaverse entirely. The whole car ride back, Ryuji was carrying on and on about how oh, I can’t go home, I can’t let my mom see me like this, and oh, Akira, can I stay with you tonight, ‘cause I have nowhere else to go and I’m a delicate lady now, you gotta help me, and after all that Akira had no choice but to agree. He wished he hadn’t.

“Yeah, come on, keep up with me here, man,” Ryuji said. “We don’t, you know, we don’t got a whole lotta experience with girls, but this is like crackin’ the code, Akira, I got all the answers right here. You and me are gonna be freakin’ experts after this!”

Akira groaned just miserably in response.

“Like, I can treat a girl right ‘cause I’ll already know how all that shit feels myself… oh man, think of the possibilities.”

“Like hell I will!”

“Okay, your loss,” Ryuji said, placidly enough that it made Akira peek back over his shoulder at him. His hand was back between his legs again and he was intently studying whatever he was poking around down there. Akira couldn’t see much of anything from where he was, just the top of a dark patch of hair, his dick blanked out. Not gone, though, just—replaced.

To his absolute horror, Ryuji looked up a second later and they made eye contact. “Oh, now you wanna see?” He was grinning now, the bastard.

“I really don’t,” Akira said.

“Dude,” Ryuji said, “you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t come look.”

“I’ll never forgive myself if I do.”

“Wouldja just get over here already?”

Akira hesitated. Several seconds worth of hesitation, even. Then he rolled off the couch to his feet, resigning himself to his fate, and made his way over to the bed. When he got close enough, Ryuji casually swung a leg over and opened wide, giving Akira an eyeful of his—oh, god—

“Cool, right?”

Akira scrambled his hands over his face. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“Shut up, it ain’t like it’s mine,” Ryuji said. Well, Ryuji was already the kind of guy who’d let it all hang out in front of him anyway and this was infinitely worse. Bolder from the disconnection, Akira guessed, or maybe from the sheer novelty of it. Like some little kid who’d found a weird bug, chasing Aki-chan all across the playground to show it off and then pull on his pigtails afterwards. “You really that embarrassed? You like makin’ me self-conscious?”

Akira finally slid his hands down, and okay, so he was looking at Ryuji’s pussy, no big deal.

Obviously he’d seen one before, duh, thanks to the internet and his parents’ busy work schedules, and he was always catching hints here and there from his Personas because the human psyche was constantly, shockingly naked. But never up close like this, and never with the easygoing vibe Ryuji had, solid and sure even when Akira crawled onto the bed in front of him.

“This is so weird,” Akira said.

“Uh, you’re tellin’ me,” Ryuji said. “Gotta make the best out of it though, right? That’s why I’ve been saying, we learn this shit now and we’re set for life. And we don’t got a lot of time. This is gonna wear off.”

“Yeah, it should be gone by tomorrow.” That was a lie; even Futaba didn’t know what the hell was going on with this, but it sounded better coming out of his mouth.

So,” Ryuji drew out, “we gotta figure out what we can before it goes away! Something like this is once in a lifetime! Or, wait, less than that!”

“Okay, ‘we’ makes it sound like it’s gonna be some kind of team effort.”

“Huh? Ain’t it?” Ryuji shuffled in his spot on the bed. “I’m the one feelin’ everything so that’s no problem, but what about you? I thought you’d wanna try things out, you know, so you could learn somethin’ too. What’d you wanna do otherwise? Just watch?”

Akira shook his head – just watch, gross, like some kind of sleazy jackass – but more than that, it’d be pretty awkward to be the lone bystander to Ryuji’s one-man show, and if he was offering anyway, Akira might as well take him up on it. “If you’re gonna check it out anyway then I don’t have a choice, right? So… yeah, I guess we could go. Uh. Study together.”

“Best study sesh ever or what?” Ryuji leered in, the stupidest grin plastered on his face, and Akira pushed his palm right into it.

Undeterred, Ryuji hiked his shirt up higher, settling it into the dips his new waist cut into his figure, and Akira let his eyes wander down back to Ryuji’s lap. Ryuji sat a little wider and braced his hands inside his thighs, like he was inviting him to take a closer look, so naturally he did.

“What’s it feel like?”

“Man, I dunno how to even begin explainin’ this.”

“Okay, but—try.” It looked like it felt… soft, with how that puffy lip cushioned Ryuji’s finger when he pulled it aside, but Akira kept his mouth shut about that.

“Like my dick’s inside-out,” Ryuji said, “‘cause now when I feel something it’s all up in here, but this—” he pinched his clit between his fingers, “—feels super sensitive too, so it’s like I’m in both places?”


“But actually, it still feels like my dick is there too. Not just rememberin’ it, but I kinda randomly just feel it. It’s so damn weird. What is that even? Ghost dick? Y’think that’s what happened? Like some ghost dick curse, or…”

“I don’t know,” Akira quickly said, because the idea of it was pretty fucking stupid, because he’d been staring for long enough that he felt obvious. He made himself look back up at Ryuji’s face. “I don’t have all the answers.”

“Okay, dude, chill. I know that.”

“Sorry.” Akira twisted his hair around until he’d probably left some frizzy cowlick from hell behind. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s… I’m just...”

“Akira, c’mon. It’s cool. Just go with it.”

“I’m trying.”

“Here, check this out,” Ryuji said, and with no reservation, he sunk one finger in and jiggled his hand. “I’m freakin’ inside there! Just like that! Girls can just do this whenever they want! You believe that shit?”

Akira, frankly, could not believe that shit. “Ahh—don’t just—”

“And there’s one spot that’s supposed to be the best, right? I was tryin’ before but I couldn’t really find it. Maybe—mmph—here? Here?”

You said you weren’t earlier, you fucking liar, half of Akira’s brain snapped back. The other half was too busy screaming incoherently, because watching this shot the wrong signals right to his cock like a total psycho. That was the whole point of this, right, to figure out what felt good? Except Akira had solved exactly zero mysteries of the feminine mystique so far and just got kind of turned on watching Ryuji finger himself instead. Sleazy jackass, for sure.

“Hey,” Ryuji said, after he took his finger back out, “you still wanna try too? I mean, it’s cool with me. I’m down with whatever.”

He might as well have asked wanna hold this live grenade for me, bro? because Akira eyed his finger with the same amount of seriousness. “With anything?”

“Sure,” Ryuji said with a shrug. “It’s just practice. No freaky shit, though.”

“Then I’ll just touch your…” Akira looked down and rolled his hand through whatever the best word would be for this. “Boobs. If you help me. You know, if you talk me through it.”

“‘Course, man! I’ll tell you if it’s good and if it’s bad, I’ll tell you too.”

They laid back on the bed together, side by side, and Akira deeply considered Ryuji’s body next to his. Ryuji did not make the best-looking girl. Maybe Akira had some unreasonable expectations about this, he didn’t know; like Ryuji would have suddenly become a cute, doe-eyed little thing straight out of some shitty anime. This Ryuji was definitely softer, his edges more rounded out, but largely he looked the same – lean and lanky with a wide chest, a pair of perky tits where they shouldn’t be when Akira lifted up his shirt.

“Thought they’d be huge,” Ryuji said glumly.

“I think they’re good. Nice, they look nice.”

“Yeah?” Ryuji perked up at hearing that more than anybody in their right mind should have. “Get her with that ‘nice titties’ talk, huh? Yeah, okay, I’m feeling it, I’m feeling it. Is this how you’re gonna charm all the ladies, Akira?” As soon as Akira got his hands on them, though, Ryuji’s jovial mood popped. “Whoa! Damn, warn a guy!”

“Oh—wow.” His breasts were warm under Akira’s palms as he rubbed them, big wide circles like he’d seen in every AV he could think of, and sure, they weren’t huge but there was still enough satisfying squish to them on every squeeze. It was ridiculously easy to keep going, so he did. “Does that, uh, feel okay?”

“Feels like you’re all over my nipples, man, so back off?”

Akira raised his hands up. “Sorry. I thought girls liked that.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ryuji sighed. “Does that mean…? Nah, they can’t fake all that, can they?” For a second, he looked almost lost, like a lifetime’s worth of porn had failed him all at once. “I dunno then, just… don’t go so hard, dude, try it slower first or somethin’.”

Akira changed tack. His nipples already looked pinked-up and hard, from being rubbed too much or from who even knew what, so he licked his thumb and swiped it over one nipple, slow and gentle as he could make it. It was bigger than his own so the nub was easier to push around. “Better?”

“Yeah, better.”

Ryuji did seem more relaxed about it, so Akira moved on to his other nipple too, playing with it a little more between his fingers. He was actually touching a girl’s tits here, even if they were stuck on someone who definitely wasn’t, and the prospect made him stupidly excited. At least like this he had the benefit of instant feedback, because Ryuji was vocal about everything he did: “I gotta remember that one,” when Akira must’ve been doing something impressive; “Hey, easy there,” when he groped them too rough, and somehow it didn’t disturb his laser focus at all.

Then Akira squeezed his hands around his breasts to a pinch and pulled along his nipples and Ryuji made one small, agonizingly quiet little sigh under his breath that stopped Akira cold. He looked up at Ryuji’s face, his eyes gone kind of dreamy and half-lidded, and then immediately down lower to see—nothing, to see nothing, what was he even expecting?

“Hey, that does feel kinda good,” Ryuji said, a new tinge of roughness to his voice.

“Oh, that’s great then,” Akira wheezed, because Ryuji was looking at him now with that same satisfied look on his face.

“You can touch ‘em some more. I don’t mind.”

“M-Maybe I should do something else instead.”

“Okay, then try down here too.” Ryuji pulled Akira’s hand down with his into his lap, over his mound, and it took everything Akira had not to panic at the full contact of his fingers to Ryuji’s junk. They brushed past his clit, going down lower still until they were dipped into the space between and what in the everloving hell was this, a sensation that Akira could only describe as gooey, hot and slippery to the touch, and now he definitely knew he was messing around near Ryuji’s insides and whatever homegrown lube was coming out of them.

His dick twitched harder.

“Oh god,” Akira groaned in utter dread.

“What’s with that face?” Ryuji squinted at him. “You scared or something? C’mon, man up! A real girl woulda kicked your ass for that!”

Akira could have said some choice words about manliness and jumping off of a balcony to run away from a sexy maid, but he didn’t. Instead, he put his fingers back and cautiously traced them around his clit and tried very hard not to think about the extra slip they had. “What should I do…?”

Ryuji rolled his eyes, ain’t it obvious, like he was some fucking expert now instead of a permavirgin asshole. “You rub it real fast or you lick it. Done.”

Now it was Akira’s turn to give the dirty look. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Whoa, I—! Nah, man! I ain’t sayin’ you should lick me!” he cried, going an octave too high on lick me and oh dear god are his neighbors still awake and hearing this— “I thought you were askin’ like, what kinda shit you do to a chick!” He looked down at Akira’s hand, his face flushing up fast. “Just keep doin’ that, use your hand!”

“Okay, okay, then… be honest about how I do,” Akira said, still touching Ryuji, and he had learned enough from the nipple incident to start slow this time. Just little flicks at first, easy enough to do when his fingers were practically gliding around his clit. It was so tiny that Akira wasn’t sure how good it could really feel, but there was a noticeable shift of his hips whenever he moved his fingers a certain way, a tease of direct pressure to his clit before backing off, and he concentrated on all of Ryuji’s directions, urging him on when to go slower, to go faster, and the color high on his cheeks hadn’t left at all.

“There, stay there,” Ryuji said, before he abruptly wiggled on Akira’s palm. “Uhn, that’s rough.”

“Should I go slower?”

“No, no, more like… wetter.”


Akira lowered his hand again for more free lube and oh, he could really curve his fingers deeper there, like it was just the natural trajectory of things. Maybe he moved down a little further than he really had to. It was hard not to; everything had gotten even slicker than before so it was no wonder that his hand went so far and lingered for so long.

Ryuji ground along against it too, so it was also kind of his fault. “Hey. If you want, you can keep going.”

“Yeah, okay,” Akira breathed out.

His finger slid in easier than he was expecting, until it caught on—until Ryuji flexed on it, jesus—and he had to let the muscle relax before he felt comfortable hitting knuckle. Now that he was… inside, he wasn’t sure what the next step was. He twisted his finger around, just to see how much room he was working with, and Ryuji made a curious face that tightened up as he moved. “Whoa.”

“You good?”

“Yeah… feels different when it ain’t my hand…”

Akira glanced up. “That’s what’s different? Not the brand new hole in your body.”

“No, I mean it like…” He watched Ryuji close his eyes and softly sigh. “Like different-good, not different-bad… I can’t explain it, dude, it’s like you just like havin’ a thing in there.”

Well, couldn’t hurt to have more, Akira figured. He added a second and Ryuji made a breathy “yeah,” as he slid back in. “Two’s better ‘n one, for sure.” Two looked about right. It stretched him wider, enough to look kind of impressive even if Akira’s aimless exploring wasn’t, but it still felt like there was something missing. Then he crooked his fingers experimentally and Ryuji jolted so suddenly he almost smacked up into the wall.

Huh. That was new.

He tried it a couple more times and Ryuji wrung his hands into the sheet, sucking in air instead of explaining anything he was feeling.

“Hey, you’ve got to talk to me,” Akira mumbled. “I don’t know what I’m doing here so if you don’t say anything—”

“It’s,” Ryuji puffed out, “it’s good? Yeah, when you’re movin’ your fingers like that—” so Akira did, and Ryuji forgot how to even talk, “—like—like—yeah, you—s’good, oh damn, Akira—unh, kinda feels like I hafta piss—” and those fingers immediately froze. “Mmh, yeah… hah, hey man, why’d you stop?”

“Now you’re saying too much, okay?”

“You said ‘be honest’… and I wasn’t gonna! Your fingers’re just… touchin’ everything in there!”

Akira settled for pumping his fingers instead, straigtening them as best he could so he wouldn’t press on anything at all, but that didn’t matter when Ryuji just wouldn’t stay still. His thighs shifted, and his hips curled forward, and he groaned so clearly into the sheets while Akira’s fingers kept sliding in and out and back in again, like it was… like they were…

Their phones went off. Both of them, at the same time – the noise was so sudden it made Akira rocket his fingers back out while his heart tried screeching to a halt. Their eyes did a strange dance between each other and their phones before Ryuji finally picked his up. Akira didn’t have to. It must be the group chat, probably checking in to see how Ryuji was doing. What they’ve been up to. If they were planning on getting to third base tonight, you know, like they’d maybe already done.

Ryuji snickered over whatever he was reading so that was a good sign, but Akira still wasn’t brave enough to check the messages. He looked at the time instead. “Wow, we’ve been… uh, studying for awhile now.”

“Huh, I didn’t even notice.” His phone thrown off somewhere, Ryuji sat back up. There was a shine now near the dip of his ass, this wet slick that kept catching the attic lights. “You really never had a girlfriend, Akira? You got some serious technique.”

“Was it that good?”

“Yeah, real good… you’re like, a natural. Like some kinda pussy whisperer.”

Which should have been good enough to hear, but Akira’s fuzzy idiot brain made him say, “How can you tell?”

“You can’t?” Ryuji waved his hand around. “You’ve gotta get girls wet and it’s like the effin’ ocean down there. And everything just feels like… just trust me, it’s good.”

“Okay. Good.”

“But I’m feelin’ kinda… achey,” he squirmed, “like an itch I can’t reach. Like I gotta go finish up what we started, you get me?”

“Yeah.” Akira was a second away from taking five to beat off in the downstairs bathroom, so he wasn’t much better off.

“But I can’t just…” Ryuji jerked off the air in front of his crotch. “You know? Like that makes sense. Gettin’ off with this looks mad complicated. Something’s gotta make it easier.”

Before Akira could ask what that something could even be, he caught his line of sight. Ryuji was looking straight at his dick. Not like there was any hiding it; he could take an eye out with how much his shit was sticking up, but it was still blatant enough to annoy him.

“Okay,” Ryuji said, and Akira slowly pieced together the dawning realization on his face, “don’t take this the wrong way or nothin’, but what if—”

“Oh holy shit, no.”

“—look, but what if we—”

“Oh my god!”

“—shut your ass up, just—let’s just try it.” Akira watched Ryuji drag slick fingers around his entrance with a hitch in his breath—bad, bad, this was so bad— “I’m serious. Just help me out here. Don’t leave me hangin’.”

So maybe he’d already been hard, kinda really hard, but now the strain against his pants took up his full attention, a throbbing mess of awful, terrible ideas. If he had any blood left in his head, he would’ve thought better of this, for sure.

“…We can never, ever, ever tell anybody about this.”

“Deal,” Ryuji quickly said and shucked his shirt right off to the floor. Akira didn’t even bother; he was already popping open his fly and springing his cock free from its prison, an incredible relief even though it was embarrassingly hard and dark and pointed right at Ryuji. He gave it the widest-eyed ogle as he dropped flat on his back and then Akira climbed over him, his dick knocking sticky touches between Ryuji’s thighs. He was too slow to move them so Akira pushed his legs up and apart easily and that was fucking flexible, fucking weird, was he always able to do that?

But he couldn’t wait anymore. Akira lined himself up as quick as he could and leaned forward and hit nowhere, absolutely nowhere, and he bumped hands with Ryuji as he tried to readjust, both of them fumbling together to get it right. Then his tip nudged into slick heat and Ryuji made this strange, choked-up “Huh,” and Akira’s head kind of blanked out, because he was pushing himself in deeper before he really knew it and he was gripped tight and hot the whole way through.

“Ohhhhhh shiiiiiit,” Ryuji slurred out, his mouth gone round and soft, and he clambered his hands around Akira’s back. His fingers gripped onto his skin tighter, tighter, until Akira finally jerked to a halt.

Akira, somehow, managed to form a coherent thought. “Feels okay...?”

“Feels hot,” Ryuji gasped, and oh fuck, it was hot, bottomed out in molten heat, the wettest, hottest thing Akira ever stuck his dick into, and his hips popped forward involuntarily. “Shit—”

“Can I—I’m gonna,” Akira said, even as he was already rearing back, feeling the pull of Ryuji all around him, and Ryuji said, “Yeah, go, go,” into his ear as Akira started to fuck him. The first few thrusts fizzled out what was left of his brain because everything else vanished except for this, his world shrunk to the stretch of Ryuji around his cock; like all of his problems stopped mattering, even the biggest one right underneath him.

And Ryuji, Ryuji was just gone, looking like he was launched somewhere into the stratosphere while his fingers ran everywhere he could reach, rubbing himself at a frantic pace, and if they didn’t slow down then Akira was going to join him because he was building up to the fastest blow of his life. He fought it – really tried to fight how he snapped short and fast but it only rolled him into a rhythm too choppy to be called restrained, plunging deep in stops and starts.

Ryuji noticed. “Go faster,” he panted, desperate, “go really fast…!”

“No, Ryuji, I, I can’t—I’m close.” The sudden squeeze around Akira’s dick made his next breath come out funny. “Don’t do that!”

”Do what? Ahh, what’d I do?” Another burst of thrusting escaped him and Ryuji knocked his head back, his face wound up too tight. “Ohh—shit, oh, come on, come on come on—”

Fuck it, Akira let go, bucking into Ryuji how he wanted to, and Ryuji’s groans shot up to the cusp of yelling right by the side of his head. He pressed up to Akira, throbbing hotter and hotter, and his hand didn’t stop for a second until it did, and with a loud gasp of “Fuck, man!” he writhed back and shook and screamed and came—and that was it, Akira popped, no warning, just faceplanting into the mattress and letting second nature take over.

Of course, the harsh reality of his poor life choices set in not even a minute later. Akira stayed flopped over, possibly feigning death, because it was the easiest option he had, except that the occasional flutter he felt around his dick kept jolting him and ruining the effect.

“Damn… ” Ryuji swooned, blissed out and completely oblivious to Akira’s suffering, “I felt that in both of ‘em,” and Akira wanted nothing less than to think about what he meant. “Man, you’re the best. Thanks, Akira.”

“Ugh, why me…?”

“And you’re heavy.”

Ryuji roughly slapped Akira on the back until he finally unstuck himself. He tried and failed to fix up his pants, which now had the most obscene staining he’d ever seen and he wasn’t sure it’d wash out again for school.

“Relaaax, man,” Ryuji said, “we’ll get everything fixed tomorrow. Probably.”

And did he have to sound so goddamn happy? It made Akira look so much worse in comparison, limply rolled over, head stuffed like an ostrich under his pillow so he could forget that his dick was still half-hard and it shot a load into places it was never meant to go. He couldn’t even think to pull out. He couldn’t even think, period, like Ryuji had vacuumed out his brain through his dick. God, girls were dangerous.

Ryuji lifted up the pillow. “Hey, if you ever get girled out by a Shadow too, I get to have my turn, right?”

“No, because I’m not going back to Mementos,” Akira said, muffled by bedsheet. “I quit.”

“Kiddin’! Geez! Man, we gotta work on your sense of humor next, huh?” Although looking at his face, Akira felt that he was maybe actually completely serious.

Then, as he really thought about that, his dick made one last twitch underneath him. God. God, god, GOD. “This was so not worth it.”

“Oh yeah,” Ryuji said, “totally worth it.”