Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Seriously?” Akira set his drink back down on the table with a thunk, staring around at his team in disbelief.

It had been Ann’s idea to play Never-Have-I-Ever, as they all got drunk off of alcohol that Ryuji had convinced Iwai to buy them. The proper celebration for getting through Okumura’s palace was going to be Destinyland the coming weekend, but that didn’t stop them from having a little fun beforehand. Never have I ever had sex seemed like the easiest one in the world, but when the chips fell, metaphorically of course, Akira had been the only one to drink.

“My whole team is nothing but virgins?” he said blankly.

Ann shrugged, midway through her third drink. “It’s not like I wanna be,” she said. “I just...haven’t done it yet.”

The rest of the group was nodding along in agreement. Akira sighed. “Well, that’s...not quite what I was expecting to learn tonight.”

“It’s Yusuke’s turn,” Haru chirped. Yusuke looked like he was about to nod off, despite having only had a single glass of vodka and mixer, but he thought hard for a moment.

“Never have I ever taken my easel to the planetarium and attempted to paint the splendor of the night sky. I should do that.”

“I don’t think Inari knows how this game works,” Futaba said, as no one drank, and the others giggled in agreement. But they were having fun, so in the end, it didn’t really matter.

***

Unfortunately for Akira’s mildly drunken thoughts, that wasn’t the end of it. At the end of the night, the people still functioning were cleaning up the empty bottles and discarded plastic cups. Akira was halfway through trying to wrestle the ruined plastic tablecloth into the trash bag, when Yusuke, who most of them had thought passed out half an hour ago, said hazily, “If none of us want to be virgins, why can’t we just ask Akira for help?”

Akira almost dropped the trash bag, and Haru said wonderingly, “That would make sense. He is really attractive. And we trust him.”

“Dude, yeah. Yo, Akira, would you be into that?” Ryuji called.

Akira turned very slowly to look at them all. “Uh…” He wasn’t going to lie and say that his team wasn’t attractive, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have the experience to help them out, but this was the last thing he’d expected. And none of them were the person he had a crush on, unfortunately. But his slightly fuzzy brain seemed to approve of the idea, and he shrugged. “Sure. Just, uh, not all at once.”

“This is completely inappropriate,” Makoto said, a note of panic in her voice, and Ryuji scoffed.

“You don’t have to play along if you don’t want to, Student Council President,” he mocked.

“I...I didn’t say I didn’t want to…” she stammered, and Akira winked at her.

“It could be fun,” he said, and Makoto turned red.

“Y-Yeah…”

They finished cleaning up the attic without bringing it up again, and as Akira found enough pillows and blankets for everyone, he was positive that no one was even sober enough to remember this conversation in the morning.

He was mistaken.

Chapter Text

[Ann - 11:36am] So, about that conversation the other night… Were you serious? About being willing to help us, I mean?

[Akira - 11:40am] Yes. I didn’t think you guys were, though.

[Ann - 11:42am] Why not? We’re all friends, and we all trust you.

[Ann - 11:42am] And you’re pretty. It’s distractingly attractive sometimes.

[Akira - 11:44am] I’m not “pretty”. There are plenty of people prettier than me.

[Ann - 11:45am] Like your pretty detective?

[Akira - 11:55am] He’s not “my” detective.

[Ann - 11:56am] But he is pretty.

[Akira - 11:57am] No comment. Weren’t we talking about my team of silly virgins? Let’s go back to that.

[Ann - 11:59am] Fine, fine. Well, this “silly virgin” doesn’t want to be anymore, if you don’t mind. Do you have some time this evening?

[Akira - 12:01pm] Sure. Come by the cafe after 7. Sojiro’s gone by then.

[Ann - 12:03pm] Awesome! See you then!

Akira stared at his phone, fully aware of the weight of Morgana on his shoulder. He hadn’t said anything yet, which was both concerning and a relief.

His reprieve lasted exactly forty-five seconds and then Morgana yowled in his ear.

“You’re going to sleep with Lady Ann?!”

Akira shrugged. “She wants to. And I’m happy to help her.” He stuck his phone back in his pocket, mind wandering to the errands he was going to have to run this afternoon. A stop in Shibuya to hit the convenience store, at the very least…

“B-But… I…”

“Illegal, Morgana. Super illegal. And weird.” He lifted the cat off of his shoulder to set him in his lap, wincing at the claws that dug into his thigh. “It’s not my fault you’re a cat right now.” He started scratching behind Morgana’s ears, and Morgana grumbled as a reluctant purr vibrated through him.

“This is just a teaching thing, though, right? You’re not secretly going to make a move on her?”

Akira chuckled. “No. We’re friends. That’s not going to change just because of this.” He continued scratching. Much as Morgana objected to being treated like a cat, he certainly enjoyed being petted. “You don’t mind staying with Futaba or Haru tonight, do you?”

“Not at all. I’m not a voyeur.” Morgana sniffed dismissively, then curled up in his lap. “Wake me up when it’s time to go back to class.”

Oh, right. Class. He was going to have to sit behind Ann for the rest of the day.

Wonderful.

***

Ann showed up around seven-thirty, and Akira let her into the cafe, ushering her up to the attic with a smile. “Sojiro went home fifteen minutes ago, and Morgana’s gone to spend the night at Haru’s. Apparently Haru has fatty tuna at her house.”

Ann giggled. “That sounds like Morgana. Fatty tuna’s worth the extra trip instead of just going down the street to Futaba’s.”

“Yes, well, the important part was that he went somewhere. I wouldn’t know how to explain to people that my cat’s a voyeur.” Akira walked over to sit on the futon, taking off his glasses and looking up at Ann with mischievous gunmetal eyes. “So. I have questions.”

“Huh? Questions?” She’d sort of expected him to just start, but it kind of made sense. Akira was too much of a gentleman to behave any other way.

He nodded. “I want to know what you’re expecting. Virginity means different things to different people. If you’re more interested in oral or something than going all the way, we can do that.”

“I want to experience all of it,” Ann insisted, privately a bit amazed that they were both able to be so frank about this. “I’m definitely not going to turn down the chance to try oral, but I still want to do the other stuff, too.”

Akira leaned back on his hands, grinning lazily. “All right, then. Oral...hm… I guess we can just talk about sex for a while, that will work, right?”

“Ha ha. Really living up to your codename there, Joker.” Surprising herself, Ann came forward and straddled his lap, grinning back at him when his hands came up to settle on her hips. “The kind of oral where your mouth is actually on me.”

“It was a lame joke. I tried.” He nosed against her neck, pressing a kiss to her pulse and listening to her take a slow breath. “Preferences on kissing?”

“If you think I’m going to have sex with you and not kiss you at least once, you’re an idiot,” Ann laughed. Akira just kept smiling, planting kisses one-by-one up her neck and to the corner of her mouth, before covering her lips with his own.

Virgin or not, she clearly had experience with kissing, and within a few moments their tongues were twined together and his hands had slipped beneath the hem of her shirt to rest on her waist. She leaned closer, seeking more contact, and his hands slid farther up her back, eventually bumping the clasp of her bra. That caused her to break the kiss, looking down at him with wide eyes.

“Okay?” he asked, fingertips tracing the edge of the silky fabric. After a moment, she nodded. He pressed his lips to her jaw, asking, “So, who taught you to kiss?” teasingly, to distract her as he popped the clasp open one hook at a time.

“I did have a boyfriend for a while when I lived overseas,” Ann said, poking his cheek. “Things just didn’t get past kissing, you know?” She ran her fingers through his hair, fluffing his unruly curls into even more disarray than usual.

“I’m sure whoever he was is kicking himself for not holding onto you.” Before she could respond, Akira nudged her arms up, and lifted both shirt and bra over her head in one smooth motion. It was cute, the way she suddenly flushed red, squirming from surprise and then freezing again when she realized she could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against her.

“Y-You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

Akira laughed outright, tossing the shirt aside and reaching up to cup her breasts. “I’ve got an internationally-known model half-naked on my lap. I’d be more worried if I wasn’t into it.”

To his relief, Ann laughed too. “I guess that’s true.” Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward to kiss him again before she could lose her nerve, and he smiled against her lips. His hands settled back on her hips, encouraging her to grind against him, and he made a pleased noise as she started tugging at his shirt too. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one losing clothes,” she said when she pulled away so she could wrestle it over his head.

Akira let her, and when it was off, took the opportunity to toss her onto her back. “Who said we were playing fair?” It was solidly Joker’s grin on his face as he undid the clasp of her skirt, pulling it and her leggings down and off to leave her in nothing but panties, sprawled out on his bed.

Ann flushed all the way to her collarbones, and Akira let his eyes drift down her body appreciatively. “Yusuke has good taste,” he said brightly. “Any painting that you’d model naked for would turn out brilliant.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” She kicked at him lightly with one foot, and he caught it and pressed a kiss to her ankle.

“I thought you liked my ridiculous banter?”

“You--!” Ann screwed her eyes shut, shuddering as Akira peppered kisses down her calf.

He paused with a soft nip to her thigh, and slipped a finger beneath the elastic of her panties, making a questioning noise. Ann hesitated, then nodded, throwing an arm over her eyes in embarrassment.

He debated whether to go for tauntingly slow, or quickly enough to spare her any more embarrassment, and ended up taking them off without any fanfare, tossing them on the floor with the rest of their clothes. He settled, grinning like a cat even though she wasn’t looking at him, and nipped her thigh again. “Spread your legs?”

“A-Akira…”

“Ann?” He put all of his charm behind the questioning tone, and she inched her legs apart slowly.

When there was enough space, he laid between them, touching his lips delicately just above her sex.

“Akira… Please…” Pleading blue eyes peered down at him, and he winked before ducking his head and flicking his tongue over her clit.

Ann moaned, and Akira had to grab her legs to keep her from closing them on his head. But he didn’t let up, lapping eagerly at her folds, and even slipping his tongue against her entrance, earning another full-body shudder. She tasted good, and he really wasn’t surprised, considering how much she liked sweets.

“Akira, Akira, I…!” Her voice pitched up, and he held tighter, focusing on working his tongue against her clit in quick, firm circles. “A-Akira, I’m gonna--!” She grabbed at his hair, her hips bucking up as the tension coiling in her snapped.

He coaxed her through it, then sat up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “That was quick.”

Panting for breath, she just flipped him off weakly, and he laughed. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing, I’m not being mean!” Scooting over, he laid down next to her, pushing her bangs back from her forehead gently. “Was that okay?”

“Y-Yeah…” Ann leaned her head into his hand. “That was...amazing, actually.”

Akira kissed her cheek. “Still interested in the rest of it?”

“Uh, of course. Just, let me breathe for a second.” She pecked him on the lips, then shut her eyes, and he smiled fondly before getting up to finally strip off the rest of his own clothes. Rummaging briefly in a box on the bottom shelf beside the bed rewarded him with a condom, and he flopped back down to open the little packet.

When he glanced over at Ann again, she was watching him with lidded eyes. He grinned, cocky, and gave himself a lazy stroke before rolling the condom on. “It’s been a second.”

“Impatient.” But she let him move back between her legs, positioning himself.

“Ready?” he asked, and any attitude had faded to be replaced with genuine curiosity and concern. “This is it.”

“Hey, I asked you.” Ann reached up, resting her hand against his cheek. “Go ahead.”

He leaned down to nuzzle her neck as he slid inside, and she hissed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders tightly. When he was fully inside, he paused, and his voice wavered as he asked, “Are you all right? Does it hurt?”

“No, just...different. It’s okay.” Ann giggled weakly. “This is what it’s like, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Akira replied. He shifted his hips, and Ann wrapped her legs around him encouragingly.

It took a minute for them to settle into a rhythm, but when they did, it was perfect. Ann dug her nails into his shoulders as he found just the right angle to rub against her clit each time their hips came together, and she couldn’t stop the whimpering cries and overwhelmed moans that fell from her lips. Akira’s hands found her breasts, fingers teasing stiff nipples, and then he winced as she basically yelled right in his ear.

“Oh, jeeze, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she babbled, running her fingers through his hair apologetically.

“You’re okay. Don’t w-worry about it,” he chuckled breathlessly. “That just means I’m d-doing a good job.”

A sharp snap of his hips cut off anything she was about to say with another moan. They were both close, movements beginning to grow less coordinated as they chased orgasm. Ann ended up falling over the edge first, whimpering his name, but he was only a few thrusts behind her, and then they just laid still for a minute before he sat up to throw away the condom.

When he laid back down, she curled up against him, and he smiled fondly. “Well. You’re not a virgin anymore. Are you glad you did it?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Ann said, throwing an arm over his chest. “And I’m glad it was you. You were so good to me. I’m not sure I would have been able to laugh as much if it had been someone else. I actually had fun.”

Akira dragged his fingertips lazily up and down her spine, just petting. “Well, you’re welcomed to stay. Sojiro won’t say anything; he knows we stay late studying sometimes.” This might have only been a friendly thing, but that didn’t mean he was going to kick his partner out. They just had to make sure they were dressed before Morgana showed back up. The last thing he needed was his jealous cat getting an eyeful. Although, maybe seeing Ann naked would be rewarding enough to spare Akira from getting clawed up…

“I...actually kind of want to go home and shower,” Ann said apologetically. “I feel all sticky. I really appreciate the offer, though, Akira.” She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he helped her sit up. They both stared at the pile of clothes abandoned in no particular order on the floor, and sighed.

As they tried to figure out where Ann’s other sock had gone, Akira laughed to himself. “I guess the others are going to bug me at some point about this too, huh?”

“A couple of them seemed really into it, yeah,” Ann replied. “Ryuji keeps going back and forth, and Futaba hasn’t said much, but the others were definitely interested.”

“I’ll brace myself, then.”

She laughed. “If you’re as nice to them as you were to me, everything will be fine.”

Akira saw her off from the door of Leblanc, then went back upstairs to fix his rumpled sheets. That had been fun. And things hadn’t been awkward afterwards. If the others wanted to try too, he certainly wasn’t going to object.

He had plenty of condoms, after all.

Chapter Text

[Ryuji - 4:01pm] So Ann said you two had sex.

[Akira - 4:02pm] Yeah. Couple of nights ago.

[Akira - 4:02pm] Jealous?

[Ryuji - 4:04pm] Of which of you?

[Ryuji - 4:05pm] Don’t answer that.

[Ryuji - 4:05pm] Anyway, what are you up to today?

[Akira - 4:11pm] I’m in Akihabara with a friend, but I’ll be home later. What’s up?

[Ryuji - 4:13pm] Was just wondering if you wanted to hang and play video games later. And I wanted to ask you something.

[Akira - 4:15pm] Ryuji. Are you propositioning me? (๑•́ω•̀๑)

[Ryuji - 4:17pm] Dude, Futaba needs to stop showing you how to do all of those emojis. It’s weird.

[Ryuji - 4:17pm] And, uh… Maybe? Kind of wanted to talk about it first.

[Akira - 4:20pm] (」゜ロ゜)」

[Akira - 4:20pm] That’s fine. Come on over later. I picked up a new game while I was here, so we can try that.

[Ryuji - 4:22pm] Thanks, Akira. See ya later!

“Who’s on the phone?” Shinya asked, leaning over to try to see the screen. Akira stuck it back in his pocket before he could, shrugging.

“Just another friend. We’re meeting up later to work on some stuff.”

“Oh. Okay.” The younger boy gestured to the arcade machine. “Ready for another round? You’re not going to get any better if you don’t keep practicing.”

Akira grinned. “Sure thing, sensei.”

“Don’t call me thaaaaat.”

***

“Okay, dude, this game sucks.”

They’d been trying to get past the second level of Gambla Goemon for an hour, and both of them were getting unbelievably frustrated. Akira set the controller down after their ninth death on the same part, grumbling. “I didn’t expect the whole thing to be straight-up luck. I thought we were going to be slashing our way through Hell or something. Sorry.”

Ryuji shrugged. “Eh, couldn’t have known ‘til you tried to play it. Not like it came with a box. Or instructions.” He stretched, then sighed heavily and glanced over at Akira. “But if we’re gonna stop, I, uh, wanted to ask about what you did for Ann.”

Akira flipped off the console, settling against his side of the couch and raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“She, uh, said you were cool about everything and didn’t make a big deal about it. So, I was just thinking, if you didn’t mind…”

“Of course I don’t mind.” Akira smirked, just a little. “I feel like I should be asking if you mind. You sound like you’re not sure.”

Ryuji was very slowly turning the color of a tomato. “Well, I… I just...don’t know how I feel about all of it,” he stammered. “I mean, I’m curious, yeah, but I’m not sure if I want anything, uh…” He made eye contact with Akira, who was twirling a bit of his bangs between his fingers, for a moment, and turned even more red. “Up there, I mean.”

Akira stared at him flatly. “You don’t want to bottom, then.”

“God, do you have to be so blunt?! ” Ryuji blurted, but shook his head. “No, I don’t want to...bottom. I don’t even… Damn it, Akira.”

Akira laughed, covering his mouth to try to hide how widely he was smiling. “Sorry, sorry, I just… You guys were a lot less anxious about this three drinks deep into Never Have I Ever. Heck, you’re the one who asked if I’d be okay with it.” He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his giggles, and continued, “Okay, so you don’t want to bottom, but you don’t know how to top. Am I reading this right?”

Ryuji spluttered at him, trying to figure out what to say, and settled on just nodding quickly. Akira grinned like a cat, leaning closer. “I think I can work with that. Is there anything else you’re not okay with?”

“Uh… Don’t leave any marks, I guess? I don’t want everyone askin’ me about them when we go to Destinyland this weekend.” Ryuji shrugged awkwardly. “That’s it, though. So should we, what, start stripping or something?”

Akira bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from bursting out laughing again. Oh, Ryuji. Obligingly, he pulled his shirt up over his head, balling it up and throwing it at Ryuji’s head. The other boy swatted it away distractedly, his eyes drifting down to Akira’s chest involuntarily.

“Dude, how are you so ripped? It’s not fair.”

“I go to the gym with you,” Akira reminded him. “And I was a gymnast in middle school, and most of my first year of high school. And it’s not like you don’t have muscles.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got, like...a model’s body or something.” Ryuji yanked his t-shirt off, looking down at himself. “You’ve got abs.”

When he looked up again, Akira was about three inches away, that catlike smirk back on his face. “I think you’re fine, abs or not.” His gaze locked onto Ryuji’s, impossible to look away from. “Well?”

“W-Well…” Ryuji hesitated, then reached up to grab a handful of Akira’s hair and crush their lips together. Akira moaned, bracing his hands on Ryuji’s shoulders and kissing back furiously. It was sloppy, and messy, and somewhere in the middle of it Ryuji bit his lip hard enough to actually hurt. But Akira kept grinning, and made another pleased noise when his hair was tugged again.

“You like that?” Ryuji asked incredulously.

“Kinda, yeah. People playing with my hair in general, really. Mona says I’m more of a cat than him.” He leaned his head against Ryuji’s hand. “Mrow~”

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “You are so weird. Come on, let’s get on with it.”

That sounded like a challenge to Akira, and he lunged forward, ignoring Ryuji’s startled yelp to press him back against the couch and straddle his lap, grinding them together. Any objections Ryuji had were cut off with a moan, and Akira leaned in to bite at his earlobe. “You didn’t really specify what you wanted, other than not getting topped. Were you looking to fuck me?”

“Jesus, Akira! How do you just say things like that?!” Ryuji said, but he was grinding back, one hand digging into Akira’s thigh.

“Mostly to see how you’ll react. Like that one time I offered to strip for Yusuke in the middle of a church,” Akira replied, smirking. “Didn’t answer my question.”

“I, uh…” It was clearly hard for him to think, with Akira in his lap, running hands over his chest. “Sure, I guess, if you’re good with that?”

“Very good.” And with that, Akira backed off, before getting up and dragging Ryuji to his feet after him. He then dropped to his knees, hands finding their way to his friend’s belt and buttons. Ryuji spluttered, but didn’t actually try to stop him. Instead, he just sank one hand back into Akira’s curls, earning another pleased noise as Akira freed his aching length.

Akira peered up at him, scanning his expression for any objections. Finding none, he took Ryuji into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and locking his arms around Ryuji’s legs when it seemed for a second that the other was going to fall over from the sensations. But his hand just tightened in Akira’s hair as he tried to ground himself, and Akira bobbed his head contentedly, relaxing his throat when Ryuji’s hips twitched.

“Holy shit, Akira, where did you even learn to--?” His question was cut off as Akira sucked, hard, and this time his knees really did give out and he flopped back to the couch. Instead of answering, Akira just hummed noncommittally, sending vibrations up the shaft and prying a groan from Ryuji.

Once he was certain Ryuji was a panting mess, he pulled away, fumbling in his pocket for a second before flicking a foil packet at his friend’s forehead. “Still good?”

Ryuji fumbled the condom, looking from it to Akira as the dark-haired boy finished peeling off the rest of his clothes and grabbed a bottle of lube. “Y-Yeah.” He ignored the condom for a moment as Akira leaned on the other end of the couch, reaching to slip lubed fingers into himself as if it were no big deal at all. Eventually he had to tear his eyes away so that he could see what he was doing to get the condom on, but that didn’t stop him from listening to the shallow gasps and whimpers coming from Akira as he stretched himself out.

Eventually, Akira looked over at him, his eyes glassy with pleasure, and pointed at the futon. “More space,” he said, and Ryuji scrambled to move from the admittedly cramped couch. Akira followed, pushing him onto his back and straddling him again. “Last chance to back out.”

“Dude, if you stop now, I will punch you.”

“Please, don’t, you’ll kill the mood.” And before Ryuji could reply, Akira positioned them, and settled onto his length with a low moan. Ryuji gasped, hands flying up to latch onto Akira’s hips, and Akira hunched over, laughing a bit. “Maybe shouldn’t have done that all at once…” he said breathlessly.

Ryuji looked like he was about to fly apart at the seams as it was, but then Akira experimentally shifted his hips and he groaned, his grip tightening. “Fuck.”

“Hey, you actually can say it!” Akira managed, but half his words were garbled with pleasure as he started to rock more purposefully. Ryuji growled at him, bucking his hips in retaliation, and Akira let out a surprised moan. If it hadn’t been for his hands braced on Ryuji’s chest, he’d have probably fallen on him. As it was, he leaned down and slammed their lips back together, taking complete control of the kiss. Ryuji might not have wanted to be the one getting fucked, but that didn’t mean Akira was bottoming. Not at all.

Orgasm basically snuck up on both of them, reaching the peak when Ryuji reached for Akira’s cock and gave it a rough stroke. Akira cried out, not expecting the touch, and the resulting chain of reactions drove them both over the edge. Neither of them moved for a moment, shuddering with aftershocks, and then Akira pulled away and collapsed next to him with a content sound.

“You okay?”

Ryuji pulled the condom off and tossed it at the trash can. “Wow…”

Akira grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was definitely something.” Ryuji nudged him, still clearly trying to catch his breath. “So are you really gonna sleep with everyone? ”

“If they ask, I guess. We’re friends, and no one’s dumb enough to get jealous. I hope, anyway, otherwise we’re going to have to go on another marathon run through Mementos until whoever gets over it.” The leader of the phantom thieves shrugged elegantly, despite being naked and flat on his back.

Ryuji groaned. “I’m not doing six straight hours of Mementos again. That was the worst.”

“We had five targets!”

“We had a whole week to go after those targets!”

“Why leave and come back when we were already there?”

“Because being in the car for most of six hours sucks.”

“You can ride on top of the car next time then!”

They stared each other down for a moment, then couldn’t help but laugh. Ryuji pushed himself upright, glancing around for where their scattered clothes had landed. “You know, this is a lot less weird than I thought it was gonna be. Thanks, Akira.”

Akira hummed, absolutely shameless as he got up and walked over to start sorting clothes. “No problem at all. I had fun.” He threw Ryuji’s pants at his head, chuckling. “It’ll be interesting to see what the rest of you all come up with to get me into bed.”

Chapter Text

[Akira - 6:45pm] Haru? Are you doing all right?

[Haru - 6:58pm] I’m not sure. Things have been so hectic…

[Akira - 7:00pm] We’re all worried. If you need anything, please tell us.

[Haru - 7:05pm] Actually, if you didn’t mind, I would appreciate if I could come over to Leblanc. The press has been here for days. It’s getting a bit overwhelming.

[Akira - 7:07pm] Of course. Can you get here without being followed?

[Haru - 7:09pm] I believe so. I’ll leave through the back, and get the driver to drop me off at the end of the street.

[Akira - 7:10pm] Okay. See you soon.

“Haru’s coming over,” he told Morgana, getting up to go start on some coffee. Haru could probably use a warm drink.

Morgana’s bright blue eyes were concerned, and he followed Akira down the stairs. “Did she sound like she was okay?”

Akira shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I can’t imagine what kind of stress she must be feeling.” He unlocked the front door so she’d be able to get in, and started pulling down ingredients from the shelves behind the counter. “Her dad just died a few days ago. On live TV. If there’s anything I can do to help her out, I want to.”

***

When Haru arrived, a tote bag slung over her shoulder, Akira waved her into a booth and brought over two mugs.

“A café miel,” he said, sliding into the booth across from her. “It’s made with honey and cinnamon. Tell me if it’s any good?”

Haru smiled gratefully, taking a sip and cradling the mug in her hands. “It’s delicious. Boss really is teaching you a lot about coffee, isn’t he?”

Akira shrugged. “Sort of. He doesn’t like all the ‘frilly’ stuff. Says it covers up the coffee’s proper flavor. But there’s a few customers who like the sweeter stuff.” He took a sip of his own, as Morgana hopped up onto the seat to curl up in Haru’s lap. “Morgana and I have been worried about you.”

“Yeah! It’s got to be rough, with everyone poking around your house,” Morgana chimed in.

Haru stared down into her drink, absentmindedly petting Morgana. “I definitely wasn’t prepared to take over the company, or have to deal with a police investigation in my own home.”

“If there’s anything I can do, just tell me,” Akira said, quietly insistent. “You’re my friend, Haru.”

“Actually, there is something… And now seems like as good a time as any…” Haru said. Her cheeks turned pink, and she hesitated before asking, “Do you know anything about shibari?”

That wasn’t what Akira had been expecting in the slightest, and he blinked, dumbfounded. “I know...the basics…?”

Morgana yowled. “Oh, no, if you’re talking about that stuff, let me out! I’m not doing this!” He jumped from her lap, staring pointedly at Akira.

Haru’s blush darkened. “I’m so sorry, Morgana, that was inconsiderate of me…”

Akira got up to open the door for him, and Morgana huffed. “When I’m human again, I’m not going to be like this. Honestly…” He padded out of the cafe, and Akira locked the door behind him before coming back over to sit down.

“Shibari, really?”

Haru pointed at the tote bag she brought, and Akira leaned over to look inside of it. There were several coils of colored rope, and he was pretty sure his eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline. “Is this...really a good time for this? With everything going on…”

“Please, Akira-kun,” she said earnestly. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to try anyway, and you’re the only one I trust enough for something like this. I’ve had to have everything under control all the time; I just want someone I trust to take charge, just for a little while.”

Akira frowned, and laid his hand on the table, palm up. The gesture was obvious, and Haru tucked her hand into his, not making eye contact. He squeezed her fingers. “I’m going to be kind of blunt for a second. Your father controlled your whole life. We specifically went after him for basically that exact reason. I would think you would want the exact opposite of giving up control.”

“Having control taken from me and giving up control are different,” Haru whispered. “I’ve had to be in control of myself constantly as well, to be the daughter my father wanted, to keep up appearances in front of the police…” She swallowed hard. “But you don’t expect that. I don’t have to put on a show for you; I can just react honestly. That’s all I want. A chance to experience something where I don’t have to worry about anyone’s reactions. Not even my own.”

“And you think jumping right into shibari is the best way to do that?” Akira asked, but his expression had softened. It made sense, in a roundabout way.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay…”

“Didn’t say that,” Akira countered. “I’m actually flattered you trust me enough for something like that.” He got up, pulling Haru along with him to stand. “Just don’t expect anything fancy. Like I said, I know the basics. Not much else.”

Haru managed a small smile. “I wasn’t expecting a hammerlock on my first try.”

“See? I don’t even know what that is.” But he smiled, too, then asked, “Have you got scissors in that big bag of rope?”

“No…?” Haru shook her head, and Akira let go of her hand for a moment to disappear into the kitchen and fetch the kitchen shears.

“That’s pretty much rule one, is having a quick way out in case there’s an emergency,” he said, then offered her a hand again. “Let’s go upstairs.”

***

They dropped the bag of rope at the end of the futon once they got upstairs, and Akira ran a hand through his hair, mentally running over what he knew about rope bondage. When he’d said he’d take his teammates’ virginity if they asked, he hadn’t been expecting anything this involved. “Normally I’d say we need a safe word, but in this case, just tell me to stop, and I will, okay? This isn’t a scene or anything.”

Haru nodded, and reached for the hem of the cardigan she was wearing. “So, should I...undress, then?” Her voice trembled slightly.

Akira nodded. “As much as you’re comfortable. I’ll sort out the rope.” He turned away to empty the bag onto the end of the bed, poking through the coils. There were five, each a different color, and a good thickness and softness. Haru had clearly been planning this; this was good-quality rope, not some cheap stuff from the hardware store.

When he turned back around, Haru was naked, her clothes in a neat pile beside his shelves. Akira couldn’t stop his eyes from darting up and down her figure for a moment, but he recovered quickly and beckoned her to come closer. “I’m going to do a body tie, then do your hands and feet,” he explained. “Is that all right?”

Haru came over, surprising him by reaching up and cupping his face in her hands. “I’ll tell you if anything isn’t okay. But don’t ask anymore, all right? I wanted you to be in charge, remember?” She kissed the corner of his mouth, and he nodded dazedly, caught off-guard.

“Okay, then…” He fetched a length of purple rope, folding it in half and tying a loop before draping it around the back of her neck. Knots were carefully made in the rope at intervals, all the way down her body, and then he pulled the trailing ends between her legs and up her back to thread through the loop at base of her neck. She made a tiny, startled noise as one of the knots nestled right above her clit, but Akira just adjusted the tension so everything was snug, and then began to weave the ends of the rope through the gaps between the knots down her front. It pulled the pattern open into a neat line of diamonds, and Haru couldn’t help but trace her fingers over them, marveling at how easily he’d done it. It felt secure, and surprisingly good to have the ropes against her bare skin. Especially that one knot that was tormenting her every time she shifted even a little.

Akira guided her over to sit on the bed, shrugging off his shirt and sitting down beside her. Reflexively, she reached to touch him, but he caught her hands before she could and pulled them behind her back. “Ah, no,” he said, and she shivered, because his voice had gotten deeper.

Joker’s voice, she thought absently, moving as he guided, holding her forearms parallel to each other against the small of her back. He began wrapping them in a length of rope, checking the coils and the tension every few loops before finishing off with a knot and leaving her securely bound.

She tugged experimentally at the bindings. They were tight, but not uncomfortable, and she watched curiously as Akira knelt in front of her, pressing a kiss to each of her shins before beginning to tie her ankles together. She knew that would hobble her; she wasn’t going to be running anywhere in the middle of this. But despite her inability to get away, she felt safe. If she told him to stop, he would, and she knew that.

With her limbs bound, Akira returned to the bed, tipping her over with a nudge so that her head was pillowed in his lap. He sank his fingers into her hair, and a smile curled his lips. “I suppose now that I have you like this, I can explore however I want.” Without waiting for her to respond, his fingers skimmed through her hair, tracing over her jaw and neck and then dipping down to run along her collarbones. Haru wiggled, letting out a stuttering little cry as the ropes shifted against her skin. Akira chuckled and traced where the rope crossed just above her chest, then let his hand drop to cup one breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple.

Haru’s legs twitched at the feeling, but the bindings held, and as Akira switched to give her other breast some attention as well, she shifted enough to nudge the front of his pants with her nose, where a very obvious erection was forming. “Akira-kun…”

“Good idea.” He got up just long enough to shuck the rest of his clothes, then returned to his prior position, running a finger over her lips. “Play nice,” he teased, and she fixed him with a steely-eyed look and leaned enough to take him into her mouth.

“Mmmm…” With a content hum, he went back to exploring her body, pinching her nipples gently and shivering as the sensations caused her to moan around his cock.

Her mouth felt incredible as she suckled at the head, her tongue darting curiously against the slit and tracing along the ridge before she let her lips slide down farther. He couldn’t stop his hips from bucking involuntarily, and Haru gagged as he accidentally hit the back of her throat. “Shit, Haru, I’m sor--”

But Haru reeled back from him as if he’d hit her, eyes widening as she tugged at the bindings. Akira saw the note of panic in her expression, and he grabbed for the scissors, holding her still as he cut the knots and let the ropes on her wrists and ankles begin to unravel. She pulled her limbs in close to herself when the ropes had fallen away, shaking her head, and Akira hesitantly put a hand on her knee. “Haru?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she said weakly. “I ruined it.”

“Haru, no, you didn’t ruin anything. That’s what the scissors were for. Are you okay?” He reached up to push her hair back from her face, gently. She mumbled something he didn’t quite hear, and he made a questioning noise.

She leaned into his hand, her expression melancholy. “It wasn’t the ropes,” she repeated. “M-My...fiancé. He would, when my father wasn’t listening, make crude comments at me. His favorite was to remind me that he was looking forward to...seeing me choke on him. He knew that I couldn’t tell my father, and that my father would likely dismiss what I said even if I did.” She wouldn’t meet Akira’s eyes, and he felt a sudden surge of murderous intent. It really was a shame the version of her fiancé that they’d beaten the tar out of in the metaverse wasn’t the real one.

Instead, he drew her forward into a hug. “That just makes me more sure that we made the right decision. Even if going after your father was a trap, we couldn’t leave you to suffer under someone like that.”

They ended up stretched out on the futon, Haru using him as a pillow and him stroking her hair. But when she tried to adjust her position, she let out a muffled whimper as the ropes still on her torso rubbed against her. “O-Oh…”

“Do you want me to take them off?” Akira murmured.

“N-No, I…” She pressed against his thigh, tiny movements to grind the rope against her clit. “Ah…”

Akira shifted to give her a better angle, his hands drifting to her hips to help her find a rhythm. She pressed her face against the crook of his neck, moaning softly against his skin, and he felt the exact moment that her movements grew needy and unsteady. She finally shuddered, going limp against him, and he tilted his head to kiss her forehead. “I think that counts towards not being a virgin.”

Haru nuzzled his neck. “What about you?”

“Your call. I’m fine with going downstairs and finishing on my own.” He coiled an arm back around her waist comfortingly.

She bit her lip, then reached down and tentatively wrapped her fingers around his cock. Akira shivered as she began to stroke gently, murmuring encouragement.

“Just a little faster, like that,” he breathed, his free hand gripping the sheets. Haru looked up at him, amazed that she was having an effect on him, and obeyed. She followed his every instruction and request, tightening her grip and twisting her wrist, learning. And when his stable facade cracked and he came apart under her hand, she smiled.

“Now I’m not a virgin,” she said, and the spark had come back to her eyes.

Akira smiled, glad that she didn’t seem to be upset over the mishap from earlier. Undoing the knot near the middle of her back, he helped her out of the last of the ropes, and then kicked the whole pile of rope under his work desk to be dealt with in the morning. “Stay here tonight? I’ll sleep on the couch. Then you won’t have to sneak back in past whoever’s at your house.”

“I wouldn’t want to kick you out of your bed,” Haru said, surprised. “And I don’t have any pajamas…”

“Just borrow some of my stuff. It’s fine.”

“If you really don’t mind, I would be grateful.”

Akira got up to rummage through his box of clothes to find her something to wear. She needed the break, from her empty house, from the press and police, from everything. He was just glad he could give it to her.

***

The next morning, when Sojiro arrived at the cafe, he found Morgana sitting in front of the locked door, cleaning his paws. Confused, he picked up the cat, unlocking the door and heading inside towards Akira’s room.

“Look, you can’t just leave your cat outside overnight. I found him sitting outside the front...door…” Sojiro trailed off as he processed what he was actually looking at.

Akira sat up from his place on the couch, rubbing his eyes, his hair an absolute rat’s nest. “Huh?” He blinked at Sojiro, and then horror slowly dawned on his face. “Wait, it’s not what it looks like.”

Sojiro turned and carried Morgana back downstairs, and Akira fell off the couch and scrambled after him. “Wait, hold on, let me explain--”

“There’s a girl in your bed wearing your clothes. What is there to explain?” Sojiro said dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. “I don’t mind if you have your girlfriend over. Just warn someone first so that sort of thing doesn’t happen. You don’t have a door, remember?”

Akira climbed into one of the seats at the counter. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just my friend.” He certainly wasn’t going to tell Sojiro he’d slept with her; ‘promiscuous’ wasn’t a trait he wanted to add to the man’s perception of him. “She didn’t want to be alone last night, and she didn’t bring pajamas, so I lent her some of my stuff. That’s Haru Okumura.”

That got Sojiro to look up. “Okumura? You mean…?”

“Yeah.” Akira sighed, tapping his fingers against the countertop. “Her dad died a week ago, and there’s media people crawling all around her house. So she came over here for a while.”

Sojiro went to rummage in the fridge, starting to set out ingredients next to the stove. Akira watched him for a minute, until he realized that none of it was curry ingredients. “Wait, is that, like, real breakfast food?”

“Your friend needs a proper breakfast,” Sojiro said gruffly, and Akira hid a fond smile. It really was too late for Sojiro. He’d become a dad to seven kids whether he liked it or not.

Chapter Text

[Yusuke - 12:45pm] Akira, are you perhaps free today? I find myself in need of a favor.

[Akira - 12:53pm] I’m on my way home from some errands. Give me half an hour, maybe. What’s up?

[Yusuke - 12:55pm] I’ve reached an impasse with my latest creative work, and as having you around has helped in the past…

[Akira - 12:58pm] Sure thing. Let me just go put these bags down, and I’ll be right over.

All things considered, Akira hadn’t been expecting to spend his afternoon in his underwear surrounded by pillows, but it wasn’t a bad way to spend time. He was relaxing on his stomach on the couch, dozing a bit in the patch of sunlight from Yusuke’s window as the artist sketched furiously. Morgana hadn’t come with him, citing that him meeting with any of their friends alone was turning into too much of a minefield to risk, but he had a feeling if Morgana were here there would be a running commentary on how catlike Akira looked.

Either way, he was comfortable. The only sound was Yusuke’s pencil scritching against his sketchbook, and Akira could feel himself drifting off. He’d been up late chatting with Futaba over text, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open. Yusuke wouldn’t notice if he just took a quick nap, would he? The artist was oblivious when he was in the zone.

He wasn’t aware of anything else until there was a soft touch against his hair. He stirred, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before seeing Yusuke retreating across the room. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. Did you finish your sketch?”

“Ah, yes. Here…” Yusuke held out the sketchbook, and Akira came over to look. The drawing was incredible, really. All the contours of his skin had been carefully rendered in soft shades. It looked...like a preliminary sketch for a renaissance painting or something. People had called him pretty before, mostly Ann, but Akira didn’t really believe it. But seeing how Yusuke captured him…

“I thought you said before that you couldn’t make me beautiful,” he teased.

“This is a different environment,” Yusuke said immediately. “The lighting was at a more adequate angle to capture all of the details of your figure. Plus, no one would object to you being shirtless in my dorm, as opposed to a church.”

Akira laughed, grabbing his pants from the back of the chair where he’d left them. “Probably not. I will admit, though, when you texted me I thought something else might be on your mind, considering the others lately.” He got the pants on and was halfway through pulling on his shirt before he realized Yusuke hadn’t actually responded, and turned to look. Yusuke was staring intently at his sketchbook, and his ears were red. “Uh...is everything okay?”

“I will admit that my initial plan was to request such a thing,” Yusuke said, and if he ever stopped being so blunt it was going to be a sad day indeed. “But I realized that I am more familiar with the idea of the human figure from a modeling perspective, and that actually...interacting with someone like that is...beyond me.”

“So you’re used to ‘look but don’t touch’?” Akira asked, already running through possibilities in his mind. Yusuke nodded, and Akira glanced at the door on the far side of the room. “Your room has a shower?”

“Yes, I was lucky enough to get one of the rooms with an ensui-- Where are you going?” Yusuke said in mild alarm as Akira started grabbing the rest of his things.

“The store. I’ll be back soon.” Akira waved, flashing a grin over his shoulder, leaving Yusuke to watch his retreating form in utter bafflement.

***

When Akira returned, shopping bag in hand, Yusuke was transferring the sketch to a larger canvas.

“Are you actually going to paint it?” he asked, surprised.

“I don’t see why not. Out of all of the sketches I have done for this figure study assignment, this one speaks to me the most.” Yusuke’s gaze flicked away from the canvas to the bag Akira was holding. “What did you get? You left in quite a hurry.”

Akira reached into the bag, pulling out cheap paintbrushes and bottles of kids’ paint, lining them up on the table and smiling proudly. “I had an idea.”

Yusuke frowned. “...if your intention was to help replenish my art supplies, you have purchased quite possibly the most mediocre paint in existence.”

“No!” Akira said. “I bought kids’ stuff because it’s non-toxic.” He kicked his shoes off, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “You said that you’re only used to this from a modeling perspective, so we’re going to use art to get around that, if you want to of course.” Tugging the shirt over his head, he smiled. “Paint me? And let me paint you?”

He could pinpoint the exact moment that Yusuke understood what he was getting at, and the artist made a little noise of surprise. “Use you as a canvas?”

“Mm-hm. Like I said, if you want to.”

“...you’re right, the chemicals in proper acrylics could be dangerous to leave on such a large area of skin for an extended period of time…” Yusuke walked over to the table, examining the colors Akira had brought. “That’s why you asked about the shower.”

Akira chuckled. “Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to have to wash something like that off in a shared bathroom. So? Up for it?”

“I did wish to experience what the others have,” Yusuke admitted quietly, trying to hide the color rising in his cheeks. “Very well. Let us try.”

Together, they laid out some blankets and a tarp on the floor, so that paint wouldn’t get everywhere, and Akira stripped back down to his underwear and laid down. This was a great idea. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? It didn’t even have to be a sexual thing; it could just be--

He shuddered at the first touch on his back. The paint was cold! But he tried not to move, letting Yusuke explore his skin with fingers and brush.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re so toned, but it’s still incredibly impressive,” Yusuke murmured, tracing one finger down Akira’s shoulderblade. The brush swirled across the small of his back, trailing paint in its wake.

“I have to be, if I want to do all those backflips.” Akira smiled into his folded arms.

“I wish there was a way to bring a camera to the metaverse. Your form when airborne is nothing short of elegant.” Somewhere along the way, Yusuke had acquired a palette, and was clearly mixing paint and taking this rather seriously. Akira couldn’t see what he was doing in terms of color, but he was sure it would be wonderful. And he was getting less tentative with his touches, brushing his fingers more casually against Akira’s shoulders, the nape of his neck, even a steadying touch against his thigh.

Eventually he finished, and went to wash the palette, leaving Akira to sit up and shift curiously. He could tell the paint wasn’t quite dry, but it wasn’t a bother. When Yusuke returned with clean brushes and palette, Akira pointed at the tarp. “Your turn.”

If there’s one thing Yusuke wasn’t, it was shy, especially not in his own room. His clothes were draped over the chair beside Akira’s, and he laid down on the tarp. “Please at least attempt to have some coherence to your composition,” he said, and Akira laughed, picking up the red paint.

“I’m not the arts scholar. You are,” he teased, choosing a large brush. Art wasn’t his strong suit, but something stylized would work, and he shifted to sit on Yusuke’s legs so he could see better as he started painting.

“That’s cold! ”

“Don’t whine. Mine was just as bad.” Akira braced a hand against Yusuke’s shoulder, the image taking shape slowly as he painted in long, sweeping strokes. A red fox, perfect for Yusuke, and contrasting with the blues of his hair and eyes. He couldn’t manage anything more complex than a calligraphic-looking, mildly-abstract fox, but it was at least recognizable, even if he did have to base the face on one of the wooden ema from a shrine he’d visited once.

When he finished, he nudged Yusuke to sit up, grabbing his phone from his pants pocket. “Here, let me take a picture so you can see it.”

“I’m very curious. I couldn’t tell what it was from just trying to follow the outline.” Yusuke certainly wasn’t going to admit that Akira sitting on him had been distracting. He waited patiently as Akira took the picture and crawled up to sit beside him, and when he saw the image, his eyes widened. “You painted me a fox?”

“Well, yeah. I thought it was appropriate.”

“It’s...lovely. Clearly the work of an amateur, but pleasing nonetheless.” Yusuke smiled fondly. “Thank you, Akira. Shall I take a picture of yours as well?”

Akira handed off the camera gladly. But when he saw the picture, his mouth fell open in shock. “That’s…”

It was a butterfly, spread across his shoulders and down his back. And it was painted in what seemed like an infinite number of shades of blue, all blending together to make a very familiar color. He swallowed hard. “Why a butterfly?”

“It seemed appropriate,” Yusuke said, tossing his own words back at him. “I have watched you come out of your shell quite a bit since we first met. You have become someone much stronger than your original self.”

Akira bit his lip, unable to stop the smile that spread across his face. “...thank you. Really. But the same thing is true about you, you know.” He tucked the phone away again. “I’ll send you the pictures later, if you want, but do you want to go wash this stuff off before we have to get dressed again?”

“Very well. But I don’t believe I’ll be able to reach the middle of my back without help,” Yusuke commented, getting to his feet.

Akira smirked. “That’s the idea, Yusuke.”

Kosei took good care of its students. The water was warm enough in no time at all, and Akira dragged Yusuke into the shower with him shamelessly. “Get my back first? I have more paint on me.”

Yusuke was busy staring at his body as water ran down it in rivulets, but managed to drag himself away with a shake of his head. “All right.”

It wouldn’t do to ruin the washcloths, of course, so he simply poured some bodywash into his hands and began working in methodical circles over Akira’s back, making sure to clean away all traces of blue from his skin. It was remarkably intoxicating, touching him like this, shut away with nothing but warm water and steam for company. Akira made a low noise as Yusuke’s hands slid just a little lower than he’d meant to, and the artist pulled back nervously. “My apologies, I…”

“It’s fine,” Akira said, and his eyes were like embers as he turned to claim the bodywash for himself. “Your turn.”

Yusuke swallowed hard, but allowed Akira to move behind him and begin cleaning the paint from him as well. It took much less time, but then he shivered as Akira leaned against his back, pressing his lips to the slope of his neck. “Feeling better about touching someone, instead of just looking?” he asked lowly.

“Indeed, your idea was quite...helpful…” His breath stuttered as Akira’s hands settled on his hips. “Are you...quite certain this is all right?”

“I’m good as long as you are,” Akira replied. “You said you wanted to experience what the others have. So here’s your chance. Do you want it?”

“I…” Yusuke hesitated, more from uncertainty than nervousness. But this was Akira, and he absolutely trusted him. “I do.”

Akira smiled against his neck, one hand sliding from his hip to his cock, finding it half-hard. Clever fingers curled around him, squeezing gently before beginning to stroke, and Yusuke grabbed for the bar where the washcloths were hanging, letting out a strangled moan. The water streaming down their bodies just heightened every sensation, and he pushed his hips back against Akira, feeling for himself that the other boy was just as hard.

Akira hummed, grinding against him. “I might have spoken too soon, since we don’t have lube or anything. I got distracted by the paint.”

“I think I’d be a bit overwhelmed by that, honestly,” Yusuke panted. “This is...quite nice on its own.” He reached up, fingers curling around the back of Akira’s neck as Akira kissed across the back of his shoulders.

“Just nice?” Akira teased. “I’m not doing well enough, then.” He pulled Yusuke away from the wall of the shower, spinning him around to press his back to the tile. Yusuke gasped, and Akira crushed their lips together and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks.

Yusuke moaned into his mouth, trying to pull him closer and struggling with slick skin and needy, shaking fingers. Akira kept him steady against the wall, pumping them both in quick, firm strokes as the water beat against their sides.

“A-Akira…” Yusuke rocked his hips into the movements, the barest millimeter of space between their lips. His hand dropped to cover Akira’s, their combined grip tightening and drawing a moan from Akira as well.

“Good, good,” Akira mumbled, and Yusuke’s head dropped to rest against his shoulder as his breathing grew more ragged.

“Akira, I-I’m--!” But he couldn’t get the words out, pressing as close as he could as climax overtook him. Akira gasped sharply as they lost rhythm, two, three more strokes, and then he came as well, free hand clutching Yusuke’s shoulder for balance.

They ended up sitting in the bottom of the shower, trying to catch their breath. Akira pushed his waterlogged hair back from his face, leaning against Yusuke’s shoulder. “How was that?” he asked, looking up at him with a blatantly pleased smile.

Yusuke chuckled weakly. “Quite incredible, I must say. But I expected nothing less, considering the high praise Ann and Ryuji had for you.”

Akira sighed. “Are all of you just going to tell the whole group how amazing the sex was? You guys have no filters around each other, I swear.” But he didn’t seem unhappy, content to sit against Yusuke’s side. “Haru didn’t talk about me?”

“She just mentioned rope and then turned so red that we dropped the subject, lest she become a tomato and faint dead away,” Yusuke said, as if it were a completely normal conversation to even have in the first place. “I will say, out of all I have heard so far, this seems very practical in terms of cleanup.” He waved a hand through the still-running shower, scattering drops, and Akira found himself laughing and unable to stop.

“Fair point, I guess.”

And if he spent two more hours that afternoon sprawled on the couch, covered in waterdrops while Yusuke drew him like a French girl, well… he supposed his friends would find out soon enough.

Chapter Text

[Futaba - 4:20pm] Akira, can you come over, please? I need someone to watch Featherman with. I’m so angry! >:(

[Akira - 4:22pm] Is this about Akechi?

[Futaba - 4:23pm] Of course it’s about Akechi! What kind of jerk BLACKMAILS the Phantom Thieves?!

[Futaba - 4:23pm] Can’t we just change Akechi’s heart instead?!

[Futaba - 4:35pm] ...Akira??? O_o Are you there?

[Akira - 4:36pm] Sorry, I was cleaning some stuff up before I come over. Leave Akechi alone for now, it’ll be fine.

[Futaba - 4:37pm] If you say so. Come on, I want Featherman and pocky.

[Akira - 4:37pm] Five minutes.

Akira put his phone away, glancing at Morgana, who was sleeping on the couch. There was nothing to clean. There had been nothing to clean. He’d just stared at the nav app for almost ten minutes, trying to work up the nerve to see if Akechi even had a palace. But in the end he hadn’t been able to bring himself to put in the name. He already knew Akechi was lying to them. He didn’t want to know any more. Not right now.

He grabbed his keys and left Morgana to sleep. His cat didn’t want to be in the same room as him and one other friend of his anyway. A note would be fine.

***

An hour of Featherman and a delivery order of dinner later, they were both stretched out on Futaba’s bed, trying to decide whether it was worth it to cut on another episode.

“Sojiro won’t be home for another hour and a half. We could get through another two or three,” Futaba said, but she didn’t sound very committed to the idea. She rolled over, snuggling up against Akira’s side. “Is that what culture festivals are like? Minus the blackmail?”

“Pretty much,” Akira said. “The booths aren’t always as terrible as Ann’s class’s, though.”

“That was pretty terrible. Who offers takoyaki and then doesn’t have any takoyaki?” Futaba grumbled. “It was worth it to see Akechi almost choke, though.”

Akira sighed. “Let’s not talk about Akechi. We don’t have to deal with him for another day or two.”

Futaba squeezed him. “Okay. Let’s talk about why you know how to do shibari.”

“Uh???” Akira spluttered a bit with surprise. “How do you kno-- Leblanc is still bugged. Oh my god, Futaba.” She’d clearly been waiting to get him alone to ask, and he resisted the urge to cover his face with his free hand.

“Hey, your room isn’t bugged. It’s just the downstairs, remember?” She grinned wickedly. “Come on, Akira, why do you know how to do that?”

“The internet,” Akira said wryly. “Something you should be familiar enough with, you little gremlin.”

He patted her on the head, and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t be mean. I was just curious.” She bit her lip. “Am I included in that whole never-have-I-ever thing?”

“Everyone was included but Morgana,” Akira said automatically, before he realized exactly what she was implying. “Wait, you…?”

Futaba hid her face against his chest. “I’m just curious!” she repeated. “Everyone else is seeing what it’s like. I...wanna know too.”

Akira hesitated. Futaba was barely comfortable around people she didn’t know. He wasn’t sure something like that, even with someone she did know, would work very well. “Are you...sure?”

“You’re the person I trust the most,” Futaba said, only the tiniest note of anxiety in her voice. “And Ann said, that you said, that virginity is different things. So, uh, I just...want to know what it’s like to be touched by someone else. I don’t think I can handle anything else right now.”

“Huh…” Akira sat up, bringing her with him. He cracked a smile. “So you just want me to get you off?”

Futaba turned red. “You’re awful. Stop being weird and blunt like Inari.”

“Hey, I have to know. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.” Akira wound his arms around her waist, then glanced at the clock. “Although, if you were hoping for today, you should probably decide now. There’s time before Sojiro gets back, but not enough to think forever. I’d really rather him not catch me making out with you.”

“He’d kick your butt.” That got her to giggle, and she leaned back against his chest, not objecting to the hug. “...okay. Let’s do this. I’m gonna get enough experience to level up by doing this, I’m sure!”

Akira tossed most of Futaba’s pillows back behind him so he could sit comfortably against the wall. “You have to tell me if you don’t like something,” he said seriously. “I don’t want you to panic.” She tipped her head back to look at him, and he kissed her temple, then nipped at the shell of her ear. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Futaba said, looking up and tentatively kissing his jaw. “Just, go slow.”

“Okay.” He leaned down to kiss her neck, and she made a tiny sound of approval. His hands pulled at the hem of her oversized t-shirt, giving him just enough space to slip his hands beneath to rest on her bare stomach. He didn’t go any farther, teasing her earlobe with lips and tongue until she shivered and squirmed against him.

“Nn… ‘Kira…”

He smiled, taking that as a cue that he could move on. His hands slid farther up, beneath her shirt, brushing over the curve of her breasts. “Do you...normally not wear a bra?”

Futaba opened and closed her mouth a few times before she finally managed, “I, uh… They itch. And it’s not...like I have much there. I wear such casual clothes it doesn’t usually matter.”

“Hey, relax, it’s not a bad thing. I just wasn’t expecting it.” His hands cupped her chest and squeezed, and she whined, arching her back like she was trying to push closer to the touch. He massaged gently until he could feel her nipples hardening against his palms, then brushed his thumbs over them, enjoying the stuttering moan he elicited. “Did I find a weak point?”

“Y-Yeah… Keep doing that…” Futaba requested. “It’s...really different when it’s not me touching me.”

“I would assume so, yes,” he teased, but obeyed her wishes. It was interesting hearing all the different sounds she could make as he rolled her nipples between clever fingers, plucking at them gently until they were stiff and wanting. She squirmed more and more the longer he toyed with her, rubbing her thighs together and inadvertently rubbing against him as well, and he took a deep breath. This was not about him.

One hand trailed back down her stomach, and he tapped a questioning finger against the button of her shorts. Futaba hesitated, but nodded, and he undid the button in one smooth motion and let his fingers trail along the elastic of her underwear. She turned her face away so he couldn’t see her expression, but spread her legs, and he took that as permission to slip his fingers beneath the fabric to explore.

The pad of his finger brushed over her clit, and she jolted, letting out a loud moan. She almost immediately covered her mouth in embarrassment, and he coiled his free arm back around her waist. “Hey, don’t. I want to hear you; that’s how I know I’m doing something right.”

“You’re definitely doing something right,” Futaba said breathlessly between her fingers, choking off another moan as he began to rub in light strokes against the sensitive spot. “Hnn… Akira… Please…”

“Hm?” He smiled, fingers questing just a little lower, and Futaba mewled when he dipped one just barely into her. “That?” All he got in response was a frantic nod, and then she threw her head back when he curled his fingers and sank two into her warmth, easy and painless. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and he adjusted so that the heel of his hand would press against her clit even as his fingers pressed inside her.

“Oh, god, oh, god, ‘Kira, that’s--” She couldn’t manage anything more than choppy, incomplete sentences as she rocked her hips against his hand, and he reached up with his free hand to toy with her nipples again, giving her even more pleasure. He hooked his fingers sharply, and Futaba wailed as he hit something inside of her that made her entire body feel like she had lightning in her veins. Her legs thrashed, one hand flew up to grab at his hair, and the other wrapped around his wrist, not trying to pull him away, but to get him to do that again.

Akira laughed. “Critical hit,” he teased, but she barely heard him, overwhelmed with sensation. He kept it up, hitting that spot and rubbing her clit and feeling her flutter around his fingers. It was only another minute or so before she tensed up, clamping down on the digits inside of her as her back arched. She only gasped loudly, her breathing growing ragged as she rode out the orgasm, and Akira noted dimly somewhere in the back of his mind that she clearly wasn’t a screamer.

When she’d gone limp and content and boneless, he pulled his fingers away, licking them clean and then wrapping his arms around her waist again.

“I can’t move,” she said weakly. “Are my legs still there? Wow.”

“Your legs are still there,” Akira assured her, chuckling. “And I’d appreciate you not moving, unless you’re going to get off of me.”

“Huh?”

“Did a lot of rocking against me, there. It’s a little uncomfortable,” he admitted with a grin. Futaba tipped her head back to look up at him, her eyes wide and cheeks pink, but there was a sudden dinging noise from her computer and they both glanced at it.

“Oh! That’s the alarm for Sojiro leaving the cafe!” Futaba said. “Uh, uh, you, uh…” She floundered, then crawled away from him towards the opposite end of the bed, noting that there was in fact a noticeable tent in his pants.

“Why do you even have that alarm?” Akira asked, getting to his feet awkwardly.

“Just because. Came in handy, didn’t it?” Futaba countered, rummaging for her tissue box. “Just go hide in the bathroom and take care of that. We’ve got like ten minutes.”

Akira laughed, but he was already heading for the door. “Romantic. Thanks, Futaba.”

“Shut up!”

***

By the time Sojiro got home, they were both presentable and starting up the next episode of Featherman when he came to check on them. “What are you two up to?”

“Featherman marathon,” Akira said casually, laptop propped on his stomach. Futaba waved where she was snuggled against his side. “Closed the cafe early tonight?”

Sojiro shrugged. “The last customers left, so I just went ahead and shut down for the night. Have fun, just don’t stay up too late.” He headed off towards his own room, and they relaxed.

“Of all the nights for him to close early,” Futaba groaned, once he was out of earshot.

“Good thing you didn’t want anything more than that, or we’d have been in trouble,” Akira agreed.

Futaba smacked his chest, but then leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. “...thanks, Akira. Looks like you’re still my key item after all.” She settled back against his side before he could respond, so he just wrapped his arm back around her contentedly. This had been nice. And it had kept him from dwelling on what to do about Akechi. Agonizing wouldn’t help anyone.

Although, it was weird to think that there was only one member of his team left that he hadn’t slept with. What was his life?

Chapter Text

[Makoto - 6:45pm] Akira? Would it be too much trouble if I came over this evening? Sis isn’t home, but I just can’t focus here.

[Akira - 6:47pm] No trouble at all. I have no plans.

[Makoto - 6:48pm] Thank you. Everything is just so stressful right now.

[Akira - 6:50pm] Tell me about it. X_x

[Makoto - 6:51pm] I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything about what you’re going through.

[Akira - 6:51pm] It’s fine, it’s fine. Just come over when you’re ready. I’ll be upstairs.

He set his phone on the work desk and sighed, going back to sorting materials. It was strange doing it without Morgana, but he’d been spending nights this week with Futaba, because she was stressing about what was coming even worse than Akira was. It was her grand plan, after all. She’d blame herself if it failed.

Aluminum sheets went in a stack on the shelf, vials of liquid mercury in the mug he’d gotten from Dome Town. Silk string and tin clasps in small piles to one side. How many lockpicks could he get done, without Morgana telling him to go to sleep?

***

Makoto showed up just before Sojiro left, making her way up to the attic and finding Akira face-down on the desk. He sat up when she stepped into the room, and she covered her mouth, trying to hide a smile. There was a wad of string stuck in his hair.

He seemed to notice its absence from the desktop, because he reached up and grabbed it, despite there not being a way he could have seen it. “You’ve been here fifteen seconds and you’re laughing at me.”

“You are Joker, after all. Aren’t you supposed to be funny?” She came over to lean over his shoulder, looking at the scattering of materials that he had all over the desk. His Jack Frost plush was holding a bottle of plant balm. “What are you making?”

“I’m working on lockpicks. I know we’ve routed the Treasure already, but if everything goes right we’ll still be doing one more palace.” Akira hesitated. “Well...you’ll all be doing one more palace either way, and you’ll need lockpicks.”

“Akira,” Makoto began, but he shook his head, and she stopped. “All right.”

She unpacked her books and claimed a space on his couch, tucking her legs up as she read through a history assignment. Akira continued tinkering at the desk, his pile of lockpicks growing bit by bit. Finally, Makoto sighed, closing the book. “I can’t believe exams are only a month away. There are so many important things to think about; it’s almost too much.”

Akira shrugged, examining an aluminum sheet for dents. “Exams are last on my list, to be honest.”

“We have to at least try to keep up our image as decent students,” Makoto huffed.

He laughed bleakly. “Makoto, I might be dead in three days. I’m not really worried about anything else.” He reached for the bottle of plant balm, but glanced over when he realized that Makoto hadn’t said anything in response. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m being pessimistic.”

She was staring at him like he was a kitten that had been punted down a street. “Don’t apologize. If anyone has the right to be pessimistic right now, it’s the person whose head is on the block. This whole plan relies on you convincing my sister that you’re telling the truth about wandering around mental landscapes, literally stealing hearts.”

“When you put it like that, we sound mad,” Akira quipped, turning back to his half-constructed megido bomb.

Makoto stared at his profile, studying the way his face was drawn with stress, the way his hands were just a fraction less sure than usual. She took a deep breath, and asked bluntly, “Would a distraction help?”

Akira’s hands paused their work, though he didn’t look at her. “What kind of distraction?”

“The kind where you show me what you showed the others,” Makoto blurted before she could lose her nerve.

At first, he said nothing, and she was worried that she had offended him somehow. But then he turned to look at her, crossing his legs and leaning his head on his hand. “For some reason, I didn’t think you’d ask,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face.

“W-Why not?” Makoto asked, mildly defensive.

“Well, you objected to the idea to start with.” Akira shrugged. “And you’re the last one, which I’m sure you already know, Miss President.”

Makoto turned red. “They’ve all talked about it. Even Futaba. I don’t know how they focus.”

Akira got up, watching her from behind his glasses. “And you want to know.” He reached up and took the glasses off, setting them on the work desk and sticking his hands in his pockets. “You don’t have to, you know. There’s nothing wrong with not being comfortable yet.”

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, it’s just...new,” Makoto said, looking at the floor. “And I want a distraction, too. I’ve been so worried about Sis and you and everything that I can’t think straight.”

He offered her a hand, just watching her with a soft expression, and when she finally stepped forward and placed her hand in his, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles gently. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture, considering that she used her fists to fight. Those knuckles had ended too many shadows to count, but he just lingered a moment, then took a step closer and flipped her hand over so he could press a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“No time like the present,” he said quietly against her skin. “If you’re sure.”

She answered by pulling him up to kiss him, clumsy but eager, and he wrapped his arms around her to draw her closer. There was an edge of desperation to how they both moved, knowing that this might be their last chance to do this, and Akira coaxed her mouth open with a nip to her bottom lip as he spun them around and pressed her against the wall by the desk. His fingers laced with hers, and he pinned her hands to the wall, earning a low moan as they kissed deeper, slower.

When he pulled back for breath, he looked her over, his eyes far less tired and dead than they had been previously. “I asked the others, so I’ll ask you too. What do you want? How far do you intend to go?”

Makoto shivered. “You...have condoms, right?”

“Of course I do. What kind of sex coach do you think I am?” Akira teased.

“An unprofessional one,” Makoto countered with a wry smile. “But if you’re prepared, then I want to try all of it.”

Akira smiled, dropping to his knees in front of her. “As the Queen wishes,” he said, reaching to slip her shoes off one at a time. The black hose she was wearing took another moment of contemplation, but he looked up at her, watching him with wide eyes and a fist pressed to her mouth, and then slid his hands up her thighs to pull down the hose and her panties in one motion.

“Akira-kun!” Her free hand flew to the front of her skirt, but he just cupped her calf, coaxing her to lift her feet again so he could slip them all the way off. “That’s...not usually what people take off first!”

“Shh. This isn’t a romance novel. It’s okay to go out of order.” He left her skirt alone and grinned, rising back to his feet to press another quick kiss to her lips. He caught her hands, drawing them to the hem of his own shirt. Makoto clutched reflexively at the fabric, then seemed to realize what he was after and tugged it up over his head, leaving him in just his sweatpants. “Now we’re opposites,” he joked.

“Akira, please take this seriously,” she pleaded.

He laughed, leaning close again, his hands settling on her waist. “It doesn’t have to be serious,” he said. “If you can’t have fun with it, why bother?” Her hands settled on his chest as he started kissing at her neck. His knee nudged between her legs, and she moaned at the fabric on bare skin. “Now, I’ve got two pieces of clothing left, and you’ve got four. That doesn’t seem very fair.”

Makoto turned red, glancing at his pants. She stood there for a moment, her eyes trailing over his abs and winding back up to his face, and then she gently pushed him back. He went, hands back in his pockets, and she took a breath before reaching up and undoing the buttons on her shirt and vest. The clothing dropped to the floor, and Akira ran a hand through his hair.

“If you’re uncomfortable, seriously, we can stop,” he said gently. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

Makoto’s expression became like steel, and she unhooked her bra and tossed it at his face. “I said I wanted to,” she said.

He deflected the projectile clothing with a grin, and with a thief’s grace, shifted close enough to catch her by the wrist and push her back onto the bed. “All right, then.” He followed her down, propping himself over her so he could lavish attention on her breasts. She whimpered as he teased her nipples with lips and tongue and teeth, too distracted to even notice him undoing her skirt and tossing that aside as well. But when his fingers slipped between her legs, she gasped, a surprised keen of pleasure escaping her.

“Okay?” he asked, teasing at her clit. When she nodded, he slipped a single finger into her, testing how wet she was. She trembled at the touch, but let him, and he curled his finger to stroke the sensitive spot inside of her before pulling it out. “You’re really ready,” he commented, popping his soaked finger into his mouth to lick clean.

Makoto stared at him, eyes wide and expression embarrassed. “I-I-- D-Don’t just say things like that!”

Akira kicked off his pants, rummaging in his box and returning with a condom. “Things like what? That I can tell how much you want me?” he said theatrically, and Makoto groaned.

He piled up his pillows, reclining back and opening the foil packet. When he’d rolled the condom on, he beckoned to Makoto, encouraging her to straddle him. “We’ll do this at your pace,” he said, guiding himself to rest at her entrance. “You’re okay. Just hold onto me.”

Makoto clung to his shoulders, her eyes squeezed shut as she sank onto him painfully slowly. Akira focused on her expression to resist the urge to just thrust up into her, letting her settle against his hips with a needy whimper. He reached up to run his fingers through her hair, holding as still as he could. “Does it hurt?”

“A little…” Makoto whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face against his neck. “I just need a second.”

He waited patiently, running his hands up and down her sides soothingly, and eventually she shifted her hips, rocking forward and back to feel the slide of his cock inside of her. “Oh…”

“There you go,” Akira said, resting his hands on her hips to guide her. They established a slow rhythm, and he met each rock of her hips with a thrust of his own, drawing desperate noises from her with each one.

“A-Akira-kun…!” As they moved faster and harder, chasing the height of pleasure, he slipped a hand down to grind his thumb against her clit. He was rewarded with a loud cry and another moan of his name, and Makoto shivered. “Please, please, don’t stop, I’m… I’m close…”

He listened, adjusting his angle and thrusting even harder, and Makoto outright wailed as she went still and tense with orgasm. She bit down on his shoulder to stifle another cry of pleasure, and between that, the feeling of her clenching around him, and the way her legs quaked where they were tucked on either side of his hips, he fell over the edge too, arms curled around her supportively.

She sagged against his chest, and he smiled, shifting her just enough so that he could slip out of her and remove the condom. “Breathe, Makoto. You did good.”

“That was…” Makoto struggled to catch her breath, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “I...didn’t see the appeal, before, really but...wow. My, um, legs feel like jelly.”

“You came pretty hard,” Akira said brightly, just to watch her flush red again. She sat up to glare at him, but then caught sight of the red mark on his shoulder.

“Oh no! I’m sorry!”

He glanced at the bite mark and shrugged. “It’s okay. I kind of liked it.”

Makoto started giggling helplessly, and he eventually joined in, laughter filling the attic. He kissed her cheek, content. “I’ll be honest. This was a pretty good distraction.”

“Good,” she said, tentatively returning the peck. “You get caught up in your own head, sometimes, Akira. But...we’re here. You can lean on us.” Her gaze became more serious. “You’re not doing this alone. So don’t stress up here by yourself.”

“I’ll try. No promises.”

“Then we’ll just have to make sure we keep you company until this is over,” Makoto said firmly. “You’re too important.”

He didn’t respond to that, just dipped his head so their foreheads were resting together. She sat with him, quiet, until her phone chimed from somewhere over on the couch and she regretfully had to pull away to check it. “Sis is wondering where I am. She’s actually home.”

“You should go,” Akira said. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”

She looked like she didn’t believe him, but began retrieving her clothes. “Thank you...for everything. For letting me come over, and...ah…”

He grinned. “Oh, I had plenty of fun.”

Makoto turned red again, and he decided not to mess with her anymore, pulling on his own clothes and walking her to the door. He bid her goodnight, then returned to his room, throwing himself on the bed. He could keep working on that megido bomb, but his thoughts were busy chasing themselves in circles.

It wasn’t just the plan that was bothering him, though the plan was obviously a large part of it. The other part was the person the plan was directed against. He had a feeling none of the other thieves had figured it out, except for Ann and probably Morgana. Hell, Ann had called it over a month ago.

Your pretty detective…

Akira groaned. He wished things were different. But this wasn’t a fairy tale. The only way out now was to play Russian roulette with the very broken handsome prince. At least he could be sure that his team would be okay no matter what.

Chapter Text

[Goro - 5:45pm] Ah, Akira, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you were free this evening?

[Goro - 5:50pm] It’s nothing urgent, in case you were worrying. There was simply something I wanted to speak to you about.

[Goro - 6:15pm] I apologize if you are busy. Don’t worry about it.

[Goro - 6:20pm] I can imagine that you might not wish to speak with me alone, all things considered.

[Goro - 6:45pm] I’m sorry

[Akira - 7:00pm] Goro, breathe. My phone was charging while I was helping Sojiro out in the cafe.

[Akira - 7:01pm] Of course I want to talk to you. You can come over right now if you want. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?

[Goro - 7:05pm] No, nothing is wrong. Your friends mentioned something a while ago, and I was curious, though I am a bit afraid to ask…

[Akira - 7:06pm] Better come over, then. I’ll have some coffee ready when you get here.

[Goro - 7:09pm] The world does not deserve you, Akira.

[Akira - 7:10pm] Because I’m making you coffee? Geeze. You’re too nice to me, honey.

Akira tucked his phone away and grinned like he’d won the lottery. He had absolutely zero doubts what Akechi wanted to ask about, because if there was one thing he knew about his friends, it was that they had absolutely no filters when speaking amongst themselves. He was pretty sure all of them knew everything about each other’s nights with him. And having saved the world and shot a god, wasn’t he allowed to entertain the possibility of spending time with the boy he’d finally managed to get through to in the depths of that ship?

Morgana fixed him with a pointed stare.

“I’m going to guess that was Akechi, based on the dopey look on your face.” He licked his paws dismissively as Akira just beamed. “Do I need to leave?”

“Well, he wants to ask about something my other friends mentioned, so…” Akira trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

Morgana groaned. “So you’re getting exactly what you’ve wanted from the start. And I’m going to Futaba’s.” He hopped off his seat at the counter, and Akira went to open the door for him. “Don’t stay up too late, I guess. And don’t get murdered or whatever.”

“I won’t, mom,” Akira teased, but his eyes were fond. “Really, though, thanks, Morgana.” Both of them knew Akechi wasn’t dangerous anymore. He’d broken to pieces on the ship, nearly lost his mind completely, but being saved from his double and facing down his father’s shadow had helped start to put him back together, like a broken bone that was finally being set properly instead of healing at an off angle.

“Just remember I don’t want to hear the details later.” And with a swish of his tail, Morgana was gone, leaving Akira to start a fresh pot of coffee and continue grinning like an idiot.

***

Akechi showed up about fifteen minutes later, with a white knuckled grip on his briefcase. He looked unbelievably nervous, and it was like coaxing a skittish animal to get him to sit long enough to drink his café miel. But eventually Akira succeeded, and after they’d finished their drinks, he guided Akechi upstairs and let him stammer his way through why he wanted to talk.

And it was exactly what Akira thought it was.

“You’ve never? Really?” Akira’s voice was soft, an undercurrent of amusement running through it. “Not even with one of your many fangirls?”

“Shut up,” Akechi snarled, but there was no bite to it, and his ears were turning pink. “I...never had time for such base pursuits.” He was already regretting this. Akira’s attic space was cozy enough, but there was a faint chill in the air near the window, and he was already embarrassed enough to not want to look Akira in the face.

Akira smiled, slow and lazy and warm, and beckoned Akechi over to sit with him on the futon. “And so you asked me for help.”

“Your friends gossip,” Akechi said, attempting to be matter-of-fact as he walked over on stiff legs and sat down. “Apparently you’re the most experienced one of us. And I know I have no right to ask for anything, but--”

“Yep, I’m the most experienced,” Akira said casually. He scooted over, coiling an arm around Akechi and pulling the ex-detective to lean against him. Akechi tensed up, but didn’t move, practically huddled into Akira’s shoulder. The discomfort on his face was almost tangible, but Akira did nothing more than reach over to take his hand, bare fingers twining with leather-clad ones.

“I...think this is going to take more than one night,” he said at last, when Akechi didn’t relax.

Akechi sat up to frown at him. “You want to draw this out? Why? Just get it over with.”

“Goro,” Akira said patiently. “You are the most touch-and-affection-starved person I know. If I were to do everything that you think you want, I’m pretty sure you’d overload.” He coaxed the other boy back to leaning against him, and nudged his head against Akechi’s, speaking into his hair. “I’ve barely even touched your bare skin, and you’re wound so tight you’re trembling. We have to go slow.”

“I’m not afraid--” But his breath caught in his throat as Akira tugged gently at one of his gloves, loosening each finger and then slipping the whole thing off. The same happened to the other hand, and then Akira tentatively threaded their fingers together again.

“Not afraid,” he agreed, rubbing the palm of Akechi’s hand with his thumb. “Just nervous.”

Akechi just sat there, stubbornly defensive, letting Akira’s warmth soak into his side and hands. He tried to take deep breaths, though, knowing that Akira was unfortunately correct. No one had laid a hand on him with any sort of affection in too many years to count. No matter what he wanted, it was an alien concept.

“I’ve got an idea,” Akira said quietly, squeezing his hand. “The gloves seemed like a big step, but would you be okay with your shirt off?”

Narrowing his eyes, Akechi asked suspiciously, “Why?”

“I want to give you a massage,” Akira said, without a hint of guile. “I’m pretty good; I learned from a friend of mine.” He neglected to mention that said friend was actually his homeroom teacher, but it was fine. “I think it’ll help. I won’t do anything suggestive.” Strange to promise that, considering what Akechi had originally come here for, but it was the truth.

Akechi swallowed hard, fighting down the instinctive urge to reject having to be vulnerable, and nodded stiffly. Akira smiled and got up to rummage through a box on his shelves while Akechi stripped his shirt off. Akechi folded the clothes neatly, watching the other boy out of the corner of his eye, and he raised an eyebrow when Akira triumphantly held up a bottle of…

“You just keep massage oil lying around in your room?”

“You’d be surprised what kind of random knick-knacks you accumulate after a year,” Akira replied with a wink, shaking the bottle of scented oil. Kawakami had probably left it one day and he’d just tossed it in the box, if he was being honest. “It’s vanilla~ Come on, lie down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Akechi cringed, but stretched out on his stomach on the futon, scooting close to the wall so there was room for Akira to kneel beside him. He watched as Akira tipped some of the oil into his hand, then squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of those hands on him. But the touch didn’t come, and he waited, growing more and more anxious by the moment. What was Akira doing? Was this some kind of prank after all? He shouldn’t have even asked for this; there was no way Akira would be okay with doing such a thing with him, of all people.

But then finally, the touch he’d been expecting, though without the chill he’d presumed the oil would bring.

Abruptly, he realized that that was the reason for the delay; Akira had been letting the oil acclimate to the temperature of his hands. And as those hands settled between his shoulder blades, Akechi couldn’t help but shudder.

“Geeze, your back is full of knots. No wonder you’re so tense,” Akira said, pressing with the heels of his hands. “Let me know if anything hurts. I’m going to start.”

It didn’t hurt at all, not even when Akira worked at particularly stubborn knots. All Akechi was aware of was the warmth of his hands, and the slow unlocking of his painfully tense muscles. Within a matter of minutes, he was boneless on the futon, making soft, appreciative noises when Akira’s hands would press particularly sensitive spots. Akira hadn’t spoken again, content to work until Akechi was relaxed and the oil had been rubbed into his skin.

His fingers pressed lightly on a spot just at the base of Akechi’s neck, and Akechi made a sound that absolutely should have been illegal when Akira was trying to be a gentleman. As it was, he brushed his satisfied guest’s hair to one side and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of his neck.

That got Akechi to shift, turning over on his back and looking up at Akira with hazy eyes. Akira smiled, leaning down to capture his lips. The kiss was slow, soft, each of them getting a taste for one another, and then Akira pulled back, his hand cupping Akechi’s cheek. “Enough for now, I think,” he murmured. “I’ll lend you some pajamas; stay here tonight.”

Why would you want me to? “What will Boss say?” Akechi asked, determined to be contrary.

“We can tell him literally anything. Your apartment is being rewired. We’re plotting our next phantom thief caper. Morgana tricked us into falling asleep. He won’t care.” Akira got up to find him a t-shirt and some soft flannel pants, then turned away and started changing into his own pajamas. Akechi stared for a second, watching the way the muscles of his back flexed as he moved, then hurriedly turned away to throw on the clothes he’d been given.

Akira insisted they share the bed. Akechi didn’t understand why he’d want to, when nothing ‘inappropriate’ was going on. But when he woke up in the morning, curled against Akira’s side, comfortable and warm, he decided he wasn’t going to complain. For now.

***

The next night was easier.

Akira was clear that he would be allowed to stay, that he was expected to stay. So he arrived at Leblanc with a small overnight bag, just some clean clothes and a toothbrush. Sojiro said nothing when he arrived, waving him upstairs with a smile, and Akechi was still baffled by the idea that his presence was wanted.

He found Akira on the bed, extension cords stretched across the floor allowing the TV to be within reach. Akira glanced up when he entered, smiling and patting the space beside him before going back to the game he was playing. Akechi left his shoes and bag by the stairs, coming over to tentatively settle against his side. “What are you playing?”

“Star Forneus,” Akira said brightly. “I can’t get past this bonus round.” He leaned over to peck a kiss to Akechi’s cheek, and on-screen, his tiny ship exploded. “Oops.”

“Eyes on the game,” Akechi admonished, trying to will away the blush he knew was on his face.

Akira chuckled as the game took him back to the start menu. “You try,” he said. “You like sci-fi, right?”

“I don’t really play games…”

“It’s easy.” Akira pulled him over to sit between his legs, dropped the controller into his lax hands, and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Level one’s a piece of cake. C’mon. It’s fun.”

Akechi yielded, deciding it couldn’t hurt to give it a try. But he discovered, as he learned the simple controls, it was fun. He blasted his way through the first two levels, a smile on his face, and made a delighted noise as he completed the boss at the end of level two. Akira, chin resting on his shoulder, cheered as the massive enemy ship self-destructed.

But level three was where it got tricky, because as Akechi navigated an asteroid belt, Akira started nuzzling his neck, peppering gentle kisses beneath his ear and along the length of his throat. Akechi took it as a challenge, determinedly continuing on to the end of the level, and as the level boss exploded, he felt Akira smile against his skin.

“Good job,” he said, breath warm.

“Despite a certain someone,” Akechi shot back.

Akira just laughed, and as level four started, his fingers sneaked under the hem of Akechi’s shirt, tracing small circles on his stomach. Akechi took a deep breath, eyes never leaving the screen, trying not to shudder. He leaned more fully back against the warm body behind him, and after a near-miss with several lasers, he paused the game and set the controller aside so he could look back at Akira. “What are you doing?”

Akira hummed. “Trying to get you used to more affectionate touches,” he said easily. “You still want what we talked about yesterday, right?”

“You are absolutely shameless. I’m still in disbelief that you slept with your entire team.” But Akechi didn’t move to bat his hands away or escape from his embrace.

“We’re friends,” Akira said with a shrug. “Everyone knew that it was a casual thing, so no one got jealous or anything.”

“A casual thing…” Akechi murmured. “That just seems too easy.”

Akira shifted enough so that Akechi was sideways in his lap, so he could more easily see the other boy’s face. “Not everything has to be a meticulously-crafted plan with ten hidden purposes,” he said, very quietly, his eyes dark with want. “Sometimes there’s just an action, with just one purpose.”

Akechi shivered, but leaned into the kiss when Akira pressed their lips together. It was much the same as the night before: slow, soft, questioning. Akira coaxed his mouth open, breathing in the tiny noise of surprise he made and deepening the kiss. Akechi tasted like everything Akira had been starving for since sometime in October, and he couldn’t believe he was finally getting what he wanted.

And then Akechi shoved him away, cheeks red and fists clenching.

“Just stop,” he said, head bowed, staring into his lap. “Stop it. You’re doing this because I asked, not because you actually want to.”

“That’s not true,” Akira objected, but Akechi shook his head.

“Why would you ever want to do anything like this with me?” he demanded. “I’m not like your teammates. I shot you in the face! I tried to kill your whole team, who you apparently love so much! You shouldn’t even want to be near me!”

“Goro…”

“Stop it! Stop being so nice to me if it’s just an act!”

Akira scooted forward to grab the furious boy by the shoulders. “It isn’t. I’ve wanted this for ages. Since...god, since October. You looked so miserable that night, and I know why now, but at the time all I wanted was to come around the counter and hug you until you stopped looking so sad. But you wouldn’t have let me.”

Akechi trembled under his touch, though Akira couldn’t tell if it was rage or pain. Slowly, slowly, he lifted his head, and then even more slowly, reached up and put his hands around Akira’s throat. Akira let him, still and quiet, and they stared at each other until Akechi let both head and hands drop again. “You really mean that…?”

“Of course I do.” Akira tugged him closer, safely back into his arms. “You’re just as important to me as the others.”

“...the world does not deserve you, or your unending forgiveness,” Akechi said, his voice thick, and Akira heard what he wasn’t saying.

I don’t deserve...

Akira kissed his forehead. “Good thing that I don’t have to care about what the world deserves anymore.”

Akechi took a deep breath, then pulled away so he could look Akira in the eyes. His hands lifted again, but this time he just cupped Akira’s face, and leaned in to brush their lips together. Akira smiled, his own hands coming up to circle Akechi’s wrists, thumbs smoothing over the backs of his hands as he returned the kiss gently.

“If I’m just as important,” Akechi murmured against his lips. “Then show me.”

Akira tightened his grip on Akechi’s wrists, pushing him back flat against the bed and settling on top of him like a living blanket. He kissed him again, harder, deeper, and rolled his hips down against the boy under him, swallowing Akechi’s moan. It was easy to tell that Akechi had no experience; his tongue was clumsy, exploratory, trying to mimic Akira’s motions, and Akira smiled into the kiss.

Akechi pushed against the hold on his wrists, and when Akira released him, he sunk his fingers into the thief’s hair, encouraging him on as Akira trailed kisses along his jaw and neck. Before he was aware of Akira even moving, he’d pulled back to tug Akechi’s shirt over his head, and Akechi scrambled to grab at Akira’s shirt as well, yanking it off and running his hands up the toned back he’d admired yesterday.

“How can one person be so perfect?” he muttered before he could stop himself, and Akira laughed, settling back on top of him.

“I was going to ask you the same.” He mouthed along Akechi’s collarbones, down his sternum, taking a moment to flatten his tongue against his nipples just to draw more noises out of him. Akechi let him, just absorbing the warmth of his lips and hands, and didn’t object when Akira undid his pants and pushed his remaining clothing off, leaving him bare atop the sheets.

Akira sat up to look at him, pushing his hair gently back from his face as he admired the length of his body. “You really are pretty…”

“E-Excuse me?” Akechi’s mouth fell open with surprise.

Akira shrugged. “Ann called you pretty a couple times. She called me that, too, actually…” he mused.

Akechi buried his face in his hands. “Why are your friends like this.”

Akira smoothed a hand down his stomach, curling his fingers loosely around Akechi’s erection and watching him shiver. “They don’t mean any harm. And they're your friends, too.” He stroked slowly, and Akechi gasped, a stuttering cry escaping from him. “Easy…” Akira murmured. “Is that okay?”

“What kind of stupid question--?” Akechi choked out. He couldn’t stop his hips from rocking up into Akira’s touch, and kept his hands over his face, mortified.

“Goro, there are no stupid questions~” Akira cooed with a grin. He kept his hand moving, stroking until the other boy was a whimpering mess, then let his fingers trail lower, nudging questioningly at his entrance. “Seriously, is this okay?”

Silence filled the attic as Akechi considered, and then there was a muffled “Yes,” from behind his hands. Akechi watched between his fingers as Akira climbed off the bed to pull a bottle of lube from a box on his shelves. “You really are prepared for everything, aren’t you?”

“I try.” Akira coated his fingers in lube and leaned down to kiss the backs of his hands, slipping his fingers back between Akechi’s legs. “Relax, okay? And tell me if anything hurts.”

It was a strange feeling, but Akira was careful with him. Far more careful than he deserved, stopping at the slightest hint of a pained noise or an uncomfortable expression. And when he had three fingers inside of him, rubbing at a tender spot that made his vision go fuzzy with pleasure, he couldn’t stop the moans that spilled from his mouth. Akira kissed at his neck, murmuring reassurances, and then pulled away. When Akechi was coherent enough to look for where he’d gone, he watched with barely-concealed hunger as Akira rolled on a condom and coated himself in lube.

Akira settled between his legs, lust and concern blended together in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

Akechi nodded, averting his eyes. “Y-Yes… I...want this.”

“All right.” Akira leaned down, nipping at his earlobe as a distraction, and began to enter him. It was uncomfortable, for a moment, but gave way to a pleasurable ache as he slid fully inside. Akechi panted, wrapping his arms tightly around Akira’s shoulders, and the other boy couldn’t seem to help the wide smile on his face.

“Finally,” he whispered.

“Shut up,” Akechi whimpered, bucking his hips against Akira. “Just...move, god, please…”

Akira obeyed, quickly finding a rhythm and an angle that had Akechi wailing as his cock rubbed that spot inside of him with every thrust. Akechi dug his fingers into Akira’s shoulders, maybe drawing blood, maybe not, but he couldn’t care. It was so much, so overwhelming. Skin and warmth and more pleasure than he could process, warm breath on his neck, his ear, as Akira mumbled filthy, affectionate, loving things…

“A-Akira…! Akira! ”

“Yes,” Akira replied easily, sucking at his pulse.

“Akira, c-close…!”

The thief smiled against his skin. “Come on, then,” he urged, his voice low and shot through with desire. “Come on, Goro, come for me.”

Akechi wailed, raking his nails down Akira’s back as everything in him finally peaked and he came hard over his own stomach, not even needing Akira’s hands on him. Akira made a needy, pleased sound, pressing his face against Akechi’s neck as his hips stuttered through a few more thrusts before he came as well. Akechi stared at the star stickers plastered all over Akira’s ceiling, aftershocks of orgasm flooding through him, and when the stars went blurry it took him a second to realize there were tears overflowing his eyes.

“Goro?” Akira’s voice was mildly alarmed when he sat up. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

“No…” Akechi said weakly, trying to scrub at his eyes, but giving up after a moment when the tears just kept coming. “Overwhelmed.”

Akira quickly got rid of the condom, grabbing his shirt off the floor and using it to clean Akechi’s stomach off before settling back on top of him, head on his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Was it too much?”

“Just...not used to this…” Akechi whispered. He sank one hand back into Akira’s curls, just barely registering the pleased hum he got in response. Akira liked being petted? Interesting.

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, unmoving except for Akira sneaking his hand into Akechi’s free one. Just when he thought Akechi might have dozed off, the other boy spoke. “Why did you let me put my hands around your neck?” he asked, his voice weak, rough, though his tears had stopped.

Akira nuzzled his chest. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. Why did you put your hands around my neck?”

Akechi swallowed the lump in his throat, tears pricking at his eyes again. “I needed to see myself let go.” He had to keep convincing himself that things were okay, that everything was over and done and there was no reason left to bring Akira any kind of harm, because now instead of wanting Akira dead, he just wanted Akira.

And he knew, that if they had done this months ago, when Akira wanted, when he wanted, it surely would have ended poorly. On a scale from bad to worse, he would have woken in a panic the next morning, and probably would have ended up killed by a god quite unfond of its pieces switching sides. Because if he had ever come to Leblanc and chosen to stay…

He would have never left.

Akira scooted himself up enough to kiss him again, slow and lazy and affectionate. “Stay,” he said softly.

“I can’t exactly leave with you on top of me,” Akechi pointed out dryly. “Short of throwing you to the floor, which I’d rather not.”

“Good.” Akira’s grey eyes were happy, far happier than anyone looking at Akechi had been in a long time. “Stay forever.”

Akechi swallowed hard. “...I’ll think about it.”

“That’s enough for now…” Akira showed no signs of getting up, and no signs of letting go of him, so Akechi resigned himself to sleeping with the world’s clingiest blanket, their video game forgotten near the end of the bed.

But when he woke up in the morning, still naked and sated and tangled with Akira, for the first time in a long time, he really felt like everything was going to be all right.