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After You

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The streets are illuminated by the storefronts of the convenience stores open all night, their windows plastered with advertisements. Akira's eyes flicker between them — new candy, soda, food — and his heart races more after each shop he passes. It's nearing midnight, and there are less people around the longer he walks. He's pacing himself, building up the last bit of courage he needs before he turns down an unfamiliar side street.

Eyes are on him the moment the darkness of the alley swallows him. He can feel them ogling him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. They've been watching him all night, but they're closer now; every step he takes brings that gaze closer. He hears steps behind him once the lights from the main street are nothing but a glimmer behind him. They're deliberate — loud enough that he'll hear, and slow enough to make him grit his teeth.

It's when a hand grabs his arm that he almost stumbles, his shoes scuffing against the pavement. He's pulled back into someone's chest, their breath hot on his ear. They don't say anything — that they're here, curly hair tickling the side of his neck, is announcement enough.

Arms wrap around his waist, holding him for a tender moment before pushing him against the side of a building. The wall is cold on his forehead, but fingers are in his mouth before he can gasp. He licks them at first, his tongue lapping at them before biting softly.

"You're really bad at this," Joker says, his voice honeyed with all the things Akira knows he wants to do to him. He palms the front of Akira's pants, who moves his hips into the touch.

"You're not so great yourself." Joker's hands on him are soft, leading him more than trying to force him, like they had agreed on earlier.

"Oh, is that so?" Joker's hand slips from his mouth to undo his belt, teasing him as he dips his fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. There's a pause — so slight that, if Akira hadn't been holding his breath in anticipation, he might have missed it.

"You're not wearing any underwear." It wasn't part of their plan, but Akira's glad he made that last minute decision when Joker nips at his ear. "I like it."

It makes his whole body hot when Joker talks to him like this. It's the honesty of it — that Joker not only knows just what to say to turn him on, but means it, too. This isn't turning at all like how they planned — a seemingly non-consensual escapade in a dark alley — but Akira's body is still on fire, despite the chilly air. When Joker's finger presses inside him, he chokes out a gasp. His other self doesn't even try to hold him back anymore, and he thrusts his hips back, starving for his touch. Joker kisses the back of his neck, his lips icy on his skin as his finger touches him just right. Akira is mumbling — begging him not to stop; to never stop. His words are jumbled and incoherent, but he knows Joker understands. He can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he pulls at his hair, making Akira gasp.

It doesn't take long for him to come in his pants — with Joker's hands on him and inside him. After turning him around to kiss him — the harshness of their lips meeting uncomfortable, but something he didn't realize he needed — Joker disappears, leaving him to return home alone. It's the one part of their plan that they don't end up deviating from.

Akira will always hunger for Joker, he thinks; that darkness that will never truly leave him.