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The streets are quiet, this Christmas evening.All the salesmen are at home with their wives and children for one day of the year, or still packed into the small bars where they’ll drink away their sorrows for the rest of the evening. Even the usually busy food stalls are packing up for the night, having sold their last wares to the few couples that litter the sidewalks closer to the theater before heading home to their own families or solitary dinners.Well. The love hotel in the middle of the block is probably getting more customers tonight than usual. The receptionist at the front doesn’t even blink when a gorgeous woman in a red and white-trimmed slip dress slinks into the lobby and pushes her card across the counter, murmuring in a low, rich voice that she wants the VIP room on the second floor, two doors down from the elevator, if you don’t mind. It’s chilly, but the woman shows no signs of it, adjusting the black fur stole around herself so it droops enticingly beneath her clavicle. Both the dress and the stole scream of wealth untold, the red soles of her heels a testament. Whoever she’s meeting tonight is very, very lucky.Long hair sashaying between her shoulders, she finishes her transaction and walks past without another word, pausing to pick up a candy cane from the bowl before she makes her way into the elevator. She peels off the wrapper with a ruby manicured nail as the doors slide shut, and two men in the lobby groan longingly as she disappears from their sight. The receptionist shakes his head internally. Poor fools.-Akira sighs, slipping the candy cane between his teeth before snapping off the end with a resounding crack . It leaves a jagged edge that he runs over his tongue, the sweet point of a sugary blade. It’s a nice little treat to end the long day, he thinks. Maybe he should get them to keep a bowl of these year-round. Not that the day’s over quite yet. The elevator doors open with a smooth glide on to a carpeted hallway, and he steps out, stilettos sinking into the plush, blue material.It used to be a ratty old thing, this hotel. Creaky floorboards, dusty corners, peeling wallpaper that sure, Akira probably could (and did) get fucked against, but it really wasn’t the best that he could do with the funds he had available. A few donations here and there, as well as immersing the block into the clan’s territory, and the place was good as new. He doesn’t have to worry about being interrupted halfway through, they don’t have to worry about property sharks, and part of their dime goes towards the protection he offers. All in a day’s work. Akira’s not exactly above a dusty old attic, though - he just likes to consider his options, now that he has them.It’s just as well that Akira can’t even hear the other couples that likely fill this hallway; there’s only one man he wants to hear moaning tonight, and he’s not even here yet. Which reminds him. Akira presses his card against the reader of the VIP room, and the door swings open into a beautifully decorated bedroom. It’s dressed in reds and golds for the holidays- and hey, even that peppermint warming lube that Akira saw in the specialty store two streets down is on the nightstand. Festive. Hopefully he’ll get to use it tonight.His lips curl into the trickster’s smile. Time to get to work.Maintaining a VIP room in a love hotel on the border of enemy territory comes with a… few installations. After all, it’s much easier to flaunt a millionaire’s marriage in front of him during an interrogation when there’s footage of him going down on his beefy subordinate every Thursday evening. Akira had cameras and microphones placed in every fixture for maximum blackmail material, wired and backed up directly to his personal servers.Now, though, he reaches into his purse and pulls out a small remote, placing it in the center of the room. With the click of a button, every single recording device instantly jams with a small beep. It’s particularly useful for private conversations - and the most private of encounters, remembered by his eyes and ears only, shifting cloth and skin on skin embedded in his muscle memory.That done, he thoroughly surveys the room, checking underneath sheets and tables for hidden mechanisms or weaponry that the previous tenant might have left behind, satisfied when nothing shows up out of place. The staff is getting another raise after his next bounty, that’s for sure. They’re discreet, discerning, and they know how to disarm a room. (Morgana would swat at him for that one, but can’t he make a joke every once in a while? He swears they’re getting better.) And then, right on schedule: a pattern of quiet knocks against the door, two sets of three and one set of two. Akira takes a moment to check himself out in the floor length mirror - stunning, as usual, Ann’s makeup lessons really did help him improve over the years - before he peers through the keyhole at his paramour, discards his cloak and purse on the table, and opens the door with a flourish. On to possibly the most infuriated face he’s ever seen Akechi Goro wear.“Come on in,” Akira purrs. He cocks his hip as he leans to the side, letting the man storm inside and rip his trench coat off, tossing it onto the bed with a frustrated sigh. He’s still in his work clothes, the half-rolled designer shirt and silk tie hidden under one of those sweater vests that he still insists on wearing, even after all these years.Makes him seem nicer to the businessmen he lures in, or so he says. He’d look lovely in a waistcoat, but that’s apparently too “ostentatious” for the work they do. Bastard. Akira loves to give his victims a good view while he puts them in the ground, and the asshole still had the nerve to say that to him.Akechi hasn’t even looked at him yet, and Akira knows how amazing he looks tonight, after all that effort he went through to pick out this outfit and get all dressed up. Putting on an exaggerated pout, he sighs and turns around to close the door, making sure to sway his hips as he does so. “What, not even a ‘Merry Christmas’?” he prods, deliberately tuning his voice to a higher register, just to play it up. “I’m hurt.” He turns the lock, the bolt slotting into place with a dull thud.In the next moment, he’s getting slammed back against the door with Akechi’s breath hot in his face, eyebrows drawn low over blazing crimson eyes.“You lying, kill-stealing, sack of shit!" Akechi’s roar reverberates through the soundproofed room, and Akira’s eyes flutter as he grins like a madman, pulse thrumming under the grip around his neck.“Hi, honey,” he croons in return. There he is. “Missed me?”Those beautiful hands tighten further. “Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Akechi growls. Akira just giggles, wrapping his arms loosely around Akechi’s neck. “Wellllll, other than the fact that I’d like to see you try,” he teases, threading his fingers into Akechi’s hair, “you have a debt to pay, now, don’t you?” He tugs gently at the strands, drawing Akechi’s lips closer. “And you never leave a debt unpaid. So pay up, pretty boy. Don’t leave me waiting.”“Fuck you.” Akechi speaks through clenched teeth. The smell of instant coffee floats between them, Akira notes, a bit remorsefully. Oh, how far his rival has fallen. “You set me up. You lied. You told me I could have him.” Calloused thumbs dig into the sides of his windpipe. Akira’s never felt more alive, even as he draws a strained breath and spits out, “Of course I lied,” before surging closer and slamming his lips against Akechi’s in a bruising kiss.Or, well. At least Akira’s trying to make this a kiss. Akechi moves with it for about half a second before he growls, teeth sinking hard into Akira’s lower lip until he has to pull away, lest Akechi actually rip into it and ruin his makeup with the wrong shade of red. Maybe it won’t be so bad, though…He feels that wild grin cross his face again, and he licks his lips before he continues, whispering right against Akechi’s mouth before the other man can even speak.“I wanted to see you all dolled up for me, like the pretty thing you are.” And there’s that cute little flush he’s been waiting to see all night, spreading high across Akechi’s cheeks and sinking beneath his tie.“That’s why you did it?” he asks incredulously, trying and failing to appear intimidating with that red face of his. “You ruined my fucking reputation again, you son of a-”Akira doesn’t let him finish, dragging him back in with a groan, covering that unfaithful tongue with the taste of real coffee as he licks into the corners of his lover’s mouth. He’s re-discovering the ways to make Akechi’s breath catch when he nips gently at his lip, runs his tongue over the soft glide of Akechi’s own- and Akechi finally lets him, the hands around Akira’s neck falling to encircle his waist instead, a knee finding its way underneath his dress and between his legs. His lover’s not really angry; he’s just a sore loser, but Akechi will never admit to it, not in a million years. Akira likes when he’s dramatic and bloodthirsty, a feral killing machine that lets his rage consume him - he also likes this, letting the man vent his frustrations by instead digging fingertip-shaped bruises into Akira’s thighs, kissing down his neck and biting down until Akira shakes with it, soothing the wound with his tongue before capturing Akira’s mouth with a begrudging sigh.Teeth dig into his lower lip again, the same place as before, and Akira moans as this time the rich tang of blood fills his mouth and smears over Akechi’s lip, where he kisses it right back off. Akechi laughs into their kiss, a small, snide chuckle in the back of his throat as he presses Akira further into the door, grinding against him and making his head swim with the lovely friction.“Easy there, Kurusu. Getting a little trigger happy?” He sounds just a little too satisfied with himself, like he thinks he’s back in control of the situation. That’s so cute.“Ngh - oh, you bet I am,” he rasps. In a flash, Akira’s hand shoots down to his waist, and then his silver pistol is pressed to the curve of Akechi’s throat, the end of the barrel sitting enticingly at his Adam's apple. Akechi’s mouth, now lipstick-stained, falls open in a sweet gasp that Akira drinks straight from the source, licking deep into his mouth. Freeing his other hand, Akira grabs his tie and backs him towards the bed.“Ever since I took that shot on Yashiro, I’ve been so goddamn patient,” he breathes between them, trailing the muzzle of the gun down Akechi’s clothed chest as he leads him backwards. It catches for a moment between his pecs, and Akira has to force himself to keep going, despite the rush of blood it sends south. “I had to sit through no less than three meetings before I got here.” He drags it down, down, until Akechi’s shins hit the bed and he hits the mattress, just managing to brace himself on the sheets before Akira’s gun is pressed firmly against the hard line of Akechi’s cock through his slacks.He’s barely done anything, and Akechi already looks debauched with his red lips and skewed tie, hips stuttering against the gun, his chest heaving ever so slightly as Akira leans over him between his spread legs. He’s tense, clearly resisting the urge to let his head fall back at the stimulation. It’s a near thing, Akira can tell- Akechi’s driven by the same highs, and his eyes are half-lidded with pleasure as he gazes up at Akira. He keeps the pressure steady for a few moments, enjoying watching Akechi try not to writhe in place.“And,” Akira tosses the gun on the bed, and Akechi groans at the loss, but doesn’t move otherwise, “I had to get all dressed up for tonight, too.”He reaches down, gathers the hem of his dress in both hands, and slowly drags it up his thighs and past his hips. Smug satisfaction rolls through his body when he hears Akechi’s breath go ragged at the sight. His cock is achingly hard, stretching the sheer black lace of his panties to its limit as it strains, hints of flushed skin peeking through the gaps. Akira can’t help an indulgent groan when he reaches down to wrap a hand around himself, a stuttering gasp as he spreads the wetness at the head with his thumb. “I’ve been like this for hours,” he sighs, and watches Akechi swallow and lick his lips, inches away from Akira’s fingers.“You want it, honey?” Akira gives himself another slow pump through the lace for good measure. Shit , it feels so good. “You want my cock in your mouth? Want me to make you choke on it?”“Kurusu.” God. Akechi’s voice is low and dangerous in arousal, smooth wine in his ears. He says Akira’s name like an ultimatum, like a warning, like he knows what Akira will ask of him. How beautiful is he, the man who will kill him one day.“Go on, then. You know what to do.” He looks down at Akechi, underneath him in his rightful place. “Strip for me.” To his surprise, Akechi leans forward, and kisses the back of Akira’s hand. His tongue flicks gently between Akira’s fingers over his cock. “Let me fuck you,” he suggests pleasantly, smooth whiskey in his tone. “After all, you’ve been waiting so nicely for me all day, just like you said.” He sucks on the lace, exhaling through his nose as the taste of precum hits his tongue, letting one eye flutter closed in a wink.It’s a clear distraction, but Akira indulges in it anyway for all of a minute, sighing and letting him get a taste, before he grips Akechi’s chin tight and jerks him away.“Not tonight.” He shifts, dropping his dress to reach behind his back. “I won that bet fair and square. Go on.” Akira had been out and about a few weeks ago, when he’d seen it: a set of Christmas-themed lingerie, just subtle enough to be classy, and what he immediately knew would complement either of them. It was a simple affair from there to getting it stashed away in a secret location, not unlike his usual dealings with dubious vendors. A few jabs at Akechi over text, one attached picture, and a few drinks later, and the end result was a bet. Their next shared hit, Yashiro’s killer would be victorious- and the one whose hand hesitated would be taken as the spoils of war.(And if he cheated a little, showed Akechi his dress beforehand, told him he’d get a little extra if he took the shot first tonight, and then went ahead and stole it because his rival looks so stunning in red- well. It’s all part of the game.) He hasn’t quite won this warbeast, though: Akechi simply glares up at him, annoyed that his ploy didn’t work, and lifts his chin in defiance without saying a word. But they’ve played this game before. Akira knows how to tame him.He raises one leg and steps on Akechi’s bulge with the ball of his shoe, grinding until he can nearly feel the ridge of Akechi’s cock through the sole. Revels, as beads of sweat break out across Akechi’s forehead and he grits his teeth, unwilling to make any indication of his pain. Draws his hand back out from behind him to reveal the sharp, broken edge of the candy cane, the weapon to tame the muzzled dog.“Obey,” he says coldly, holding the candy cane to Akechi’s jugular. His pulse beats faintly below it. “Or I’ll rip your fucking throat out.” Akira tilts his head, letting his natural curls fall as easily across his face as Joker’s grin, wide and unsettling. It’s the last thing many people have seen, the fabled mask of the trickster who plays with lives as he does cards. The only thing it does now, though, is make Akechi stop breathing for a moment, red eyes darkening with rage and lust, the two almost indistinguishable as it is for them.It’s not an empty threat, either - there’s a scar at his nape that Akira put there himself, a ragged line from his dagger that had only healed because Akechi put him similarly out of commission, the both of them retreating for a few months to lick their wounds before returning to the front lines of their clan war.He grinds down harder, and Akechi breathes out, shaky. Akira can practically see the way his fury leaves him in favor of more… pressing concerns.Then he nods, and Akira lets go of his chin and leans back to give him space, as he finally obeys. Held in place by Akira’s foot, Akechi grasps the hem of his sweater vest and slowly begins pulling it off, over his head. Akira can’t help a small chuckle as Akechi’s hair fluffs up a little from the material, and the way he meticulously folds it before placing it next to him on the bed. But his expression soon returns to hunger, as the other man yanks at the knot of his tie, catching Akira’s eye in the process.His fingers slow. Akechi’s expression turns sultry, likely recognizing Akira’s arousal as anticipation. Looking up at Akira through his lashes, he lets the length of red silk slip slowly through his collar, letting it drape over Akira’s shoe still firmly in his lap before his hands return to his collar, popping the first button, then the second. It’s Akira’s turn to attempt to steady his breathing, as Akechi strokes his index and thumb gently over his own neck, tracing the protrusion of his larynx and trachea, letting the vee of his shirt open further to reveal the enticing jut of his collarbone and the strong tendon that rises from it. He undoes another button, and that beautiful flush returns to his cheeks while he holds Akira’s gaze and slips his hand inside his shirt, the material shifting over it as he moves to slip it off one shoulder.A red strap appears, lined in white. Akira’s mouth goes dry.Akechi slowly undoes another button. Then another. Slips the other half of his shirt off, to settle open around him on the bedspread. Another red strap.Akira doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more gorgeous in his life .Framing Akechi’s chest is a lacy, stunning, blood-red bralette. It hugs him like a second skin, and the patterning does nothing to hide his nipples, exposed to the air after being hidden away under all his layers, and peaking under the fabric for it. The whole thing is trimmed in white, offsetting it against Akechi’s freckles like a highlight.And above it all: Akechi, open and honest for once, honey-golden hair draped around his blushing face, the centerpiece of the room in this portrait of splendor.“Baby,” Akira breathes reverently. “Look at you.” He gently cups Akechi’s face with his hand, and his rival leans into it, perhaps unconsciously, pupils blown wide. “So lovely for me.”Akechi doesn’t speak yet, merely reaching down to unbuckle his belt. His hands hesitate for a moment before he draws it out of the loops, letting the length of Italian leather smooth over his palms before he lays it over his vest. With a furtive glance from him, Akira slowly lets up the pressure beneath his red sole, and Akechi unzips his slacks, unhooks his fly, and lifts his hips enough to push his pants down.Oh, and what a sight it is. His cock is just as flushed as the rest of him, white ribbons and red lace neatly curling around his cock, soaked through with precum from Akira’s ministrations, and Akechi’s own arousal for who knows how long. Now that Akira thinks about it - Akechi probably had to go back to his base of operations after the mission, itching with the adrenaline of another kill he never got to take, the humiliation of returning without fulfilling his mission. Somehow had to steal away to their shared locker, get the lingerie without being seen, put it on (in the office bathroom, in the showers?), then sit through his own gauntlet of meetings with his underlings as the lace rubbed sweetly against his nipples and the length of his shaft, all while the bloodlust continued coursing through his veins.“Well?” The sardonic rasp of Akechi’s voice is a sharp contrast to his pink cheeks. “You won. Are you satisfied now?” His gaze is guarded, like he expects Akira will laugh at him at any moment, like the other men who routinely humiliate him before he finally gives into the urge to tear into their flesh and bone. Akira’s blood boils at the thought of them. He fists his free hand in Akechi’s silky hair and yanks his head back, lifting his leg to fit the tip of his shoe under his sac and grinds up, ever so slightly. Akechi whines, and the heat slowly building in Akira’s body rises even further, filling his chest with possessive, carnal delight. The Wolf of Kichijōji, reduced to a puppy grinding against his shoe, gasping for breath underneath him. He’s seen this man rip into someone’s chest and yank their heart from it, has seen him desecrate entire clans, has seen him make people cry or lose their minds, has watched him die, fall, live, kill. And he’s all Akira’s, just for tonight- or maybe longer, if Akechi lets him, until he inevitably rips Akira apart too.“Sweetheart,” he croons, relishing the way Akechi’s eyes struggle to stay open when he pulls at his hair, “we haven’t even started yet.”It’s time to take his prize. “Eyes on me.”With a firm push, Akechi sprawls back on the bed, and Akira prowls over him, kicking off his heels as he bites the end of the candy cane and chews it to pieces, tossing the rest on the nightstand when he leans over to grab the lube. As promised, Akechi watches him the whole time (like a good boy, the dormant Arséne croons, and Akira brushes him off with a smile) and slowly lowers himself back down on his knees between Akechi’s legs.“Thank you for the Christmas present, Akechi-chan,” he teases with a wink. His mouth is already watering at the sight before him: Akechi’s cock pushes against the lace with a fevered swell, and it practically springs out when Akira reaches out and pulls the waistband down. His little exhale as his cock is exposed to the air is just a bonus, along with the embarrassed growl he lets out at the moniker. Still, Akechi obliges as he lifts his legs to help Akira slide the panties down one knee, then the other.“I didn't know you observed Christmas,” he retorts. His eyes darken with heat, still trained on Akira while the other man peels off his acrylic nails on his right hand and tosses them alongside the candy cane on the table. “Faith in a god never quite suited you, after all the games they’ve played with your fate.”Akira laughs, popping the cap on the peppermint lube. The bottle tilts, and a generous amount pours over Akira’s fingers. “Not to mention all the demons I summoned. The Bible sure has some things to say about that.” He closes and tosses the bottle, lifts Akechi’s thigh with his other hand, gripping tight and encouraging him to spread himself open. Akechi complies with a frustrated sigh.“So you’ve read it?” he asks, instead of complaining. Ever the conversationalist, especially when his curiosity is more important than whatever’s going on between his legs. Or maybe he just wants to get fucked that bad.Either way, Akira’s just as eager, reaching down to circle Akechi’s rim. “I had some time on my hands in high school. There are some… rather compelling verses.” His tight little hole twitches around the intrusion of Akira’s index finger, and the man shudders even as his hips lift slightly from the bed. Akira adjusts his hand to hold him down, rubbing against his inner walls. “Oh? Grant me some of your wisdom, th-then.” The warming lube is slowly taking effect - a pleasant tingling sensation travels down Akira’s hand, likely the cause of the sudden moan above him as it spreads inside Akechi as well. Akira adds another finger and leans down, littering red peppermint kisses around the base of Akechi’s cock, licking a delicate, dirty stripe along his balls and taint. With the blunt edge of a red nail, he drags a line along the length, following it with his tongue.Akechi pants through gritted teeth as Akira seals his lips around the head of his cock, covering it in saliva and lightly sucking once before he pulls off.“There’s one that I remember, after I awoke to Raoul and went down into Mementos…‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” he quotes, pumping his fingers, stretching and scissoring inside Akechi, “I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.’” He kisses the side of Akechi’s cock again, leaving another lipstick print like a crimson brand. A strangled whine leaves Akechi’s mouth, and Akira looks up to see him watching, something like hesitation in his eyes. But isn’t that just how Akira feels, truly? He realizes what he’s admitted now, as Akechi stares down at him, wide-eyed, and he stares back, equally spellbound- he would let Akechi take his life. Craves the feeling of his flesh parting underneath Akira’s knife - but they, they walk together through this shadowy underworld, rivals and murderers and lovers alike. And for all that Akechi fights against him with every fiber of his being for his own principles, Akira has never once feared him, or feared the world with his enemy by his side.Akira wonders if this is what it will feel like, when Akechi finally sinks that ornamented blade of his deep into Akira’s heart. If it will plunge so suddenly, so terribly, as the pulse that this revelation sends through him. He’d promised his rivalry to the other man, so long ago, even when Akechi had died and come back and joined him on the other side of this life of blood and violence. But was this kind of lifelong vow any different than others, when it was made just as sincerely and truthfully? Akechi’s head falls back on a sigh as Akira works another lubed finger into him, presses the flat of his tongue against him, and the moment is blessedly broken. He continues the verse, to ease the careful silence that followed the first half. His lips quirk up as he remembers the words.“‘Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.’” Well. How topical.Akechi’s head shoots back up. He full on scowls at him, even with three fingers stretching his ass open. “Shut the fuck up. It does not say that.”“It does! Read it for yourself, I promise you it’s in there.” Akira snickers, pressing his nose into the jut of Akechi’s hip. “I didn’t even mean for that to be the line, either. Guess it was meant to be.”“Moron. Of course you would find that sort of thing in the Bible, of all places.”“Hey, I was a gay kid summoning demons and gods on the daily. Can’t blame me for having some fun reading the most boring book of all time,” he says conversationally, giving him another firm pump. Akechi moans, hands fisting in the sheets as Akira laps up the bead of precum he squeezes out with a generous swirl of his tongue. It peters off into another whine as Akira sinks down to the base in one go, enclosing his shaft in warm, wet heat, and he nearly shouts when Akira presses into his prostate in a precise stroke.His heels slip over the satin of Akira’s dress, mussing the fabric, caught up in the pleasure pinning him to the bed and making his legs close around his rival’s body. Akechi looks beautiful like this, his hair fanning out on the bed, eyes screwed shut and his mouth open, gasping for air - Akira echoes him with a low rumble of his own, grinding his clothed hips against the bed in an attempt to soothe his painfully hard erection, probably staining his slip by now with how wet he is. His whole body trembles at the sweet pressure, fingers pressing shakily down on that spot inside Akechi again, and the way his hips fuck up into Akira’s throat in response fill his veins with fire, demanding that he be inside Akechi, now. It doesn’t help that the warming lube makes Akechi’s hole even hotter, all but calling to him like a siren. Still, he can’t resist another tease, caught up in the pathways of their discussion. With one more slurp around his cock, Akira pulls off, rises back to his knees, and drapes himself over Akechi, still working his fingers inside him, stretching him out a bit more.“Would you lie with me as Judas did with Him?” The heady taste of Akechi’s musk still sits on his tongue, and it’s soon complemented by the scent of his cologne, something dark and irresistible that Akira can’t get enough of.He licks over Akechi’s throat, drawn to the line of it, to where the cologne is strongest, nuzzling into his collar and working the skin there between his teeth. Akechi sighs again as Akira finally lets up the pressure on his prostate to allow him to speak, little trembles working under his skin but still managing a small scoff at the question.“I am no follower of y-yours.” “But your betrayal will be just as sweet.” Akira kisses the spot underneath Akechi’s ear, and he makes a soft little noise that goes right to Akira’s heart. Delicious, and all for him.“The downfall of Jesus was his love of man.” Akechi gasps as Akira’s fingers finally withdraw, leaving just the tingling sensation in their gaping wake. “How arrogant, Kurusu. Do you imagine yourself on the cross?” He’s immediately entranced with the way Akechi grinds his teeth against the whimper in his throat at the emptiness, and it’s all he can do to reach over to Akechi’s discarded wallet and search the billfold for a condom. His rival’s gaze returns to him, watching Akira hitch up his dress, ease down his own panties, and slip them off his stockinged feet.“If you were the one to nail me to it,” he starts, as he rips open the small packet and takes out the rubber, sighing as he rolls it down his cock, reaching out to the side for the small bottle. “If you were the one to hold me down, to drive those stakes into my wrists.” He uncaps it with a flick of his thumb and strokes himself as he pours a small amount of the lube over the condom, easing the glide of his hand and making a shiver run down his spine when it starts to heat up. Indulgently, he lets his hips thrust upwards once into the tight circle of his hand, and stars burst behind his eyes even at that momentary touch.“For your face to be the last thing I see.” He catches Akechi’s eye, as he lets his palm tease the head once, before he lowers himself back between the other man’s hips.“Then yes, I do.” Perhaps too stunned to speak with how he’s staring at him, Akechi’s legs fall open at the gentlest hand on his thigh, and Akira snags the unused pillow, slipping it underneath him. He kneels astride Akechi’s hips and holds his thigh in one hand and his own cock in the other, guiding it to Akechi’s loosened hole, his head bent as if in confession: “But I don’t think my thoughts are all that holy,” he whispers. Akira finally pushes forward and sinks inside the scorching heat that he’s been waiting all day for, a long, low, satisfied moan tearing itself out of his throat. The stretch of Akechi’s hole around him is delectable , spreading easily after all of Akira’s buildup, and he knows neither of them will last long with how Akechi’s practically melting into the sheets with his own groan of pleasure. The gathered folds of his satin dress shift against Akechi’s cock, soaking up the precum that spills from it. “Ah, god, Akechi,” he calls, and Akechi’s laugh chokes into a gasp as Akira thrusts into him too early, hole clenching and unclenching with the sudden intrusion.“Blasphemer,” he mocks. “Can’t - hah - can’t take His word to heart, can you?” Akechi rolls his hips up, meeting Akira’s own as he adjusts to the feeling of fullness. “Come on, Kurusu. Grant your faithful what he desires. Fuck me like you mean it.” “Shit.” Akechi keeps up the pace against him, and Akira’s fingers dig into his thighs, the nails on one hand leaving deeper indents as he slowly increases his speed, fucking into Akechi like he truly does mean it, and need it he does - he doesn’t know how he lasted the long hours away from him, how he even managed to prepare him without coming from the sheer arousal of knowing he’s been waiting and ready for Akira to take him this whole time. He can’t help it; he grunts and hikes Akechi’s legs over his shoulders, and pitches forward to mouth sloppily over his chest, letting his thrusts guide his tongue around Akechi’s nipples. Akechi whines high in his throat as Akira lavishes one, then the other, soaking his bralette in saliva and letting it cool against his skin, rubbing against the small peaks with every rough movement. Akira’s long wig spills over his shoulders to bracket them in, only heightening the intimacy when he leans up to press a hungry kiss to Akechi’s open mouth, easing up on his thrusts to roll slow and deep into Akechi’s hole, settling all the way inside before dragging against every nerve on the way out.“Your body,” he groans against his lips. Akechi tastes like peppermint, like wine, like Akira. He smells like sex and sweat and sin. “Your blood.” Akira bites his own wound into the center of Akechi’s lower lip, and he drinks in the taste feverishly, possessively. “They’re all mine.”“You think you c-could devour me?” Akechi manages. His own body ripples with the movement, smooth as water, and his mouth hangs open and stays when Akira thrusts deep, deep, right against his prostate. “Darling, I would swallow you whole.”Akira tucks his head into his favorite spot by Akechi’s neck and breathes in his scent, as if it’s the only thing keeping him from taking the corded muscle between his teeth and ripping. Akechi moves to do the same- but he growls, threatening and feral as he shoves his way underneath Akira’s jaw, winding his arms around him to hold him in place.“You still-” Akechi inhales deeply, his nose pressed into the crook of Akira’s neck- “you still smell like him,” he hisses, the vitriol so pointed and fine that it drips through Akira’s pores and settles, like a woven thread of gold around his collarbone. “You let him touch you?” “Better than letting him touch you,” Akira bites back, thrusting hard into Akechi in retaliation. “The very thought that you would smell like him, he would taste you even a little bit…” He can’t finish the sentence, letting the rage drive his pace as he fucks into him faster and faster, his balls smacking against Akechi’s ass, skin on skin, loud and dirty.Seduction is Akechi’s best weapon- when the Wolf was wrapped up in sweater vests and pretty little lingerie, nobody would suspect a thing until their chest was already home to a knife slowly plunging deeper. But in that moment before death, every victim would have the breathtaking experience of Akechi on top of them, supposedly preparing to ride them, seeing him pliant and pretty- and that’s a view Akira wants all to himself. He would chain this man to his bed, keep him open and flushed just like this, if he didn’t also love the view of him covered in viscera.“Mine, mine, mine,” Akira chants, nearing the edge. One of his hands releases Akechi’s leg, trusting him to keep it hooked over Akira’s shoulder, and wanders down to grasp his cock, jerking it hard and fast as he nails his prostate on every thrust. “I won’t let them touch you again. You’re mine.” Akechi shouts in ecstasy, and it’s only a few more seconds before he comes hard, spilling all over his chest and Akira’s dress, staining it in white, eyes wide and unseeing for a moment as he trembles with the force of his pleasure.Even as Akechi’s hand falls to the bed, twitching and reaching for something, Akira keeps driving his hips deeper, deeper, licks the sweat off his skin, bites the strap of his bralette and sucks on it, can’t think of anything except finishing inside his twitching hole - There’s a gun to his forehead.Akira moans, as Akechi’s hand pushes the pistol further into his skin and flicks the safety off with his thumb, moving his head back to face Akechi. His hips somehow speed up, and Akechi lets him, his other hand wrapping around the back of Akira’s neck to pull him closer.“Yours, huh?” Akechi asks, dangerously calm even as he’s getting fucked right through the afterglow. This is the Wolf, Akira realizes. The man whose hand is steady after getting fucked within an inch of his life, who’s still getting fucked with a beautiful blush in his cheeks and spilling down his neck. “I am not your devotee, your toy,” he leers. “And you are no son of God.”His hand squeezes around Akira’s throat. Akira’s eyes prick with tears, gasping, hurtling towards his orgasm with an intensity he’s never felt, and Akechi laughs, maniacal and breathless and overstimulated.“Go on, Satanael. Our sins outnumber each other. Defile me all you can, drag me down to hell with you.” Akira’s throat compresses further. “Akira.” And who is Akira, but a man, helpless to obey?He whines like the dog he is at the feet of his rival, drowning in the heat, his balls drawing tight, hips stuttering, shouting, letting himself sink one final time into him as he crashes right over the edge, on the thought of Akechi - of Goro pulling the trigger, letting him take his heart, his life.
Fuck.
-“Well.” “Well?” “What will you do now?” Goro stands behind him, studiously fixing his tie and brushing through his hair. Akira sits at the vanity, reapplying his makeup. He’d scrubbed it off in the shower, where Goro had complained about the sheer amount of bruises and lipstick marks covering his skin, Jesus Christ, Akira, what the fuck did you do, and Akira had simply laughed, now who’s blaspheming? before Goro proceeded to leave the lovely, bloody indent of his incisors in Akira’s shoulder that he absolutely could not hide.“I’m going back, of course.” He slips his loafers back on. “I have to figure out what to do next. Perhaps Yashiro’s rats will come running, now that the cat is gone.” Akira huffs as he stands by the door, his coat slung over one arm as if he’d never even been fucked within an inch of his life. “No thanks to you.” There’s something he can do about that.Akira hops up from the low bench, giggling as Goro’s eyes are drawn to the swing of his hips as he saunters closer. Before his lover can react, he leans in, and presses a rosy, brilliant kiss to his cheek. The moue of his lips leaves a perfect print, and Akechi’s hand goes to wipe it off before Akira’s nails curl into his wrist, threatening to cut.“It’ll look worse if you smear it, you know~” he singsongs, enjoying the incensed look on Goro’s rapidly reddening face. “Now everyone will know you had a good time tonight, with the sexiest woman in Shibuya.” With that, he whips open the door and pushes him out, slamming it shut and locking the bolt. “Merry Christmas!” he yells. Oh, this will be great. Akira can’t wait to see how Goro gets back at him for this one. “Akira!!” Goro pounds on the door. “You bitch!”And Akira just cackles, thinking of the lingerie still lying on the bathroom floor.