stealhearted | are you hurting the one you love?

I know. If it's more than three, I'll assume it's unconscious. [ Akechi tapped their hands when they were holding them yesterday, after all -- Akira thinks he can tell the difference between things like that. He hopes he can, at least. ]

But I'm trusting you. [ Akira says it with a little more weight to it, because he's trusting Akechi with Akechi, which is a far more terrifying prospect. ]

If you let me go too far, I'll be upset afterwards. I want you to be able to stop me.

[He looks a bit faraway again, but nods.] Understand that you're trusting me when I am not always aware of what is "how far", even for myself.

[Which is to say, he'll probably oblige him? But also he might not.]

I know. We're going... we're both going to misjudge things, in the beginning. [ Akira knows it's going to be hard, at first; he thinks there's going to be a lot of hurt feelings and getting stuck in their own heads for awhile.

But it's a start. ]

But I want you more than I've ever wanted anything before.

[It's the last bit that makes him squirm, pressing down against him to make pain throw little sparks into the corners of his vision. It also reads a bit like he's grinding down on him.] ...you have horrible taste.

[ There's a moment where Akira's breathing stutters and he inhales sharply, his hand flattening out -- to keep Akechi where he is? To keep him from moving? To press him further forward? It's hard to say. ]

Umeboshi. [ Akira offers, again, and then drags Akechi back up to kiss him again. Their hour isn't up and Akira intends to make the most of it, and there's no hesitation or build-up this time, his tongue seeking out Akechi's before he can even think about it. ]

[Akechi's breath does similar before it's stolen by Akira's mouth, and he meets him with a similar fervor, though possibly more curious than as lethally hungry as Akira. He bites Akira's lower lip again and scoffs into his mouth once he's figured out why he just named a food prior to licking into his mouth like a starving animal, but he doesn't let it distract him.]

[ Akira feels like he could devour Akechi if he isn't careful. If they aren't both careful. But Akechi said to push him; there's a system in place--

Akira is absolutely not going to try and have sex with Akechi for the first time when Leblanc is open downstairs, but god if he doesn't want to engage in some particularly inappropriate handsy behavior. He stays where they are for a moment, and then, after a contemplation that's shortened by the feeling of Akechi's lips on his --

He flips them, hard enough to take the breath out of both of their lungs. He cascades them over until he's bracketing Akechi on the bed, and he breaks the kiss but only so he can breathe into Akechi's neck, pressing in with lips and teeth while his hand finds the bruise he'd left on Akechi's stomach. ]

[He feels a bit like his head is threaded onto his body like a screw, and it's loose and spinning looser by the second. Akira's suggestion of what amounts to a safe word but with action keeps him keyed up and anxious for what he'll do next--]

[--and when the world suddenly flips and he's on his back, at first all he can do is wheeze because the air is knocked clear from his lungs. He thinks he may have shouted briefly, but isn't sure, because all he knows right now is Akira, all five senses flooded by him. When the kiss is broken he can only try to draw in more air than his shocked lungs will allow, until Akira is pressed to his neck with his mouth, and a hand puts pressure on the bruise on his stomach.]

[He gasps then, a sharp intake of breath that makes his lungs burn alongside the harsher burn bleeding outward from Akira's hand, radiating and making his fingertips go numb. It's a lot, but he can't tell if it's too much, so when he reaches out with one hand he just finds the sleeve of Akira's shirt and holds onto it, making a thin, high sound, mindful of his volume for the man downstairs trying to run a cafe.]

[ Akira waits when he feels the fingers on his shirt, but there's no tapping, just that desperate clinging accompanied by the sound of Akechi keening, too high and too much and everything all at once. It's overwhelming and addictive at the same time, and Akira gives them both a chance to breathe for a few seconds before he starts again, dragging his lips across Akechi's neck. He reaches up, presses his other hand against Akechi's mouth -- he loves hearing every noise he makes but not now when getting caught is a quiet thrill and a dull terror in equal parts. Once that's accomplished, he leans in to sink his teeth onto Akechi's collarbone. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to raise a welt to the surface, to leave a mark even after their hour is up.

He doesn't move his legs, save to bracket Akechi's like he's trapping him there -- he isn't, but he thinks the effect is better, and it's keeping him from acting on his desire to slip a knee between Akechi's thighs.

Too much, too fast, and not enough all at once. ]

[He considers biting Akira's hand when it comes up to cover his mouth, but it's functional so he leaves it be. He's thankful for it a moment later when the bite to his collarbone makes him squirm and another pitchy sound to burst forth from his throat, and he pulls on the sleeve of Akira's shirt. Still no tapping, just holding, just pulling, and a dull voice in the back of his head wonders if he should tap twice to tell him to keep going or if Akira is smart enough to get the picture.]

[He wants to laugh, a little, because he employed the tapping system under the pretense of Akechi not being able to speak, only to cover his mouth and render him unable. Maybe it was a test of the trust he claimed, trusting Akechi to tap him in place of using his voice while he was still lucid enough to use it.]

[ Akira is hyperaware of Akechi's grip, keeping it in mind and making sure it doesn't transition to tapping. He's certain that it will, because Akira thinks he's going to force it. It depends on which one of them gives first, but the sheer want of the situation is building in Akira's chest, dropping low heat into his stomach, and he feels like he doesn't want to hold back.

He feels like he doesn't have to hold back, save for the fact that Leblanc is open downstairs, the muted rumble of a coffee grinder going off periodically as Sojiro serves himself an IV drip of caffeine.

So Akira doesn't stop.

He presses his lips to the minor wound he's just made, worrying at the spot, making it more pronounced without actually adding to any of the pain of it. His fingers loosen on Akechi's mouth, thumb tracing across Akechi's bottom lip almost absently. ]

[Akira's fussing over the welt on his skin from his mouth makes Akechi roll his eyes just barely, growling behind Akira's hand just as he loosens his grip across his jaw and thumbs at his lip, instead.]

It doesn't count as matching if we are both conscious for my bruises, [His voice is a breathy disaster, but dropped low in his chest anyway, quiet and rumbling. He means, of course, that Akira could trail marks across his throat if he wanted, akin to the hand marks slowly purpling on Akira's throat. He's not sure if Akira would have wanted him to consent to that, for as bizarrely fussed as he is about making sure Akechi isn't being forced into anything.]

[To prove a point, he impatiently taps once against Akira's arm, nipping at the tip of his thumb. Keep going, you thirsty fool.]

Edited 2021-04-09 23:52 (UTC)

[ Akira groans at that, because he doesn't need the encouragement but it's a lot to think about. Akechi's already under him, flushed and breathy, and it's already ticking off so many things that Akira has wanted but it isn't nearly enough.

So Akira does, presses a kiss to Akechi's neck before he bites, before he leaves marks that trail underneath where the hoodie might hide unless it shifts just right. They both have concealer now, but Akira thinks that neither of them particularly want to conceal this anymore, and the idea of other people seeing makes his stomach twist into a hot knot that he knows he won't be able to undo.

It's nice to know that if he bites too hard -- and he does, here and there -- that Akechi likes it. And if Akira's knee really does start to press up in between Akechi's thighs, well. ]

[He's dully impressed with himself for letting this happen. Because he does like it-- the kisses that morph into bites, the way he can feel him pulling blood toward the surface so they bruise a deep purplish burgundy, the way he could only hide them completely with very precise concealer or a scarf. A particular bite has him shifting unconsciously, writhing on the futon beneath Akira and exhaling in a rush of air that he has to consciously keep sound out of. The hand not braced on Akira's arm finds and kneads at the sheets, grasping and pulling for some sort of constant motion.]

[Akira's knee draws a gasp out of him and he goes tense and still, uncertain and letting his heartbeat flood his ears. He allowed for this, he started this by challenging Akira with a time limit. Akira said he was trusting him to stop if he needed, but does he, really? If he instigated, doesn't that mean he really just wants it after all?]

[ Akira hears the gasp -- and then feels the way Akechi tenses underneath him. He reaches out, slips his fingers into Akechi's palm, disguises the way he checks his racing pulse by holding his hand instead, and then exhales, slowly, pressing open-mouthed kisses along all the marks he's left across Akechi's neck.

Then he pushes himself up, slightly, looks down at Akechi with a face that's flushed and still --

concerned. ]

You're going somewhere without me again. [ Not literally. But he can tell when Akechi is stuck in a thinking loop. ]

[His breathing screws up a little when Akira takes his hand-- checks his pulse, he realizes when he looks down at him with that concerned look to him. His heartbeat is loud enough in his head he almost doesn't hear him, and he curls inward, pulling his knees toward his chest and trying to fold up on his side. Akira might be in the way, but he tries anyway.]

I'm-- right here. I'm here. [He says it like he's mad that he isn't. Mad that Akira noticed before he did. He still isn't tapping him.]

[ Akira leans back in. He lets Akechi curl, slightly, but moves so he's curling into Akira; when Akira moves, it's to slide his hand back into Akechi's hair, to hold onto him. He kisses him again, but it's lingering and sweet, that heat melting into something else entirely as Akira slowly manages to rebalance himself.

It's only once he feels like he has his head on a little stronger that he finally looks back at Akechi. ]

We should stop anyway. The cafe is still open.

[Akechi, meanwhile, seems to get further away from his head while Akira secures his own. He curls into Akira when that's the presented option, wilts into the kiss as it's poured into him like honey, and scoffs softly when Akira is the one to decide they stop.]

It's not fair to you that I keep doing this, [He hisses, folded into an angry coil as much on his side as Akira will allow, his voice thin and raked over gravel.]

Why? [ Akira asks it very simply, shifting to sit back up against the wall and guide Akechi closer. He's not mad about it, even if he's a little pent up, a little frustrated.

But the thing is that to Akira, sex with Akechi is going to be worthwhile if they can both enjoy it. His happiness isn't anymore important than Akechi's -- they're in it together now, even if Akechi is still hedging his bets, waiting for the other shoe to drop. ]

Because you want it so badly, and I keep going along with it like I want it and then getting cold feet-- [He swats at him, sitting up on his own but staying curled inward, sitting on his knees with his hands balled into fists in the sheets and his head ducked forward so his hair falls around his face.]

[He stays that way a while, shoulders heaving with the labored way he breathes-- in, out, in, out, like he has to consciously expand and contract his lungs. It's possible he does. ] I'm-- dead, effectively, what does it matter what I want or don't, anyway? If I could just. Be a little more like you, give as much of myself to the people around me like you do--

You're alive. [ Akira says it with a careful sense of finality, like Akechi is alive and that's the end of it: there's a sense there that Akira would move heaven and earth to have Akechi stay alive, like he'd go back up to fight God himself and win if it meant keeping him.

He's not giving him up again. ]

It's okay to go slow. You're not... You don't usually get things that you want, do you? But I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to keep wanting you, and wanting you to want me, even after we have sex, or in ten years, or if you wake up choking me once in awhile.

Stop being so good to me.

[He drops his head again, and then further, laying on his stomach and covering his head with his arms. He's so terrified of the magnitude of Akira's care, the ferocity of it, the fact that he can't see the end of it. He could always visualize how long he had with anything good in his life, before, like a string tied to a door handle and each day that was good or okay he was walking along it, feeding the string around the mechanism of a yo-yo. With Akira... it's just a string. There's no end to it, there's no door, it's just kilometres of string, tied to the end of his pinky and then to Akira's, but it stretches endlessly between them.]

I can't. [ That's one thing Akira isn't willing to do. He can be cruel, sometimes, he can be rough and hurt Akechi, but he can't hurt him in ways he can't heal, can't push him in the ways that other people might.

To Akira, Akechi is a precious thing. He's not fragile, exactly; he can handle it, he can handle anything.

Akira doesn't want him to have to. ]

I love you.

[He knows he's being unreasonable-- when isn't he, really. But it's so much clearer, when Akira is so steadfast and calm, he can't stop being good to him, he loves him. Like it makes all the sense in the world, like it's the easiest thing to understand. And maybe it is, for anyone who isn't Akechi, but if he's the only one who can't understand it why in the world is he the on on the receiving end of it.]

Your affections are truly, wholly and completely wasted on me, you realize. [His voice is steady, but the rest of him is not, one hand kneading into his hair and pulling while the other sits lax and his shoulders shake like he's cold.]

They're not. [ Akira leans in, presses his forehead against Akechi's and puts his hand over the one in his hair, slowly urging it to relax. ]

If it didn't mean anything, you wouldn't be upset by it.

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this icon sort of works,

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