stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

[ Akira is the picture of innocence when he offers: ] Then I'll leave marks on your neck. [ Which isn't as innocent as it sounds, both because he's pretty sure he'd strangle Akechi if Akechi asked and also because he already has a weird, possessive sort of thrum everytime he sees the bruise on Akechi's cheek. He doesn't even want to know what the bruise on his stomach looks like (he does) because it's already taking his power not to press on it until Akechi lets out one of those ragged, wet gasps, until he's leaning into it instead of away and--

Wow, it's sure bright outside! ]

Oh, maybe it's getting warmer out.

[Akechi doesn't even stop in his irritated pursuing of Akira to say hello again to Sojiro, or goodbye as he follows right on his heels, scowling.]

[If he had any idea what Akira was thinking, he'd probably not step right into his personal bubble, nearly on his feet, snapping his jaw shut at the end of his statement.] I'd dare you, but you might just do it on the street, and we all know you're trying to keep the visage of a good upstanding citizen, here.

[ Hey, Akechi, have you ever experienced the phenomenon known as "kabedon"? Because Akira is going to whirl around, very deliberately -- maybe a little theatrically -- and then crowd Akechi back against the brick next to Leblanc, letting his hand hit the wall. It's not so much a "don" as it is an intense pressure, and he doesn't make any effort into toning it down.

Akira realizes he forgot his glasses again. Huh. ]

If you want me to, you just have to ask. [ There's a deep ferocity that's kept hidden, most days, behind his glasses and his uniform and the assumptions that people usually make about him, but this Akira is the one that wanted to ruin Akechi; this Akira is the one that wants to be ruined. ]

I thought I'd made it clear that I was always interested. [ He's the one waiting on Akechi -- and he doesn't mind that, doesn't mind it at all, really, but Akechi can't then turn around and pretend like Akira is waiting for any other reason.

He'd splay them both out on the futon so loudly it didn't matter if Leblanc was closed or not for how much volume he'd want Akechi to get, if it was up to him. ]

[He absolutely Has Not, so when Akira pivots and doesn't so much pin him to the wall as leans against it with him between himself and the brick, Akechi can't quite keep himself from the startled gasp and the way he tries to backpedal to the point where his back is pressed flat to the bricks behind him. It doesn't get any better, either, when Akira practically smolders at him like a flame, but he does well enough to keep his shoulders squared rather than wilt at the attention.]

[He keeps his gaze, and even if for a split second he looks frightened in a way that is absolutely thrilled he just quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest neatly.] Unlike some people, I was focused on tasks at hand that didn't involve "doing" the people I was cohorting with.

[But then he does duck away, though it's more of a (surprisingly graceful, considering his lack of sleep) sidestep that has him fold partially horizontal at the hips before, arms still crossed, he stamps his way down the side street toward the convenience store they went to for his concealer.] Come on, didn't you say you wanted to get this done before the shops were busy? You must be embarrassed by how stupid you look in that scarf, after all. [He's speaking a little louder and a little ruder than is strictly necessary, mostly to hide the aggressive scarlet flush that creeps up his neck at Akira's sudden and very pointed advance.]

[If Akira had been making it clear he was interested, Akechi hadn't noticed until very recently. He supposed he always took Akira's behavior with a grain of salt-- he was always lying, himself, so it suited to assume everyone else was doing the same. But thinking back on it, Akira... had always been a bit of a flirt, hadn't he? A slight tremor pulls his shoulders taut at the idea.]

The only one I was focused on was you. [ Well -- in the way that they're discussing, at any rate. He's had sex, he's fucked around, and before the first time he met Akechi maybe he thought about finding someone cute in Tokyo to settle down with who wouldn't believe the rumors about him.

Which was sort of accurate, save that he thought he'd find someone considerably more domestic and -- now that he's used to Akechi -- boring. Akira reaches up, pulls just light enough at the scarf that one of the bruises can be made out. With everything else, it looks like it really could just be a hickey from an overly enthusiastic lover. ]

I'm not embarrassed of any of the marks you've given me. Don't mistake discretion for your sake for anything else. [ Akira is heated, but not because he's angry -- he's heated because he wants to convey it to Akechi, to drill it in as best he can that he wants him. He's kind to Akechi, he fusses over Akechi, and he absolutely wants to bend Akechi in half and fuck him until he begs, and he doesn't feel like any of these thoughts are incongruous with the others.

Akira reaches out again, hovers a hand at Akechi's stomach, the pressure just light enough to be felt through the hoodie. ]

You just have to ask. [ Which is a promise, of sorts. He'd warned Akechi that he would punch him last time and Akechi had egged him on, and so he'd done it; he thinks that kind of thing must be hard for Akechi, must be hard to talk about, to want.

But god, Akira wants Akechi to want it, wants Akechi to understand even a fraction of what Akira feels all the time.

He pushes away, regardless, his hand lingering a little too hard on Akechi's stomach. ]

You're right, though. We should beat the morning rush.

[Fuck you very much, Akira Kurusu.]

[Or, moreover, get fucked but have fun waiting, because the pressure to his stomach by Akira's hand, however light, draws another startled gasp out of him that as pressure is applied and maintained has him pinching inward, a faint but absolutely visible twist to his features that is hardly entirely pained, from the way a sound ekes out of his throat like smoke from a cigarette not stamped out completely. He sets his jaw before he slinks out from under him, biting his lower lip when he's turned away from Akira and trying to figure out what the fuck the squirming behind the bruise and lower means, specifically.]

[He has a pretty good idea, overall, but he absolutely does not want to entertain the thought.] You'd enjoy me asking too much.

[ The gasp -- the way Akechi squirms just enough, stomach fluttering underneath Akira's touch -- goes straight to Akira's dick, and so he takes a second to breathe, to tense the muscles in his thighs until there's no tell tale signs of anything untoward about him at all.

But fuck is he going to spend time in the bathroom when it's finally nighttime; he doesn't think he's been this pent up in years. ]

It's supposed to be enjoyable for both of us.

It's presumptuous of you to even assume I would want to establish that sort of relationship with you, [He says it clinically, but with an absolute edge of venom, because he's embarrassed so it's easiest to lash out to hide that.] And even moreso when I've only been back in your life for three days.

[But he can't deny or ignore the way the imprint of Akira's hand against the bruise on his stomach burns pleasantly.]

That would hold more weight if you didn't climb into my lap and demand I kiss you yesterday. [ Which -- yeah, they can both pretend it's because of Akechi's unique circumstances, but it's also pretty obvious that there's a whole host of ways to have innocuous physical contact that doesn't result in anyone's awkward erections.

Akira's eyes slide over to Akechi, looking at him with a look that's very reminiscent of Joker's predatory look when he's halfway through a puzzle. ]

I'm intending for you to be in my life for a lot of days. Years, even. Decades.

[His shoulders square off and he stops walking, snarling.] I'll be sure to not lead you astray with such behavior again, then.

[His expression stays defensive, even if he curls inward at the specific Joker-esque look to him, because his insides absolutely squirm over that look.] Right, you did mention that you consider me a hostage, didn't you.

[ Akira stops too. He's not letting Akechi get under his skin again, in part because they're in public and punching him would not go over well with the elderly passerbys. Instead, he just steps closer, grabbing onto Akechi's waist and raising his hand. The bruise on Akechi's jaw is still there, and that's the one that Akira presses down on, his thumb scraping over it gently even as he applies steady pressure. ]

I told you I'd steal your heart. [ It sounds over the top and corny, sure, but it's also extremely accurate. ]

I've never failed before, and I'm not starting now. If you want me to hurt you until you stop thinking, I'll do it. If you want me to push you so that you don't have to be the one to do it, I don't mind. If you want me to kiss you until you can't even think of leaving, I'm happy to do it.

[He starts to take a step backward when Akira steps up to him, but freezes at the hand on his waist and flinches as his hand is raised-- he doesn't expect Akira to hit him, not here, but the response happens anyway, and he's immediately ashamed of it, though he just pulls his shoulders up near his ears and won't look at him.]

So what you're saying is you don't plan to give me a choice in this, either. [He says it to be difficult, knowing they're both aware he's already agreed.]

I already gave you a choice. [ He has, time and time again; he's given Akechi a million outs and Akechi hasn't taken them. Akechi's held onto everything Akira has given him as desperately as that hoodie, and it makes Akira's chest spin. ]

You told me if I loved you, I wouldn't give up or let anything stand in my way. So I'll keep proving it to you as often as you need, in whatever way you need.

[There's a strange blip in his vision that is probably indicative of how much their fight from the night before is going to kick his ass later, but he just closes his eyes as opposed to saying anything about it, taking a half-step forward and dropping his head onto Akira's shoulder.]

You will absolutely have to push me to do things, you know I can't pursue things that are actually good for me.

Okay. [ Akira reaches up, runs his fingers through Akechi's hair. He's pretty sure he'll never get tired of the feeling of it, of being able to touch the strands he'd looked at for months on end. ]

Then I'll push you, and we'll figure out a way for you to tell me if I go too far when I'm pushing you. [ Even if being honest is hard for Akechi, Akira needs to know; he doesn't always notice it himself. ]

You won't, [He says-- too quickly, far too quickly, but he picks his head up and swats Akira's hand out of his hair and steps out of the hand on his waist.] Are we getting you concealer or are you going to wear that terrible scarf all day.

[ Akira smiles faintly, the beginning of the plan forming in his mind--

But that's for later. For now, he falls back into step to start back to the convenience store, which -- at least is not very far, despite their delays. ]

I thought the scarf was neat.

You look like an old man who wears too much cologne and cheats on his wife and uses money he embezzles from others to buy fancy European cars, or something.

[That was needlessly specific, but it's fine. He waves a hand dismissively as he beelines for the cosmetics aisle-- luckily the same clerk from the night Akira bought concealer for Akechi wouldn't be working this early, or they might wonder.] Bring you and your terrible scarf here, I need your wrist.

Oh, I'd definitely be a rich man with a sugar baby who embezzled money for like, yachts. Yachts are cool. [ Akira would be a terrible rich person -- he IS a terrible rich person -- but he obligingly gives Akechi his wrist.

He never did fix his scarf, so there's the hint of bruise underneath that really does just look like he's trying to hide a hickey. He decides to leave it the way it is. It's kind of nice. ]

[He grimaces at the mention of yachts, shaking his head and tugging on Akira's wrist maybe a bit harder than necessary to compare him to all the little photo-swatches.]

Tell your sugar baby to enjoy the embezzled yachts, I will be staying firmly on land and hoping you sink. [He claims two tester sticks, popping them open one-handed and swatching them each on the inside of Akira's wrist, tilting his head and twisting his wrist a few times. He sets the testers back where they go, blending the concealer out with his ring finger and pinky to keep from mixing the shades, picks the lighter of the two, and stands up, releasing Akira's wrist.]

[He's still grimacing slightly when he looks at him, pivots, and walks further down the aisle.]

C'mon, you don't want to enjoy the yachts with me? How will you catch my sordid embezzlement if you don't come on the yacht? [ Akira is... definitely teasing, despite the fact that Akechi seems to be in no mood for it. He can't turn it off, it just happens.

Akira peers down at the foundation shades for a moment, looking bemused. ]

Why are these all named after foods? "Almond" and "cream" and "latte"... that's not what color a latte is...

[He turns slowly with a blank look.] Are you just being vapid, or did you actually forget I died on a ship?

[He waves his hand dismissively.] I'm sure somewhere a latte has been reminiscent enough of that color that someone thought it was a good idea. I've never looked into the specific naming convention of cosmetics, I don't use them that much.

Okay, but that was not a yacht. I'll accept that as fair, however. [ Akira doesn't think he'd be able to handle being in the belly of anything larger than a yacht, actually; an actual ship would make his skin crawl straight off his body.

But he could do a yacht. ]

[A roll of his eyes and he turns away again, meandering down the next aisle. Now that he has his own money, he's dully considering anything he may need. Likely nothing from a konbini, as he seems to decide on halfway down the aisle when he stops looking at the items and heads for the checkout.]

I'm still not getting on your yacht, stolen, fake, or otherwise.

Okay. We'll fly to a private island, instead. You look cute in polo shirts. [ Akira's not seriously discussing any sort of future so much as just -- filling the air. He wants it to be clear that whatever future he has, even if it's a fictional future where he's a corrupt billionaire, he wants Akechi in it.

He's not above some weird roleplay, actually.

Akira takes a step back once they hit the checkout, not because he expects Akechi to pay, but because he imagines Akechi will want to. He has his own money now, and he blames himself for the bruises on Akira's throat -- so it makes sense. ]

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uses this icon to be salacious

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