stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[And breathless Akechi certainly is. He's always known Joker was physically much stronger, but the display of it sends his stomach doing somersaults and his mouth biting into Akira's like a man starved. He gets a little clumsy with his claws, feels one of them pop a seam on Joker's coat, but can't be bothered-- it'll be fixed by cognition anyway.]

[Maybe that's why he's so much more willing to be physical, here. Anything that gets broken or is done wrong would just be fixed later. There are no consequences. He doesn't really have to face what he's doing if he does it, here. Who cares if that is absolutely escapism? Joker is hot, and as a result Akechi shifts his legs, kicking outward and around until he's actually hooked them around Akira's hips. It puts them at an angle that leaves nothing to the imagination for either of them, and he breaks away from where their mouths are sealed in favor of trying to regain his breath.]

This-- isn't safe, [He tries, knowing full well that neither of them give even half a damn.]

Isn't that why you like it? [ It's a little too raw, and a little too honest, but he can feel the way Akechi is interested, feel the way his legs are wrapped around Akira's hips, and Akira can't help the way he instinctively angles his hips, grinds against Akechi with a low groan that has a hint more growl to it than it might normally.

Akira -- Joker -- doesn't offer to stop. For one, Akechi has claws that could tear his back to shreds if he really wanted to stop, nevermind Loki -- for two, Akira would still stop in an instant if Akechi told him to. He's not that far gone. If he felt Akechi vanish somewhere into his mind, it'd immediately be hands to himself.

But it's not any of that. Akechi is moving against him, wild and untamed, and if this is the way that it has to happen then Akira doesn't mind. He's always wanted just as many bruises from Akechi, after all. ]

[He exhales in a rush at the question, turns his head and bites Akira's neck through the scalloped collar of his vest. He breathes there a moment, shakily, but doesn't shift his grip, not even when Joker grinds up against him. His breath hitches, then, and then cracks into a breathy whine, and he rearranges his arms so he can lean back and fix him with a steady, if disastrously wrecked, frown.]

You can sense shadows in the area, can you not? Don't let us get ambushed. [He unhooks his legs from around Joker's hips, landing with a soft click of his heels against the floor, and for a moment he looks over Joker's shoulder into the hallway. He moves one hand to Joker's hip, licking his lower lip and looking back at Akira as his tongue vanishes back into his mouth.] ...make this quick.

[ Akira can't sense them as well as Futaba, but he still tilts his head to give another glance around. He can sense them a little further off on a basic patrol -- but nothing where they are, hidden by the shadow of the corner.

He grins. ]

We'll just have to be quiet. [ Which shouldn't be a problem for him, but he really, really wants to make Akechi make a noise. This plan goes into action when Akira leans in, dragging his thumb down Akechi's front until it stills at his hip, the red a burst of candy colored fabric against Akechi's dark color scheme. ]

This probably doesn't have a convenient zipper, huh?

[And Akechi finds himself just letting it happen-- leaning against the wall and drawing in a slow, careful breath as Akira drags his thumb down his front. He may as well already be naked, with the way this costume hugs his skin, and when attention is drawn to it, he tilts his head and gives himself a perplexed once-over.]

...I never planned for anything of this nature, so I don't know that there's any... closure, or means of putting it on or taking it off in a conventional sense. [He sounds impressively level, at that specific moment, apart from the slight growl to how low he speaks.]

Huh. Okay. [ And then Akira is jerking his hand, knife suddenly in his palm, and dropping down to his knees in front of Akechi. His hand -- the knife -- goes to the edge of Akechi's hip. If there isn't a seam, then Akira will just make one, and it'll get put back together with cognition the same as always because Akira's already watched their outfits regenerate from a couple lucky hits from the shadows.

He grins up at Akechi. ] Hold still.

[He leans easily against the wall as Joker drops to his knees and his knife materializes in his hand, because reacting otherwise would really just make it more obvious that if he wasn't hard before, he absolutely is now. His eyebrows raise under his hair, and he affords Akira a crooked grin of his own.]

[He leans, just slightly, into the blade.] And if I don't?

Hmm. Guess we'll find out. [ Akechi might actually be the living definition of "fuck around and find out", honestly, but the "find out" stage has been long and progressively more involved.

At any rate, Akira's potential threat with the knife was really more of a promise: he draws it down the side of Akechi's outfit, watches the leather peel away until there's skin underneath, and of course there's not anything like underwear under the molten surface. He does it the first time perfectly, just to prove that he can, and then, as he drags it across Akechi's stomach to peel away the fabric into an approximation of pants, he digs the knife in just a little too hard, lets a fine line of red well up in between he split fabric. ]

[The precision Akira uses is as impressive as it is infuriating, but Akechi is determined to stay still anyway, just so they don't wind up in over their heads. It wouldn't do to move and have the knife actually damage him in a way that made fighting difficult, their respective boners notwithstanding.]

[So suffice to say the brief sting of the blade across his lower abdomen draws a startled, fluttering little gasp out of him and he unwittingly presses forward into it, making the tail end of the shallow cut a little deeper. It's nothing troublesome, and it'll likely heal over partway before they even leave, but he's also obviously Very Into it.] Hmm, seems that way. Good to see your precision in battle has other uses. [Please excuse the way his voice is absolute gravel, it's the knifeplay.]

You're hard to impress, so I had to make sure I was fit for the challenge. [ The way Akechi's voice has dropped into that pitchy, breathy nightmare is absolutely addictive to Akira, but he knows better than to keep pushing too hard when it comes to this when they're both still relatively inexperienced.

It's one more cut and then he can peel away the layer of Akechi's outfit like makeshift pants, which he does. He peels it down, waits until Akechi's cock is exposed, and then leans up to lick from his thigh to his hip, the taste of blood and sweat on his tongue and the red color smearing across Akechi's skin like one of Yusuke's paintings. ]

Ah, so you do have a brain in there. [A clawed hand settles carefully in Akira's hair, drumming his sharp fingertips against his scalp. He considered taking the gloves off, so he didn't cause undue injury, but at the same time it was a bit of a test for his own control and limits, to keep them on and ensure he didn't shred Joker to ribbons unwittingly.]

[And that control is verily tested when Akira chooses to lick a stripe up his thigh to his hip, his other hand balling into a fist that makes an odd popping sound when the ends of his claws pop through the palm of the glove to keep the one embedded in Akira's hair still. He rolls onto his toes, the muscles in his thighs tensing, and then relaxes, standing flat on his heels again.] Stand back up, if I want you on your knees I'll put you there. [He pulls, just a little, on his hair.]

[ Akira's eyes go a little half-lidded at the feel of Akechi's claws tugging at his hair, but he stands back up, obediently, letting his fingers drag up Akechi's body as he does so. The knife goes -- somewhere, up his sleeve or into an internal pocket or whatever -- and Akira leans back in to kiss Akechi again, the taste of Akechi's blood still on his lips. ]

Then what do you want? [ Because boy, Akira wouldn't complain at all about being put on his knees, but he knows that's not what Akechi wants from him right now. ]

[Akira doing as he's told drops straight south, and the somewhat damp air of the fake Metaverse isn't as unpleasant as Akechi expected it to be when his dick jumps a little in interest. He leans more fully against the wall as Akira stands, to keep contact from it, and purrs into the kiss, threading his clawed hand into Akira's nape.] You're a clever bastard, surprise me.

[Akechi isn't quite sure what he wants, if he's honest. He just knows it's Wrong to see Akira on his knees in front of him, in that moment-- it might be less wrong, another time, but for now, he wants him standing. He would probably love nothing more than to be lifted off the ground as he was before and impaled on what he knows Akira is hiding in dark pants, but he has the sense to know that's not feasible, currently. His hand mirrors Joker's, trailing palm-flat down the plane of his front, tilting his head.] You are a large percentage overdressed, however.

Then do something about it. [ Akira offers, letting the challenge drop between them even as he palms down Akechi's stomach to grab his dick. Akira hasn't taken his gloves off, so it's an interesting sensation, to be palming that hot heat and feel it as such a reduced sensation.

God, but he's wanted to do this for so long, and this probably isn't the way they should be doing it in the slightest but he doesn't care, because he can feel the way Akechi's dick is hard and heavy in his hands and feel how much Akechi wants this, too.

It's absolutely addictive. ]

[He draws in a sharp breath, his eyes closing and his head dropping backward as he exhales raggedly when Akira wastes no time in taking hold of him. The gloves make it better, for Akechi personally, the texture of leather just familiar enough to be disorienting when the contact isn't from his own hand. He hadn't done any personal handling of himself often, mind, but nearly every time he had he'd kept his gloves on and replaced them soon after. The challenge rings clear in his mind despite his immediate and subconscious reaction to the hand between them, and he drums his clawed fingers against Akira's scalp again before withdrawing them, carefully splaying them against his collar bones and spreading outward to push his coat off his shoulders.]

How many times have you thought about this situation, Joker? Don't be shy, I've no doubt you have.

[ Akira shrugs the coat off, swapping his grip from hand to hand as he does. He seems unwilling to relinquish his grip on Akechi, letting his hand move in a slow, steady stroke as his coat falls to the floor. The sleeveless vest really only serves to emphasize his arm muscles; there's carefully corded tension in him as he shifts his weight, leans into those clawed fingers just enough to seem dangerous. ]

A thousand different times and a thousand different ways. I don't get tired of thinking about you. [ Which might be cloyingly romantic if Akira didn't have a grip on Akechi's dick already. ]

How sweet. [He mumbles, and his voice is all throat, gummed up in his diaphragm even after so little contact. He trails his fingers down Akira's ribs, drumming the claws as he goes and keeping his head set back against the wall, making the way his hips cant into Akira's hand press him forward from where it's placed. He hums, then, shifting his feet so he can hook one ankle behind Joker's again, simultaneously jutting his hips forward and pulling him closer as his hands come to rest on his hips, thumbs tracing inward toward the series of buttons keeping his pants fastened to him.]

[He considers undoing them normally for a moment, but throws that aside when a seam of Akira's glove drags against the too-sensitive skin of his dick, slashing his thumb downward almost unintentionally with a harsh exhale.]

Edited 2021-04-17 05:10 (UTC)

[ Should Akira be alarmed at having Akechi's claws twitching so close to his dick? Probably. Is it actually just arousing? Yeah, because Akira's sense of perspective and danger have been broken for at least a year, if not his entire life.

Akira can't easily burrow his face into Akechi's neck with the high collar of his outfit, so he leans up, instead, bites down at the lobe of Akechi's ear instead. He starts to move his hand properly, and he has no idea what kind of rhythm Akechi prefers in this kind of thing but it doesn't really matter when everything else about this encounter has been hard and frantic and too-fast. ]

[It's hard to say if he's taking Akira's claim they would have to be quiet seriously or if Akechi is just not especially vocal in this (hint: it's absolutely the former), but he does well to not make much sound outside of guttural exhales and short barks of sound that border on whimpers. Akira latching onto his earlobe prompts him to turn his head and promote the gesture, with the collar piece of his outfit preventing much else, and a thin, high whine escapes him.]

[Rhythm and pace mean little to him, when he's this far gone, and he doesn't get much farther with his transgressions against Joker's pants in favor of taking his hips and just holding on. He's not done nearly enough of this for this to be something he anticipates taking much time, but-- it's probably better, in their circumstances, to be quick.]

[Fuel to the fire, however, is that once he's holding onto Akira's hips, short sounds start to punch their way out of his chest, and most of them sound suspiciously like the syllables of Akira's name.]

[ Akira wants to hear those noises more than anything, but he's also aware of the shadows on the edge of his periphery, his mind unable to fully tune the danger out even in the wake of finally getting to jerk Akechi off. So Akira compensates: he loves the little noises, punched out and gutted, but he doesn't want them to get too loud, so he reaches up, presses two of his fingers into Akechi's mouth, the leather creaking as he does so. ]

This is better than anything I thought about. [ Is it a compliment? It sure sounds like one, dark and heavy in Akira's voice, lower than it usually would be as it's practically whispered into Akechi's ear. Akira isn't fully free from his pants, but it doesn't stop him from bucking his hips up into Akechi. It's so good. It's so much. ]

[He's drowning, he thinks, and he never wants to come up for air. Akira is this great wall in front of him, and he's pressed to the actual wall behind him, and the claustrophobia of it all just ramps up his inability to think outside of the contact, gasping for breath between short sounds. One of his hands moves from Joker's hip back to his shoulder, leaving him grasping him a bit like he's dancing.]

[He's pretty sure he's ruining Akira's gloves, but they'll be fine by cognition the next time they enter this place, just like the suit torn strategically to expose his own body. He clamps his mouth down around them, not enough to hurt, but enough to seal them there while he sucks on them blindly. The fingers aren't clean, he's sure of it, but he can't find it in himself to care as heat pools dangerously in the pit of his stomach. He has the presence of mind to tug on Akira's shoulder, whining faintly around his gloved fingers, but he can't manage much else.]

[ Akechi's outfit means that Akira can't leave the marks where he wants to, can't litter them down Akechi's throat and collarbone, so he leaves red marks under his ear, instead, breaths of hot air and teeth in response to the whine Akechi gives. It's such a small, quiet sound, and Akira wants more of it, wants to feel Akechi shatter underneath his hands and then wants to be the one to put him back together--

There's a vague notion in his mind that this is too much; that they're crossing lines that were never meant to be crossed in this way, but Akira will care about that later. What happens in the MetaVerse stays there, after all. ]

Come on. I've got you. [ In more ways than one, because his hand is going fast enough that if it wasn't for the high quality of the leather and the fact that Akechi was already leaking precum it might have been too much friction -- but Akira is there to hold him up if his knees give out, pin him against the wall until they're both in some sort of control again. ]

[He doesn't want to admit that the permission, however casually it's given, is what pushes him clear over, and he strikes forward to bury his face in Akira's neck and yowl like an alleycat, because he can't watch the mess he makes on Joker's glove.]

[Its entirely possible he pops more seams on his coat from the way he grips his shoulder through it, possible he knicks his skin with his claws, but he whites out entirely with the force of being jerked off in a damp corner of a fake Metaverse by a boy he won't admit he's been in love with for almost a year.]

[As he floats back to earth, he makes a sound not unlike a sob, still clinging and overall shaking, but he's fine-- it's just the gravity of it all making him vibrate out of his own skin.] Akira-- fuck, I can't stand up. [He's clung onto him so it doesn't matter, really, and he knows Joker's got him, but it's he indignance of it.]

[ Akira hasn't come, but he still takes a moment to regain himself, breathing deep into the minimally exposed parts of Akechi's neck. He strokes him through it, feels Akechi shaking and shifts so he has a good grip on Akechi's waist with his other hand. He's pretty sure, based on the sharp pinpricks of heat in his back, that Akechi's claws have broken the skin -- but he doesn't mind. If anything, it only spurs him on more; makes it harder for him to try and come down, to regain some imitation of sense. ]

I've still got you. [ Akira leans in, lets Akechi's weight rest a little more thoroughly onto him and the wall -- he understands the indignity of it, but he tries to help diminish it by virtue of letting his knee knock against Akechi's, by mouthing hot across the skin under Akechi's ear. ]

[He allows it-- mostly because he couldn't change it if he tried, gasping and grounding himself on Joker's stability. It takes him a bit, probably several minutes of ragged breathing and leaving his shame to cool between them, until he throws his weight backward against the wall again and fixes him with a lidded stare.]

Let go, I have a task to accomplish.

Edited 2021-04-17 21:19 (UTC)

are you hurting the one you love?

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