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Truthfully, Ryo should be concentrating on other things. There are clues falling into place all around him, random signs that are too significant to be coincidence. Portents of doom-driven things to come. Whispers that glitter out of corners and twine into his ears, beckoning him toward the end. The end of what, who knows — his quest? His life? The world? His mind strains toward numerous directions it naturally follows but something is pulling his attention away.
A ‘something’ with very distracting lips.
It’s surprisingly easy to give in. He’s always wanted Akira around; he wouldn’t have inducted him into this terrible life if not for that inescapable desire to share this with someone, and not just anyone — only his best friend would do. But lately… Ryo just wants to be right beside him. Touching if possible. It shames him to be so needy, but now that this is his reality — Akira wanting him, Akira desiring him — Ryo finds he can’t get enough. He’s always been a ‘seeing is believing’ kind of guy (except for his dreams, and the times they bleed into his waking moments, but he can tell the difference between dreams and reality, at least for now.) Yet even in the face of hard evidence (bad pun, Asuka) it’s still sometimes difficult to believe that Akira wants him like this.
Like… this.
They’re in bed (as usual these days) naked and kissing (also as usual these days) when Akira asks. Ryo, sure that he’s misheard, makes Akira repeat himself — and then makes him repeat it again, just for the pleasure of hearing I want you to fuck me in that deep voice.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I mean, I mentioned it before. Why, do you not…?”
“I know, I just thought you’d want to…”
“I want you to lead.” And somehow that’s hotter than the physical prospect of what’s about to happen.
Ryo is luckily prepared for all possibilities. He leans over Akira and reaches for the side table, trying to stifle an embarrassing giggle as Akira reaches up and tweaks his nipple. “Whatcha doing?”
“Back off, loverboy. I can’t just dive in.” Ryo finds what he’s looking for and holds it up. “And I can’t just use the usual lotion.”
Akira eyes the bottle of lube with a glint in his eye. “You have been thinking about this.”
“Yeah, well,” Ryo mumbles with a blush, popping the cap off the bottle. “You put the idea in my head.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Akira purrs. He leans up on his elbows and brushes a teasing kiss across Ryo’s lips. “I have to admit, the thought of you fantasizing about me gets me hot.”
“Everything gets you hot.”
“Heh.” Akira lays back on the pillow, arms behind his head and a wicked grin on his face. “Get me hot, then.”
It’s a challenge Ryo won’t back down from. He kisses Akira again, deeper this time, as he wraps his fingers around his dick and begins to stroke him to hardness. It doesn’t take long at all, and it’s encouraging just how eager Akira is for this. Ryo tries not to freak out too much about what comes next, taking everything one step at a time. Meanwhile he occupies himself with the feel of Akira’s cock in his hand, and with thrusting his hips up against Akira’s thigh until he’s hard himself, leaving wet streaks of precome on his lover’s skin.
These days he lets Akira see all of him.
Feeling bolder now, he pulls gently at Akira’s leg, coaxing him to lift one knee and spread himself just enough for Ryo to reach between them. He breaks the kiss before slicking up his fingers with the lube. “You gotta tell me if anything hurts or feels weird, alright?”
Akira nods, avidly watching as Ryo trails one finger down behind his balls. He kind of wishes Akira would close his eyes for this part. It’s not that Ryo is put off by the act, far from it, but it’s new and strange. A hand on a dick is much the same whether your own or another; while Ryo’s touched himself this way a handful of times, the angles are all different, as is the end goal. Can’t fuck yourself, after all. He shakes himself out of his head and concentrates on the moment in front of him: Akira naked and open beneath him as Ryo slowly pushes a finger inside. Immediately he’s struck by how warm it is, and wet — he was generous with the lube. He watches Akira’s face for any sign he should stop, but only hears him whisper “oh, wow,” under his breath before he glances up at Ryo through his lashes. “Fuck, keep going.”
Alright, then.
Ryo tries another finger to see how easily Akira takes it; it’s easy enough. Thank fuck. He’s already close to losing it just imagining how Akira will feel around his dick instead, but he'll take his time if it means Akira is comfortable. Akira hums a pleased sound at the new stretch, then huffs impatiently.
“Don’t make me wait too long.”
“I don’t want to —”
“You won’t.” Akira looks at him seriously. “You’d never hurt me.”
A strange feeling curls through Ryo’s stomach. He hopes to fuck that’s true. He shakes his dread aside; Akira deserves his whole attention. And so he repositions himself, pulling Akira's legs up and apart as he moves between them. He hopes that was enough prep. Can there be too much? Hell if Ryo knows. They’ve made each other come plenty of times but suddenly he feels like a stupid virgin. Akira grins in anticipation and Ryo figures it must be alright to get things started. As he slips inside, he leans down to press his lips to Akira's, partly for the pleasure of it, partly to distract himself from coming immediately.
It feels fucking amazing.
He still can’t believe things have escalated this far. The kissing at least had seemed inevitable — they’ve been on a train with one stop since they met, and even as Ryo held himself back for Akira's sake, there was a creeping sense of when and not if. That Akira would make the first move was unexpected, and Ryo certainly didn’t expect Akira to stick around after his bumbling drunk love confession, but yet again Akira has surprised him. Every day is a gift Ryo never thought he’d receive, and he tries to treat it that way, to be grateful for Akira’s light in his darkness.
And this? This is icing on the cake.
Akira's breath hitches as Ryo sinks in another inch, more careful than he’s ever been with anything. Certainly more careful than he is with himself.
“How does it feel?”
Akira bites his lip. “Um. A little... tender?”
Alarmed, Ryo freezes. “Do you want me to pull out?”
“No! No, it’s not bad just... give me a minute.” Akira draws in then lets out a deep breath before pushing back against Ryo just a bit. “OK, keep going.”
Ryo obeys.
When he’s about halfway inside (what the fuck, he’s inside Akira, he still can’t believe it) Akira makes a sharp little sound. Ryo tries to parse it — Pain? Pleasure? Before he can ask:
“More,” Akira sighs, and so Ryo presses forward until he can go no further, thanking every god he’s heard of but never believed in.
“Holy shit,” he gasps before he can stop himself.
“Yeah?” Akira asks with a shaky laugh. “Feel good?”
Ryo nods. “Can I — ?”
Akira digs his fingers into Ryo's biceps. “Yes. Please.”
It’s the please that sets Ryo off and gets him to start moving. Akira wants him, wants him like this, wants him inside, wants them to be so close, their bodies echoing the reality of his heart. Before Akira, Ryo had never put much stock into sex as an expression, didn’t even touch himself that often, but he thinks he understands now why this is called making love, although flowery descriptions don't really do justice to the reality of two bodies moving together. It's wet, it's sweaty, it’s physical in a way that briefly reminds Ryo of the way Akira moves when he’s fighting, all tensing muscles and gritted teeth. He adjusts his grip and tries another angle, seeing what works best. He’ll get better with practice, right?
Akira is the one spread out beneath him, but Ryo suddenly feels so desperately vulnerable he wants to turn away. Yet Akira’s eyes are trusting, his mouth open and panting in pleasure that Ryo is giving him, and Ryo knows with jarring clarity that he could never run now, even if this fire consumes him alive.
It would be easy to get lost in the sensations running through his own body, but Ryo tries to make this just as much about Akira as himself, if not more. He touches Akira on his chest, his hair, strokes his cheek, and tries to pour everything he’s feeling into his movements. Something flashes across Akira's face, but it's fleeting. and in the next moment he’s growling and urging Ryo on.
“Harder.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Why, can you not...?”
Ryo can go a little harder, although he doubts he has the stamina to keep it up for long. “I just thought, it’s your first time, you might want it...”
Akira smiles. “Soft?”
“Y- yeah.”
“It’s your first time, too. Is that what you want?”
“I want what you want.” It’s not a cop out; Ryo’s pleasure is accelerated by pleasing Akira.
Akira’s lip curls up in a coy grin, showing a hint of fang. “Well, then I want it harder.”
Ryo complies — and ohh that's nice — but apparently it’s not quite enough, and Akira grabs him by the ass and pulls him in while simultaneously pushing back against him. Now they are truly fucking each other — it’s like a dance, like a battle. It’s hot as hell. Every thrust sends a jolt up Ryo's spine, back arching as he attempts to give Akira everything. He must be doing something right, as Akira makes a guttural noise and throws his head back.
“Goddamn that feels good!”
“Yeah? You like taking my cock?” Where are these words coming from? He never thought of himself as someone who could be so lewd.
Akira rumbles an assenting noise before reaching down to wrap his fingers around his own dick and start stroking it at a slightly faster rhythm than Ryo's thrusts. Ryo would like to have been the one doing that, but he’s preoccupied. Maybe next time. With his other hand Akira clutches at Ryo's shoulders, his claws starting to emerge, and Ryo welcomes it, welcomes all of Akira, what he’s always been and what Ryo has made of him.
Akira is mumbling into his lips now, mostly unintelligible praise, and Ryo swallows his words up hungrily. “Feel so good inside me.” Ryo thinks he could die right now and be happy. “Fuck, I’m gonna come soon, you’re gonna make me come.” Maybe he has died and gone to heaven. Nah, Ryo is hell bound and he knows it. Akira shudders and moans then, his voice trembling as his hand speeds up on his dick. He gulps air in to say something else, probably another filthy thing to drive Ryo wild, but instead what comes out is a breathy declaration, so soft Ryo almost misses it: “I love you.”
What?!?
Is this a dream? Ryo resists the urge to look over his shoulder for the inevitable figures and eyes that always appear in his nightmares — no, he’s awake, he has to be, nothing in his dreams has ever felt so good, sweat slicked skin against his own and tight pressure on his dick. Akira is under him, warm and solid, crying out words that Ryo has longed to hear.
There’s no way Ryo can hold out any longer, and as the climax hits, his breath catches in his throat. What he really wants is to scream, but instead he grips Akira probably a bit too hard, thumb pressing into his collarbone. It feels like his soul is being torn out through his dick — not an eloquent thought, but who could be expected to form words at a moment like this? So Ryo only gasps and shudders his way through the most intense orgasm of his life.
Akira stares up at Ryo, catching on as his lover’s eyes screw shut and his thrusts stutter. “Are you? — oh fuck, that’s hot.” Tensing up, his hand speeds along his shaft until he joins Ryo in a truly spectacular climax. Ryo wishes he could pay better attention to the sight but his vision is still swimming. He can definitely feel it, cum slicking up both of their chests. Akira is snarling, but he doesn’t transform. He makes noises like that sometimes at the end. Ryo is used to it. Ryo finds it terribly sexy.
Nothing lasts forever; eventually the high passes and the only sound is their heavy breathing as they both try and recover. Akira tiredly raises a hand and runs it through his sweaty hair. "Wow."
That's one way to put it.
At last Ryo is able to summon up enough energy to pull out before flopping over on his back next to Akira. “I hope you have a towel handy,” he mumbles, still dazed.
“Yeah, here.” Akira hands one over. “I’m gonna, um, go to the bathroom.”
He slips out of bed, leaving Ryo lying there alone with his thoughts. He didn't know anything could feel like that. He’s still shaking slightly, nerves raw. And what Akira said — did he mean it? If Ryo doesn't bring it up he can bask in the words for a little longer. But that doesn't seem fair.
When Akira returns he slides under the sheets and pulls them up over Ryo, too. For a moment they just stare at each other.
“Did you —”
“Was that —”
Ryo smiles. “You go first.”
“Was that good?” Akira asks eagerly. Ryo nods. Good doesn’t begin to describe it. “For me too,” Akira says. “Even better than I imagined.”
“And here you were teasing me for fantasizing.”
Akira shrugs, “Got me there,” then props his head up on his hand. “What were you going to say?”
It’s too hard to just ask outright. So Ryo takes his normal circuitous route along a difficult conversation. “What… what you said. Don’t say that in the heat of the moment. Especially not if you don’t —”
Akira cuts him off. “Ryo. I’ve known for a while. It just felt like the right time.” They regard one another in silence and Ryo can see no deception in those deep brown eyes. The wicked glint there since Akira merged with Amon is ever present, but so is an emotion that Ryo wouldn’t know how to name if not for its reflection in his own heart.
He stops himself before he can become too sentimental. “In the middle of sex? You're such a cliché, Fudo.”
“Shut up.” Akira swats him on the shoulder. “You’re the one who told me while drunk.”
“You’ve got me there.”
“Yeah." Akira brushes a hand across Ryo's cheek. "I’ve got you.”
And oh, oh it feels so good.
Ryo doesn’t want to need things, because everything he possesses could be gone in a blink, even his own life. And he can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t deserve this, because he’s caused so much pain in the world already, and maybe worse things will come if he allows himself this happiness. But philosophical considerations of deserving and forgiveness pale against the tender way that Akira holds him close.
Well and truly relaxed, Ryo speaks without thinking. “You know, I feel like we skipped a step.”
“What, like we’re moving too fast? It’s a little late for —”
“No, it’s been months since you kissed me. We aren’t moving fast.” (That’s sort of a lie; Ryo sometimes feels like all of this has happened to him in a day. But he’d like to reassure Akira.) “I was only…” He blushes now, the dirty words harder to say when they aren’t in the middle of sex. “I mean, we went straight from jerking off to fucking, and we never…” He hides his face against Akira’s shoulder. “I never sucked your dick.”
“Well, by all means,” Akira laughs, “you’re welcome to it.”
“If you think I’m moving at all until tomorrow you’re insane.” He’s sure Akira could go again — and again and again — but Ryo is only human.
“It’d be a nice way to wake up,” Akira purrs suggestively.
“You always wake up before me.”
“Hmm. True.” Akira kisses the top of his head. “Go to sleep, then.” There’s a devious note in Akira’s voice, but Ryo is so thoroughly exhausted now he can’t stay awake to puzzle it out.
He wakes up hours later with the answer, Akira’s tongue running along his morning hard-on.