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When you and Aki decided to take the leap from complicated friendship to even more complicated romance, it had been a hesitant, difficult decision. There were many things that made the idea of a relationship seem futile, with the biggest one being his imminent death sentence from the Curse Devil. Aki knows that you've been dreading his passing for a long time now, knows that it'd be cruel to ask for your heart if he can't give you a life in return. And as much as he's wanted you for a long time now—hasn't ever been able to kick the thought, not through cigarettes or work or even other women—there are few things he'd hate more than leaving you alone in two years, left with nothing but wasted time and a pile of ash.
So when you said to him that it'd hurt less to stay friends, Aki agreed. And he was ready to let you go then, because the last thing he'd ever want to do was hurt you. But you'd also been so close to him when you said this, watching him with tender, conflicted eyes as you brushed the hair out of his face.
Aki's not a selfish man, but it did something to him, seeing you like that: finally in his arms, but so hurt, so hopeless. And he knew it was unfair, knew he had nothing to offer you, but he still couldn't stop himself from pressing his mouth against yours and kissing you the way he'd been wanting to for years.
And you let him.
For better or worse, you're now feeling things out romantically. It's not anything like a relationship yet, because you're taking things slow: a date here and there, lazy evenings at home together whenever you get the chance, kissing each other long and sweet whenever Denji and Power aren't around. But there's nothing more than that. No labels, no expectations, and—very importantly—no sex. Sex with strangers and friends is easy, you'd said, but sex with Aki would feel different. Would probably mean more to you than it should, would mean something weighty and intimate and irreversible. And though he didn't say it, Aki felt the same way.
"That's fine," he'd said. "We can wait as long as you want."
Thinking back to that conversation, it confuses him what you're now doing, just over a week later: sitting pretty in his lap, your mouth soft and pliable as it moves against his. Wearing nothing but a set of ivory lingerie, your body is almost entirely exposed to him, and he can't stop drinking in the sight: the swell of your breasts covered in lace; your bare thighs straddling his hips; the playful smile on your face as you watch him swallow thickly.
He cups a breast in his hand, feels the delicate contours of the embroidery, and he can't help but run a thumb along over the material. You shiver when he lingers on the peak of your breast, your nipple hardening beneath his touch.
"You wore this for me?" he murmurs. Your mouth quirks up.
"No, I wore this for Kobeni," you can't stop yourself from saying, and it's a testament to how turned on he is that he doesn't immediately roll his eyes. You must notice his exasperation though, because you giggle a little and lean in.
"Yes," you concede, "I wore this for you—bought it new, actually."
"So no one else has seen you in it?" he asks, bringing up his other hand to your chest. He squeezes both of your breasts, enjoys the way it makes you arch into his touch. When you shake your head, Aki replies, "Good," and rewards you by leaning in to kiss you again.
Despite the sense of satisfaction, though, he can't help but feel bothered. "Why?" he then asks, and you blink.
"Because… I'd hoped you'd like it?" You tilt your head, curious. "Don't you?"
"I do," he says, his thumbs skimming the peaks of your breasts again. You bite your lip, moving your hips toward his own. Noticing the neediness in your eyes, he grabs your waist and repositions you until your core is hovering over the bulge in his pants. You eagerly press down against it, and he has to stop himself from groaning. Ironically, this all happens as he explains, "But I thought you wanted to take things slow. No sex."
That makes you pause. Or maybe it's the way that you're grinding against his lap that's distracting you from talking. Aki leans back, enjoys the sight of sheer, white mesh against the dark fabric of his pants. He can already see a wet stain beneath you, giving away how wound up you already are. He wonders if you had been thinking about this, while you were out on your date tonight, wearing this little number underneath your clothes. If you were thinking about it on the drive home, anticipating his touch. If you were already wet before you even stepped into this room tonight, or if you're just so sensitive that all it took was a little kissing and groping to get you into this state.
"I do want to take things slow," you say after a bit. Then you smile, reach up and start tugging at the elastic in his hair. "We don't have to have sex or anything. But you can touch me, if you want."
Aki lets you undo his topknot, run your fingers through the dark strands as they're freed. He contemplates your words, mildly confused about what your actual limits are, but then you drag your hips across his again, and his thoughts are abruptly cut off. All he can focus on is the friction from your core, and the sheer, barely-there fabric that's separating it from him. You must be able to feel a lot through your panties, because your eyes are hazy and—when he leans in to kiss you—he can feel the heat from your face. Your pulse is racing, too; it's fast beneath his lips as he kisses and sucks your neck, making you shiver.
"Aki," you whine. It's a pretty, needy noise, and he feels himself getting harder, just listening to it. "Touch me more—please?"
That makes him pause.
He places two hands on your waist, stops your grinding. You blink at him, confused, and he says, "What do you mean?"
"...what?"
"What do you mean, touch you? I need you to be specific, if sex is off-limits." He lifts a hand to one of your breasts, cups it. You breathe in sharply, your hips jerking instinctively, but his other hand keeps you in place. It leaves you squirming and biting your lip, unable to find any kind of relief. "I know you're okay with this"—he squeezes your breast, making you sigh—"and this"—he flicks his thumb across a nipple, and the lace is so thin that he can easily pinch it through your bra. A little whimper leaves you, and you're clearly now frustrated at not being able to grind against him. "But you need to tell me what else you want." His fingers tap at your waist. "I'll let you move after you do."
You bite your lip, thinking.
"Maybe we can just keep doing what we were doing?" you suggest. You run a hand through his hair. "Or you can use your hands, if you'd like. Maybe your mouth too, if you want."
Aki nods, and lets his hands start wandering again. One playing at your nipple, another squeezing the soft curve of your ass, fingers digging into the flesh. You lean into him, smiling as he grabs and kneads your body.
One of his hands comes to rest at your panties. You tilt your hips up, giving him a good look, and he's entranced. The translucent material, embroidered with flowers, shows nearly everything: the contour of your lips, your pretty clit, and the wetness from your core.
Aki's reaches down, tests his fingers by running up your opening. Finds your panties drenched even though he's barely touched you.
"You're so wet," he murmurs.
"Mhm. I was wet for most of the night," you admit softly. You start rolling your hips as he teases you, and you add, "Kept thinking about coming home and letting you touch me in this."
He sucks in a breath.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And I kept thinking about all the things I wanna do with you." His thumb rests on your clit. "I know we said take things slow, but I really want you, Aki. Been wanting you for a long time."
"Me too," he breathes. He starts rubbing you through the fabric, and even though your expression melts in a way that makes his cock throb, he finds the sense to say, "But we should go slow. Take our time."
Because taking your time is what you wanted, when you were rational and thinking carefully about what would make you most comfortable. Because taking his time, doing things properly with you, is what he wants to do, too. Wants to take his time savouring the taste of your mouth, take his time playing with your swollen clit and making you moan against his lips, take his time kissing his way down your neck, your collarbones, your breasts. He lets himself indulge in all of that, and then more: nips at the lace of your bra, blows on your nipple until you're squirming. Then he takes it into his mouth. He starts licking and sucking, drawing quiet, sweet moans out of you.
His mouth is greedy, wet and hot through lace while his tongue swirls around your nipple. You start grinding against his cock, rutting and desperate for friction. He feels himself getting harder beneath you, and he groans into your breast.
You start tugging at his pants, and when he glances up, your eyes are pleading.
"I wanna feel more of you, Aki."
Aki can't undress fast enough.
He removes every item of clothing that you pull at. First his pants, and then his shirt. You eye his body appreciatively after you do, apparently fixated even though you've seen him shirtless after countless missions together, helping him with his dressing his wounds while cussing him out for getting hurt. Now you're tracing the remnants of those cuts, your fingers ghosting the scars on his taut muscles before grabbing onto his shoulders.
You're eager when you finally straddle his hips and press your wet slit against the outline of his cockhead, maybe feeling the precum that's soaked through his briefs. He inhales sharply as the tip presses between your lips and right into your opening, which is hot and wet even through his briefs. If it weren't for his underwear, he'd be able to feel your entrance against his cock.
You start moving, and both of you moan at the pressure.
It's insane how much this is turning him on. He feels like a teenager, getting this worked up over some dry humping. Each time your pussy drags against his throbbing cock and presses down on the head, he feels himself getting harder, leaking more. You're getting desperate too, thighs trembling around him as you start panting softly, needily. All that just from grinding against his cock over his briefs, just from having his wet tongue move over your nipples, just from the way your clit is pressing into him with each glide of your hips.
But then you stop, and he feels a tug at his briefs.
"I wanna feel you more," you say. "It's not enough, Aki. I wanna feel you against me."
Aki stops, considering. It's not exactly what you'd been asking for earlier, but it's also not much further. So he pulls down his briefs, freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He catches you staring at it, eyes wide. He can't quite tell if your expression is hungry or intimidated or both.
"Something wrong?" he asks.
You swallow thickly. "No. You're just… really big."
"So I've heard," he says dryly.
You bite your lip, looking conflicted as you stare at him. "Maybe we should just fuck, after all," you comment as you hook your fingers on your panties, sliding them off.
Aki's cock twitches at the suggestion, while he stares at your exposed core. He has half a mind to spread you out on the bed and get a better look, but then you crawl back onto his lap and seat yourself on him. You press your heat against him, your bare pussy wet onto his cock, and you start rubbing yourself up and down the length of him. Your fingers sink into his shoulders as you groan at the wet, easy glide of his cock between your folds. With every thrust, he makes sure to press into your clit, and you moan at the sensation as he smears precum all over your bud.
Aki's fingers dig into your waist, helping you grind your pussy all over his length. Your movements become frantic, desperate and dripping as you try to seek your release.
Then the tip of his cock accidentally catches on your entrance.
Both of you freeze. His jaw tightens, feeling your pussy flutter and drip directly against his slit, and he holds back the urge to start thrusting up.
While he struggles with his self-control, you seem to throw yours out.
"Let's just"—you start pushing your hips down, clearly trying to fuck yourself on his cock and whining at the resistance, your hole too tight for him—"fuck, Aki, let's just do it. I want you inside me."
His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you again. A miracle, given how much he's thinking about pulling you down onto his cock.
"That's not what we agreed on," he points out. You give him a desperate look, pulling out all the stops: doe eyes, pouty lips, as cute as it is manipulative.
"You don't wanna fuck me, Aki?" you whine in a pleading voice—the same one you use to make him humour your most irresponsible demands.
"Of course I do," he replies. "But we're going to take things slow, remember? And anyway"—he wants to hit himself for this—"I don't have any condoms on me."
He'd run out a while back and never restocked, too overwhelmed with work to even think about it. And after the two of you started dating, he wasn't in a rush about picking any up, since you didn't seem to want to have sex anytime soon. But Aki should have known that he'd need them as soon as possible, given your shitty impulse control. Should have known you'd soon be grinding against the tip of his cock, begging him to fuck you anyway.
"I don't care," you whine. "It'll feel even better that way. Please, Aki—"
"No." He gives you a stern look. You don't let up, still squirming.
"I promise I'm fine with it," you whine. "We've taken things slow enough—"
Even this horny, Aki wants to snort. It's been nine days.
"—and I've gotten myself tested for everything, so I promise you don't have to worry about that either. It'll be fine."
"You're not on birth control," he points out.
"You can just pull out," you plead. He raises a brow, wondering if you're always this irresponsible during sex.
"That's not a reliable method of contraception," he says flatly, sounding like a textbook.
"But it's you," you say, undeterred. "I trust you to pull out in time."
Aki sighs, because he sure as hell doesn't.
"We shouldn't risk it," he says, but somehow still can't bring himself to pull you away. Already he can feel how warm and wet you are, and so close. He’s so close that it’d be easy to just slide into you.
Aki takes a long, measured breath, then exhales the same way. Maybe you notice the tension in his body, because you suggest, “How about just like this?”
He's finding it hard to think.
"Like this?"
“Yeah. Can I move a little?” You stare at him, and though you look no less pleading or desperate, you do watch him carefully. “Promise I won’t do much.”
Aki nods slowly, vaguely aware that this is a bad idea, but too curious to stop you. Slowly, you lower your hips, sinking down on him. He feels your pussy swallowing the tip of his cock and he chokes a little, instinctively tightening his grip on your hips. He’s going to bruise you at this rate, with how harshly he’s grabbing you, but he has to stop this. He doesn’t know who he’s trying to stop—you, from sheathing yourself on him, or himself, from just slamming into you—but the two of you can’t go any further.
He should lift you up, but you feel so good, tight and sopping wet for him. He just stays there, breathing heavily, letting himself enjoy the feeling of you.
"Like this," you say, and Aki remembers that you were trying to suggest something. Your walls tighten around him—fuck, you are definitely doing that on purpose—and he sucks in a breath. "Just the tip."
He's going insane, feeling you drip and pulse around him. Against his better judgement, he pushes up with hips, sinking further into you and giving you at least an inch of him. Even though it's just the tip, he already feels a stretch, your walls tight and hot. And shit, now he's thinking about how good you'd feel around the rest of his dick, but the two of you stay like that: unmoving, restrained.
Just like this. Okay. He can do just this. It'd be quick to pull out.
"Fine," he says, and you reward him with a slow thrust and a relieved, breathy moan. He joins you, groaning at finally getting to fuck into you—even if it's just a little bit. Your folds are slick, part easily for him each time you sink down on his cockhead. A sharp gasp leaves you when he takes a nipple into your mouth again, sucking and teasing you with each roll of his hips.
His head's spinning. Your heat is so tight and so wet that even though only the head of his cock is sunk inside you, Aki feels like he's losing his mind. On top of him, you look equally wound up, squirming and keening with every shallow thrust of your hips. You keep fluttering around him too, your pussy greedy for the rest of his cock. Every time you sink down and fuck yourself onto him, you do it with more force, more desperation, and every time he tightens his hold on your hips to stop you before you can take too much of him in.
"Aki," you start panting, breathing out with every shallow, agonising thrust, "Aki, I want you so badly, please, please just fuck me—"
Aki presses a thumb to your lips, cutting you off. Mostly he wants you to stop talking so he won't be tempted to actually fuck you properly—his self-restraint will snap if he keeps listening to your little pleas—but then you part your lips and take his thumb into your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut and he feels the hot, wet slide of your tongue on his skin, the gentle vibration of your blissed out hum, and Aki groans low and deep, probably sounding as animal as he feels.
The remaining hand on your hip loosens, and you take the opportunity to wriggle down on his lap. Your cunt swallows maybe another inch of his cock, and even with the filthy mess of his prespend and your slick, you're still unbearably tight around him. The stretch has you moaning, eyes rolling back as you finally get more of what you've been begging for.
"Fuck," he hisses, and he immediately lifts you off his cock.
"Aki!" you whine, looking on the verge of tears. You clench around nothing, missing him. "Aki, why'd you stop!"
"Because you're not behaving," he growls, trying to ignore his swollen and aching shaft. "I said we aren't fucking, so stop trying."
"That was an accident," you deny, bottom lip trembling. "I was just too wet, okay? I slipped. I'll be more careful. I promise."
Aki looks at your pleading, teary eyes—the exact same spoiled face you make when you piss him off and feign innocence—and gets the strong suspicion that you're bullshitting him.
"I don't trust you," he says plainly, and you make such a pathetic, miserable expression that he nearly feels bad. But it's the truth, so instead of letting you stay on top, he pushes you off his lap and then onto your back. As soon as he settles himself between your legs, your face lights up again.
You spread yourself eagerly for him, opening your thighs and giving Aki a full view of your core. Your pussy—wet, trembling, pretty—is glistening with his prespend, needy for more of it. He takes the heavy weight of his cock into his hands, can't resist running its head along your opening, enjoys how you squirm in response. He only pauses to press his cockhead against your swollen, neglected clit, coating it with your juices. Your hips jerk immediately, body instinctively trying to grind your sex against his length.
"Aki, please," you beg again. "Hurry."
He raises a brow, feigns contemplation—makes the kind of expression that he would as your superior officer, after receiving a bullshit request. It clearly gets under your skin, because you give him a frustrated look.
"I don't know," he says. "Are you going to be good?"
"Yes."
"Not going to try to beg for more?"
"I won't, I promise." You give him wide, pleading eyes. "Just the tip. I won't try to go further than that."
"Good girl.”
He presses the head of his cock against your heat. Slowly, deliberately, he pushes past your entrance and feels the tight squeeze of your walls again. Listens to the wet, obscene noises from your cunt as he begins thrusting. With each shallow pump of his cock, he feels your pussy sucking him in, begging for the whole length of him—but he doesn't give it to you.
Instead, he moves his thumb to your clit—still slick with his prespend—and presses down gently on it. Your hips jerk up as he starts rubbing circles, and he feels your walls clench hard.
"Aki," you breathe, "Aki, I'm so empty, I want more—"
"Don’t beg,” he says harshly. “You're not getting it.” But he presses a little deeper with his next thrust, gives you another inch, and enjoys how your mouth falls open.
"Akiiii," you plead, and he leans down to kiss you briefly.
"Don't worry," he says. "I'll get you there. Just be good."
And you are. You listen to him. Your hips buck up against him, and he can feel you getting wetter by the minute—can hear it, too, the slick and noisy sound you're making around the tip of his cock—but you don't beg him to fuck you, and you don't try to push yourself onto his length. You just grab at the sheets and try to enjoy the feeling of his shallow thrusts, sighing every time your pussy is allowed to take him in. You're good enough that Aki feels alright letting go of your hip. His free hand instead wraps around the swollen length of his cock—the part of it that isn't inside you—and he starts fisting himself. Tries to find relief in the squeeze of his hand as he jerks himself into your needy cunt.
You groan when you realise what he's doing, and you take over for him in teasing your clit, let him watch as your fingers play with yourself. But you keep to your promise, and that's all you do.
He's glad. Aki doesn't know if he could behave if you tried more than that. He's always been so used to looking out for you, to being careful with you, to treating you gently even when you're being reckless with your own body. That's what he should do now, while he's got you so sweet and malleable beneath him. That's always how he's wanted your first time with him to go.
But truthfully, he wants nothing more right now than to pin you down and fuck you raw and hard.
He used to think about that all the time, when he was younger and the two of you were roommates. He tried hard not to, but he did: thought about it when he heard you fucking yourself in your bedroom; thought about it whenever you brought home flings from the bar and he noticed that your moans were synced with the squeaking of your bed; thought about it every time the two of you went out drinking with Himeno and she coaxed you into oversharing your sexual escapades. Thought about it as you drunkenly talked about how you loved it especially when men got rough with you, when they manhandled you and used you like a toy.
Right now, that's exactly what he wants to do, after all these years of thinking about it: use you so thoroughly and deeply that you'll be too fucked out to think. Hold you down and force the rest of his cock into your pretty, needy pussy. Keep going until he's bottomed out and pressed up right against your cervix.
It'd be bad. No IUD, no condom, no birth control, no nothing, not to mention that the two of you were supposed to take things slow. This isn't what you had discussed, when you talked to each other about your limits. But he can tell you're currently out of your mind, helpless with arousal—already fucked stupid even though he's barely fucked you at all, only giving you the tip. You'd let him do anything right now. You'd let him sink the rest of his cock inside you, and you'd let him fuck you properly, and you'd let him cum inside you too. And then you'd let him do it all over again, and again, and again until you're stuffed full. Until you're whimpering and squeezing your eyes shut the way you are now, your thighs trembling with the nearness of your release.
"Aki, I'm cumming, I'm cumming," you whine, but you don't need to, because he can feel it for himself: feel the way your walls clench and convulse around the head of his cock, desperately trying to milk him; feel the way you gush with your release, soaking him; feel the way your thighs tighten around his waist, trying to pull him closer.
Something snaps in his gut, and he curses. Aki only barely makes it when he pulls out of you. Less than a second later, he's spilling cum all over your quivering pussy, the head of his cock pressed flush against your lower lips and drenching them in his spend. It gets everywhere: all over your clit, your entrance, the sheets beneath you. It takes several, long moments for him to finish releasing, and he leaves the inside of your thighs a sticky mess once he’s done.
Aki sighs heavily when he finds the sense to pull away—not from bliss, but from relief. He hadn't come inside you, thank god. It was insane of him to do this with you without a condom in the first place; he's glad it worked out.
But then you shift your thighs, and he sees the way your creamy slit trembles, and then his mind goes blank.
"Mm, that was nice." You breathe deeply, and Aki's vaguely aware of your contented sigh. "Still wish you'd just fucked me—I can't wait for us to…" You pause. "Aki?"
Aki doesn't reply. He's distracted, just watching the way his spend shines on your sex. It's filthy how much cum there is on you, filthier that it's dripping all the way down your ass, probably filthiest that he feels like it's being wasted on the sheets. Which is what he wanted—for it to be on you, not in you—but without thinking about it, he reaches out and parts your lower lips, fully exposing your glistening pussy. Then he dips his fingers into his cum and smears it across your spread folds.
You freeze.
The tension in your body brings him to his senses—what the hell is he doing—but then you squirm, push your hips toward his hand. "Keep going," you whisper, and just like that, his senses go out the window again.
He knows it's bad. Holy shit is it bad. But he does it anyway: gathers his spend with his index, presses his fingers into your heat, watches how easily your cunt takes it all in. How needily it does. Before he knows it, he's fingering his cum into your pussy, and you're gasping at the sensation of being opened up and fucked until he's knuckles-deep in you.
"We should probably stop," he murmurs, even when he withdraws his fingers only to guide more of his mess into you. Even as his thumb starts teasing your clit the way you like, and even as he leans in and blows on it. He feels you shiver when you do, probably oversensitive, but you encourage him with a breathy little moan.
"Don't," you say. And when you spread your legs more, desperate to have more of his cum inside you, he gets a full view of your sex: ruined with his spend both inside and out, greedily sucking in his fingers. It's mesmerising and it's pretty and he can't help but pull away his hand and replace it with his mouth.
"Oh, god—" Sharp inhale. "You don't have to, Aki, you don't need to—"
But I want to, he thinks about replying. He's wanted to for ages—to taste you, figure out how to move his tongue so he can make you pant like he's heard through the walls. But he knows it'd be useless to say that. You're stubborn, and you like to argue with him, and probably worst of all: nearly all your male sexual partners have treated you awfully in bed, and now you're convinced every man is like that.
So Aki doesn't bother responding with words, instead choosing to interrupt you by flattening his tongue and laving it against your heat. Both of his hands squeeze your thighs as he does, keeping them pried open even as you try to buck your hips.
You whine for him, pretty and needy, when he starts fucking you with his tongue. He feels heady and almost drunk right now, doing this: tasting the salt of his spend, all mixed up with your slick; enjoying the sensation of your folds on his mouth, flush against his lips; feeling you grind on his face, dragging your clit over his nose. Most of all, it's driving him crazy that with each dip of his tongue into your tight, pretty cunt, he's pushing more of his spend inside you.
Fuck taking it slow. You've both waited years for this.
Aki licks deep, sucks at your drenched pussy until his own cum is on his tongue. Then he pulls away, ignoring your whimper, and uses his fingers to spread your folds again. Watching your dripping opening, empty and missing his mouth, Aki gets an idea.
"I need more," you whine. "Please, Aki—your fingers, or your mouth, or anything—"
You don't need to ask, because he's already leaning down and parting his lips to let everything drip back into you, covering your hole in cum and spit. You're going to need it all, because his fingers are brushing against your cunt again, and he's going to give you three of them this time. If you can take them all, it occurs to him, it'd also mean you could probably take his whole cock.
Not that he's going to fuck you today, of course.
A blissed out sigh leaves you when he slides two of his fingers back into your wet heat. When he starts adding a third, he feels your walls fluttering, notices your hips shifting. Your panting is subtle but gives away the effort of taking more of his fingers, the discomfort of the stretch. So he leans down, takes your clit into his mouth, and starts sucking. He's being gentle, but it's enough to distract you. Your whimper tells him that you're focused only on the swirl of his tongue, and he thinks you don't even notice it when he finally sinks all three of his fingers into your cunt.
But you do notice it when he starts curling and pressing them against your front walls.
"Akiiii—" He feels hands in his hair, threading through it, pulling. It makes him growl, press his mouth even flusher against your mound. His fingers probe you deeper, search for the spot that he knows you hit whenever you fuck yourself. You're loud whenever you do it, and you're good at it too, so he's heard the keening noise you make when you split yourself open on a toy and it hits your—
"Ohhh—" Loud, startled gasp, followed by a desperate, obscene cry.
Yeah, that noise.
Aki gives you no mercy. His mouth doesn't let up on your bud; his fingers practically abuse your g-spot. Your cunt gets even sloppier, starts gushing around him, and you press a hand to your mouth because you're getting so loud. You start warning him, sounding delirious, half your words gibberish: "Aki, please, please—if you keep doing that, if you keep going—oh god, I can't, I can't. I'm gonna make a mess, 'm gonna, if you don't—"
He uses his free hand to push down on your pelvis, forces your sweet spot against his fingers, and you practically scream when you cum.
Your thighs tremble. The hand on your belly is probably the only thing that stops you from convulsing as you gush all over his mouth. You soak everything—his face, the sheets, your thighs—and he greedily licks it all up. Doesn't let up until you're whimpering and begging him: "Aki, Aki, please, 'm too sensitive, you gotta stop…"
Stop. That drags him immediately out of his stupor. He glances up, eyes on your face, and he crawls up when he sees how exhausted and teary you look. Wonders if he maybe went too far.
"Are you okay?" he asks, and to his relief, you breathe a contented sigh.
"Yeah, don't worry," you pant out, winded. "I just need a breather."
You look fine, calmly blinking away your tears as you breathe deeply. Still, Aki stares at your face, searching for any signs of discomfort—just in case—and when you notice, you grant him a hazy, blissful smile. You look so pretty, so satisfied and fucked out, and he can't help but lean down and press his mouth to yours. Even though it's absolutely filthy, you part your lips and deepen the kiss. You even moan when he slips his tongue against yours, letting you taste the mess he's made of your cunt.
After he pulls away and wipes his face, you laugh a little.
"Geeze, Aki," you tease, "I always thought you'd be really tame in bed. I didn't know you had that in you."
"I didn't either," he replies quite honestly. He doesn't bother getting offended at your assumption either, because it's true that he's never cared especially for sex. It's always been clinical and a little dispassionate from his end: an easy high to de-stress for himself, but mostly a service for the other person. And it's always been something he's strictly rational about. Even with his most experimental and pushiest partners, he's never thought once about not doing things safely.
But he can't lie to himself and say that fucking you is anything like fucking anyone else. A lot of what he just did was purely for himself. He liked splitting you open with his fingers, he liked seeing his cum inside you, he liked tasting you as you squirted all over his face. He likes having you underneath him, honeysweet and blissed out and all his. And he feels addicted to it, would spend all night making you cum just so that he could keep hearing you make those pretty, obscene noises, would do it as many times as it'd take to make you forget every person's touch but his own.
He strokes your cheek. "I don't know what you're doing to me," he just says, and you hum happily, leaning up to kiss him again.
"You wanna keep going?" you ask, shifting your hips against him. He's hard again, pressed against your inner thigh and somehow aching more than before even though he came not too long ago. A wicked little glint enters your eyes, and opportunistically, you wrap your legs around his hips. The motion brings his length right against your sex, and he inhales sharply as he feels the head press against your drenched hole.
Even though he has reservations, he finds himself sitting up to grab his cock anyway. He nestles it between your lower lips, runs it along your dripping entrance, and then makes himself stop.
"We really shouldn't do it without a condom," he comments, and you laugh in disbelief.
"Aki, are you serious? You just fingered your cum into me. I think it's a little too late for that."
"Well, it'd just be making it worse if we kept going…" He frowns, trying to ignore his throbbing dick to think. "Shit. I don't even know what we're going to do about what we just did."
"Don't worry," you reply breezily. "I can get my hands on some Plan B. We can just keep going."
As if to convince him, you wiggle your hips, desperate for friction, and you sigh when you get it. It's driving him insane, the sensation of your folds slipping around the tip of his cock, and it takes everything for him not to shove the rest of it inside you.
"We can stop if you want," you say, an earnest ring to your voice. "...but all I'm saying is that if you want to keep going, I wouldn't mind." Your smile a little then, teasingly. "You can fuck me for real. Cum inside me, if you want—"
"I'm not going to," he says firmly, but you're undeterred.
"Or you can finish inside me elsewhere, if you're really worried…"
He inhales harshly, and even more blood somehow rushes to his dick at the thought. It's a tempting offer, but after thinking it through, Aki realises that he's going to go completely insane if he doesn't fuck your pussy right now. So he breathes in deeply, calms himself, and gives you a stern look.
"We can keep going, but I'm pulling out," he says. Your Cheshire smile only widens, and you angle your hips up.
"Whatever you say, Aki. We'll see what happens when you actually—nghhh—"
Your eyes go wide as he starts pushing inside you, giving you much more than the inch he did earlier, stops only when he meets resistance. He leans down, fully knowing that the girth of his dick is overwhelming you into silence.
"You talk too much," he tells you, and he ignores the dirty look you give him so he can sit up again and spit on his cock. He feels your walls tighten as you watch him, which makes him glance toward you. Your eyes are trained on the dripping length of his cock, expression dazed, and he catalogues it for later. Right now, all he wants to do is slide inside you and feel every part of you. To have every part of you—to fuck you so hard that you'll forget every other cock that's been inside you.
Aki's not usually a selfish man, but he'll let himself have this.
Even though his cock is heavy and aching, and all he wants is to snap his hips and make you take it all at once, he forces himself to go slowly. He knows he's big, big enough to hurt you, and that's not the way he wants to take you. So he enters you bit by bit, stopping every time he sees your brows pinch. Even with how wet you are, even with how he'd stretched you out with his fingers, you gasp with every thrust of his hips. But you're good for him, wrapping your legs around him and making your pussy take every inch of him. Your walls tremble around his cock, clearly struggling with the sheer girth of it, but you encourage him anyway: "Keep going, Aki, keep going, please—"
So he gives you more, and more, and more, until he's fully seated inside you. Your walls are hot and tight around him, and he grits his teeth at the squeeze. He's pressed right against your cervix too; he can feel the resistance with his cock. And he knows you're both being reckless, doing this raw, but he's glad he can feel every inch of your walls against his cock, and he's dizzy with the knowledge that you're feeling all of him.
After a long, quiet moment, he finally starts to move.
Your clench around him with each pump of his hips, drip all over him as your pussy swallows him again and again. It's not long until you're moaning again, voice joining the obscene noises from your sloppy cunt: the slap of skin against skin, the wet drip of all his cum and spit being fucked into you. And shit, he wants to keep being slow with you, but the way you take him so well is making him lose it.
When your hips buck to meet his thrust, he feels his restraint crumble.
The first snap of his hips against yours is loud, wet. Angled up so that his cockhead presses that spot inside you, the one that makes your eyes flutter shut, the one that makes you start gushing all over his length. His rhythm gets faster, deeper, more relentless, until he's properly fucking you and you're crying out with each thrust.
"Fuck, fuck—please, Aki, please—"
His cock throbs at your teary, helpless expression. At the sight of your mouth slack-jawed and drooling onto the pillow, just like how your cunt's drooling around his cock. He grabs your thighs and spreads you so wide that your legs are thrown over his shoulder. You gasp at the new angle, and all you can do is cry and whimper as you’re forced to take his cock even deeper inside you.
His eyes are hungry as they fix on the sight of your pussy—sloppy, fucked open. You're so warm and pliable and incoherent, and he remembers that you'd let him do anything to you like this.
And when you reach for your clit and start rubbing circles into it, making your cunt start squeezing him, he knows he's screwed. Because he'd do anything to you at this rate.
"Shit"—he grits his teeth as he feels his balls tighten, knowing he should stop but fucking into you anyway—"if you keep doing that, I'm not gonna last—"
All that seems to do is encourage you. You tighten around him again, thighs shaking, and he knows you're close to releasing, which means he's close to cumming, and fuck fuck fuck he said he'd pull out. He can't not. He finds the self-control to slow his hips, and now he's stopped inside you. He's still balls deep in your cunt but at least he's stopped, and he can take a second to collect himself and—
You cum on his cock. Hard.
As soon as you start pulsing around him, he's done. He's spilling himself inside you, spurting thick ropes of cum deep into your pussy. Desperately thrusting his hips again, fucking into you like an animal. Pumping his cum into your womb—your fertile womb, holy shit are you two ever fucked—and he can't stop himself, not when your cunt is milking him like this. He leans down, crushes his lips against yours, kissing you open-mouthed and sloppy as he empties himself into you.
He nearly collapses onto you afterward, but somehow manages to flip you over so you're lying on him instead. You sigh happily as he wraps his arms around you, apparently enjoying the feeling of his cock twitching inside you. It feels like it takes forever to stop—several minutes, probably—and you’re both so spent that when he finally pulls out of you, it feels like a chore.
After a drawn out, blissful moment, you finally speak. With your expression so hazy and tender, he makes the mistake of guessing that you might say something sweet, something along the lines of standard pillow talk.
Which he’s an idiot for thinking.
"Hey, Aki…" you start, voice mischievous.
"Don't," he warns, but all it does is make you laugh.
"What did I say?" you ask, voice sing-song. He groans.
"You're actually awful." He gives you a wary, long-suffering look. "Aren't you worried at all?"
You shrug. "Not really."
He opens and closes his mouth, speechless at the genuine shamelessness of your answer. "I can't believe you."
"Hey, don't act like you didn't enjoy finishing inside me." You frown a little, act like you're disapproving. "Who knew Hayakawa Aki could be so irresponsible? I can't believe it. Having sex with his subordinate and treating them like a cum—"
He slaps a hand over your lips. "Christ! You never stop running your mouth, do you?"
"Nope," you say, muffled by his palm. He gives you a dirty look, hesitantly removing his hand. He'd love to keep you quiet—maybe by putting his fingers back into your mouth and starting to fuck you again—but he has questions, first.
"Who's your supplier for Plan B?" he asks.
"Public Safety. Their physicians will prescribe it in extenuating circumstances."
He blinks, surprised. "But Plan B isn't legal here."
"So? Half the shit we do isn't legal." You sigh a little, now looking less relaxed. "The Bureau keeps it on hand to deal with cases of human intercourse with devils. Obviously devil hunters will preemptively get birth control or IUDs for contracts involving sex, but there are always unforeseen cases of intercourse. Like unauthorised contracts that civilians make. Or cases of devils attacking people and then… well, you know…"
Your brow furrows, and Aki feels you tensing up.
"Let's not talk about that," he suggests, and you nod. You let him kiss you, his lips gentle and chaste against yours this time, plying your mouth until you're sighing.
But even though he's got you distracted, Aki himself can't stop thinking about devils now. Can't stop thinking about what he's given up for his contracts, what you've given up for yours, what all of this is supposed to mean when he's got a death sentence hanging over his head. When what you deserve is the world, after everything the world's put you through, but Aki has nothing near that to give.
Now that he's sobered up from his desire, he feels his stomach drop. It wasn't only pregnancy that he was worried about.
Aki cups your face in hand, asks, "How are you feeling?"
You give him a confused, funny look. "Good, I guess? You made me cum three times. I have no complaints."
He snorts. "No, I mean—how are you feeling about…" He struggles with his words. "...moving so fast."
"Oh. I'm fine, I think." You give him a long, searching look. "Y'know, Aki… when I was out lingerie shopping with Power—"
Oh, god. Where are you going with this.
"—I wasn't planning on getting anything to, um, wear for you. But then I saw this set, and Power saw me, like, struggling over if I should buy it. Because I really, really wanted you to have sex with you while wearing it, but, y'know. I also didn't want to rush into anything, or fuck things up between us… So I told Power everything—"
You talked to Power about this? About having sex with him? Power knows you were going to seduce him in this?
"—and instead of, like, paying attention to anything I've actually been worried about, she said I should have sex with you as soon as possible—because I'll never know when you and Denji will get into another fight, and maybe he'd do permanent damage to your nuts then. If we wait too long and that happens, then I'd have missed all my chances to, um, be inseminated by you. Her words, not mine."
Aki's going to have a stroke. He's going to have a stroke and die.
"Okay. And?"
"And I thought she had a good point. Not just about your nuts—by the way, I'm glad you can still perform—but also… We don't know what'll happen tomorrow, you know?"
"No, we don't. But I'm pretty sure Denji won't kick my nuts again anytime soon," Aki says, thoroughly lost. You snort a little.
"Right, but I'm talking beyond Denji… like, we can't predict when we'll die, Aki. Even if you quit Public Safety, even if we left the country and ran away from all this bullshit, even if I could do something insane like break your contract with the Curse Devil—there's always going to be devils around. People are always going to die. Even though the Curse Devil says you got two more years, you could die next week. Or I could die tomorrow. We could be on the run with fake passports in The Galapagos, a year from now, and we could still die."
Even with the insane analogy, Aki understands that you're being serious. And he's also starting to understand where you're coming from.
"Right."
"And I realised that I'm not that afraid of dying, but I don't want to die without doing as much with you as I could." You give him a tender look, brush some of the hair out of his face. "I think I'd die angry with myself if I went out without making you as happy as possible."
He goes quiet.
You could have said many things just now. Knowing your personality, he wouldn't have been surprised if you'd said, I think I'd die angry at myself if I went out without ever getting railed by you. Or you could have simply said, If I died without ever getting the chance to date you. Or, probably what most people would be thinking: If I died unhappy, because we never got together.
But instead you're worried about his happiness.
Aki can't remember the last time someone's said something like that to him.
"And, um, I guess I didn't know if having sex would make you happy," you continue. An insane thing to say, given what just happened.
"It did," he reassures you, lip quirking.
"Oh, good!" You look pleased with yourself, which makes him want to laugh. But then you give him an earnest, vulnerable look, and Aki's eyes soften. "That's all I want to do, Aki. Even if it's going to hurt me in the future, I want to make you happy right now. So tell me how."
He gives you a dubious look.
"But it's also important what'll make you happy," he says. "I don't want to hurt you—"
You slap a hand over his mouth.
"Shhh. Don't worry about me. Be a little selfish for once, won't you?" You look at him reproachfully. "Tell me what you want."
He pauses.
Aki's not a selfish man. His happiness hasn't been important to himself for a long time, not since he's lost so many of his comrades. Not since he lost his family. Not since he got Taiyo killed. Happiness is impermanent, he'd learned long ago; guilt is enduring, and guilt is easier. It is familiar as it is fatal. Being a dead man comes more naturally to him than being a happy one, and there's nothing that a dead man wants from life.
But it does something to him, seeing you like this: finally in his arms, so tender, so hopeful. And he knows it's unfair, knows he has nothing to offer you, but he still can't stop himself from pressing his mouth against yours and saying what he's been thinking for years:
"I want you to be mine."
You break out into a smile, press your forehead to his and laugh. And then you tell him what he's been yearning to hear for what feels like forever:
"Okay, Aki. I'm all yours."