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Maybe, Akira distantly thinks as he just barely dodges one of Alice’s pounces, only to see Ann receiving the brute force of it, maybe they should have trained in the jail for a little longer before deciding to go and change a monarch’s heart.
It’s his own arrogance. There’s no other explanation for it. After having shot a god, followed by preventing the entire world from being put into a dream-like state, Akira became overconfident. It’s no wonder he thought he’d easily get used to being in the Metaverse again considering the events that followed him, even if it’s a little different now.
It’s like someone’s taken the Metaverse, kept the raw idea, but broke and reshaped the bones of limitation of it.
The fighting is less restrictive, everything is much faster, and there are so many enemies surrounding them at all times that Akira can’t command his team like usual, preventing them from falling into their usual routine.
It’s something everyone except Akira and Goro needed to learn—to completely rely on their own abilities, knowing when to engage and retreat without Akira having to command it over the noise of magic bursting and steel clashing.
For one reason or another, he thought they were going to be alright. As if Akira could easily summon Satanael again and blast the whole jail away if worst comes to worst.
The thing is, he can’t. His teammates get thrown around like ragdolls and the seemingly only thing he can do is watch.
Slowly, Akira is filled with the horrifying realization that they’re losing.
Genuinely losing, with no signs of recovering in any form because they’ve used way too many items, too much stamina—
And that no matter how much he pushes his body to move, no matter how quickly he switches between the links of his personas, Alice only seems to grow stronger. As if their incremental despair is feeding her, causing her to launch even stronger attacks than before.
Even Goro, who’d snickered and made the most fun out of them for being an uncoordinated pile of limbs in the beginning is looking like he’s barely holding it together.
“Joker,” Goro snarls from his side.
His eyes are dark, nearly unreadable except for the unspoken message glinting in a sea of furious red.
They share a brief nod, dimly acknowledging the fact they’re the only ones left standing, and throw themselves back into battle, Arsene and Hereward by their respective side.
But they're only prolonging a losing battle.
Akira’s head is positively pounding at this point, like someone has driven a straight Megaton Raid into it and some more. He dimly realizes that he’s not back to back with Goro anymore, and rather staring into the distorted visage of Alice’s battle form.
He tries to move, but—ah, he can’t.
He’s lying on the floor and he can’t move because Alice is pinning him to the floor with her large hand, sewn face cackling at him in a show of mockery over his predicament.
Akira hears Goro shouting in a distance, a horrible cadence of anger and worry. It’s not nearly as desperate as the sounds he'd let out when they stood on opposing sides of an engine room, but it’s something achingly close to it.
Not even that lets Akira somehow summon the energy required to fight Alice off.
She inspects his heaving form for a few more seconds, head twitching. The longer she stares at him without saying a word, without doing anything, the more he begins to feel like prey under the dissecting nature of her gaze.
Akira grunts in surprise as a breeze of magic envelopes him, and before he knows it, Alice’s original form is straddling him, pinning him to the ground with less the weight of her body, and more the devious expression she’s sporting.
Akira tries to reach for his gun, but freezes when Alice puts the end of her cane underneath his chin.
“Behave,” she says in a low tone, bright eyes methodically raking over him. “I hate disobedient toys. Then again….”
Alice delicately removes his mask. Her smirk grows. “Sometimes I do love to break the special ones.”
Despite the threatening undertone of her words, Akira feels the twinge of panic rising within him and tries to fight her off. Whatever Alice has planned can’t be good. Seeing all the glistening latex adorning her body and the growing hunger in her eyes fills him with a certain type of unease that has him squirming in trepidation.
She’s unaffected, though, barely batting an eyelash at his attempts.
“What are you doing—” Akira doesn’t get to end his sentence when Alice replaces the cane with her hand, fingers curling around his throat.
“You better want to stay still for the next part,” she purrs.
Akira claws at her hand, but in his weakened state, it’s like her physical strength is doubled. Her arm doesn't budge even a millimeter.
Her entire presence is coated in the undeniable glamour of victory, too, one she flaunts like armor.
The hand cutting of his air supply stays, sleek blackness forming a restrictive ring around his throat. Alice raises her other to rest it square on his chest, right above the stagnating rhythm of his heartbeat.
Alice hums, pleased.
And then she pushes.
Pushes and pushes and pushes and when Akira thinks his flesh and bones will give way because the pressure is too much, on his throat and on his ribcage and everywhere, her fingers sink into him with inexorable force, past the physical barriers of clothes and skin.
Akira watches in a confusing mix of fascination and horror as the surface of his chest ripples. Digits clad in midnight black continue disappearing inch by inch, slowly, as if submerging into viscous water. He stays frozen, too transfixed by the display and too afraid of what could happen if he’d disrupt anything.
It’s weird. She’s... really inside of him, he realizes.
Alice’s carding heavy waves inside his body that swamp up the ridges of his bones, only to curl back again. Like she’s weaving the essence of his soul in the palm of her hand.
“Shhh,” she hushes when he whimpers, squeezing once around his throat almost reassuringly.
Akira’s getting warmer. He has no idea what Alice is currently doing, what she seems to be searching for if the concentrated pinch of her eyebrows is anything to go by, but his breath starts to come out in ragged pants at the bits of arousal sparking in his nerve ends as a byproduct of her actions.
Whatever this is, it’s strangely intimate.
It doesn’t help that Alice has started to gyrate her hips a little. He can’t tell if it’s an afterthought or deliberate movement, but he feels the effect nonetheless. The increasing stimulation on his groin is undeniable, spinning the threads of unwanted desire within him even further.
Alice purses her lips in irritation.
“I really can’t seem to steal your desire.”
Akira’s left to watch as her movement gets more relentless, stronger. It fuels the simmering embers she’s creating inside his body, and he can’t help but buck up. Something inexplicable expands inside his chest.
It shoots hot pleasure up and down his spine with every quiver of movement, forcing his back into a light arc when his tightly coiled muscles react on instinct.
“...but I don’t think I even need to,” Alice purrs.
Akira groans at the confusing sensation submerging him further into a dazed state, tries to fight against the bizarre pleasure weakly pulsating in his very core with every twist of her wrist and every nudge of her hips.
He knows that if he really wants to, there is a way out, always will be, but it’s strange in a weirdly good way that curiosity gets the better of him and he digs his teeth inside his bottom lip to fight the sounds climbing their way up his throat.
Suddenly she stills, eyes widening. A weak pulse shoots through Akira.
He gasps.
She’s touching his heart, and yet not. No.
A layer beneath that. Something intangible, something not made to be understood.
He manages a weak cry of defiance when her hands curl around it.
Alice sighs. “Oh, Joker. You truly want to be owned, don’t you?”
Akira has no idea what’s going on. He’s lying in the middle of her jail, most of his friends are unconscious around him, her arm is half into his chest, and every jolt of her body causes a wave of foreign, but blissful sensations to wash over him that make it difficult to grasp a coherent thought.
Maybe he’s said some of these things aloud, because Alice’s lips pull into a knowing smirk.
“Such a naughty boy. I’ll gladly fulfill your desire,” she purrs.
No warning could have prepared Akira for Alice to suddenly start pulling her hand out. It’s like something’s brutally getting ripped out of him, something that was never supposed to be taken out in the first place.
He’s forcefully dragged from the underwater of cloying sensations up to the reality of a black chain wrapped tightly around Alice’s hand.
It’s mind numbing, the pain that comes with each link leaving him, like it's a physical separation, and combined with the pleasure assaulting him when the sudden emptiness gets filled with the same sensations Alice’s been pouring into him, Akira's left to whimper in broken patterns.
Eventually it’s finally out, and Akira’s lungs ring for air. He falls back to the cold floor, suddenly exhausted and weirdly mellow and drained because of whatever just transpired.
Alice inspects the dark metal in her hand with mild curiosity—and as she twists and turns it, Akira realizes the chain is attached to something at the end of it the moment additional fingers skim his throat.
Not to choke him, but rather to collar him.
She pulled a chained collar out of his chest, and it settles around the base of his throat with a heavy clink.
He doesn’t—he doesn’t think about the implications of that, not that he’d probably understand, as dazed as he still is, but the glint in her eyes as she stares him down is unmistakable.
With a sudden burst of strength that comes out of seemingly nowhere, Akira manages to throw her off.
He nearly trips on his way up, knees as incomprehensibly shaky as the rest of him, but he manages and looks around. Goro’s still conscious, glaring behind Akira with a ferocity that matches the angry, red ridges of his saber lying in a distance away from him, but he’s being held down by two guards with no sign of escape.
His mask is, just like Akira’s, somewhere scattered on the ground.
It does little to dampen the burst of relief that floods him at seeing Goro's for the most part alright. But the second he actually moves towards his direction, a spell hits him in the back, and Akira pathetically hits the ground with a dull thud.
He’s so weak.
Why is he so weak?
“How dare you run towards him when I’m here,” Alice hisses from behind him. The sharpness of her voice cuts through the air like a sword. “When you belong to me!”
Akira cries out when something sharp digs into his spine.
Her heel.
Her colorful shoe with a bow tie around her ankle, he distantly remembers.
Alice yanks at his chain to get his attention. He reaches for his collar, tries to get it off his throat or at least exert force into the opposite direction, but that only beguiles her to pull harder, forcing his upper body into a tightly wound arc into the air, lower half still suspended on the floor.
“Do you want him that badly, Joker? Are you really that much of a whore?”
His breath gets stolen when her free hand curls around his throat in a manner he’s already become too familiar with. He feels her looming behind, over him as she leans down to nuzzle into his nape. Hot breath graces the shell of his ear, wet and hot. “I originally planned on taking him away, maybe make a different toy out of him, but now…”
Before him, Goro’s eyes dilate with rage. Akira knows it means Alice’s looking directly at him.
Challenging, mocking.
All the things Goro hates.
Akira manages a weak nod which works some tension out of Goro’s jaw, but doesn’t lessen the intensity of his glare.
Alice rattles his chain. “Maybe I'm just going to let him stay here as I make you mine. How does that sound, mhm?”
“I’m going to gut you alive,” Goro growls immediately, voice strained with fury.
He looks threatening, expression twisted into a visage of hatred that gives the impression he could break out of the guards’ hold any second. But Akira also sees the exhaustion he’s trying to hide in the occasional shiver of his frame.
Right now, he’s more akin to a cornered, hurt animal than an actual beast.
Alice laughs, walking properly up Akira’s side to pet his head. “Isn’t that cute? Such big words for someone whose lover I have in the palm of my hands.”
“You'll regret laying a hand on him.”
Alice doesn’t answer. Instead, she crouches, and Akira feels something wet connect with his cheek.
He flinches, tries to pull away as best as he can given the limited angle the taut chain provides, but it only gives Alice more room to lick a long, generous stripe up the bare column of his throat.
Her tongue darts across his jaw and the corner of his lips next, laps up dried blood and grime and sweat.
Alice makes a pleased sound deep inside her chest. “You tasted better than I expected, Joker.” The smacking of lips that follows matches the rapid drum of his heartbeat. She noses along the soft of his nape before going back to his ear to purr right into it. “How many times did he get to taste you, mhm?”
“Stop,” Akira weakly rasps, feeling his body react to her advances.
Goro jerks in front of him, but remains quiet otherwise.
Alice suddenly releases him. Akira wheezes for air, instinctively curling on the ground to protect himself from any potential harm, but Alice first kicks him onto the side, then onto his back.
His sides flare up in dull, broad strokes of pain, though it’s immediately drowned by a foreign pressure on his groin, punctured by what feels like a sharp jab of pleasure.
He blinks the blurred vision of tears away to stare right into the sinister expression of Alice as she’s digging one of her heels onto his cock.
Resting on it, almost casually, like Alice's done this more than countless times.
The pressure combined with the visual image is so unexpected that Akira gasps out aloud. He tries to prop himself up, maybe even move his legs, but all attempts of movement die when she presses harder in silent warning.
Akira abruptly stills.
“You make for a very pretty sight,” Alice slowly drawls, licking her lips.
The chain connected to his collar is tightly wound around her hand. Akira can’t make much sense of why it looks like it belongs to her because she’s begun to slowly gyrate her foot, the flat, small underside of her high heel dragging across his already half hard length.
All life leaves him.
It shouldn’t feel good. It’s perverse, the low bits of arousal which she already spread out fanning into something bigger despite the daunting sight of her shoe on his crotch, but it just does.
Akira’s heart does somersaults when her heel graces the sensitive swell of his balls. Having something so sharp pressed against a place so vulnerable tosses his innards around with both fear and hot anticipation.
The point of contact there is so little, and she’s doing nothing more than pressing lightly into his sack, but maybe that’s also the reason why it feels like her whole boot is pressed against each and every inch of his dick.
Terrible pleasure shoots up from his groin up to the tips of his fingers, and he groans, uselessly.
The only thing he can do is to dig his hands into the floor to find something to anchor him when she applies even more pressure by leaning forward. Alice rests one elbow in her knee, present grin only widening at seeing him writhe in shameful bliss.
A picture of nonchalance.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she haughtily whispers.
His cock feels like it’s going to burst. Akira’s afraid it will. He’s convinced it will, just like the rest of his body, because there’s no way it won’t with how Alice is resting the majority of her weight onto him through only that point of contact.
Alice slowly leans down even further to grasp his chin between her fingers, forcing his head up to meet her line of eyes. Akira’s little more than a puppet at this point, meagerly following the tugs and strings of its master, chest heaving, limbs twitching in time with every little undulation of her foot.
Alice waits for a few, tantalizing moments, lets his predicament and the confusing swirl of overbearing sensations cocoon tighter around him before she deigns to open her mouth again.
“That’s better. Defiance doesn’t suit you nearly as good as obedience,” Alice says.
The drawling tone of her voice makes Akira gulp.
She runs her fingers across his bruised lips, pressing into them. He shivers at the press of latex, different from leather, but no less distinctive. “Look at how pretty you are, squirming beneath my boot. You really get off on this, don’t you?”
As if to prove a point, she tilts the angle of her foot. Away from him. Akira involuntarily bucks his hips to chase after the loss of friction. Shame makes him close his eyes when Alice laughs in response, low and cruel.
Goro releases a possessive growl behind him. And while Akira’s used to hear similar cadences in different situations, it still evokes the same, primal need for contact within him, only that it’s not Goro who’s close, but rather Alice.
His body is aching all over. He knows he doesn’t need much more stimulation of any kind before he’ll fall, though Alice keeps him dangling from the threads she wound around him by occasionally lifting her foot, too entertained at the notion of seeing him squirm even further to even think about releasing him.
“You didn’t answer my question from before,” Alice says with narrowed eyes. “How many times did he taste you? How many times could he see you exactly like this?”
“Akira,” Goro calls from behind him.
A wave of humiliation washes over Akira. For being so putty in Alice's hands. For being so putty for someone else than Goro.
But Alice’s already proved that she currently has all the cards they could possibly play in her hand—and it’s not only because Akira feels powerless with a collar wrapped around his throat, rubbing against his skin like the mockery of an embrace, and rather because she commands the aura of authority that surrounds her so easily, in a way that something primal in Akira wants to follow.
It reminds him of how Goro gets when Akira’s been reckless, neglected his own health or simply didn’t listen on the few instances Goro would actually tell him to do something. Beckoning Akira closer with little more than a narrow of his eyes and the promise of many, different things on his lips.
Alice pulls the chain taut.
She keeps grinding her foot against him, heel toying with his balls while the tip nudges against his.
It’s beyond sensitive and with all the relentless, humiliating teasing Akira’s had to endure from beginning to end of their battle—his cock hurts.
He feels the ache pulsating all over his body.
It’s way too much pressure now, even more so than before, but at the same time it’s so fucking good in a way he can’t comprehend. Akira lets out a low series of whimpers as Alice slowly drags the sole from top to bottom and back up, nudging his head through the tight, damp confines of his pants.
“Answer me, slut,” Alice growls, eyes little more than slits. “How many times did you bend over and beg for his cock?”
Akira blinks through the confusing mix of dizziness clouding his brain. He can’t possibly answer that. Why doesn’t she know he can’t answer her when she’s the one that renders his speaking ability to something shamefully useless?
Akira wants to—
He’s afraid that if he were to open his mouth, a barrage of embarrassing sounds would spill forth instead of the words of defiance he should be throwing at her.
But he can’t risk it. Not in front of Goro.
The bright gleam of golden in Alice’s eyes darken to something molten as the silence continues to drag on.
“Huh, does that mean you already lost track of how many times you did it? I expected nothing less.”
She tuts, a strange mix of disappointment and giddiness.
Akira’s spine strains to the maximum as Alice momentarily reduces the unyielding pressure on his cock, only to press down right afterwards again. Harder than ever, matching the intensity of her confident smirk, and Akira’s sure she’s cutting off his blood circulation right now, not only on his cock, but also with how unyieldingly she’s tugging at his chain.
A delirious part of him wants her to tug even more, completely render him useless that he can’t even think anymore. Until he’s out of control and each of his decisions aren’t his own, and rather hers.
“Akira,” he faintly hears.
It’s somebody else than Alice, and he blinks, trying to find himself in the maelstrom of smoldering impressions and feelings.
“I’m—I’m fine,” he calls back.
It ends in a cry when Alice suddenly takes every bit of her weight away, his body both relieved and devastated at the immediate loss of pressure.
Blood rushes back into his entire body like a vacuum suddenly got filled. He realizes he’d been inches away from coming, just from her heel grinding against her twitching cock and the tight grasp around his throat, but he isn’t given much respite to dwell about everything when her face loses all emotions.
Alice straightens ever so slowly, looking down on him in every sense of the word.
“Beg,” she says, tone icy and eyes wide.
Akira doesn’t want to know what he looks like, embarrassingly hard in his pants, flushed and teary eyed and worked, but it’s a sight she greedily devours.
“Beg for me to let you come.”
He has enough coherency to grit his teeth in lieu of an answer.
Alice moves her foot closer again. Akira closes his trembling legs, but she’s already in between them, teasingly nudging the underside of his cock. It’s too rough, too little. He writhes on the floor, unable to escape the sensations she’s pouring onto him with no way to shield himself.
And right about when he’s close—when the pressure knits pain and pleasure together so that Akira’s vision turns a distracting shade of blurry white, Alice takes it all away by stepping back.
Denying him everything at once, even loosening the hold of his collar completely.
Letting everything crash in the most horrible way.
“Alice,” he pants.
She ignores him in favour of grinning.
It goes on like that for a while. Akira can’t articulate anything except from desperate, needy sounds as she pulls the chain taut again and grinds her foot against his needy dick. It’s a torturous cycle of pleasure and pain that leaves him wanting and desperate in no time, always on edge.
It’s more pain, Akira vaguely thinks, with how sharply she’s digging into him, and the increasing mortification growing at the back of his mind at the situation at hand does little to lessen the different sorts of bliss making it even harder to breath, but his brain has long given up on separating the sensations regularly taking over his body and throws everything together instead.
He doesn’t know if cocks can bruise. He just knows he likes the thought a little too much.
Alice works him nearly to completion. Again and again and again.
And every time she denies it in the same breath, too. The dichotomy and the brutal neglect pulls at the edges of his already wavering coherency. Akira’s so wet at this point. From precum, from sweat, from tears, and he simply wants to cum.
He doesn’t know how many times Alice has taken away everything when he’s at the peak of it all, but it’s one time too many, and when she lifts her foot for the umpteenth time and the rapid build up of an orgasm dies in its roots, the last string of Akira’s pride breaks.
“Please,” he gets out.
Akira can’t do this. He’s convinced he’s going to die if he holds out any longer—his body is a quivering mess, wrung out without anything really being done to it, and the notion of having his release being denied again is so painful and grounding that Akira tries to chase after her leg to the best of his abilities.
She lets him, watches with mild interested as he weakly nuzzles her leg, pressing against her.
“Please what, pet?” Alice coos.
Akira swallows saliva as much as dignity. “P-please let me cum.”
She chuckles.
Though she pretends to think, moves away right after that. Akira cries out when he collapses onto empty, cold ground.
“I’m not sure if you’ve been good enough for me. Looking at another person when I’ve already made it clear that you’re mine.”
Shame makes him cower. He has to fix this. Somehow.
“Please,” Akira tries again.
He’s so tempted to shove a hand down his pants. Or rip them away, rutting against the ground for completion. The promise of pleasure seems so close, and it’d be so easy. Because he’s been driven to the edge so many times in a row, he’s still on a constant high—but Akira knows Alice will be displeased if he'd step out of line, and he doesn’t want to think of the consequences if she’s already so cruel.
He fists the material of his pants in his legs and lowers his head.
“I don’t d-deserve it, but please let me cum. I’m begging you.”
A soft whine escapes his throat when Alice delicately tilts his chin up. Her eyes promise a lot of things. Release may or may not be one of them.
“That’s better,” she purrs. “But I’m afraid I can’t really hear you all that clearly.”
“I want to cum. Please let me cum,” Akira repeats in a louder voice. He swallows, the next word barely making it out. “A-Alice.”
“Try again.”
“Mistress.”
The howl Goro lets out is drowned out by the huskiness of her chuckle.
“Now, if that isn't a pretty slave. I ought to reward you.”
Alice snaps her fingers. The tight clothing of her lower body comes away in ribbons, dissolving into thin air and revealing the glistening, wet fold of her arousal.
She spreads her cunt, and Akira knows what he has to do without being told.
“Good boy,” she coos when he crawls towards her.
Akira tentatively pushes his face into her thigh, trying to ignore his own, neglected length that twitches when smelling her prominent arousal.
He chokes down a sob at the reminder that he still hasn’t come.
Alice tuts, carding her hand in deceivingly gentle motions through his hair, pushing his face more towards her core.
“Lick,” she murmurs from above him. “And don’t stop until I say so.”
Akira’s never done anything like this before. But he doesn’t have time for self conscious thoughts or worries of not being able to please her properly when his face is pressed into her like that and he’s just barely able to breath through his nose through the small curls of pink above her pussy. So he gets to work, tentatively darting out his tongue.
Alice lets out a weak, low moan at the first drag of his tongue against her dripping folds. He dips his tongue inside, runs it around the outside before he takes her clit into his mouth. Sweet, viscous slick drips down onto him, smearing his chin and cheeks when he can’t lap it up in time.
“G-good boy,” Alice pants.
She bucks further against him, hips rolling. Akira takes it as a sign of approval and picks up the pace. He carefully holds onto her thighs to keep a better balance. Alice allows it, enabling him to tilt his neck in a better angle that hurts a little less with how he’s practically groveling.
When Akira grazes her clit again with his bare teeth this time, she sighs and fists his hair harder.
“You look pathetic, but you also look disgustingly good.”
It makes Akira look up. The hazed burn of golden eyes urges him to avert his gaze again, but it’s like she casted a spell on him, completely trapping him in the ephemerality of his thoughts and current position.
Between and beneath her.
Alice’s pink lips split open to let out another moan.
“It makes me want to ruin you,” she rasps next.
Alice relinquishes the hold on his chain in order to cradle one side of his face, thumbing at the tears he knows are glistening at the edges.
Akira can barely breath at this point, her body more or less unconsciously meeting the movements of his tongue diving into and around her, but the hitch in her breath and the warmth suffocating him is almost worth it.
“Leather—aaah—really suits you, you know that? I should dress you up next time. Put you in more than just a collar. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
The words dig into his overheated skin like actual pinpricks.
It elicits a whine out of Akira, one that’s swallowed by the sloppy sounds of her pussy. Alice shudders and tugs at his curls, pushing her cunt against his face in a steady grind that breathing becomes an actual challenge.
“A blindfold would be nice. Restraints, too. You don’t need your sight to serve me. Or cock, for that matter.” Her eyes are glazed over in lust, and the fever of her words give the words a burning quality. “Oh, I’ll tie you up so good. I can’t wait to make you my obedient, little fucktoy.”
Alice laughs when he rubs his thighs together.
“Well, more than you already are, of course.”
Akira doesn’t think he should be moaning at this—he shouldn’t even let her do this to him in the first place, but it’s like Alice’s taken a portion of his brain and turned it into mush, creating a chain reaction that prevented any other thought outside of this heated dance from forming in his mind.
Few things are important—the ache of his cock isn’t, the lack of air in his lungs isn’t, but the need to make her cum is, so he takes her clit into his mouth again, suckling with vigor that has her shortly humping against him.
“F-fuck. That’s good. And you know what? I really think I’m going to keep the detective prince. Make him watch as I take you properly apart. His expression is so angry, so delicious right now—I wish you could see it,” Alice pants before breaking off in a low moan.
“I’m going to cum—”
Akira’s barely doing anything at this point. He can only move his tongue in random sections, increase the suctions of his mouth. Alice has completely taken over, grinding her lower lips against his mouth as a mean to get herself off.
“Drink it up like a good slut,” she grits out between clenched teeth.
Alice moans, breathy and high. It’s a sound Akira feels all the way to his toes.
His eyes roll back at the sudden pressure around his head. The clamping of her thighs, the heat burning his face. More slick coats his face and vest as she cums with a shudder, ruining him even more.
Alice rolls her hips a few more times before she finally releases him.
Akira falls to the floor in a pile of limbs, trying to catch his breath and a grasp on reality.
He almost came from that too, he numbly realizes.
The tug of his chain pulls him upwards again. Akira almost asks her to pull harder, completely out of it and high on something he can’t name, but all the more feels the effects of.
“A decent, performance for your first time,” Alice says once she’s regained her breath.
She pushes him back down until he’s spread out on his back. For a second, Akira’s afraid she’ll repeat the procedure from earlier, denying him release with little more than a precise tilts of her body—but he doesn’t expect a belt to manifest around her naked hips, cupping the glistening folds of her cunt.
The surreality of the Metaverse works its magic as a thick silicon cock begins to form right before his eyes.
Alice laughs when seeing his shocked expression.
She strokes her newly acquired possession with the petite length of her fingers, no little amount of adoration in her languid movements.
“Surely you didn’t think I was going to let you fuck me?”
Akira tries to scramble backwards, but she only pulls him back to kneel between his legs, expression positively mirthful.
“Oh, my darling little pet,” Alice condescendingly coos.
She hovers above him like a predator about to devour its meal, and the sight of a dildo swinging beneath her makes it all the more intimidating for reasons that die on his tongue.
“As long as I’m here,” Alice purrs with aggressive sweetness, “I’ll do the fucking. You’ll do well to remember that. Now, turn around and bend over before I lose the rest of my patience.”
And as Akira’s bodies listens by instinct, too fearful of earning her wrath and the possible consequences that come with it, Akira remembers that Goro’s here, too, because in this position, on all fours with his backside facing Alice, Goro’s beaten up and restrained form is directly in his line of sight.
And Alice and Akira are in his.
Goro’s watched the entire time. Saw Alice using him as a mere mean to get off, saw and heard him beg for Alice.
Akira dimly realizes that Goro’s also going to watch him get fucked by someone else, a woman on top of that.
He burns. With shame, with mortification, with guilt, with—a devastating sliver of pure, raw arousal.
Akira feels Alice drape across him, the plush weight of her breasts contrasting too strongly with the heavy weight of silicone resting between his still clothed ass cheeks.
He didn’t pay much attention to its size, too hung up over the fact she plans on fucking him with that, but it feels huge in the way that it’s impossible to ignore as she slowly ruts against him.
Knowing he wants to avert his face to not have to meet the dark expression of Goro any longer, Alice’s hand crawls up his throat to grip his chin again. Only this time, she slips two of her fingers inside his throat.
Akira instinctively curls his tongue around them.
“That’s a good slave,” Alice whispers.
He whines around her.
She presses closer, tightens her grip so he has no other choice but to really look at Goro.
And he can’t close his eyes, not when the other stares at him back like that, all smoldering heat and hate that he knows isn’t directed at him and desire.
“In the beginning, I was thinking about letting him work you open,” Alice purrs directly into his ear, sending more shivers down his spine than the idle caress of his cock. “Look at how hard he is. He must have done that many times before, I’m sure. Or do you usually spread yourself open for him? Your body is so honest,” he gasps when she directly, roughly palms him, “that it wouldn’t surprise me at all. How could anyone look at you and not want to fuck you?”
“A-alice,” he groans out between the weight of her fingers.
It’s the first word he’s said in a while.
Alice giggles, presses further down his throat that he nearly chokes. Strokes his tongue and slips a third finger inside, thrusting until she’s fucking his mouth open to fill the air with gurgling, wet sounds.
He accepts it, almost greedily.
“This is the exact reason why I decided against it. If he’d work you open, you’d think of him, wouldn’t you? And that’s something I simply cannot allow.
“So,” Alice hisses, and her fingers retract from his mouth, gliding a wet stripe along his shoulders, down his spine until they reach his pants and she pushes up his tailocats, “the only pleasure I’ll allow him is that of watching as I fuck you senseless.”
The first finger coerces half a moan, half a whimper out of him. She’s not nearly as patient as Goro usually is, immediately digging in deep, tip curling, but the sensation of latex is vaguely familiar that his walls flutter around her, accepting the intrusion after only a little bit of resistance, too hungry for stimulation to care about whom it belongs to.
It’s wet, too, probably a result of her mercy. It makes the sound of her finger gliding in and out of him all the more obscene.
“You, ah, truly want this, don’t you?” Alice pants, stifling a chuckle into his shoulder by biting down. The intent is unmistakable, even if he barely feels it through the thick fabric of his coat, but he’s also glad for it—he knows from a brief look in the mirror this morning that there are still bruises and marks accumulating on his back and chest.
Goro'd never let him out otherwise.
Akira's so caught in the monotone, but at the same time a mind numbing sensation of a single digit thrusting inside of him that he doesn’t feel the probe of a second until it’s already forcing its way alongside the other.
Both fingers go even deeper. As if having a second one inside of him is the sole condition for his hole to open wider, and with the first brush of his prostate, Akira’s already so wired, so strung up and on the edge of torturous edge of pleasure that he cums with Goro’s name on his lips, a sound he immediately drowns out by moaning into the crook of his elbow.
Alice hisses when he clamps down around her. “If you’re so desperate to cum, slut, then go on. I won't stop you, not this time.”
It would have probably been a merciful thing to say. But it’s Alice, and she makes true of her words by mercilessly continuing to finger him, not stopping for even a fraction of a second. Relentlessly brushing his prostate, the cups of her fingers injecting sharp pleasure directly into his heated system each time she twists and turns inside of him.
It’d be so good if it weren’t so much.
Akira’s overstimulated, body aching with the aftermath of a long awaited release still wrecking through it, but Alice is already working new sensations into it, warping everything into a painful crescendo. There’s no room for escape with how she pulls him close, completely pressing up against him that he can’t blend her out, even if he wants to.
The weight is familiar, and yet different.
Her hand drags across both of his lower thighs—he doesn’t know when he’d lost his pants—and something tight wraps around each of them, warm and smooth against his skin. Another reminder that he isn’t in charge, though he doesn’t get to dwell on it when she scissors him open, using the opportunity to slip in a third finger.
It’s entirely too much. Alice doesn’t care, though, thrusts in an outside with a brutal pace that has Akira drooling onto the floor by the time she finally pulls out.
With nothing to hold his weak, shaking legs, he collapses onto the floor.
As he’s lying there, individual limbs twitching every so often as the rest of him tries to find a resemblance of being, he expects Alice to press him flush against her and immediately split him open.
She doesn’t.
Instead, Alice waits.
For him to say anything, for him to move—Akira doesn’t know. Maybe he should be thankful for the respite she’s giving him because the fire of overstimulation burning him raw from the inside out can finally start to subdue properly, but the waiting is almost worse.
Singes his skin, kindles the fire instead of extinguishing it completely.
Alice has never given him the time to prepare him for anything before she takes what she wants.
Except, of course, if it’s something he wants.
“...don’t think I didn’t hear you,” Alice growls.
The hands gliding along his hips are deceivingly gentle. Like the time she carded one through his hair, only to pull harshly at his curls.
Akira shivers in want.
“Raise your hips.”
She slaps his ass cheek when he doesn’t comply immediately, and his hips jerk up at the raw flare of pain and something else.
“Don’t be so pathetic. I said, raise your hips.”
Akira does. He’s still buried his head in an angle where he doesn’t see anything but the ground up close, too afraid of other things that would enter his field of vision if he were to look up, but he raises his hips. Shakingly, submissively.
It’s a desperate position, he knows.
“I can’t believe you called for his name again,” Alice murmurs.
She spreads his twitching hole open, as if inspecting it. Akira doesn’t expect her to suddenly thrust her fingers inside him again, building a sloppy, almost lazy rhythm. “Clearly I’m the one kind enough to even allow you to feel pleasure.”
Akira didn’t think she heard him earlier. Turns out he was wrong.
Alice slaps his other cheek before pulling out, spreading wetness all across the stinging flesh of his ass. “I almost want to be mad. But it seems like you’re just that desperate, aren’t you? I’ve never had a toy as slutty as you.”
“Alice,” he groans, weakly. Each of her words feel like a physical branding. “Please.”
She interrupts him by rolling her hips against his. He feels the tip of her strap on nudging at his entrance, just enough to tease, not enough to stimulate anything. His thighs quiver.
“You’re just a needy little thing that would do anything to have a big cock inside of it.”
He groans, but she’s relentless.
“Say it.”
“Alice—”
“Say that you want my cock. Beg for me to fuck you on your hands and knees, even if you don’t deserve it.”
Akira cries out when she slips in just a little further. The stretch burns, and he knows it'd be better if she’d just push inside and get it over with, but her advances halt not even a heartbeat later, barely letting him have a taste and still making him feel the full consequences of it.
Her grip on his hips tighten as a warning. The chain of his collar rustles as he bears his throat towards the ground in a show of conceit.
"Fuck me, A-alice," Akira crumbles.
She licks her lips. "You can do better."
He just—he just wants. Wants, needs, craves.
"Please, mistress. Please fuck me already. I, I can't, I need it, I n-need your cock! Please, I’m begging you—!"
The tip of the dildo finally slips inside, briefly catching onto his ring. Akira grasps onto the floor for purchase. He can't find it, helplessly digging his forehead into the floor when Alice withdraws and then pumps into him again, working his entrance open until the first centimeters of her cock easily glide in and out.
“More," Akira rasps, not waiting for her to have him dangle from the tips of her fingers again.
The only response she gives is a low laugh. It comes out huskier and darker than usual, like she's also feeling something through the strap on. Maybe she does because it's the Metaverse, Akira wouldn't know. It’d explain the way her fingers dig further into him whenever he clenches around her in a pitiful attempt to suck more of her in, the breathy sounds that occasionally leave her.
"Eager now, aren't we?" she says.
Akira spreads his legs to accommodate her when Alice slips just a little more inside. It’s maddening. Insanity.
"But it's alright. I'll give you what you want."
The promise of release creates a wave of electricity, eradicating everything but the concept of painful pleasure.
Akira doesn't think her dildo is bigger than Goro, or really that big at all, but it just feels so enormous in the way it mercilessly spears him open, inch by inch.
And instead of just pushing inside in one go and breaking him in two, Alice lets him adjust to the length and girth after each inch, until Akira’s a squirming and whimpering mess that wants more.
Alice makes him want it.
And it feels so—so mind numbing, so addictive and all-reducing, so...
"Good," Alice moans, voice thick with lust.
Akira doesn't know how long it’s been. She could have been fucking him for hours and he would have been non the wiser. But she's still pushing in at a torturously slow pace, and Akira is merely a pile of flesh and bone that's helplessly writhing beneath her, cock aching and hard.
He moans. "I'm going to—!"
"You're not allowed to cum," Alice drawls, slapping his backside, but not bothering to actually hold the base of his weeping cock. "Not until you've taken everything."
And she's still pushing in with no end in sight.
Alice is just that slow.
Akira feels so full, like the heat curling and running in restless circles inside of him is going faster despite her pace with every throb of his heart, and yet she's still digging her fingers into his sore cheek, still feeding him sweet, cruel nothings into his ear that make the breach all the more intense.
Alice has already nudged his prostate—Akira nearly came from that, he doesn’t know why he didn’t. And she's pushing past that. Deeper and deeper into him, and it turns everything that's left inside of Akira into a liquid that threatens to spill out any second.
"That’s it. Take me," Alice hisses.
Akira can't think.
It feels like an entire lifetime has passed when Alice's hot skin finally presses flush against his thighs, and then the dildo is lodged so deep inside of him that Akira swears he feels it in his throat. It’s entirely impossible and ridiculous, but it’s the only comparison the leftover of his brain can draw.
Akira can’t even cry or do as much as think—there's so much going on and at the same time it's there for him to grasp, buried deep inside of him
And then she withdraws.
Pulls out and out and out. Until Akira's empty, gaping, the sensation so horrible with how full he’d been not even a moment ago that a sound he doesn’t recognize as his own leaves him.
Despite everything, Alice is as cold and solid as ice as she maneuvers him around, away from Goro, more to her.
She's a vision of triumphant power as she looms over him, pushing his legs apart. Akira only has a second to make stripes of black leather wound around his thighs before they are nearly out of his vision, knees pressed down tightly next to his ears.
"Now that's a sight for sore eyes,'' she whispers, admiratively.
Running a hand down his heaving and wet chest from their earlier activities, she teasingly curls it around the head of his cock. It punches a whimper out of him—and then his collar suddenly feels heavier than before.
Which can’t be because she's let go of the chain a long time ago. Akira rakes his head, and sees that additional chains have sprouted from the belts coiled around his thighs, connecting them to the collar of his chain.
It forces him to stay in something dangerously close to mating press lest he wants to choke or trip himself into an even more disadvantageous position.
Akira’s almost completely immobile. He can’t move.
His arms are still free, but they’re practically useless, twitching above his head, hands clawing at the ground to find purchase. Otherwise, he’s completely bared and vulnerable and he can’t do anything but let her take.
"Be loud, Joker," is the last thing Alice says with a pretty smile on her face before she fills him again, and the entire world slips off its axis.
Where she was agonizingly slow before, Alice is fast like she's trying to make up for the time she spent making him wait.
Akira writhes and tosses and turns. He’s being reduced to one thing—to the sensation of being open, full, stuffed to the brim.
"This is where you belong," Alice tells him feverishly. She looks wild, carefully styled hair framing her face in a wild curtain of pink that shake with each thrust. “Since I first met you, I didn't stop thinking about what you'd look like. On your back, spread open to take my cock. It's better than I expected. Hah, much—so much better."
Every time she withdraws, his body cries out with loss. Alice must have stretched him out and kept him open longer than he thought, because no matter how briefly he's left empty, walls desperately clenching down around nothing, he feels it.
The jarring emptiness, to the point where it feels like actual pain.
"Ha-harder," Akira cries out when her pace suddenly slows down. From fast deep strokes to shallow grinds that leave him teetering on the edge of breathlessness that has nothing to do with the thick leather adorning his neck.
Alice chuckles, spreads his legs even wider so that the chains strain against his collar. He mewls when she roughly paws at his nipples through the vest sticking to him like second skin. Fuck, he's so sensitive. Unraveling beneath her with just a simple touch.
"Harder?" she repeats. "Like this?"
The low grinding nearly completely stops. Akira wants to cry.
He is crying, he dully realizes.
"N-no, please, fuck me—just fuck me hard and fast!”
The next snap of her hips has Akira seeing the ceiling instead of her sadistic expression. His chest arches into her intoxicating touch, which she takes as an incentive to pull at the other nipple.
"Better?"
"Yes," he sobs. "More—"
Alice huffs, "Greedy."
But she complies. Finally.
Pulls completely out, only to push back into him with a force he feels going from one side of his body to the other and back. If his throat wouldn’t already be this raw, Akira thinks he would have screamed.
He's melting. There's no other explanation for it, the pain wrapped in distractive layers of pleasure at being fucked so hard and deeply and thoroughly that it dissolves reason and being.
Akira clenches like a vice each time, even before Alice attempts to pull out to greedily suck her back in. She looks impossibly flushed, too, the red on her face only a shade lighter than that of his cock, which bounces so rapidly from the force of her thrusts that it’s leaking precum everywhere.
"Fuck, that's it. You take cock so well."
Akira thinks he begs for her—countless of pleas falling from his lips. Spilling forth now that there's nothing holding him back, all inhibitions lost, filthy and desperate and befitting of his tangible desperation.
He must be, because Alice’s snarls and moans and grunts grow louder, more uncomposed, and yet the only thing he's able to hear is the rhythmic, cathartic sound of wet skin slapping against each other with a strength that makes him claw for a purchase she keeps out if his reach.
"Your hole just sucks me in. I don't even need to do anything," Alice wildly snarls, hips pumping with abandon. "Knew you'd be a good, little toy for me. This is what you wanted, right? To be fucked, to be used. There's—hahh, no better place for you to be."
I'm close, Akira wants to say by the time she pulls at his hair to stifle her own sounds of want into his throat, but simple words have no place when his Akira’s destroyed and all his body can do is let out the accompanying sound of its progress.
"Cum," Alice suddenly orders him.
It's so sudden that Akira takes a while, takes an eternity to process the command because he's been fucked for so long, so harshly that the simplicity of the word is beyond him, but then everything catches up, every moment of release she denied him coming back to crash into him at once when she brutally clamps her teeth around a nipple.
Several things happen at once.
There's relief, bright and wonderful, washing over him so intensely that he cums in high stripes all over himself. It’s so intense he neither sees black nor white, but rather a blinding spectrum of colors. There's the lack of weight on him, too, the blatant awareness he’s cold and empty—but Akira can’t possibly be expected to move a muscle, not yet, not when he’s shuddering in the aftermath of raw bliss.
It takes him a minute or five to come back to the view of Goro in front of him, pushing his bangs aside.
Akira instantly leans into the touch. Lets it ground him as he comes down from the high that totally encompassed him for god knows how long.
His muscles relax when Akira feels the effect of healing items wash over them both. It doesn’t recover his spent energy, but it alleviates the strain of his body that only really now came back to him.
"Are you ok?" Goro murmurs against his temple.
Akira hums. "Y-you?"
"If I exclude this... insistent desire of wanting to kill her at least five more times, then yes, I'm good too," Goro dryly responds.
It earns a raspy chuckle from Akira. He wastes several attempts speaking before the words finally manage to get past the soreness of his throat.
“...I’m surprised you didn't crack earlier.”
“Please. You underestimate my self-control,” Goro grumbles.
He turns around to inspect the immobile form of Alice, and scowls like he regrets killing her too fast. The downturn of his lips is still there by the time he turns back to Akira, and he'd kiss it away if he still weren't so weak.
“I’ve wanted to do that the moment she called you hers,” Goro confesses.
The and basically every single second afterwards goes unsaid.
Akira chuckles mirthfully. He’s absolutely drained. Like the time he awakened Arsene, or how he felt after summoning Satanael. That left him bedridden for an entire day.
When Goro wraps an arm around him to pull him close, Akira closes his eyes to absorb his warmth. It’s impossibly nice. Goro's scent of something flowery and smoky makes him release a content sigh, and the undertone of metallic only makes it better.
“How about the part where she stuck her hand in my chest?” Akira asks, cracking one eye open.
“That wasn't something we planned. " Goro's hand smoothens over his chest. Akira barely keeps himself from whimpering when he subconsciously graces his sore nipple. “I was worried to the point where I wanted to step in, but I feared incalculable consequences. The Metaverse is not to be messed with.”
“I know,” Akira mumbles against Goro’s throat, kissing it with a soft tilt of his head. “Thank you for worrying. I know how hard this was for you.”
He still can’t believe Goro agreed to fulfilling a fantasy he’d been plagued by since they first encountered Shadow Alice. It’s something that most likely slipped out on accident when the two of them stole time for more intimate touches, but Goro never overheard and never forgot, quietly asking Akira about it one morning when Yusuke and Ryuji were already out to leave them to their morning antics.
He’d panicked, tried to write it off as a poorly timed joke, but Goro only met him with a raised eyebrow and a skepticism so clear in his eyes that Akira quickly crumbled. Lying to Goro is not only a death wish, but it’s also something Akira absolutely sucks at. Not that he'd ever want to do that, either.
Telling Goro had still been incredibly hard, because it was an incredibly selfish wish.
To ask something of Goro he wouldn’t want to hear himself—
It’s even worse because Akira knows Goro still holds an immense grudge against Alice, despite already having beaten her. Goro is possessive by nature, and seeing her manhandle Akira and hearing her exclaims of wanting to maker him her toy ticked Goro off nearly as much as Maruki did.
Goro's earlier admittance just proves a point.
Akira's more than aware of all that. Goro’s eyes are still wandering up and down his body to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage, even if the only thing she did was tie him up, and the tight grasp of his arms and hands betray the show of nonchalance he tries to put on.
And yet he still went along with everything. For him.
It’s why Akira lifts a weak hand to work his thumbs over Goro’s cheeks, holding his face firmly.
“Seriously, Goro. Thank you for doing this. It means... more than you could possibly imagine.”
It does. Akira doesn’t even feel embarrassed for saying it out loud. Goro deserves this much, at least.
He weakly smiles when seeing Goro's ears turn pink. It’s an endearing color, one that lets Akira lean up and press a kiss to the corner of his lips.
“As long as you don’t get these… fantasies too often," Goro says after clearing his throat.
Akira presses another kiss to his mouth, melting in his embrace before Goro growls again.
"But was it really necessary for her to beat us up like that? You know I despise playing weak.”
“Sorry, honey. I don’t think it would have been convincing otherwise."
“I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Goro complains, but tightens his hold around him.
Akira laughs, shifting his position and leg a little and reveling in the choked gasp Goro fails to catch in his throat.
“I can make it up to you. You’re incredibly hard,” Akira purrs.
“Another time,” Goro grunts, prying his hands and legs off. There's a heavy undertone of desire lacing his words, though his gaze remains firm. “You’re drained, and I’m tired of a wannabe dominatrix talking to you like she owns you.”
His heart melts a little. Akira feels bad for leaving Goro like this, but he's pretty sure he'll faint if he does more than standing up.
“How dare she when I already belong to you,” Akira affirmatively hums, pushing his head back underneath Goro’s chin.
Their little height difference makes that a bit awkward, but Goro still entertains him by running his fingers through his damp curls.
Much softer, much gentler than Alice ever could.
“That’s precisely the reason why I allowed this. You’re mine, and nothing will change that.” The next words come out almost tentatively, a quality Akira doesn’t usually associate with him. “Although I do admit you looked rather… enticing. Tied up like that.”
Lazy swirls of heat crawl up in Akira’s body again.
“Want to put a collar on me, too?” he purrs.
He means it as a joke more than an actual suggestion, but the heaviness in Goro’s eyes as he properly aligns their gazes dries his mouth once more.
"I'll do that and so much more, Akira. You have a lot to compensate me for."