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“So let me get this straight.”
Goro props himself up on his elbow to be able to properly look down at Akira. Akira—his boyfriend now of three years—who is sprawled out naked and fucked out beside him.
“You want to role play sneaking into the ‘metaverse’ to fuck in that god forsaken palace—”
“When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound very sexy.”
“—to live out a teenage fantasy you had of us?”
Akira rolls his eyes and his red face turns a few shades deeper. “You asked me what I used to fantasize about.”
“No,” Goro corrects him. “I asked if you used to feel…this way about me back then.”
“And I told you, yes, I used to get off on the idea of you in your bodysuit almost every night, and then you called me an idiot. C’mon, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about having sex in the metaver—”
Goro leans down and cuts him off with a kiss. Akira melts right into it, parting his lips and flicking his tongue briefly against Goro’s.
“You know the answer to that question,” Goro whispers into his mouth. “I still think you’re an idiot.”
“I do. But you haven’t answered no to my first one yet,” Akira whispers back, mouth curling into a smirk against his own.
Goro sighs. “You know the answer to that one too.”
Akira’s smirk grows wider and before he can make a smartass retort, Goro smacks him with a pillow.
The things people do for lo—that.
Honestly, coming to the Maruki’s palace had been a mistake in hindsight.
Goro all but collapses in one of the two armchairs in the safe room after a harrowing escape from a Fafnir. This palace excursion has been… trying to say the least, with security on high alert after one too many unfortunate ambushes. He glares over at Akira as he stretches, seemingly unphased by their shitty luck. Well it really isn’t luck—if they hadn’t been bickering so loudly and had been paying more attention to their surroundings instead of each other, then maybe they wouldn’t have been taken by surprise so damn much.
The problem is Akira is enthralling when locked in a debate. His silver eyes practically glow with mischievous determination, his smile sharpens into one that makes Goro’s stomach flip pleasantly as he pursues his point. So naturally Goro argued with him just to linger a little longer with this uninhibited version of his rival…while he still could.
Okay he’s getting too into character. Focus.
Pushing the sobering thought aside, Goro finds he’s also furious for letting himself get so easily distracted by Akira’s wiles, kind of like he is now watching Akira twist his lithe body through a series of maneuvers to relieve the tension in his muscles. Goro’s eyes roam over his broad shoulders, lean torso and small waist a tad too long. When he brings his gaze up to Akira’s face again he realizes he’s been caught ogling him.
“Enjoying the view, Crow?” Akira says way too confidently for Goro’s liking with a smirk.
Goro crosses both his legs and his arms with a huff and looks away.
“Oh don’t be like that,” Akira coos, dropping his arms and turning to face him. “I know you watch me when you think I’m not looking. It’s okay to look…in fact, more than okay.”
“Oh is it?” Goro steals a glance and feels his throat grow tight.
“Of course,” he says, gazing at him with half lidded eyes. “Would you like something more…interesting to watch?”
“If you think you can keep my interest, then by all means, prove it,” Goro taunts.
His eyes shine like molten silver as he slowly saunters towards him. The first article of clothing to come off are his gloves—he raises his right hand to his mouth and pulls off the leather with his teeth. The glove drops from his mouth with a soft smack against the tile floor, and the other falls shortly behind the first. His now bare hands slide up his vest, over his collarbones and grip onto his collar. The coat is slid off him revealing toned shoulders and biceps as it travels down his arms.
Goro realizes exactly what Akira is doing as his rival climbs onto the chair, with Goro still in it. If Goro’s face hadn’t been heated under his mask, it certainly would have been now. Akira places one knee on either side of his crossed legs to straddle him. Goro sucks in a breath when Akira latches onto his helmet, tilting his head up fully to meet his eyes.
“Get this out of the away for me, won’t you?”
The helmet vanishes not even a second later, and Goro curses himself for being so blatantly eager. It only makes Akira’s salacious smile grow even wider as he cups either side of his face with his bare hands.
“That’s better.” Akira’s domino mask disappears as well as he leans down to whisper in Goro’s ear. “What happens in the metaverse, stays in the metaverse.”
A hand leaves Goro’s jaw to find a home on the back of the chair, bracketing Goro in.
“Keep your eyes on me,” Akira commands and leans back up, swaying slightly from side to side.
“As if they’d be anywhere else,” Goro breathes, uncrossing his arms and wrapping one around Akira’s lower back possessively, making Akira jolt in his lap. The other rests on the arm of the chair. Goro forces himself to remain relaxed, he can’t let Akira win by getting him visibly bothered. After all, that’s what this silent game is all about: Who will break first and make the first move.
Goro’s claws dig into the soft flesh of Akira’s back as the man slowly undoes his vest with one hand. Akira arches back, perhaps, unconsciously at the touch. It’s a miracle Goro keeps his attention on Akira’s face as Akira reveals more of his pale, toned chest that is right at his eye level had he been looking straight instead of up.
Goro shifts beneath Akira, his legs still crossed and gradually becoming more of a problem as other parts of his body pick up interest at the man strip dancing in his lap. Akira never actually touches his legs though, hips rolling with unerring precision to avoid any contact. The body heat emanates off Akira though Goro can feel it radiating into his thighs. It takes more self-restraint than Goro wants to admit not to slam Akira’s hips downward so his ass grinds into his thighs, forcing him to rut against his groin.
Goro will not break. He will not.
Well, he wasn’t going to until Akira throws his head back and drags his hand and nails down the front of his chest. The motion leaves faint red lines from his sternum to his stomach that undulates in such a mesmerizing manner. Goro’s breath catches as he watches the muscle ripple beneath his skin, flexing in time with each rise and fall and gyration of his hips. He’s proud he’s even lasted this long with Akira flaunting himself like this.
Goro surges forward and licks a strip up his chest to his collarbones, then latches on to lay messy open mouthed kisses along it to his shoulder. The same moment he bites, he uncrosses his legs and yanks Akira forward, down into his lap where Goro becomes keenly aware of two things:
One, he is very hard. Undeniably, painfully so.
Two, so is Akira.
“Wow,” Goro breathes against the bruise he’s sucked into Akira’s skin. “You really are a glutton for attention, aren’t you Joker? Getting off on your own performance.”
Akira ruts into him and he lets out a hiss.
“I could say the same to you,” Akira says breathlessly, doing it again—this time grinding their clothed erections against one another. “You love being lavished with attention—” Akira thrusts this time, and Goro groans, nipping at his neck “—my attention. Don’t deny it.”
Instead of answering Akira, he bucks upwards, eliciting a keening sound out of Akira that his brain will play on repeat now until the night he dies.
“Do that again,” Akira commands, the hand on Goro’s jaw sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him into a kiss
Goro obeys.
They fall into a rhythm, of bumps and grinds, of breathless sighs and needy moans into wet wanting mouths. Akira bounces in his lap and Goro curses the fact they’re fully clothed. Akira’s movements become more desperate, fucking into Goro’s lap with fervor Goro’s only ever fantasized about.
“You’re close aren’t you?” Goro asks, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice.
“Shut up,” Akira growls, thrusting faster. “As if you aren’t too.”
Akira’s not wrong, Goro can feel the spandex of his body suit clinging to his cock from the precum that’s been steadily leaking out since Akira started all but dry humping him into the armchair. But Akira is closer, Goro can tell by his erratic breathing.They aren’t really kissing now—it’s more like resting their mouths against one another as they exchange breaths and whines, Akira’s being the ones more distressed.
Goro grins against Akira’s lips and slides his hand from his lower back down to cup his ass, claws lightly gripping the plush muscle through his pants. Akira moans raggedly into Goro’s mouth.
“I wonder what sounds you would make if I opened you up right here, right now,” he says, biting Akira’s swollen, spit slicked lips. “Would you cry for me Akira, if I fingered you on this chair?”
The response he gets is a strangled noise.
“It’s too bad we didn’t bring anything with us to make that happen,” Goro taunts. “This will just—”
Akira taps a small bottle against the back of his hand. Goro looks down and—
“Oh my god, really Akira?”
“Don’t break character!” Akira hisses.
“”Relax Gel”? This is a mini bottle of lube with a sticker on it.”
“Look, I had to improvise,” he says exasperatedly, grinding down on Goro.
It works like a charm to get him back in the scene.
Goro yanks Akira’s pants down until the bunch around mid thigh and his cock springs free. Its tip is slick and wet, precum trickling from its slit. As tempting as it is to thumb over it, Goro doesn’t. Instead, he brings both hands behind Akira, who’s gazing down at him with eager hunger flickering in his eyes and discards his gauntlets. At the sound of the cap popping Akira’s thighs tense up around his own.
“None of that now, Joker,” Goro purrs, slicking up his fingers. He recaps the lube and sets it aside on the chair for later. Cupping his left cheek with his right hand, he pulls gently to spread it open. Akira jolts when the tip of his finger touches his rim, tracing around the ring of muscle. “Relax for me.”
His finger grows bolder, pushing harder and feeling his hole open and twitch. It’s easy to slip his fingertip in and start toying with it. Akira tries to hold in his groans by biting his lip and leaning forward to rest his forehead against Goro’s. It’s for naught, because Goro takes advantage of the moment of weakness to push his finger up into Akira without warning to the second knuckle. Akira’s mouth parts and is unable to stop the moan that leaves it. His hips start to rise up but Goro lets go of his ass to grip his hip and keep it in place, sliding the rest of his finger in.
“Don’t move until I get two inside you,” he says and squeezes. Despite the soft command, Akira squirms when he starts to thrust in a steady rhythm.
As Goro does, he’s sure to press on a different part of Akira’s walls, slowly stretching him wider.
“So tight,” Goro comments. His motions get a little rougher knowing Akira can take it. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”
He pulls out and Akira exhales sharply, his hips following his finger down. When two press against his hole Akira pushes back and the tips breach him. Goro falls back into that rough rhythm, this time accompanied with soft mewls on each thrust in. It doesn’t take long for Akira to start shifting to meet each thrust, bouncing ever so slightly on his fingers. Probably in an effort to coax Goro closer to his prostate but Goro’s not about to let that happen. Yet.
When Goro teases a third at his rim Akira’s patience snaps. He rips open Goro’s body suit from his stomach down and grips his cock in his gloved hand. The rough leather against Goro’s sensitive skin is such an unexpected sensation it causes Goro to inhale sharply and plunge all three of his fingers up into Akira. The resulting cry of surprised pleasure from Akira makes Goro’s stomach flip.
“C’mon, I know you can do better than that,” Akira taunts breathlessly, and retaliates by pumping him in fast but steady strokes. “Show me.”
In a flash Goro disrupts Akira’s ministrations, and manhandles him around so that he’s kneeling over his lap, facing the safe room door. Goro lines up his cock and grinds his head up into his ass that’s now poised perfectly over it. The pressure is perfect, and much more satisfying than the grinding form earlier.
“Ah, C-Crow, I—” Akira stutters out, canting his hips forward when Goro slips his hand down the front of Akira’s stomach to push him down onto his cock. Akira’s thighs tremble as he’s lowered.
“Sit.”
Akira begins to growl but it morphs into a whine as he caves in and does as he’s told, dropping the rest of the way into Goro’s lap. Neither of them move for a moment, basking in the feeling of being full of the other. Goro doesn’t want to admit just how perfect it feels to be this deep inside Akira, to have him clenching around his cock and being held in his lap. It’s a miracle neither of they have come yet, with how pent up they’ve been and constantly they’ve been riling each other up, Goro didn’t expect to get this far.
Goro nuzzles against the back of Akira’s head. “I believe you promised me a show. Please continue,” he goads, knowing Akira won’t disappoint.
To incentivize Akira further, his hand meanders over his boyfriend’s lower belly, and onto his cock. Goro smirks when his palm slides a little too well against it.
“So wet from some simple grinding and fingering, if I had known you were this desperate I would have done this ages ago.”
Slowly, Goro circles his right around Akira’s shaft while his other arm wraps around Akira’s waist to secure him in place. Akira bucks against it on reflex, rolling his hips forward and grinding his ass back hard. It’s rewarded with a kiss on his neck.
“Again.”
The next roll has pleasure sparking in Goro’s core, like a lightning chain reaction up his spine, zipping vertebrae to vertebrae until it hits his brain. It flips a switch and Goro’s grip on Akira tightens.
“Again, harder,” Goro growls, mouthing further along Akira’s neck.
A hand shoots into Goro’s hair and twines through the strands, holding it painfully tight. Goro grunts in a mix of pleasure and pain, flexing his hips to bury himself deeper into Akira, as he begins to steadily bounce and grind. It becomes hard to breathe, with how much pleasure Akira is wringing out of him.
“That’s it,” Goro praises when Akira’s thrusts suddenly become frantic. He meets each grind with a forceful thrust up of his own. “Keep going, Joker. Don’t stop until you come in my hand.”
“I—I’m—” Akira cries out, giving one, two more downward thrusts before seizing up in Goro’s lap. Akira comes, spilling inside his hand as Goro continues to stroke him through the climax.
“N-Next time—” Goro grits out as Akira makes aborted little shifts in Goro’s lap as Goro thrusts relentlessly against his ass, body growing tighter and tighter with the need to release with each one. “—I’ll bend you over the arm of this chair and fuck you so ha—ahh—” The thought sends Goro over the edge before he can even finish it, burying his face in Akira’s back as he spills as deep as he can into his boyfriend. He continues to grind against Akira’s solid weight in his lap as the aftershocks rock his system. They both slump back after the last one—Goro against the back of the chair and Akira against Goro’s chest.
Maybe coming—hah—to Maruki’s palace had been a good idea after all.
Goro kisses the top of Akira’s left shoulder over a hickey that’s beginning to bloom, eliciting a soft moan out of Akira.
“Did that live up to your fantasy?” he whispers into his skin.
“S’even better than I could’ve imagined,” Akira says, turning his head and placing his lips against Goro’s temple. “Next time, maybe we can use some of your belts—aahh!”
Goro grinds up into Akira’s sensitive ass and bites the bruise, releasing a groan of his own when Akira seizes up around his softening cock.
He smiles sharply. “You read my mind.”