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Aki is smoking. Again.
It’s his third cigarette in a row, and his second smoke break in the past hour.
Not that Denji is counting. Or keeping track. Or cares, at all.
The point is, he knows where to find Aki; on the other side of the sliding glass door, long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He’s staring up at the grey sky as he smokes, and he has that ever-present frown crumpling his face. Denji wonders what he thinks about during these chain smoking marathons. Or ever, really. His face never gives any clues, not like Denji, who Aki once described as “an open book that also reads itself aloud to you”.
Denji slides the door open and steps out onto the balcony. He offers Aki a small smile. Aki blinks and exhales smoke through his nose.
“What?” Aki says bluntly.
“Nothing!” Denji says, too fast. “I, uh…how are you?”
Aki takes another drag, and Denji is mesmerized by the puckering of his soft lips around the cigarette. If Denji looks super closely, he can maybe even see a faint smile.
“What do you want, Denji?” Aki asks, softer than before.
Denji leans back against the metal railing of the balcony and bounces on the balls of his feet.
“What if I really just wanna ask how you’re doing?”
“Do you?”
“Dunno, you didn’t answer yet.”
A sigh. “I’m fine, idiot. Now what do you want?”
Idiot is affectionate, Denji knows now. It makes something flutter up by his throat and his grin widens.
“I was thinking…” He ignores Aki’s scoff. “Remember when you, uh…when I, when I asked you to… y’know. ”
Aki stares flatly and lights another cigarette. Now the fourth in twenty minutes. Denji resists the urge to pluck it from his fingers and toss it over the railing.
“No, Denji, I don’t know. You ask things of me all the fucking time.”
“Riiight, well —”
“Aki, make me toast!” Aki puts on a mocking falsetto and it cracks almost the same way Denji’s voice does. “Aki, do I have any clean underwear? Aki, I need toilet paper! Aki —”
“Okay, okay, I get it, damn . ”
Aki smirks and kicks out a leg to nudge Denji’s thigh with a socked foot. Denji leans into the contact before he can stop himself. He catches Aki’s leg by the ankle and rubs his thumb over the exposed skin.
“No, but, uh,” he says, “I was thinking about — about a sex thing...”
“Shocking.”
“Ha, yeah…yeah, so, remember when I asked you to choke me?”
Aki’s smirk slips from his face. He stubs out his cigarette and pulls his leg from Denji’s loose grip. “I remember.”
“Well, I want that.” Denji hopes that if he speaks fast, he can get it all out before the embarrassment catches up with his brain. “I mean, not specifically that, I guess, but like, I want you to hurt me. Like — like, while you’re fucking me. I just, I liked it when Power did it, y’know, and I —”
“ Don’t put me in the same category as Power.” Aki looks like he’s been forced to swallow battery acid.
“Sorry,” Denji babbles. “I’m, we’re not even — not anymore. Uh, not since — well, for a while now, I guess.”
“What?”
“I’m not fucking her anymore,” Denji says, and he doesn’t quite know what to think of the odd expression that passes over Aki’s face at this pronouncement.
I have been sated, human, were Power’s exact words, along with something about how she didn’t think Denji was the kind of person to have emotions , to which Denji had adamantly denied having any emotions of any sort beyond ‘perpetually horny’ but Power had just laughed her demonic laugh and wagged a finger at him and called him a ‘naughty boy’ before slamming the bedroom door in his face and leaving Denji to deal with his confused boner on his own.
But Aki doesn’t need to know all of that.
Aki, who Denji is becoming more and more suspicious may just be the target of these so-called emotions Power accused Denji of having. Because Denji certainly never felt this uncomfortable squirming in his stomach when he looked at Power’s face, or even her tits. But something about Aki makes Denji feel like his blood is on fire. He wants so badly to be good for Aki in this indescribable, weird way that he’d only ever previously associated with Makima.
Denji realizes a few seconds too late that Aki is speaking to him. He’d been too busy staring at the deep blue of his eyes and thinking about the wiggly bits in his stomach.
“...you want?”
“Huh?”
Aki rolls his eyes and speaks again, slowly, like he’s addressing a toddler. Denji hates that he loves it.
“When you say you want me to hurt you, what exactly do you want?”
“Oh.” Denji swallows. “Um, I don’t really know? Maybe, like, hit me or something?”
“Hit you.”
“Yeah.”
“And choke you?”
“Sure.”
“What about knives?”
“Knives are hot.”
“Would you want to be restrained?”
“Like, handcuffs? Fuck yeah.”
Denji grows more and more hot under the collar the more subjects Aki throws at him. Gags, whips, clamps, pumps, toys — all things Denji has never thought of before but knows without a shadow of a doubt that if Aki were to do it to him he would enjoy every fucking second. His jeans are feeling a bit tight, and he tries to surreptitiously adjust his boner with a hand in his pocket, but of course there’s no getting it past Aki.
“Really, Denji?” Aki glares at the tent in his pants like it’s a personal affront.
“Hey,” Denji whines. “We’re talking about sex! It’s only natural!”
Aki leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “For a horny little mutt who can’t control himself, sure.”
Heat floods Denji’s body and shoots straight to his cock. He clears his throat.
“Yeah, well…I’ll, uh, go take care of this…” He pushes away from the railing and steps towards the door.
“No, you won’t.”
Aki’s voice stops him dead in his tracks. It’s cold and firm and sends a thrill down Denji’s spine.
“I — what?”
Aki is on his feet now and oh fuck when did he get to close to Denji and why does it make Denji’s breath hitch in his throat to see Aki glare down at him like that?
“You will go to my room,” Aki says. “You’ll take off all your clothes, get on your knees, and wait for me. You will not touch yourself.”
Aki’s so close that errant strands of his fringe brush the shell of Denji’s ear. His cigarette breath is warm on Denji’s face and Denji is so crazy turned on by the sudden authoritative tone (that also kinda reminds him of Makima-san but he’s not going to examine that now) that all he can do is nod sharply and let out a squeaky, “Y-yeah, okay,” before all but running to Aki’s room.
Denji nearly trips and smashes his face into the TV in his haste to remove his pants. He flings the offending articles of clothing off somewhere in the living room and sprints into Aki’s bedroom, dropping to his knees by the foot of the bed. He makes sure to not look down at his dick. If he does, he’s one hundred percent gonna jerk off and he wants to be good for Aki. Instead, he just feels it twitch as a warm bead of precum rolls down the head.
Fuck.
Aki hadn’t mentioned how long Denji would be “waiting for him”, but he seems to be taking his sweet time. Denji wonders if he’d lit up another fucking cigarette. He wouldn’t put it past him. He’s probably getting off on making Denji sit around and wait for him like the perfect little lapdog. And god damn it , Denji’s getting off on it, too.
Finally, what feels like years later, Aki is stepping into the doorway, still with that passive, mildly annoyed look on his face. The Aki Face.
Aki barely spares Denji a passing glance. He walks around Denji to the other side of the room, and when Denji starts shuffling on his knees to turn to face him, Aki snaps sharply, “Did I say you could move?”
Denji freezes. He hardly dares to blink.
He hears a smooth shlick as Aki opens a drawer, rummaging through its contents. He makes a small humming noise as if considering something, and Denji is dying of curiosity but he doesn’t want to disappoint Aki so he stays put, staring at the closed door with his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.
“Ah, here we are,” Aki says, and the drawer closes once more.
His socked feet are light on the hardwood floor as he makes his way back over toward Denji. Denji flinches when cool hands touch his shoulders, skimming down the corded muscles of his arms until they reach his wrists.
“Are you aware of the traffic light system?” Aki asks, pulling Denji’s arms behind his back.
“Um,” Denji stammers, “I d-don’t have a license…”
Another sigh, deeper this time. Something smooth and cool tightens along his bended forearms, binding them together. It’s awkward but not entirely uncomfortable, though it does force Denji to sit up straight, chest out and back arched.
“Do you know what it means as it pertains to what we are about to do, Denji?”
“Per…pertains?”
Aki tugs hard at his restraints and Denji overbalances, falling back against Aki’s chest.
“I forgot how stupid you are,” Aki hisses into Denji’s ear, and Denji feels like the worst person in the world because it makes his cock throb.
“Red means what?” Aki says, mocking and cold.
“S-stop.”
“And green means…?”
“Go?”
“Good boy.” It’s a low purr, and Denji can feel it vibrate through Aki’s chest into the hot air between them. He moans; he can’t help it, not when Aki’s hands are snaking back over his shoulders to rest lightly on his collarbone.
“If I do something you don’t like,” Aki says, suddenly serious, “You say ‘red’, and I stop. ‘Green’, and I keep going. I’ll check in every now and then and ask you for a color. Do you understand, Denji?”
Denji nods frantically. Aki tuts, fingers pressing into his skin, painful and pleasurable all at once.
“I said do you understand, Denji?”
“Y-yes!”
“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Understood?”
Denji’s head is moving before he remembers himself and barks out a far too loud, “YES, SENPAI!”
“Very good.”
Denji hardly has time to register the praise before a hot, searing pain burns his head. Aki has him by the hair and he’s standing up and dragging him bodily towards the bed. Denji yelps from the pain — he can’t manage to find his footing, feet sliding and squeaking on the wood floor as Aki pulls him along as easily as if he were a doll.
Denji has tears in his eyes and is gasping for air by the time Aki lets him go, dropping him unceremoniously by the side of the bed. Denji falls face first onto the floor and when he sees his still rock hard cock bobbing between his legs he wonders what the fuck is wrong with him that having his hair all but torn out felt so good.
“Up,” Aki says.
Denji panics when he struggles to push himself up without the use of his arms. Aki said up but he can’t come up and after a few seconds Aki huffs impatiently and grabs his fringe, yanking hard; Denji feels like his forehead is being ripped from his face.
Aki pulls Denji up until he’s draped over his lap, stomach pressed against Aki’s thighs and head and ass hanging off either end. A flash of shame rushes through him at the thought that he most likely looks like a small child about to be reprimanded by their parent…and his cock aches .
“You want me to hurt you?” Aki asks.
“Yes, sir,” Denji breathes. The sir slips out automatically, and he notices it elicits the tiniest sharp inhale from Aki above him.
“Good,” Aki says, his mask of composure firmly back in place. “It’s about time someone punished you for being such an incorrigible brat.”
Denji doesn’t know what incorrigible means, but he assumes it’s something bad. He feels saliva pooling in his mouth and his face heats up at the knowledge that he’s drooling like the mangy mutt Aki always says he is.
The anticipation of what Aki is going to do to him — how he’s going to punish him — settles low in his gut and burns through his brain. He jumps when Aki’s hand strokes the curve of his ass. He’s so wound up, and he was expecting pain , why is Aki being so soft?
Aki massages his cheeks, squishing and grabbing and pulling until Denji is squirming in his lap, desperate for more .
“Akiii,” Denji whines. “C’mon, do some —”
Aki’s hand shoots down between his legs and grabs his balls, squeezing them so hard that Denji’s vision whites out and his breath fails him.
“You will speak when spoken to,” Aki hisses, nails digging into Denji’s most sensitive parts. “I don’t want to hear anything but ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ from you. Do you understand, you incompetent idiot?”
A sob hitches from Denji’s throat at the nauseating pain seizing his abdomen.
“Y-y-yes, sir,” he manages, gasping wetly when Aki finally releases his balls.
Denji hangs limply across Aki’s lap, barely managing to regain some semblance of composure before something hard smacks the flesh of his ass. He jerks and cries out as a new pain surges up his spine, again, and again , hitting the same spot over and over and not giving Denji a chance to breathe — it’s so overwhelming, it’s too much, it hurts and it feels so good and Denji’s brain fills with TV static until all he can feel is painpleasurepainpleasure —
Aki stops as abruptly as he started and Denji whines .
“You came all over my trousers,” Aki says, and Denji blinks slowly as his brain tries to comprehend the words. “You filthy dog.”
Denji pants, awareness slowly clearing the fog in his brain. His ass stings , his arms and balls ache, but he feels so so good and he’s pretty sure his cock is still as hard as ever. He can feel Aki’s dick, too, pressing against his bicep, and the fact that Aki is getting off on this too makes all kinds of jumbled emotions float through Denji’s body.
“Color?” Aki asks quietly.
“G-g-green.”
“Good boy.”
Denji whimpers.
Aki caresses Denji’s unslapped cheek with what Denji assumes is a wooden paddle. Denji wonders if this was one of the things Aki had stored in a drawer somewhere in his room. Denji wonders if Aki has been a secret pervert this entire time.
Denji wonders if Aki has done this kind of thing with anyone else.
He hopes not.
The paddle comes down again and the pain is fresh lightning bolts jolting up his back and down his legs. Denji can’t stop the plethora of noises that escape him — moans and whines and whimpers and sobs — he’s crying, he thinks, at least there’s something wet on his face and it could be tears or snot or saliva or all three, he doesn’t know.
He doesn’t know anything but pain and Aki. Aki’s legs strong underneath him, Aki’s arm holding him in place as his body flails, Aki’s hand administering hot, burning fire with his paddle and soothing it with his words, good boy, Denji, you’re taking it so well, Denji.
Denji comes again, and again almost immediately after, or maybe it’s just one long, drawn out orgasm that feels like he’s surfing on a fucking tidal wave of pleasure. His body spasms and his muscles lock and Aki sounds pleased when he says look at you and stops hitting him. His hands on the sensitive skin of Denji’s ass hurt , even though he’s being soft, but Denji is too tired to flinch away.
“You can go again, can’t you?” Aki says, almost in wonder.
Denji doesn’t know. He thinks his cock is starting to soften, finally . Three seems to be his limit when he’s not fueled by demonic rage and bloodlust, which he never is with Aki. With Aki, it’s different. With Aki, he feels almost human. Normal.
Well, as normal as someone who comes untouched three times just from being flogged, anyway.
Denji remembers too late that Aki asked him a question, and he needs to answer, because that’s one of the rules , but before he can open his mouth Aki is shoving two fingers inside him, pressing hard against that spot that makes him see stars and it’s a whole new kind of pain.
“Agghh!” Denji wails, a renewed surge of energy lending him the strength to try to writhe away from Aki’s fingers. But Aki places a hand on Denji’s lower back and speeds up his thrusting until the pain shooting through Denji’s balls and cock feel almost like he’s pulled the cord of his chainsaw. It’s building up, brighter and hotter, burning through his core and lighting his every nerve ending on fire.
“N-no,” Denji sobs. “Aki, please —”
“You know what you need to say to stop,” Aki says, and his calm demeanor in the face of Denji’s pain feels cruel.
Red , Denji thinks, but he doesn’t say it.
He can’t, because he’s coming again , and this time it hurts more than it feels good.
Everything goes
blank.
His brain is an empty slate, wiped clean from the force of his orgasm.
He’s distantly aware that his body is trembling and shaking, and that maybe Aki is moving him, or speaking to him, or both.
As the sensation bleeds from his body, conscious thought returns.
He blinks his eyes open (when did he close them?) and sees Aki’s face above him. So Aki did move him, because he’s on his back now, on the bed, lying on top of his bound arms that he can’t even feel anymore aside from a faint tingle.
“Denji?” Aki looks… concerned is the word Denji wants to use, but since when is Aki concerned about him? It feels wrong and weird and amazing.
“Yes, sir,” Denji croaks, because that’s what Aki had told him he was allowed to say.
“Are you okay?”
Yep, definitely concern. It’s a cool balm on the gaping wound that is Denji’s heart.
“Yes, sir,” he says again.
He’s so, so okay. He feels like he’s just taken a year long bath and scrubbed every last bit of dirt off his soul.
Aki’s long fingers brush his face and Denji turns into the touch.
“Color?” Aki asks.
“So green, dude.”
Aki huffs out a small laugh and bends down to kiss Denji. Denji drinks up the smokey taste of him like a man parched, licking immediately into his mouth and moaning against his soft lips. Aki pulls away far too soon, and Denji cranes his neck to chase after him. Aki only smiles (Denji’s heart is pounding) and presses a palm to Denji’s chest.
“You’re okay to keep going?”
“I said green, didn’t I?”
Aki’s soft petting turns harsh, fingers gripping his jaw and squeezing his cheeks until his lips pout.
“Don’t get cocky,” he sneers.
Denji grins up at him. “No, sir.”
Aki’s hand slips from his jaw down to his throat, and he presses down as he moves above Denji, situating himself between Denji’s legs. Denji can still breathe, but it’s shallow and hurts at the sides of his neck. Aki doesn’t let up the pressure as he folds himself over Denji and kisses him again and before long, bright dots are dancing at the edges of Denji’s blurry vision. Aki pets down the side of Denji’s body with his free hand, and his touch leaves trails of fire burning on Denji’s oversensitive skin.
“Aki,” Denji gasps, tight and straining. He’s not allowed, he knows, but he can’t help it. He’s never felt so many different things in such quick succession before, and he feels positively drunk off it (not that he knows what that feels like, either).
“Denji,” Aki sighs. He releases Denji’s throat and Denji wheezes for air.
Aki sits back on his heels and appraises Denji for a long moment that makes heat flare in Denji’s cheeks. He’s still fully dressed, and the sight of his thick cock straining behind the fabric of his trousers makes Denji’s mouth water.
Aki grinds his hips between Denji’s thighs and Denji’s awareness is brought back to the pain in his ass and balls. He winces, but it also feels good, because Aki is being soft with him, softer than he deserves, probably. Aki turns Denji over (gentle, caring, careful not to touch the bruised bits of him), lifting him by the hips so his ass is sticking out. Denji hears a zip and a small sigh and then the familiar length of Aki’s cock is sliding between his sore cheeks.
The feeling of Aki pushing into him ascends all aches and oversensitivities. It’s something Denji doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of, though he’d never dream of saying such a thing to Aki — he can hardly even think it himself in the privacy of his own mind. The ease with which his brain switched from wanting to fuck to wanting to be fucked was alarming at first, to say the least. But now Denji finds himself craving Aki more than he’d ever wanted Power (or even Makima, but he refuses to acknowledge it, remember, it’s definitely not real) .
Denji is drooling on Aki’s sheets. Aki’s hips slap his ass as he fucks him and it hurts but not really, because the way Aki’s cock is filling him up feels so fucking good . He’s brushing over that spot, not hitting it directly like he was with his fingers, and it’s like the fire is being stoked slowly, lovingly, back to a roaring blaze.
And then Aki brings Denji back to reality with a hard smack on his bruised ass and Denji howls . Aki grabs him by the throat and pulls him upright and Denji’s head lolls back onto Aki’s shoulder.
Aki’s thrusts are faster now, more erratic, and he’s letting out those low little grunts he does when he’s getting close to coming. He keeps one hand on Denji’s throat and snakes the other down towards his cock, which is apparently hard again .
Denji groans hoarsely, eyes fluttering shut as he sinks into the dizziness of sensation. It’s so much, it’s so much — the warm friction of Aki’s cock, the stinging buzz of his skin, the sickly sweet pleasure of Aki’s hand on his dick.
Denji doesn’t realize he’s crying until Aki takes him by the chin to turn his head and licks the tears from his cheeks.
“You’re doing so good, Denji,” Aki breathes into his ear and Denji hiccups wetly. “Such a — fuck — good boy —”
“Aki, Aki please — f-fuck, ah!”
His whole body shakes. Bright lights burst beneath his closed lids and he loses what little control he had of his body and slumps against Aki in a dead weight. He can feel warm rivulets of cum drip down his thighs as Aki’s cock slips out of him.
He’s lying down again, he thinks. On his stomach this time. Something is happening behind him, maybe Aki is fucking him again, he doesn’t know.
He might not be entirely conscious. His head feels floaty.
All he can think about is Aki calling him a good boy .
He wanted to be good for Aki. Still wants it.
More than he wants Makima’s boobs.
And isn’t that a revelation?
Water brings him back. On his face, his chest, streaming down his back. Denji sighs and sinks into the warmth behind him.
“Welcome back,” Aki’s voice says, more tender than Denji’s ever heard it.
“Hnn,” is about all Denji can manage.
He pries his eyes open, blinking to adjust to the sudden light.
They’re in the bathroom. In the bath tub , specifically, which explains the water. Denji is sitting between Aki’s long legs, back to his chest, and Aki is using the showerhead to wash Denji’s body. Denji’s ass hurts against the metal of the tub, but the hot water pooling around them helps the ache somewhat.
“How are you feeling?” Aki asks. His hands spread soap over Denji’s chest.
“‘Kay,” Denji says. “Good.”
Aki hums and rinses the soap off. The wet ends of his hair drip onto Denji’s shoulder, almost enough to tickle.
Denji doesn’t know why he’s doing this. Does he feel bad for knocking Denji around? Even though Denji had asked for it? And even though it was nowhere near the level of the depraved things Power did to him? (And yet, it felt so much better .)
“Y’didn’t hafta gimme a bath,” Denji slurs.
A grunt in response.
“Why —”
“Please, just — let me, Denji.”
Denji swallows and nods. There’s a tightness in his throat that he doesn’t think has to do with Aki’s pseudo-choking from earlier. The steam from the water isn’t helping his lightheadedness, so settles into Aki, head falling to the crook of his shoulder.
Aki brushes wet tendrils of hair from his forehead and presses a kiss to his temple and the tightness spreads from Denji’s throat to his chest.
It’s nice, Denji decides, to have someone touch him like this. Take care of him like this. He couldn’t ever imagine Power doing this, or even Makima-san for that matter. Though, he supposes, he’d never have thought Aki had this side to him, either.
Denji isn’t sure Aki knew he had this side.
They’re both learning things about themselves, huh?
Aki is kissing down his jawline now. He’s finished scrubbing Denji and has turned the water off and is just…holding him.
“Thank you,” Denji says, turning his head to kiss the corner of Aki’s mouth.
It’s not enough, but he doesn’t have the words. He never has. He barely has the actions to make up for it.
Aki hums again, tilting Denji’s head to deepen the kiss; even though it’s awkward at this angle, it feels good. Kissing Aki always feels good.
Being held by Aki feels good.
Being with Aki feels good.
Denji lets that thought drape over him like a warm blanket, and smiles into the kiss.