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“Dude.” The word practically came out as a moan and  Ryuji blushed, wishing he could kick his own ass for the gravelly rasp in his voice. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

There was a harsh crackle beneath Ryuji’s skin as he lay spread eagle on Akira's futon, one leg dangling over its edge. With every rise and fall of his chest, tingling flames spread throughout his body, sending tendrils of heat wrapping around his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes. His clothing clung to his sweat-slicked skin, his damp hair curling around his ears and the back of his neck. Ryuji was burning from the inside out. And the most distracting part? He was horny as hell. 

The sound of Akira’s groan coming from the floor only made his cock twitch inside his already way-too-tight pants. Luckily, Akira made no inclination that he heard Ryuji’s answering whimper.

“Does it look like I know?” Akira’s question was sorta snappy and kinda condescending, but it still seemed to slide out deep and seductive—and damn it, Ryuji was about to lose his ever-loving shit over a sound that should’ve been illegal. The bitchy note was pretty fucking hot.

Ryuji swallowed around another breathless moan. Slowly, he turned his head to look down at the floor. His eyes crossed. He blinked once, then twice, then a few more times until the double-vision scattered and he was able to focus on Akira slumped on the cool floor.

The hungry way he checked Akira out was nefarious at best. His teeth immediately latched onto his bottom lip, sharp and unforgiving. He could taste blood as they dug into his flesh in an effort to prevent any more needy noises from slipping through. Ryuji was a weak guy who had his limits. Of course, his limit just happened to be Akira flushed and panting; staring at Ryuji wide-eyed and dazed; squirming and trembling; legs parted, whether he be on top of him or below him. Ryuji may have seen and felt it multiple times, but that didn’t matter. He was still screwed.

Akira rolled onto his side, the floorboards creaking beneath him, until he met Ryuji’s eyes. His gaze traveled down to Ryuji’s crotch before he pinned Ryuji with that dark look of his that would’ve had Ryuji dropping to his knees if given a chance. There was a swift flick of his tongue across his bottom lip, and every dirty fantasy Ryuji’s ever had smacked him upside the head like a frying pan.

“Well,” Akira began, wincing as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He tried to dial down the way he shifted in an obvious attempt to hide the pressure between his legs. Ryuji couldn’t stop the choked sound he made when Akira settled on parting his thighs. He also couldn’t help but zero in on the perfect view that had his mind spinning and dick throbbing.

He was quickly swept away in a daydream: holding Akira down and doing whatever it took to have Akira screaming his name by the end of the night. They were both hard and squirming. He wouldn’t mind tossing Akira on the futon and—

“Earth to Ryuji.”

Ryuji jolted from his stupor. He peeked at Akira, whose brows were raised over his sparkling eyes. With a shy grin, he asked, “Say somethin’?”

That deep chuckle was nothing short of sinful. Akira brought a hand to his forehead and ran his twitching fingers through his hair. “I said whatever we were hit with seems to be hanging around.”

Ah, right. Before they stumbled into an empty Leblanc and tripped up the attic stairs, they had spent the evening getting themselves knocked on their asses in one of the deeper levels of Mementos. The loss was a bit of a low blow, but a lingering status effect? Those usually sucked ass. But this...this felt all-encompassing, staticky and short-circuiting, like his body would combust and fly apart at the seams if he couldn’t put out the simmering heat in his belly.

“So you feel it, too?”

Akira raised his arms above his head, clasping his hands together and stretching with a quiet groan. Naturally, Ryuji couldn’t help but ogle at the flash of skin as Akira’s shirt rode up with every tilt to the left and right. At least this time, he paid attention to Akira’s, “Yeah. It’s like my body’s on fire, and the only way to fix it is to ride you off into the sunset?”

For real?” Ryuji blurted out.

Before he could figure out how the hell to reply to such a blatant answer, Ryuji’s mind was overrun by the sight of Akira getting to his feet and reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. His blood rushed south as he watched Akira watch him through hooded gray eyes, the corner of his lips curling into that wicked, lopsided smirk he wore while slicing through Shadows in Mementos as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it to the floor.

The show was nothing Ryuji hadn’t seen before. But the way the sunlight shining through the attic window glinted off the trickle of sweat rolling down the flat expanse of Akira’s stomach had him swallowing thickly around his dry throat. And the way Akira’s lithe fingers ran along the waistband of his pants, quickly unbuttoning them; the sound of the zipper rang in Ryuji’s ears, zapping him straight to the bone. And when Ryuji saw another sliver of skin, the dip and curve of Akira’s hips, his hand grabbed hold of Akira’s sheets, twisting the fabric tight enough to rip alongside his fraying sanity.

“What the hell, man!”

“What?” Akira asked innocently, batting his eyelashes. The sweet tilt of his mouth curled into a shark-toothed grin, and he slid his pants down just a bit, revealing the boxers that left little to Ryuji’s imagination.

“Y’know you’re killin’ me, right?” Ryuji scrubbed a hand over his face. “C’mere before my dick falls off.”

He barely had time to blink before Akira was there, crawling on top of him, practically scrambling to park his bare legs on either side of Ryuji’s hips and naked ass right on top of his waist, lightly wiggling against his cock hidden inside his shorts. Fingers slipped beneath the hem of his yellow tank top and his abs twitched with each light scrape of Akira’s nails along his skin.

“Can’t have that, now can we?” Akira breathed into his ear.

Closing his eyes, Ryuji exhaled a shuddering sigh. A little moan escaped him when Akira began to kiss down his neck. His lips brushed across the underside of Ryuji’s jaw to the other side where they pressed against the shell of his ear.

There was a flick of Akira’s tongue followed by, “What should we do about it?” 

Ryuji’s mind went blank.

“Uh...um...well…” Ryuji swallowed around scattered thoughts, ideas that caught in his throat at the soft huff that was kinda a laugh, sorta a sigh fluttering through the damp blond hair curling around his ear.

Then, Akira started talking. Whispered words of honey poured into Ryuji’s ear. They fanned out across his skin, soft as silk, sending sparks dancing over every inch of his body. Nips punctuated every word Akira spoke, and for a nice guy who let his actions speak for himself, he sure knew how to drive Ryuji out of his mind with words that he prayed no one would hear in broad daylight.

Ryuji continued to lay there, squirming with his cock pressed firmly against Akira’s, lips caught between his teeth. Harsh breaths rushed through his nose in time with his heart pounding in his chest. Listening to the things Akira was saying—things he wanted to do, the things he wanted done to him, the way Ryuji made him feel—had Ryuji quickly nearing the edge. He was going to embarrass himself in more ways than one if he let Akira keep at it. Akira would’ve loved it, too.

His palm slapped over Akira’s mouth, muting his soft exclamation that sounded like a pornographic moan. Ryuji cracked an eye open. He caught a quick glimpse of the deep blush on Akira’s cheeks, the mischievous sparkle in his gaze and the beads of sweat clinging to his lashes before he managed to pant out, “You nee...you need to stop.”

He didn’t give Akira a chance to reply. Quickly, Ryuji grabbed Akira by the waist and flipped them over. A loud laugh burst past his lips at Akira’s high-pitched squeal and graceless flop against the futon. The death glare burning holes into his forehead was definitely deserved. 

“Ha, ha,” Akira grumbled, even as he grinned, parting his thighs so Ryuji could settle between them. Reaching up into his messy, curly black hair, Akira grabbed a cluster of strands, tugging and twirling them between his fingers. Ryuji would never admit it, because it was probably weird and Akira would laugh to hell and back, but Ryuji found it insanely hot when he played with his own hair. The fact that he would chew on his bottom lip while doing so every now and then didn’t help Ryuji’s worries of weirdness either.

(More than once he considered asking Ann whether or not it was weird, but nah.)

Another reverie slapped him in the face as he sat back on his heels. Moments had passed before Ryuji realized it was literally playing out right in front of his eyes: his hands skating over Akira’s flushed, trembling body, petting down his thighs and teasing the ticklish spots below his ribs; the tip of Ryuji’s fingers inching toward Akira’s cock; flicking his thumb over the slit slicked with pre-cum while he answered Akira’s breathless gasps with hurried pants of his own. 

“Y’know,” Ryuji whispered, his gaze drifting from the teeth marks engraved in Akira’s bottom lip to the coquettish glint in his dark eyes. “I’m diggin’ this whole ‘Super Horny for Ryuji’ look you got goin’ on here.”

Something small and hard cracked Ryuji in the forehead. There was a soft thump after it fell from the new crater in Ryuji’s skull. He opened his eyes to find the bottle of lube Akira kept hidden beneath his futon lying on his stomach. He snatched it up without hesitation.

“Well, I am horny.” Akira’s cocky tone drew Ryuji’s attention, and he glanced at him only to catch him playing with his hair again. “We both know I look good no matter the reason, so either fuck me or I’ll do it myself while you watch.”

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Ryuji gasped, his hand squeezing around the bottle so tightly, he nearly squirted some lube into his eyes.

“What?” He flung his legs over Ryuji’s knees with a casual shrug. Akira shifted until his ass was lifted into Ryuji’s lap. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Akira fingering himself in front of Ryuji? That was a new one.

“Um, no, it’s a huge fuckin’ deal, bro!” Ryuji countered, wide-eyed and slightly bewildered. The expression on his face must’ve been funny because Akira laughed. Heat rose to his cheeks while he poured lube onto his fingers, which made Akira laugh even more. 

He shot him a dirty look. “What?”

Smiling as smug as the cat who caught the canary, Akira replied, “I didn’t know something so simple would make you look so adorably shy.”

“Shaddup!” Ryuji jabbed his lube-covered finger against Akira’s chest. “There’s nothin’ ‘simple’ about watchin’ you do somethin’ like that.”

Akira propped himself up on his elbows, fixing Ryuji with a straight face. “So after everything we’ve done to each other”—the back of Ryuji’s neck burned—“the idea of me fingering myself is what gets under your skin?”

“It does more than that,” Ryuji mumbled, and Akira flashed a small smile as he laid back. 

“How’s this for an idea?” He reached into his stupid hair and began tugging on it again and again and again, forcing Ryuji’s hands to ball into fists on his thighs. The twists, the gentle yanks, the teasing glimmer in his gaze—yup, he most definitely caught on to Ryuji’s weird attraction to the usually innocent action. Damn it.

“I’ll let you handle it.”

Rolling his eyes, Ryuji reached between Akira’s legs. “I’m always handlin’ it,” he drawled, gentle sliding in a slick finger until his knuckles met the curve of Akira’s ass.

Hands shot up to cup the back of his neck and drag him down to meet Akira’s lips. Their kiss was slow and sweet; a complete contrast to the clever way Ryuji’s finger dragged along Akira’s insides, prodding between wicked twists, pulling out to add a second, then a third, then later a fourth when Akira’s composure broke down into raspy moans and cries, breathing heavily into Ryuji’s mouth with quiet calls of his name.

“Come on,” Akira panted, sliding his hands down his body in search of Ryuji’s belt. After making quick work of it and the zipper, he reached into Ryuji’s boxers and carefully pulled his cock out. Akira gave it a slow stroke, smiling against the corner of Ryuji’s mouth in answer to his muttered curse.

Akira continued to stroke Ryuji’s cock, coaxing away control with every hushed “fuck”, twist of his wrist, flick of his thumb and twitch of Ryuji’s fingers still buried in his ass.

“Stop messin’ with me, dude,” Ryuji grumbled, pulling his fingers out. He wiped his hand on the back of his shirt in time with Akira’s chuckle, then scrambled for the condom he vaguely remembered Akira tossing onto the windowsill. He frantically ripped open the packet with his teeth.

“Let me.” Ryuji nearly jumped at the sound of Akira’s voice. He peeked from beneath his lashes to find Akira propped up with his palm held out for the offering.

If he had known Akira would take his sweet old fucking time rolling the condom down his dick, he wouldn’t have handed it over. So there Ryuji was, eighty-four years later, white-knuckled and teeth grinding, waiting impatiently while Akira caressed his cock with his fingertips, touches teasing and featherlight until it was finally, finally on and slicked with extra lube.

Ryuji didn’t waste another second: he sat back on his heels, then grabbed Akira by the waist and hauled him into his lap, his entrance hovering over his cock. He met Akira’s eyes. Long fingers curled into the back of his blond hair as he was tossed a playful wink. That was all the warning he was given before Akira slowly sank down. Ryuji watched his face through hooded eyes, mesmerized by the way his mouth parted around a hiss; the way he licked his lips the further he went; the way his warm breath fluttered against Ryuji’s cheeks in a drawn-out moan, thighs spreading the closer he was seated on Ryuji’s dick.

Inch by inch, an odd pressure began to make itself known in Ryuji’s backside. It was kinda distracting, sorta pleasant, but either way: what the hell? His mouth dropped open in a squeak, one loud enough to garner attention.

“Hey,” Akira said, bringing a hand to brush Ryuji’s damp hair from his forehead. “You alright?”

Swallowing thickly, Ryuji grounded himself by running his hands up and down Akira’s sides. “Uh-huh, just fine. Keep goin’!”

Akira leaned forward, quickly pecking Ryuji on the lips. He pulled back with a circle of his hips, coaxing out a few moans from them both before he let himself sink the rest of the way down until he was fully seated on Ryuji’s cock.

And with that last inch, Ryuji jerked forward with a startled shout before he could stop it, nearly sending them both sprawling.

“Ryuji!” Akira yelped, hurrying to tighten his arms around Ryuji’s neck and plant his feet on the futon to steady their balance.

“Holy...s-shit.” Ryuji let out a long shuddering breath. He shook his head to clear away the white clouding his vision and turned to Akira, whose eyes were wide and expression contorted with confused pleasure.

“You doin’ okay?” he asked, squirming to find a way to relieve the pressure pressing on a spot inside his body. His efforts only increased the sensation.

Akira tilted his head to the side. “I–I feel like something’s squeezing my dick? Like really, really tight.” The last words came out in a gasp.

Seemingly, Akira had the same idea as Ryuji; he shifted in Ryuji’s lap, causing a needy, pathetic whimper to burst past his lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dude,” Ryuji whined, “it feels like somethin’s in my ass. My ass, man!”

“It feels like something’s in your ass?”

“In. My. Ass!”

Akira’s foot wandered from its perch against Ryuji’s back and brushed against his rear end. “There’s nothing but your shorts and my foot back there.”

“I’m tellin’ ya, there’s somethin’ in my ass!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Akira said, placing his hands on Ryuji’s cheeks. He held his face steady, staring into his eyes while Ryuji watched him think. Seconds later, Ryuji saw that flicker of light that shone whenever one of Akira’s oh-so-great ideas popped up.

Akira clenched around Ryuji’s cock and rolled his hips forward. Pleasure shot throughout his body, pulsating inside his ass and pooling in his lower belly. He was flushed and panting by the time it receded. 

“It’s the status effect,” Ryuji heard Akira say through his heart pounding in his ears.

“It’s the—huh?”

Akira let out a huff that Ryuji would’ve found cute at any other time. “The status effect we were hit with today, remember?”

When Ryuji nodded, Akira continued, “Mona warned us about one—”

“—Can we not talk about him right now!—”

“—that forces someone to feel what another person’s experiencing? You know, like killing two birds with one stone—”

“—Are you seriously tryin’ to compare this to dead bir—ah!” Ryuji cut off in a groan, slightly rising to his knees as Akira clenched around him in an obvious attempt to shut him the hell up. It worked. 

Akira tightened his fingers in Ryuji’s hair, and he hissed. His brows shot up in disbelief at the sight of Akira’s wince echoing his pained sound. 

“So,” Ryuji paused to lick his lips, allowing the pieces to fall together. “You’re sayin’ that I’m feelin’ what you’re feelin’, and you’re feelin’ what I’m feelin’? And it’s all because of the bullshit that happened before we left the Metaverse?”

“Pretty much.”

Ryuji’s face lit up with a wicked smile. He slipped his arms around Akira’s waist, holding him firm and steady. “Let’s roll with it, then.”

He thrust upward, dragging Akira down to meet his hips as he fucked into him. A strangled hum resonated in Ryuji’s chest, escalating to moan when the phantom pressure (of his own cock inside Akira) pressed against that spot again, the same spot that had Akira closing his eyes and throwing his head back with a cry.

If this was how Ryuji made Akira feel, then Ryuji had to pat himself on the back because god damn was he good as hell. He had half a mind to proclaim himself “Sex God Ryuji” but that thought flew out the window when Akira ground his hips against his lap, tearing out a hungry groan from his throat.

“You can’t call yourself a ‘Sex God’”—was Akira a freaking mind-reader, now?—“if you don’t actually fuck me,” Akira snapped, and that bitchy tone from earlier was back. This time, it was hotter; there was an underlying hint of a command in there that should have been borderline humiliating, degrading, but for some reason, it sent a bolt of heat straight to Ryuji’s dick.

(The more time he spent with Akira, the more...kinkier things got. Another thing he wanted to ask Ann about, but nah.)

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Ryuji said. He lifted Akira until only the tip of his cock remained inside him, then slammed him down just as he thrust up.

Ryuji set a frantic pace, chasing after the sensations that tapped his body like a livewire. With every drive of his hips, he felt Akira’s pleasure thrumming beneath his own skin. With every grind and roll, Ryuji watched Akira’s face flood with ecstasy. With every bounce, Akira’s screams dug their claws into his mind, twisting and amplifying the wanton sounds until his thoughts were full of them, cloudy and glazed over with cries of “Ryuji, Ryuji, Ryuji.”

Akira was beautiful like this: flushed and panting, wrecked and trembling. He felt mind-blowing like this: body stretched taut and begging for more, back arched and cock pleading for attention. It was unlike anything Ryuji’s ever felt before, and it was because of him. And because of Akira, he was nearing his limit embarrassingly fast. He would never live it down if he couldn’t hang on just a bit more.

So he reached between the press of their bodies and wrapped his hand around Akira’s cock. His thumb smeared pre-cum along the head in tiny circles, then began stroking him off, trying and failing to match his erratic tempo.

“Ryuji,” Akira gasped, his body tensing and clenching unbearably tight.

“I got you,” Ryuji whispered with a quick twist of his wrist. “Do it.”

And just like that, his climax clashed with Akira’s and he came harder than he has in his entire life. Pleasure so intense it bordered on painful, shot through Ryuji’s body, and he bawled like he’d been punched in the stomach. Sparks of heat danced across his skin, seeping into his pores to rip through his muscles and sear his nerves.

It was an explosion. It was a catastrophe. It was mind-numbing. It was dizzying. The high building in his mind tipped over and sugary sweetness spilled into his blood, leaving him strung-out and weightless.

After he stealthily disposed of the condom, Ryuji gently tipped Akira backward, paying no mind to his sticky hand as he laid down on top of him and tucked his face into Akira’s neck. An exhausted sigh escaped him.

“Still alive?” Akira asked minutes later, his shaky fingers combing through Ryuji’s hair.

His yawn turned into an airy laugh. “That was...that was...holy shit.”

“Yeah, it was pretty good.”

He doesn’t know where he found the energy, but Ryuji bolted upright. He fixed Akira with a smug grin and bright eyes and thumped his puffed out chest.

“‘Pretty good’?” he echoed. “Dude, I’m fuckin’ amazing! I don’t know how you handle this.”

“Handle what?”

“Oh, c’mon.” Ryuji gestured at his crotch, blushing lightly at the fact that his dick was still hanging out and surprisingly half-hard.

Akira crossed his arms behind his head and threw one ankle over the other. “Just because you got a taste of what I feel, doesn’t mean you’re all that and a bag of chips.”

“Hell yeah it does!” Ryuji exclaimed, rising to his knees. He put his hand in front of him, then moved it like he was giving the sky a long wave.

“Sex God Ryuji.” He couldn’t keep the dreamy, proud note out of his voice, much to Akira’s amusement.

“You have a long way to go before you get to god status,” Akira quipped, grinning widely at the pout Ryuji was tossing his way.

“Whaddya tryin’ to say?”

Akira sat up, mirroring Ryuji’s stance and draping his arms over his shoulders. He smiled that smile that sent another rush whizzing through Ryuji’s veins. “I’m saying practice makes perfect.”

“Oh,” Ryuji hummed, leaning in to kiss Akira’s neck, feeling badass over the moan the actions earned him. “So you wanna practice some more?”

“Mhm, practice.”

Just as Ryuji laid down with Akira on top of him, finally devoid of his clothing and hard as hell, a soft thump at the window drew their attention. They both looked up to find the cause of Ryuji’s demise slinking in after a late day out.

“Akira!” Morgana chirped. “What’re we practic—OH, MY GOD GROSS!”