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“Watch the third step from the top,” Akira said over his shoulder as they headed for his room. “It’s loud.”
Akechi stepped carefully, but it erupted with a loud creak of protest under his foot anyway, making him grimace. “How the hell are you supposed to watch it?” he said, irritated.
Akira shrugged. “Sojiro hates it when I make noise during cafe hours. Learned it out of necessity, I guess.”
It was the first time Akechi had been over in a week, which wasn’t abnormal, but it was unusual that he hadn’t texted Akira back at all until that morning. Their LINE chat had been silent from his end ever since he’d left Leblanc after their hypnotism bet, even when Akira baited him with the offer of having that rematch at Penguin Sniper. He’d finally responded to the suggestion of a Featherman marathon, but it still felt a lot like Akira had fucked up somewhere, although he couldn’t really figure out where. Had Akechi really hated losing the bet that much? He’d seemed normal enough...
“Akira.”
Akira blinked back to the present. “... Sorry, what?”
“Which season would you prefer?” Akechi asked, clutching his box-set.
Truthfully, Akira wasn’t even sure which Featherman series it was. “Whichever one you think is best,” he said.
Predictably, that fed Akechi’s ego, and Akira caught the very edge of a slight smile as he turned around to fuss with Akira’s DVD player. They pulled Akira’s two wooden chairs together and started the season.
And that might have been where it ended, with Akira listening to Akechi’s running Featherman commentary until one or both of them got too tired to continue and Akira unsuccessfully tried to convince Akechi to spend the night – if not for Episode 7, ‘Change of Heart! What could turn a loyal friend to an enemy!?’
Akechi didn’t talk much during that episode, which at first Akira chalked up to getting tired. It was past dark, after all, and he’d rested his head on Akira’s shoulder halfway through the previous episode. But right when the villain cornered one of the Feathermen’s high school friends to presumably hypnotize her, Akira glanced over and saw a weird expression on Akechi’s face out of the corner of his eye.
“You okay?” he asked, as the villain’s induction speech went on.
Akechi blinked slowly, then a few more times, a little faster. “...Yes,” he said, “I'm fine.”
“I cannot resist the gemstone’s power,” the girl onscreen intoned, her expression fading into placid, thoughtless calm. “I must obey. My will is yours, Master.”
“So... how did the real thing hold up, do you think?” Akira asked Akechi, nudging him slightly. Not really serious, just a teasing question... but after being probably-avoided all week, he couldn't help but worry Akechi had secretly despised it or something.
“I thought you were better,” Akechi mumbled in reply.
A second later, he went very still against Akira’s shoulder.
“... Huh?” Akira said, and it wasn't the most intelligent reply, but he was still processing.
Akechi sat bolt upright, and Akira silently mourned the loss. “I just meant that – That your speech was more effective,” he said, just a little frantic. “I mean, this scene is passable for the tone of tokusatsu, but it isn’t very realistic. It wouldn’t work if you actually tried to hypnotize someone like that. That's what I meant.”
“Yeah,” Akira replied, narrowly avoiding picking the option of You’re usually a better liar than this...
“Yeah,” Akechi repeated, and stood up. “Excuse me. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
“...Okay,” Akira said, and watched him go.
Well, at least he had his answer – apparently Akechi hadn’t hated being hypnotized. That still didn’t answer the question of why he might have been avoiding Akira... but at least it was one less mystery.
After a few minutes, Akechi still wasn’t back yet, and Akira was getting a little tired of watching Featherman without him. He stood up, hitting pause on the TV and turning it off so as not to burn anything into the screen, then wandered off to the stairs in search of water – avoiding the third step from the top out of habit.
As he passed the bathroom door, he paused, listening for a moment. He wasn’t trying to be a creep or anything, but Akechi was shuffling around kind of weirdly in there. Was he sick or something?
Well, something that involved a lot of harsh breathing. Sickness was one possibility.
Akira suddenly felt certain that he should not be hearing this. Somewhat dazed, he walked forward and turned to head behind the counter, lifting a mug down from the shelf and turning on the faucet to fill it.
At the sound of creaking pipes and rushing water, the noise from the bathroom stopped immediately.
Akira took a long drink of water, listening. After several seconds, the bathroom sink started to run, then shut off. The door creaked open, and footsteps on the stairs told him Akechi had fled the dining area.
Akira put the cup down in the sink, heading for the staircase. Just as he reached the bottom, Akechi reappeared at the top, wearing his jacket. As soon as he saw Akira, he froze, all but confirming Akira’s suspicions.
“...Where are you going?” Akira asked, trying to sound casual.
“...I’m afraid I need to leave,” Akechi said flatly. “It slipped my mind that I had an essay deadline coming up.”
“Since when do you forget homework?”
Akechi didn’t answer.
Akira sighed. Despite how well he liked to think he knew Akechi, being rivals and all... he really wasn't sure how to go about this without scaring him off. Instead of speaking, he just climbed the stairs.
Akechi watched him warily, but didn’t move to slip past him and leave, which Akira counted as a victory. As he neared the top, Akechi stepped back, leaving a meter or so between them.
“You are too fucking quiet on those stairs,” he said, a little venomously.
“You don’t have an essay due,” Akira said. Akechi’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t answer.
“You know I won't... judge you, right?”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” Akechi spat, bristling, fists clenched at his sides.
“I’m serious! Come on, after everything we’ve been through, would I really hate you, or whatever it is you think, just because you have a kink or something?”
And that was it, really. He knew Akechi didn’t trust easily, if at all, but it was almost a little insulting to think he’d assume their friendship would be affected by whatever this was. Frankly, if trying to kill Akira twice wasn’t enough to break that bond, he wasn’t sure anything ever would be.
But this was Akechi, after all. King of operating off his own assumptions. Maybe he just needed reassuring.
“Look,” Akira said, “do you want to... try it again?”
That finally looked like it caught Akechi off-guard. “...Try what?”
Akira turned to the table to rummage through the empty Mona bag, coming up with the same purple pendant necklace they’d used last week. “Hypnotism. Do you want to?” He held it up so Akechi could see, watching carefully for any reaction – and there, just for a moment, he saw Akechi’s features soften, like he was tempted.
“I...” After a long moment, he looked away. “...Okay.”
Akira hooked one ankle around the leg of the chair at his desk, pulling it over beside the bed to sit on it.
“You can sit on the edge of the bed when you’re ready,” he said. “It’s way more comfortable than the couch.”
Akechi hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly, almost decisively. He shed his jacket, draping it over the banister, and crossed the room.
“...Are you okay with... me telling you to do things?” Akira asked, carefully, as he passed.
“What things?” Akechi said, pausing to stare at him with a look in his eye that said he knew exactly what things.
“What are you comfortable with?”
There was a long pause. The pink tip of Akechi’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost unconsciously.
“...Whatever you want,” he said, and turned away, working at the waistband of his slacks.
“You’re taking your pants off?”
“Won’t they get in the way?” Akechi said, looking back at him with forced nonchalance.
Someday they’d really have to talk about this, instead of speaking in implications, but Akira got the feeling if he pressed for further clarification on anything right now, he might just scare Akechi off.
“...Yeah,” he settled on. “Yeah, they’ll get in the way.”
“Well, then,” Akechi said. He toed off his indoor shoes and pushed his slacks down, stepping out and folding them before tossing them onto the couch. He dropped into a sitting position on the edge of the futon and reached for the top button of his shirt, but Akira stopped him.
“You don’t have to go so fast,” he said. Akechi rushing ahead to prove himself was just like his usual attitude, but it wasn’t going to help him relax right now.
Akechi’s eyes narrowed.
“... I mean, if you’re stalling because you’re nervous...”
“Just start already,” Akechi snapped, but his hands dropped away from his neckline as if burned, and Akira counted it as a very silent victory.
“First of all, just take a deep breath in and out,” he said. Akechi followed him as he demonstrated, and it looked like some of the tension did actually leave his shoulders. Good start.
“This isn’t going to be anything too complicated,” Akira said, lifting the pendant and beginning to swing it again. “You’re just going to watch the pendant, Just like last week. You remember this part, don’t you? How easy it is to just follow it back, and forth, and back, and forth?”
“...yeah,” Akechi murmured, dutifully tracking its movement with his eyes. “...easy.”
Akira was almost surprised by how easily he went with it this time – although he supposed without the threat of competition looming over his head, it would be easier. Still, there was that guarded look in his eyes, the exact one Akira was hoping to get rid of.
“I know you’re nervous about this,” Akira said. “I am, too. But you don’t have to worry with me. I mean, that’s why we’re doing this, right?”
“...Right,” Akechi muttered, brow furrowed.
“Even then, it can be really hard to make your subconscious accept that there’s nothing to worry about,” Akira continued. “If we don’t calm it down, it’s just going to keep sending little bites of adrenaline through your system, and we don’t need that. So I want to try something. They say if you repeat something enough, you’ll start to believe it. I want you to repeat after me: ‘Safe and sleepy.’”
“Akira,” Akechi said, slight irritation coloring his voice.
“Akechi,” Akira echoed back at him. “I said, repeat after me.”
“...Fine. Safe and sleepy,” Akechi said. His expression still said he thought it was stupid, but he didn’t protest further. Good.
“Now repeat, ‘sleepy and submissive.’”
Akechi blinked a few times, and his expression shifted. Akira was pretty sure that was interest. Even better.
“Sleepy and submissive,” he said, more quietly.
“And now, ‘submissive and safe.’”
“Submissive and safe.”
“Good,” Akira praised him. “I want you to say all three of them for me. Safe and sleepy. Sleepy and submissive. Submissive and safe.”
“Safe and sleepy,” Akechi repeated. “Sleepy and submissive. Submissive and safe.”
“Say them again while you keep watching the pendant. Don’t stop until I tell you to.”
“Safe and sleepy... sleepy and submissive... submissive and safe...”
They continued like that for a bit longer, Akira occasionally interjecting with a good or a keep going. As he repeated the same three sentences endlessly, Akechi’s voice grew soft and his eyelids threatened to close, gradually dropping lower and lower. All Akira had to do was keep the pendant swinging, and Akechi talked himself most of the way into trance all on his own.
“Submissive and, and safe,” Akechi murmured, after a few long minutes. “Safe and... sleepy, sleepy and... s-safe... um, submissive... sleepy...” He paused for a moment, brain visibly stalling, and Akira took his chance to slide in.
“Is it getting too hard to remember yet?” he said, smiling. "Are you getting too sleepy to think now?”
“...too sleepy,” Akechi agreed easily, following where he was led.
“That’s alright,” Akira said smoothly, “I can think for you. It’s what you’ve been waiting for this whole time, after all. You just have to agree with what I’m saying, okay?”
“Okay,” Akechi sighed. Akira finally put the pendant down, but he didn’t follow the motion, staring ahead with glassy, half-closed eyes. He probably hadn’t really been seeing anything in front of him for a little bit.
“You don’t want to think anymore,” Akira said. A statement, not a question.
“I don’t want to think anymore...” Akechi’s voice was soft, and a little dreamy.
“You want to sleep.”
“...I want to sleep...”
“Your mind is asleep.”
“...my mind is... asleep...” Akechi repeated vacantly. By now his lashes had fluttered so low that only a sliver of the whites of his eyes still showed, clinging to consciousness with a weak, steadily loosening grip.
“There you go, all the way down into trance now, deep and hypnotized,” Akira murmured. “Just close your eyes and sleep for me. Sink and sleep and drift.”
Akechi let out a tiny little sigh, and his eyes closed completely. His head swayed forward a little, although he stayed barely upright, shoulders loose and tension gone from his face.
“... Holy shit,” Akira mumbled to himself. He shoved the pendant into his pocket, bringing a hand up to push his hair back.
It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d ever hypnotized Akechi, but last week had been different. Last week, when Akechi’s eyes closed and he slumped back on the couch, all Akira had been feeling was relief that he’d managed to win one of their competitions. But now it was all being cast in a different light. He wasn’t just pulling off a neat trick, he was being given control. Control of Akechi. It was... it was fucking dizzying.
Okay, first things first. He had to calm down and think about what he was going to say. How far were they going to go? From the look on Akechi’s face and the way he’d said whatever you want, Akira had a pretty good feeling he’d follow anything he was told right now.
...Should they put something down on the bed, just in case?
He looked around and finally spotted his beach towel poking out from one end of the storage shelf, waiting for summer. Folding it in half and laying it out on the bed was easy enough – hopefully that wasn’t too presumptuous. Anything was better than having to carry a wet futon through Leblanc to get to the laundromat.
Akechi didn’t move from his perch on the edge of the bed, even as Akira leaned around him to pull the towel up a few centimeters. His chest just kept rising and falling in the same slow, steady rhythm. Was he lost in the depths of his own mind, or was he registering everything around him and simply too comfortable and sleepy to move? Maybe Akira could ask him about that later. He returned to his spot on the chair, watching Akechi’s eyelids flicker ever so slightly.
Okay. Showtime.
“Akechi, can you hear me?” he asked, swallowing hard.
There was a pause, and then Akechi murmured sleepily, “...yes...”
“And you’re hypnotized right now, aren’t you?”
“...yes,” Akechi sighed, “I... I’m hypnotized.”
Had Akira imagined the little hitch in his breath when he said that?
He took a shaky little breath of his own, in and out, heart beating faster in his chest. They were on the verge of new territory now. No going back. He wasn’t sure he’d ever want to.
“How do you feel right now?”
“...good,” Akechi replied, softly.
“Good, how?”
“I...” The tiniest little furrow appeared in Akechi’s brow as he drew in a deep breath. “I don't...”
Akira could sense it, the anxieties trying to invade his mind again, pulling him away. “Hey,” he said, leaning closer and injecting more warmth into his tone. “It’s okay. You don't have to say it. You’re safe, remember?”
“Mm.” Akechi’s brow smoothed again, and his head moved in a slow, shallow nod. “Safe... sleepy and, and safe...”
“That’s right. Sleepy and submissive and safe.” Impulsively, Akira reached up and ran his fingers through Akechi's hair, thrilling silently at the way the other boy leaned into his touch before his hand pulled away. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing to be afraid of. It’s just you and me here – and you trust me, don’t you? I mean, you let me hypnotize you, so you must trust me, right?”
“Yes,” Akechi whispered. “I trust you...”
“It’s safe to be honest with me, Akechi,” Akira murmured, voice low and comforting. “Safe to tell me as much as you want to. How do you feel right now, being hypnotized?”
There was a long pause. Finally – finally – Akechi answered.
“I... I feel horny,” he said quietly. “It... makes me wet.”
Akira’s heart pounded like it was trying to burst out of his chest. Sure, they’d all but said it before, it wasn’t like he didn’t already know... but finally hearing the words out loud made him feel like he was going insane. Answer correctly. You have to answer correctly.
“Th-thank you,” he said, voice dry. “Thank you for trusting me.”
A thought hit him then. Should he – should he say–?
“...Good boy.”
And he was rewarded with the sight of a shudder passing through Akechi’s entire body, and the sound of the sweetest little whimper he had ever heard.
He didn’t know when it had happened. Maybe it was gradual. Maybe it was a rush of blood all at once, right at that moment. All Akira knew was the sudden awareness that he’d never been harder in his whole life.
His brain shorted out for a long moment, overwhelmed by the desire to – he didn’t even know what he wanted to do the most. He just wanted to touch Akechi, anywhere, everywhere.
Deep breaths. In. Out. This was really happening.
“Akechi,” Akira said, fighting to keep his voice smooth and confident as his heart pounded. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?”
“...yes,” Akechi murmured.
“Good. Then... I want you to take off your shirt.”
Akechi nodded slowly, and his hands drifted to the collar of his button-up. It took some effort with the trance dulling his fine motor skills, fingers clumsy and slow, but the buttons slid out of their holes easily enough, and the shirt fell away from his arms and into a pile on the covers. Underneath, he was wearing something that at first Akira mistook for a binder – but as Akechi reached slowly for the hem and began to lift, he realized it was just a heavy sports bra, like the kind Ann wore to the gym. From what little he knew about binders, that made sense – fighting in the Metaverse and biking and bouldering and doing whatever else he did while wearing one wouldn’t have been good for his health, so... So...
The bra came up and over Akechi’s head, dropping to the floor by the bed, and every thought in Akira’s mind evaporated as thoroughly as if he was the one hypnotized.
He’d seen Akechi’s chest once before, when they went to the Fuji no Yu sentō together that first September. Akechi had insisted on waiting until just before closing, when everyone else would be gone – that was the first and only time he’d ever mentioned being transgender. (Honestly he’d probably only allowed him to know because Akira was supposed to die pretty soon anyway, now that he thought about it, but here they were.) Akira had seen his body in passing as they showered and got in and out of the bath, but he hadn’t really been looking, since it was clear Akechi was on edge about it and they were there to bathe anyway. Now, however, he was allowed to look all he wanted, and he already wasn’t sure he’d ever want to stop.
Akechi’s tits were pert and soft-looking, A-cups at most, small enough to be hidden by the tight bra he’d been wearing. They’d probably fit easily in Akira’s hands, and fuck, did he want to test that theory. He wanted to touch them. He wanted to suck on them. Badly.
“Akechi, is... is it okay to touch your chest?” He had to swallow. “You can – you can tell me no if you don’t want it. You’re still a good boy.”
Akechi’s eyelashes fluttered and he made a slight whimpering sound. “Yes,” he whispered. “...touch me...”
That was all Akira needed to hear. He shoved down his own sleep pants and stepped out of them, leaving them behind on the floor as he sat down on the bed behind Akechi – then shucked off his t-shirt as well for good measure. “Here, lean back on me,” he murmured, guiding Akechi by the shoulders.
Akechi went easily. His head settled lightly on Akira’s shoulder, and his back pressed against his chest, tension leaving his body now that he didn't have to sit up anymore.
"Boxers off too, is that okay?" Akira said quietly, and Akechi made a soft noise of assent, lifting his hips for Akira to get them off and toss them away.
Akira slid his arms around Akechi's waist and kissed his hair, taking a deep, nervous breath before finally reaching up to his chest.
They were even softer than they looked. He cupped Akechi’s tits almost reverently, drawing a sweet gasp from their owner, flicking the pink nipples with his thumbs until they grew stiff with arousal.
“You like that?” Akira murmured, rolling them gently between his fingertips to make Akechi moan. “Does it feel good?”
“... good,” Akechi repeated in a soft sigh, nodding faintly.
Akira couldn’t resist squeezing his tits a little, just to feel the soft swell of them under his palms, and Akechi keened, arching forward into the contact.
“Hey, hey, just relax,” Akira told him soothingly, pressing a firm but gentle hand against his sternum to guide him back to his reclining position. “Let me do all the work. I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Can you look at me for a moment?”
Akechi moaned softly, and his eyelashes fluttered open, meeting Akira’s gaze with half-lidded eyes.
“There you go, that's it. Good boy,” Akira said, smiling at him, and fuck, he’d never have noticed if their faces weren't so close, but Akechi’s eyes actually rolled back just a little when he said it. Akira was now officially fully on board with the hypnotism thing. Just knowing he was turning Akechi on that much had his own cock almost painfully hard in his boxers, and they were still only getting started.
“You like that?” he said, voice growing rough with desire. “Do you like it when I tell you what a good boy you are for me?”
“...yes,” Akechi responded with a breathless little gasp, squirming in place. “I – I want...”
“What do you want?” Akira said, working at his tits with both hands again. “It’s okay, you can tell me–”
“I–!!” Akechi let out a high, whiny moan, apparently unable to find the words, and his hips bucked forward almost unconsciously.
Now Akira understood. “Oh, is that it?” he cooed. “You want your cunt played with? Is that what you want?”
Akechi nodded, frantically – and Akira could already see the slick evidence of his arousal all over his thighs.
“Say please,” he breathed into Akechi’s ear.
“Please,” Akechi whimpered without a moment of hesitation, in the desperate tone Akira was quickly becoming obsessed with. “Do it, please, please...”
“Anything you want,” Akira promised him, and slid one hand down between his legs.
As two fingers slid in, Akechi let out what could only be called a mewl, shuddering with mindless pleasure at the sensation of being filled. His legs spread wider to accommodate Akira, seemingly of their own accord, and his head lolled back on Akira’s shoulder.
“Fuck. Good boy,” Akira said breathlessly, mouthing at a spot under Akechi’s ear as he worked his fingers in and out. The glide was easy enough that he could already add a third, and as he did so he couldn’t help thinking back to what he’d heard earlier. Had Akechi really been doing this in the bathroom, trying to hide the fact that he was out of his mind with want? Was that – had he done that last week? Fuck, Akira didn’t even care if it was weird. Had Akechi been thinking about him when he did it?
At that mental image, his cock practically jumped in his boxers and he couldn’t help grinding forward against Akechi’s ass, drawing twin moans from both of them.
He could feel how much Akechi was dripping around his fingers already, probably completely soaking the towel. Akira silently thanked his past self as he brushed the knuckle of his thumb against Akechi's clit, because there was no way he'd have been able to stop now regardless of what kind of mess they were making. He'd wash the damn futon ten times in a row if it meant he didn't have to stop fingering Akechi for even a second.
“You could be mine, you know,” he said, feverishly, thrusting harder now, kneading Akechi’s breasts with his free hand. “If you – if you wanted that...”
Akechi’s moans ratcheted up in frequency, so Akira kept talking. He barely even knew what he was saying really, just dirty talk for Akechi’s sake, but it flowed out of his mouth so easily it almost surprised him.
“Is that what you want?” he continued. “To be mine? You wouldn’t ever even have to think again. You could – you could just be hypnotized and happy all the time. No worrying, no thinking, just being loved and taken care of and fucked whenever you wanted – I’d be so good to you, Akechi, you’d never want anything else–”
Akechi came. Actually came, right then and there, with a desperate mewl. Akira felt his cunt spasming around his fingers, and his brain ground to a halt, because holy fucking shit? – but another, slightly more pleading noise from Akechi pulled him back into the moment, and he started pumping his fingers again, faster.
“Did you just come?” he crooned into Akechi’s ear, and maybe it was starting to go to his head a little. “Huh? Did you come just from thinking about being my obedient little toy? Be a good boy and tell me the truth. You want to be mine, don’t you?”
“Yes!” Akechi sobbed, clutching the bedsheets so tightly Akira started to worry he might claw holes into them. “Yes, I – I’m a good boy, I’m – I’m yours–”
“Fuck, yes,” Akira moaned, rutting forward against Akechi’s hips as best as he could without breaking his rhythm. “You can be mine forever if that’s what you really want – I’ll never let you get hurt again, never – you’re mine–”
“Yours, yours, please–”
“Come for me again,” he pleaded, feeling himself approach the edge. “Go on, I know you can do it – come for me, Akechi–”
Akechi let out a shriek, convulsing in his arms, and Akira might have almost thought there was something wrong if it wasn’t for the sudden gush of liquid over his fingers, leaving Akechi limp and panting for air. Had he squirted? Was that what squirting was?
“There's my good boy,” he murmured against Akechi's temple, kissing it. “Just let go for me. Let everything go. I've got you. Good boy.”
Akechi whined faintly in response, and his eyes closed.
Slowly, gently, Akira pulled his fingers away from Akechi’s still-pulsing cunt, pulling out another weak little whimpering noise, and slid to the side to lay Akechi down on the futon mattress. Then, not bothering to clean his hand off, he pulled his long-neglected cock out of his boxers and began to stroke, pressing the fist of his free hand over his mouth so as not to disturb Akechi. He was already so on edge, it was barely thirty seconds before he came across his own stomach with a muffled groan of pleasure. Next time maybe he could fuck Akechi properly – he’d have to get some condoms – but for now, this was all he really needed.
Akira reached over to the shelf by the bed for a tissue. As he cleaned himself off, he looked back to see Akechi still practically insensate where he lay, chest rising and falling unevenly, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Akira kind of wished he could carry Akechi off to the bath and wash his hair for him, but there was no bathtub at Leblanc for him to fill and carry Akechi off to, so his romantic ideal was probably going to have to be somewhat compromised.
He tucked himself back into his boxers and rummaged through the box of his clothes for a clean t-shirt so he could go downstairs, where he appropriated a dishrag and dampened it with warm water. Then he hurried back up to his room, not wanting to let Akechi wake up alone. Luckily for him, Akechi hadn’t moved, and his eyelids were only just beginning to flicker a little.
“Hey,” Akira murmured, kneeling down by the bedside, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest when Akechi blinked slowly awake, eyes soft and lips gently parted.
“...’kira?” he sighed, and this time Akira’s heart made an actual attempt to kill him, or at least that’s what it felt like.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me,” he answered, inching forward on his knees, and Akechi’s head turned lazily to look at him from under his eyelashes.
“...was I good?” he murmured.
“Of course you were,” Akira said, as if he could have given any other answer. He leaned forward to brush Akechi’s forelock out of his eyes, bringing the damp washcloth up to clean the sweat away from his face. “That was – fuck, Akechi, that was amazing. You were the best.”
“Mm,” Akechi sighed, the corners of his mouth turning up into the tiniest smile.
Akira moved down to brush the washcloth along the sides of Akechi’s neck, and further down just above his hips. “I’m gonna clean your, um – between your legs, okay?”
“...Okay,” Akechi said dreamily, spreading his legs without so much as a whisper of protest, and Akira willed himself desperately not to get hard again. Akechi was going to be the fucking death of him.
He ran the damp cloth over Akechi’s thighs, just enough to get rid of the majority of the mess, trying not to listen to the little hitches in the other boy’s breath. When he was done, he pulled the towel out from under Akechi’s hips, set it with the balled-up washcloth on the bottom shelf by the bed, and leaned on one elbow to watch him like a lovestruck idiot. After a long minute or two, Akechi took a deep breath, and his eyes finally looked like they were focusing on Akira instead of staring vaguely ahead.
“You coming back up for me?” Akira murmured, tucking Akechi’s hair behind his ear.
“Mmn.” Akechi blinked slowly, then again. “I... think so.”
“Good, because that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, but I do kind of miss you insulting me.”
“... Asshole,” Akechi mumbled, lips twitching into a slight smile.
Akira returned it, smoothing his hair back again. “Yeah, just like that.”
He hesitated, strangely nervous to ask the next question. “Did you... I mean, was that... good? For you?”
Akechi stared at him for a long moment, dreamy expression finally fading. .
“...If I’m remembering right, you fingered me so hard I squirted,” he deadpanned. “Do you think it was good?”
“I don’t know! That’s never happened to me before!”
“Fucking – yes, it was good, you–” Akechi pressed his hands over his eyes, and Akira felt instantly guilty. He’d been trying to help Akechi relax, not stress him out.
“I’m sorry,” he amended, “I just... really wanted to make sure it was good for you. Because it was for me. Really good. Hot as hell.”
“Too nice to call me a freak, hm?” Akechi muttered, and frustration bubbled up in Akira’s chest.
“What? No. Hey, look at me–” He pushed Akechi’s hands away from his eyes and propped himself up on both elbows to look at him properly. “Listen, okay? I liked that. I like making you happy. And I – I hope you’ll let me do it again.”
Akechi squinted at him. “... Are you serious?”
“‘Course I’m serious.” Akira thought about it for a moment. “Although we should really talk about... boundaries, and all that–”
“Ugh, not now. I’m tired,” Akechi complained, turning away onto his side. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get ready to leave.”
“You don’t have to do that. Why don’t you just stay here?”
“... Fine,” Akechi mumbled, which was how Akira knew he’d really worn him out, because he’d never been able to convince him to stay over before. “But I refuse to go to bed dirty like this.”
“We can go to the sentō again if you want. It’ll be empty soon. I could wash your hair for you?”
“Whatever.” There was a pause before Akechi spoke again. “Get up here.”
Akira blinked. “...What, on the bed?”
“Where else? Hurry up, I’m cold.”
Akira’s heart jumped and he scrambled up onto the bed after Akechi, smiling like an idiot. Eventually he could probably get Akechi to admit when he just wanted to cuddle, but that could come later. Baby steps. He arranged himself into a spooning position behind Akechi, draping an arm over his side, and was silently thrilled when Akechi tucked himself slightly closer to his chest. He could get used to this.
They’d have to get up soon. He knew Akechi was serious about washing before bed. But for now, they could just lie here for a little while and let the rest of the world pass them by.
“Hey... are we together now?”
“Can you be quiet for five minutes?”
“I just want to know...”
“Later,” Akechi said sourly, and Akira couldn’t help smiling against his hair.
He was pretty sure he knew the answer. And right now, that could be enough.