#sub!aki

So—you either become the screeching, shrewish partner, leaving every night a sour argument where you don't face each other where you sleep. Or you take your frustration out in more productive ways. Because, truly—you don't like to yell at Aki. It makes him grumpy and stonefaced but more than that, it makes him hurt. You can see the flickers of it in his dark blue eyes, some fragment of his childhood that never healed properly, like an old wound that bleeds anew whenever you prod it. Tender and painful as skinned knees.

But this, this works for both of you, you think.

His fingers curl up his work slacks, bunching starched polyester between bitten nails. He's looking anywhere but at you, knelt between his legs, cheeks shaded pink beneath the tumbling bangs of ink-dark hair. "You don't have to," he starts, like he always does, ever the gentleman. It makes him a little twitchy to be given pleasure like it's a gift. It's so sweet that it almost makes you feel bad.

You take him in your hand, half-hard and hot, and he hisses. You have a sneaking suspicion, something that's been blooming for a while now, that you may have been the first person to touch Aki like this. The first time you'd slept together he'd had to mumble the names of all the Devils he had contracts with under his breath to last more than a minute inside you.

There's a wound on his hip the colour of a bloody sunset, jagged like a mountain silhouette. It almost seems to mock you as you stroke him loosely, gathering the pearly beads of pre that bloom at his tip as he gets more and more turned on, more sensitive. His chest shakes ones when he inhales, his hands twisting the fabric of his pants uncomfortably. Your slow, patient pace makes him almost overwhelmed, feeling it wrack out from between his thighs in torturously hot, slow waves, makes his whole body shudder.

Once he's hard, you say, "Tell me about today."

Aki grunts, brows furrowing. His hips cant up, once, a silent plea. But your hand has slowed now, so he tenses his jaw and sighs.

"Found a Devil," he says through gritted teeth. "Some a-abandoned warehouse."

"It gave you this?" You use the hand that was wrapped around his cock to stroke over the nasty gash on his skin, and he makes a wonderful shivery noise—both, you think, at the loss of contact to his hardness and the ghost of sharp pain that echoes from your touch along his wound.

"Yeah," he sighs shakily. He looks down at you now, eyes soft, almost pleading. "Could you—"

"You weren't alone, were you, Aki?" you ask, blinking up at him. You think he's starting to get the game now; blood runs up to colour his cheeks darker and his eyes flit away as though in shame. "Didn't you call for backup?"

"Too far away," he says, gritty with irritation. He feels foolish, sitting on the edge of the bed with his dick out. Still hard, despite you not having touched it for about half a minute. "I had it handled."

"You should've waited," you tell him.

"You're killing my hardon," he tells you flatly. You roll your eyes and pick up where you left off; when your hand wraps around him he lets out a shaky sigh and tips his head back towards the ceiling. You'll never tire of how sensitive he is, responding to every touch like it's the first time; when your hand wraps back around him his thighs clench and spasm all over again, and he makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat.

You stroke him, more firmly now, with the occasional focus on his tip. It starts to leak over your hand, and Aki makes a quiet, embarrassed grunt at the sight of it. Privately, you don't mind too much—unlike most guys, Aki has the grace to be abashed by it, which is already enough to put him in your good books—but his humiliation is an added bonus you'd happily put up with some less-than-savoury things for.

You're mean, maybe, in the way a bunny thinks their owner is mean for locking them in a hutch each night. But, you know, the owner only does that for the bunny's own safety.

Sometimes, the owner really does know better.

Aki's thighs twitch; you amuse yourself watching the spasm of the muscles play across beneath the smooth, pale skin, thinking absently of how you'd like to get your mouth on that soft flesh inside. "Y/n," he warns, voice catching, breathy. "I—dammit, I'm gonna—"

You make a thoughtful noise, and then release your grip entirely. Aki gapes down at you, eyes snapping open. "What the hell?" he fumes.

"Say that you should have waited for backup," you tell him patiently. Your positions are some perverse subversion of power; he looms over you, strong legs bracketing your face. By all accounts, you're surrounded as you look up at him. But he's the one looking at you like you've shot him in the chest. His brows knit together in frustration.

"Are you fucking joking?" he gapes. "What is this? You—"

"Aki," you say, so softly that it must frighten him because he stops short, looking at you warily. "You know I care about you, so much, yeah?"

"I—" he looks thrown, impossibly lost. "I guess? Yeah."

"Good." You lean your head on his knee, watching how his throat bobs when he looks at you. His thighs twitch almost indecipherably at the contact, erection showing no sign of flagging. "And you know I want to protect you, and keep you safe? I want you to want that, too."

"I..." Aki's voice is taking on a hoarse tinge. "I know... that."

"Then why do you keep throwing yourself in such dangerous situations?" You unspool a nail up the inside of his leg, and he gasps slightly in anticipation. "What are you going to do next time?"

"I—" he cuts himself off, strangled. "I'm going to... call for backup."

Your finger trails to a halt. "You mean that?"

"Yeah," he says, a little frantically. "I will. I swear. Y/n, please—"

You lean forward, brushing your lips against him. Aki moans, eyes widening as his pupils expound until his eyes are less sodalite and more black-hole. You let your tongue flicker out and trace over the head, tasting him, putting your hands on his thighs so you can feel him strain to hold back. Ever the gentleman, Aki hates to lose control and buck into your mouth. It still happens sometimes, of course, because at his heart he's a needy inexperienced hunter and you revel in the punishment of pretty things. It's mean, you know, to goad him where he's a little helpless.

But the owner knows best. You know how to get him to remember his lesson.

You draw back, pressing a final kiss to the head of his cock like tying the ribbon on a giftbox. Aki blinks blearily at you, mouth slack, expression adorably confused as you wipe at your lips with a thumb.

"What—" he croaks.

"I want you to remember what you said, Aki," you tell him sternly. "I can't reward bad behaviour."

You think he's getting it. Box. Rat. Electric shock. Et cetera.

"Wait," he pleads, brows scrunching together in honest-to-god panic. "I'll remember, okay? I told you I would. I won't misbehave."

"And I want to believe you." Your hand draws soothing circles on his knee and it makes his bottom lip quiver slightly. "So... when you show me you're taking your safety seriously, then you'll get a reward."

Aki's mouth hangs open. "You're serious," he croaks with some shattering finality; he shuts his eyes against the blue-dark, whole body shuddering. "You're fucking... what if I just decide to jack off?"

"You can do that," you shrug. "But I think you know what'll happen if you do."

Aki makes a frustrated noise; he glances down at his erection, starting to flag only slightly. He wants you to touch him so badly; all he can think of is your fingers, your mouth, your hair in his fingers. Or, withholding that, he could at least slide his fingers around himself and get himself off, like he used to mostly infrequently before you.

But if he does that, how long will you hold out for? He knows, with a cold sort of dread, that you can hold out much, much longer than him. He's gotten a taste of it and now he can't be satisfied; it's the one area of his life where he totally lacks any semblance of self-control.

So with a devastated whimper, he reaches down and tucks himself gingerly back into his underwear. He's so turned on it almost stings as his briefs tug on his erection, and it's so much worse when he stiffly tugs up his slacks and buttons them again. For a moment after he just sits on the bed, breathing shakily until he's red in the face, trying not to squirm.

You stand up, brush a lock of his hair back, smiling as he leans pathetically into the touch. There's a lukewarm sweat beading on his brow. "I'm so proud of you, honey. I'm going to start dinner, okay? You stay in here and relax. You've had such a hard day."

Aki's eyes burn into your back as you turn and leave. It takes every modicum of mental fortitude he has not to throw himself on the ground and beg and sob for you to touch him. The thought of going without is almost painful.

He stares down at the faint bulge in his slacks, gripping his own thigh for support. Wonders about grinding the heel of his hand against it, just for some momentary relief.

However, as he gets closer he can't help but notice how attractive the person is as he feels his face warm up.

"Excuse me?"

The person pauses their walking and tilts their head in confusion, turning their head around and back to him as if they're not sure if he said that to them or not.

Aki walks up to them and gives them a short nod.

"Have you seen anything strange around here? Or have you heard anything about a possible devil around this area? Specifically a lust devil."

"The lust devil? Well that sounds oddly familiar..." He sees you turn to him with a smile, one that has him unease. While it looks like one of mere innocence, it seems as if its hiding something.

Aki widens his eyes and your smile turns into a sly grin. But its too late.

Before he can do anything, he smells something sweet around him as a thick, pink fog surrounds him. The effects are quick, he remembers reading about them on the paper.

He feels his body heat up and sweat as his dick hardens. He stumbles onto a wall, trying to back away from you. He feels significantly weaker, his legs almost feeling like jelly. In this state, he knows he won't be able to run away.

Raising his hand to use his contract with the fox devil, he opens his mouth but you quickly realize what he's trying to do and with almost inhumane speed, you rush towards him and pin his waists above his head. Aki sneers at you as you give him a grin.

"Well I can't have you using that, can I? That'll be no fun."

"l-let me go!" He begins thrashing in your hold like a disobedient child and you frown. The sweet scent in the air that you released has him feeling dizzy and sticky with sweat. He begins to realize that your hold on him is too strong and turns his head to look around for ways he could escape once he attacks you instead.

But a small touch of your hand palming his clothed dick has him pausing. He gasps.

"w-what are you doing?" He looks at you with widened eyes as you raise an eyebrow at the question. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

You slowly pull down the zipper of his pants, making aki's breath go ragged. Your human appearance has his thoughts messed up about the situation as it almost feels like you're a real person.

He watches as your teeth drags over your teeth, a look of something like hunger in your eyes. He shivers at the feeling of being your prey being his mind.

"Looks like I got a pretty one today." Aki lets out a gasp when he feels his dick in your hands, the cold air making him shiver. "Already hard?" He curses at himself but blames it on that fog thing. He opens his mouth to yell at you but nothing comes out, the words dying on his tongue for some reason.

"Don't worry it won't hurt," you say, hovering your mouth near his ear. "Well, for me at least." Aki winces when you squeeze his dick but he soon lets out a whine when your thumb grazes over the tip. He feels your teeth drag against the top of his ear almost as if you're going to bite it and Aki has to hold back a gasp.

A part of his mind screams at him to try to fight back, to not give in to the pleasure. But another part tells him to just give in. It's been a while since someone touched him like this and the sweet fog you're emitting along with the way you're playing with his dick has his senses overwhelmed. He feels so much more sensitive and it just feels too good, even when you've barely done anything.

When you notice the foggy look in his eyes and the way he stops protesting against your hold, you know you've gotten him where you wanted him to be.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Aki hesitantly nods, your touches on his dick sending shocks of pleasure up his body. You begin lazily pumping his dick with your fist and notice how immediately turns to putty in your grasp. Letting go of his wrists to put your hand on his waist, you're surprised to see Aki wrap his arms around your neck to stabilize himself. His legs feel so weak and his body feels too hot for him to handle.

"Can.. Can you go faster? Please?" Though he quietly mumbles it, you're able to hear a bit of it and chuckle at his eagerness.

"Faster? Didn't you tell me to let you go earlier?" The teasing look in your eyes as you look at him has Aki send a glare at you but the glare lacks any heat. Rather the glare is begging you to just make him feel good.

"Well?" You pause your hand on his dick. "If you want me to touch you, then beg for it like a good boy."

This is embarrassing, he thinks. No way he would beg a devil for anything, much less beg a lust devil to touch him. His pride is too big for that and he would much rather fight you than have you do this to him.

But even when those thoughts and more pass through his head, the words that escape his mouth are the exact opposite.

"Touch me, please! I-I need it so bad-" He feels your hand return back to his throbbing dick and he lets out a hiss at the pain when you begin pumping it. The pace you set has him throwing his head back against the wall behind him, pleasure overwhelming his body.

"Good boy." He whines at the praise. You feel his pre cum leak out of his dick and soil your hand, the wet sound of it only fueling you more.

His moans and whines flood the alleyway and your ego swells at the sight. You're merely giving a handjob yet you have him turned into a mess in front of you.

He shoves his head in the crook of your neck, muffling his noises and you coo at him. "What? Feels too good with my hand on your dick? You're close to cumming or something?"

Your finger trails along the underside of his dick to his tip and Aki covers his mouth to silence a choked moan. You feel him begin to thrust into the hole your hand made.

"S-Shut up." You let out a disapproving noise. "That's not what you say to someone who's making you feel good. I could just leave you here, you know?"

Fuck, he forgot that you and him are just in a random alleyway and if someone were to pass the area, they would surely catch a glimpse of what's happening. He feels his dick twitch in your hands at the thought and you grin.

Before he could answer, the grip on his waist goes to his hair and he lets out a mewl when you yank his hair back. He squeezes his eyes in pain, the nearby sound of cars and people making him awfully aware of his surroundings. The sinful noise of your hand on his dick doesn't make it any better either.

"Tell me when you're close, alright?" He nods and whimpers when your pace quickens. His knees buckle underneath him and your hand goes back to his waist.

"I-I'm close." You pretend to think about letting him cum or not and he widens his eyes. "Nonono let me cum, please! I'm s-so close ah! o-oh god please!" The noises he's letting out and the way he's pleading you for release is adorable.

"Well, I guess you've been good, haven't you? Go on then, cum for me." Aki nods and he thanks you over and over again for letting him cum before throwing his head back, a scream racking his body as his orgasm crashes down on him.

"O-Oh shit, thankyouthankyou." His eyes roll back and you watch as cum shoots out of his dick, making a mess on his collared shirt and his pants. He whimpers as he finally cums in what felt like forever.

You slow down your pace, easing him through his orgasm. The sight has you breathless.

Aki has his head thrown back against the wall as his cum stains his clothes, the substance dripping down his dick and onto the ground underneath. His hair is ruffled due to you and his shirt is wrinkled. But nonetheless, he still looked like a pretty sight to behold.

Aki manages to recompose himself and stand up properly.

"Well I had fun with you and I'm sure you did too." You glance at the mess he made and Aki's face burns with embarrassment.

You quickly throw him a kiss before turning the corner and disappearing, leaving Aki to think about what exactly just happened to him. The smell of you still lingers in the air, leaving him to find out a way to find you again.

Later when he returns back to his team, his teammate turns to him with widened eyes. "Where have you been? What happened to the devil?" The mention of you has him flush red before stuttering out a total lie.

"They got away."

"That's a bad habit."

Aki's fingers don't pause in their ministrations, thumb pressing down on the jut of the lighter as it zips to life. The cherry of his menthol cigarette glows in the blue-dark of the office. The sky outside the thin window is pale with the gloaming, and he breathes a haze of gritty smoke over it, sullying the view.

You've made yourself at home on his desk, legs swinging leisurely. You must be cold in only his work-shirt and boxers that cling to your hips and thighs. You watch him passively, head cocked.

"One of my least dangerous ones," he intones, which is true enough for a man who has three years to live at most.

"Oh? What tops the list?"

Aki eyes you serenely. "I dunno if you've heard, but I work for this place called the Public Safety Division."

Your laughter breaks the delicate quiet like a flock of birds taking off from a tree. "Put it out. I hate the smell."

Aki's dark brows crinkle. "I'm not wasting a perfectly good cigarette. If it bothers you so much, eat it."

"Eat it? You freak."

"At least then someone's getting something out of it."

You hop from the desk, yawning. In the dim light that is starting to grow just a little brighter, Aki can see the beginnings of bruises on your throat and collarbone, vanishing in an ugly rainbow trail down to the hastily-down buttons of his work shirt. Your socked feet pad along the threadbare carpet on your way over to him, and Aki inhales deeply. Maybe if there's enough smoke in his lungs it will encourage him not to breathe; that way, he won't do that god-forsaken embarrassing thing he does when you get close. His heart stutters, and it makes his breath hitch audibly. The worst part is you seemed to be goddamn attuned to it—there seems to be little you like more than knowing you have an effect on him.

Aki doesn't stop you when your fingers come up to encircle his cigarette, brushing his as you pluck it gently from between his lips. He hates that even the smallest kiss of your skin against his still sends liquid lightning zipping through him, like he's that seventeen-year-old he was when he met you, the one full of spite and anger who hadn't been held since his mother died.

You pull the cigarette away, still lit; the butt glows red and angry between your delicate hold, gleams in the reflection of your eyes. When Aki meets them, he feels his mouth go dry; your pupils are large and black, engulfing iris, barely blinking as you look up at him.

"Bet I can make you quit," you say.

Aki snorts. "Better men than you have tried."

"Anything can be unlearned," you counter smoothly. "All bad habits go away with a little punishment."

Aki feels his heartbeat quicken, tries not to let the way that one word sets his blood alight show on his face. "Hm," he says noncommittally, but frustratingly, he doesn't think he's fooled you for a second.

Your serene smile curved into something sharp as easily as breathing. "Gimme your hand."

And Aki does, though he knows where this is going. You turn his hand over gently at the wrist, leaving it palm-up, fingers splayed in your grip. You hold him so gently it makes him shiver. Carefully, slowly—Aki thinks, giving him much time to pull away—you raise the burning end of the cigarette and plant it in the centre of his pale palm, a stinging kiss. Aki hisses, grits his teeth, but dutifully doesn't move even as his hand twitches involuntarily at the contact. Just as tears start to needle at his eyes, you twist the butt and pull away, leaving a shallow pool of grey ash, a black soot mark, and a stinging red welt like a patch of burning leaves.

His eyes are glued to the masterpiece you've made of his boring skin. The burn throbs unpleasantly, but something low and hot has come alive in his abdomen at the lingering kiss of pain. It satiates something inside him just smoking the thing could never hope to touch. He likes the futility of feeding himself his own death, sure—makes him feel like he has marginally more control over it, despite what the Curse Devil might have to say about it. This sort of pain is different; it goes straight for the gullet, and it makes it all the more sweet that it's you doing it.

A stupid, lonely part of Aki—orphan—wants to believe you're doing this because you care for him. Because you want him to live as long as possible. The grown, cynical man he supposes he's become thinks you must be just as fucked up as he is. It doesn't really matter either way; Aki's loved you for years, and he's astonished he's even gotten this far with you, and he'll take anything you deign to give him, pleasure or pain because it's all sort of the same to him anyway.

You unscrew a bottle of drinking water and hold it over your discarded blazer, soaking the lapel before pressing it to the burn. Aki grunts, eyebrows knitting up as a strange cocktail of relief and pain throbs slowly through his body. Your hands holds the wet fabric over his one, like a ribcage encasing a beating heart. Oh, Aki would let you hold his heart in your hands, and who cares what you decided to do with it? It's hardly his business; it belongs to you anyway.

He leans in to kiss you, gets close enough to brush his lips against yours and feel his pupils dilate before you turn your head, ducking. Aki feels his heart stutter anxiously as you turn your serene face up to him.

"Hate the taste," you say.

Aki frowns. "I barely smoked it for thirty seconds."

"It lingers."

Aki isn't stupid; this is part of the punishment. And the goddamn annoying part is that it's working. Even as you take his other hand to hold the soaking blazer against his burn and turn away, every fibre in his body wants to stop you. Turn you back around, pin you against the wall, swallow any complaints with his lips. He wants to make you melt against him, wants to melt himself under you in that way you always manage to do to him. He likes feeling like he doesn't have to think with you; just await whatever comes next, pain or pleasure, and he'll take it because it's you.

But Aki doesn't move. He's not a problem dog. He stands quietly and nurses his burn, tracking you with his eyes as you re-dress yourself, his shirt tucked into your slacks, tie wound through the collar, work boots laced up to the ankle.

"I gotta run home and shower," you say, tugging your blazer on. "I'll see you back here in, like, an hour."

Aki nods. "Okay."

The grin you flash him is little more than poisonous; it makes it heart skip a beat. "How's your burn?"

He swallows around a dry throat, holding your stare with a touch of timidity. "What burn?"

Delight shivers over your expression like wind ruffling a field of grass, and you stride the length of the cramped office and kiss him. Aki grunts, rendered thoughtless the moment your mouth touches his, your hands in his collar and his hair; his hands go slack, blazer fluttering to the ground, and the welt on his palm stings horribly when his hands come up to latch around your shoulders and neck. He pulls you closer, a little frantic, and he has barely a moment to reflect on how worrying it is that he's this desperate for your touch after being denied only once, but before he can think to dwell on it you're parting your lips and he's tugged your body flush against his own. He's so close he could drown in you. For a moment, he wants to.

Far too soon, you pull away. You're delighted. "Good," you murmur, and he hates how his heart leaps into his throat. "You're so good, Aki."

His face is on fire. "I'm not a dog," he manages.

"Sure you are," you say matter-of-factly. "And I'm Pavlov. I'll break that nasty habit of yours if it's the last thing I do. Give you something else to focus on. Okay?"

Aki licks his dry lips. "You can try," he says hoarsely, hoping it doesn't sound as much like an invitation as he thinks it does. The impish smile you give him implies he's shit out of luck.

Aki is in hell.

He knows this, because every time the two of you have hooked up since your little conversation in his office, he hasn't been allowed to kiss you if you detect even a whiff of smoke on his breath. It's killing him a little, to be honest. Fucking without kissing just feels wrong. It makes him forget it's you, sometimes, his vision of you sliding out of focus 'till you could be just anyone. And Aki doesn't fuck just anyone. He fucks people he loves.

He loves you. But he can't have you. And he can't even kiss you so he can pretend he has you, if only for a minute. It's just fucking, a tumble of sweating limbs and gasps and grunts, of a thrilling cocktail of pleasure and pain and almost-confessions bitten back at the last second, hidden in the crook of your neck.

Your shitty wooden headboard creaks into the shitty thin bedroom wall, and Aki spends a moment in lucidity to send a silent apology to your neighbours. One arm braces against the wood, flexing with every fast jerk of his hips, and you're under him, eyes clenched shut and meeting his thrusts in a way that has Aki wondering why anyone could think being on top had to mean being in control. He's oiled to your machine, matching the rhythm of your hips and trying not to drown as your back arches up from the sweat-damp sheets, stomach curving into his, one arm holding fast around his neck.

You feel so good he could cry. Not that that would be an irregular occurrence, or anything—he'd practically sobbed the first time you fucked, and back then you'd been all fluttering concern, stopping even though he tried to sputter please, Christ, don't stop, I'll die if you stop, please. He supposes you're kind, in your own way. You'd stroked away his tears and kissed his damp face.

"Aki," you groan, bringing him forcefully back to the present; his dark bangs dangle in his eyes as he looks down at you, mouth agape and head cloudy. "Wh-what's got you so wound up?"

As if you don't know. Aki grits his teeth.

Your hand makes patterns on the damp nape of his neck as his rolling hips slow, as he breathes deep to try and regain a semblance of his dignity. "Loverboooy," you croon up at him, your free hand gripping at the junction between his hip and thigh. Aki grimaces; he hates that nickname. "Talk to me."

Aki glares at you. "You know—I want—you know. St-stop it."

He whimpers somewhere high in his throat as your body tightens around him, free hand coming up to scrub down his face. "D-don't!"

"Sorry, sorry," you laugh. "I'm sorry. Why don't you tell me what you want? Maybe I'm feeling nice."

It feels like a trap, like luring his feelings into the light just to snap a bear trap over them. But Aki wants, he yearns so deeply and desperately that he's just about willing to risk it. "Want to kiss you."

Your eyes gleam. "Do you?" you ask, as if this is news to you.

His arms shake. "Please."

God, he's pathetic. He's so used to being in control, to tailoring every facet of his life meticulously, grooming and tidying and cleaning. He knows the exact amount of calories he should eat per day. He puts his shoes on a rack so he never tracks mud onto the tatami mats. His shower utensils are organised in the order he uses them—shampoo, conditioner, face-wash, scented gel. He likes being in control. He thinks, anyway. You make him reevaluate. You make him reevaluate an awful lot.

You toss your head back against the pillows; you have the audacity to laugh. "Saw you smoking earlier," you tell him, and Aki's stomach goes cold. "Mm... full pack, too. A new one? When'd you buy that."

"Th-that was hours ago." And it's true; when Aki learns you're coming over, he puts his cigarettes in a locked draw and puts the key somewhere difficult to reach. "It won't still taste. I've eaten. I brushed my teeth."

That's just good manners.

"It's the principle of the thing, loverboy," you say, and your hand comes up to his chest and rolls him over. Aki gapes, whining at the loss of contact only to choke on his own voice as you sling a leg over his hips and slide him back into you. Your nails scrape red railroads down the pale skin of his sternum at the stretch, and Aki watches, mesmerised as you start to move, the flex of the muscles in your thighs, the vein bulging in your throat as you toss your head back. He wants to be all over you, a hand on your neck feeling your pulse go berserk for him, his teeth in your skin as proof he was there, nose buried in your hair, dirty and rough and the exact opposite of the way he usually wants you. That is—soft and kind, romantic, slow and heady as syrup.

He wants kisses that taste like tears, whispered confessions into bedsheets. He wants, painfully, the constant assurance he can never ask for. I love you. I love you. Oh, Aki, I love you.

"Kiss me," he gasps instead, writhing against the bedsheets, head thrown back at the brutal pace you set him. He's so close, teeth gritting and muscles locking up but without a kiss it feels cold and incomplete. "Please, please, kiss me, please—"

"You're a brat, Aki," you hiss, and Aki's heart twitches in his chest; he can hear his pulse in his skull. "You ignore the one rule I gave you, and you still think you get to ask for what you want?"

"It's a bullshit rule," he snaps. "I—I can't just, hah, I can't j-just turn it, off, oh, fuck—"

"You okay?" you ask in a fleeting moment of mercy. Aki's eyebrows knit up. "Am I—is it too much?"

Aki shakes his head. "I'm okay," he mumbles pitifully. "I'm close."

"I know, darling," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want. And you're gonna give me what I want. Deal?"

"I—I..." Aki chews the inside of his cheek till copper floods his mouth. "I'll try? I'll try, I swear."

You still for a moment. "You mean that?"

Aki nods frantically. "Yes, I—if that's what you want, anything, anything you want, please..."

The beam that breaks out on your face is a million watts. "Aki," you breathe, and finally you lean forward 'till your chest brushes his. Aki can't breathe, transfixed by every swoop of your eyelash and chap in your lip as you lean close. When you speak, you're so close that your lips brush his, and he has to keep every muscle taut to stop himself leaning forward and closing the gap. "Aki, I want you to live a long, happy life. You get that, right? Why I'm doing this?"

He feels his stomach flip, can barely comprehend the words through his dazed mind. His glazed eyes follow you, thunderstruck. "What—what d'you mean?"

"I care about you," you murmur. "I want you to live as long as possible. Want you to stick around with me."

With you? It's a wonder his heart doesn't explode. For a fleeting moment, there exists a future beyond the Gun Fiend, beyond Denji and Power and Nyako, one where he can love you freely. Tears needle at his eyes. It all seems so impossible.

Aki forgets himself, surges up to capture your mouth, but you turn at the last second, planting a kiss to his cheek before focusing on his jaw, his ear, capturing the lobe between your teeth and sucking gently as your hips resume their rhythm. You're faster now, gasping for breath, Aki's hands sliding over the skin of your hips and torso for a lifeline. You tongue at the cords in his neck, the shell of his ear and the sensitive divot just underneath till he's squirming.

Your hands are everywhere—scraping nails across his twitching abdomen, running up the valley between his pecs, tweaking a nipple and pulling. And Aki groans and gasps, every hint of pain from your lovely hands sending him rocketing closer towards the edge. Tears bead at his lashline.

"'M close," he gasps again.

"That's okay, loverboy," you say sweetly, words buzzing against the skin of his throat, and Aki shudders, arching impossibly closer to you. He can feel every nerve in his body sawed open and set alight, impossibly sensitive, boiling with love, and as he comes he buries his face into the crook of your neck with a hoarse cry. Two lone tears streak down his flushed cheeks.

You're not far behind, and Aki wouldn't dream of pulling out, so he squirms and gasps and whines with the prickling of overstimulation as you chase your own high. "Sorry—fuck—you okay?"

"I'm, I'm good," Aki whines. He cracks one steely blue eye open. It stands out against his red skin; he's so flushed as to look sunburnt.

"'M almost, fuck, almost there. Hang on for me?"

Aki raises shaking hands to grip your hips in answer. You laugh between pants, baring down at him.

"That's my boy."

You don't kiss him when you finish, but it's alright. You flop down beside him, taking in deep lungfuls of air, nuzzling your lips to the salt-sweat cooling on his chest. Usually, round about now, Aki would roll to reach his bedside cabinet where his open pack of cigs lay in wait. The lighter is right beside him, open and tempting. He can almost hear the flick of it, the zip of the flame bursting to life, the sizzle of the cherry scorching beneath that controlled flame. The grit of smoke in his mouth and down his throat, emptying his lungs of fresh air.

The pack goes untouched. Aki winds an arm around your shoulders and holds you close, your cheek against his thudding heart.

You don’t kiss him, but it’s alright.

Aki’s not a problem dog.

He's going to earn it.