stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

I'm about to say something that's going to piss you off. [ Akira informs him of this, dryly, mostly because Akechi is straddling him and Akira is at a deep disadvantage here for a lot of reasons. ]

But there's this thing where revenge is toxic, so we try not to focus on that.

Suggesting that isn't every time you open your mouth, [He returns just as dryly, rolling his eyes and waiting for Akira to say his irritating statement anyway.]

[It... doesn't actually piss him off as much as he expected it to, more of feels a bit like a second sock to his gut like Akira had done the previous evening. Unconsciously, he brings a hand to the bruise there and presses on it.] Yet you still called me a teammate. Hypocritical, isn't it?

Is it? [ Akira looks a little confused by the idea. ]

We genuinely wanted to be your teammate, you know. We weren't tricking you for revenge or anything.

The entire basis of why I used the Metaverse from Day One was for revenge, Kurusu. That is the hypocrisy in you calling me a teammate while stating you avoid revenge. [He presses his hand into his stomach a little harder.]

In the end, you still fought alongside us to save the world. [ Akira's smile is a little thin, but he reaches up, puts his hand over Akechi's. He of all people understands how pain can be grounding, and he thinks this kind might be better than most, given that Akira was the one who delivered it. ]

It wasn't about revenge, then.

[His expression twists up, but he relishes the deep-seated ache from the bruise.] It still was, [He gasps it, a little, only moving his hand to swat Akira's aside and bunch it into a fist, release it, and bunch it back up a few times.] It still was, for me. I don't really expect you to understand that.

Was it? [ Akira asks, gently. ] I thought it was trying to prove that you couldn't be controlled like that anymore. I guess that's a kind of revenge. [ And now Akechi is trying to get revenge on himself, through pain and denial and all sorts of things that Akira wants to free him from.

It's not that easy, Akira supposes. Akechi's always had something to be furiously focused on. ]

Stop.

[It's all he says for a moment, wheezed, and he takes a few careful breaths before he looks at Akira, head ducked forward so his chin is against his collarbone and only his eyes are raised enough to look at him.] Just... stop. You're deflecting, and now I'm deflecting, I am too tired for this.

We're both a minefield of issues we haven't dealt with. [ A beat, and then: ]

Want to make out instead? [ Akira offers, and it's the kind of offer where he can deflect off if Akechi says no but also he's entirely serious and thinks it would be, frankly, a great distraction for both of them. ]

[He groans, a sound that is frankly obscene under these particular circumstances, dropping his head backward to stare at the ceiling for a moment at that first mention.]

[...and then Akira has to go and make it horny, and he exhales on a scoff, angling his spine so his shoulders shunt his head back forward. He fixes Akira with a scrutinizing frown for a moment, and their argument from the night before runs viciously through his mind again.] I'll make a deal with you, [He says, slowly stretching forward and lounging across Akira's front, splaying his hands flat where his collarbones meet and resting his chin atop them.] I kiss you, and in an hour we contact Sakura so I can go wash my things. [It has to benefit him, somehow, or he can't justify allowing the pleasantry. Because clearly, he isn't allowed to just want to make out.]

[ Akira allows his hands to wander a little, pressing up the sides of Akechi's waist and flattening out onto the plane of his lower back like he can minimize the already nonexistent space between them. ]

Sure. That's fair. [ Which is, in part, because Akira thinks they both know that was going to happen anyway -- but if Akechi needs an excuse for it, then Akira will give him one for awhile longer. It's still progress.

Then Akira carefully lets himself drown out all the dull noise in his head by reaching out to pull Akechi towards him so they can, in fact, make out. ]

[His eyes fall about half-closed at the way Akira's hands smooth out over his back-- it feels nice, to the point that he eventually fully closes his eyes, making a wordless sound as Akira pulls him forward.]

[He likes kissing, he's finding. It's a simple thing, and it's a little bit invasive, depending on how vigorous they get with it, but it's pleasant in that it's constant skin-on-skin contact, which incurs that strangely pleasant "charging" sensation at an accelerated rate. He considers taking his time and making Akira work for the things he's already learned he likes about it, but doesn't bother in the end, going pretty quickly from their lips sealed to one another's to swiping his tongue along Akira's lower lip.]

[ Akira's content to let Akechi set the pace, for the moment, but as soon as Akechi swipes his tongue Akira opens his mouth. He can't help it; it's automatic. He knows he could make out with Akechi for hours, at this point, knows he'll do it even if the end result is that they're not actually going to have sex. It's fine because it's enough, for the moment, but Akira is always, always willing to give more.

Maybe that's why Akechi is so reluctant to take it.

Akechi still tastes faintly of coffee, and it's as addictive as the substance itself. Maybe more, Akira thinks. He slips his hands just underneath the hem of the hoodie Akechi's been wearing, his fingers trailing across the bare skin there. It's electrifying even for him, without the influx of energy Akechi feels -- it's still the thrill of Akechi's skin, of being able to touch him, being able to feel him. ]

[It would definitely stand to reason that that is a lot of why Akechi is so reluctant to take it. When Akira is so forthcoming with affection and contact, he's sure there's something to designate he's not allowed to take it. Something that will make it a problem, later on.]

[But for the moment, he's the one taking-- or maybe giving? --so it's fine. He sucks in a startled gasp when Akira's hands slip under the hem of the hoodie, but hardly denies or dissuades the gesture. Instead, he bites Akira's lower lip gently and lays a bit more fully against Akira's ribs so his fingers can wander wherever else they want, within reason.]

[ Akira keeps his hands above the waist, at least; he lets them explore up, two searing planes of heat as they slide up, rucking up the hoodie and exposing Akechi's back to the chill of the attic in contrast with the warmth of his hands. It's nice, to have Akechi's skin under him; he wishes he could grab his ass, but he thinks that's a little much for both of them right now. (Primarily, Akira is concerned with not completely getting hard from making out, which is.

Hm.

Hard.)

Instead, Akira gives a quiet, breathy noise when Akechi bites his lip, deepening the kiss as much as he can. There's a voice in his head that tells him he shouldn't send Akechi out to do laundry with kiss-swollen lips, but there's a much more feral desire in him that doesn't care. ]

[Lol hard.]

[By all means, Akira, grab his ass. Maybe you'll both get hard and it'll be awkward and traumatizing. Though for what it's worth he is enjoying the sensation of Akira's hands scorching veritable marks across his skin as he exposes it to the cool air of the attic-- it's cold in here and he hates that. He will absolutely go to do laundry with kiss-swollen lips, no worries-- if the cat has anything to say he'll just call him a cat and it'll be done.]

[ Akira does finally let his hands go lower. One of them, anyway; he shifts it down to Akechi's hip to drag him even closer, even higher. Akira isn't exactly hard, but the motion is that instinctive sort of one that's meant to jostle them together, to feel friction even between their layers of clothing.

He's only half aware he's doing it, honestly, because he's busy trying to remember to breathe when his lips are tangled up in Akechi's. ]

[He isn't sure what Akira is doing until their hips brush together, and he starts, jolting their lips apart to glance between them, then at Akira's hand, then to his face, wide-eyed and spooked.] ...were you intending more than mouths be involved in this? [It's a tentative question, but a curious one all the same.]

[ Akira considers stating the obvious -- that mouths can do a lot more than they are right now -- but he swallows the words down, because when it comes to actual intimacy Akechi is like a terrified rabbit three seconds away from dying of heart attack. ]

Sorry. [ Akira lets his hand leave Akechi's hip to drift up to his face, instead, dragging his thumb across Akechi's jawline and inspecting his lips. ]

It's a little automatic. Touching you always feels nice.

[His lower lip is already a little red, but not quite swollen, and he mostly just looks baffled that Akira is apologizing, and then a little annoyed.] So I've gathered, but I didn't expect the... [He gestures more with his chin and looking over his shoulder at his own hip than anything else, and then settles, laying his head on Akira's shoulder.]

...I expected to hate the fact that I have to touch you so much a lot more than I do.

[ Akira's smile is a little lopsided, but he slips his hand back up to splay across Akechi's back again, tracing small circles on the base of his spine. ]

I want it to feel good when I touch you. For both of us, I mean. [ Even when it hurts, because he, of all people, understands that the pleasure/pain receptors in both of them are -- misfiring, as a general rule. ]

It's just that we're both terrible at talking about things, so it's easier to show you like this. [ To show Akechi how much he wants him. ]

Are you being intentionally suggestive with that statement, or am I just still stuck on the fact that you just dry-humped me from below? [His tone is dry, but not venomous, and he's definitely still settled against him, eyes closing over at the resumed focus on his spine. He hums, then, affirmatively, opening his eyes to look up at him, a touch glazed.]

...I think it's less you're terrible about talking about it and I'm terrible at listening. You've done your part, on the front of... this, I guess. [He flicks his wrist idly to gesture between them, "this" meaning whatever not-dating status they've entered.]

So. I was thinking. [ Akira says, and then drags his fingers up Akechi's spine carefully. ]

Since you're bad at talking, but you want me to push you -- and I want to be able to push you -- I think we should have something you can do. So.

[ Akira pulls his fingers up, then presses one of them down, deliberately, on the notch of Akechi's spine. ] "Keep going." [ He pushes a second down. ] "Slow down". [ And then, a third. ] "Stop".

[It's always a little unsettling when Akira announces he's thinking.]

[This... this is a particularly unsettling thought that he's sharing. Akechi's spine straightens immediately at the single finger pressed to the notch of one of his vertebrae, startled and pulling taut like a puppet on a string, and doesn't relax at the second or third finger, just blinks owlishly at nothing. One for keep going, two for slow down, three for stop. Does he mean one tap, two taps, three taps, or the number of fingers? The specifics of keep going, slow down and stop send a startled thrill down to his toes from where Akira's fingers press against his spine, and he slowly pans his eyes over to look at him without shifting his head much.] What are you insinuating?

[ Akira presses down, his whole hand flat. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't have to. ]

You want me to hurt you, sometimes. You want to be hurt. And... [ Akira takes a deep breath, because this kind of honesty is the kind that anyone else might reject him for. The kinds of things he likes aren't the kinds of things you talk about in polite company. ]

I like it. When I can see a bruise I put on your skin, or see you pressing on a mark I left. But I don't want to hurt you more than either of us are prepared for. I don't want to move fast enough to injure either of us.

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