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Goro doesn’t know what to expect as he shuts Leblanc’s door behind him.
What kind of reaction is he even looking for? For Akira to call him back, to run after him, to beg him to stay just for one night? What does it matter when Goro wouldn’t say yes even if he tried?
But it’s nothing he has to worry about. The door remains closed, and when Goro looks through the glass door, all he can see are Akira’s feet as they disappear up the stairs and into the attic.
And that’s—fine. It speaks of Akira's resolve to erase this reality, to put Goro’s final wishes above his own. That’s the strength Goro has always admired in him. There isn’t any hesitation in Akira’s decision, and there shouldn’t be.
Now Goro’s alone, not knowing what on earth to do with his last night alive.
There’s nothing else to do, he supposes, except go back to his apartment.
So It’s a shock for both of them, he’s guessing, when he walks into Jazz Jin and finds Akira already nursing a drink at their table. But when he approaches, Akira says nothing except, “You’re late.”
For some reason, the remark bristles at him. “I don’t believe I agreed to anything beyond our plan for tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but I knew you were gonna come here.” Akira says. A server comes to place another drink right in front of Goro’s usual seat, perfectly timed. “Are you gonna sit? Your ice is gonna melt.”
Infuriating, as always. Goro doesn’t even know why he came here. He should just turn around and walk back to his apartment like he told himself he would.
He sinks into his chair. “What are you planning?”
Akira shrugs. “Just trying to spend some more time with you before it’s too late.”
“You had no guarantees I’d even come here. What were you going to do if I just went home?”
“Have a decent drink, I guess?” Akira says with a rueful smile. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. Maybe I just know you too well, detective. I knew you’d be coming back here, so I decided to get here first.”
Goro rolls his eyes. “You overestimate yourself too much. More likely, it’s Maruki doing you favors again. If he brought me back to life, who knows what else he can—”
But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Akira jolts, staring at him with horror in his eyes. “No, that’s not—the last thing that I want to do to you is—” he pauses, taking a deep breath before reaching out to lay his hand atop Goro’s own. “I promise, that’s not what I want. I only want you to be here if you want to be here. If you don’t, then you can go. Or I can go. Whatever you want.”
The worst part is that Goro meant it as an offhand comment, but now it eats at him, the possibility that any decision he makes here results from Akira wanting him to make it. Whether he stays or not benefits Akira in some way, whether it’s to spend more time with him or give him a false sense of free will. Stalemate.
He hates Maruki so much.
“I’ll stay,” he says, because there’s no use denying his own wants, now that he’s here.
“Are you sure?” Akira asks.
“Yes. Don’t ask again.”
He still seems wary, but his desire to be with Goro appears to win out, because he relaxes. “We can go somewhere else once we finish our drinks if you’d rather do that,” he suggests.
“Nothing else is open at this hour, except maybe Penguin Sniper. It’s fine.” With his free hand, Goro brings his drink closer and allows himself to take a sip, the flavor bursting on his tongue. From the corner of his eye, he can see the singer stepping up to the microphone, the band beginning the first song of their set. He sighs as he leans back on the chair. “At least the music is live today.”
“Mhm.” Akira’s hand is still on Goro's fingers, thumb repeatedly passing over a knuckle. “Feels kind of nostalgic, doesn’t it?”
“Nostalgic?” Goro scoffs. “You’ve brought me here multiple times a week for the past month; what is there to be nostalgic for?”
Akira laughs. “Alright, fair. But I just meant… I was thinking of the first time you brought me here.”
Memories flash in his mind for a split second, of a night just like tonight; the crooning notes of the singer, the hours of conversation. “I remember,” Goro says. “I guess you liked it more than I thought you would.”
“Well, the company is a pretty big draw.” Akira squeezes Goro’s fingers, his gaze soft and warm towards him.
“... Suppose you’ll have to enjoy it on your own soon enough,” he says lightly, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “Or maybe your little friends can keep you company.”
Akira frowns. “The other Thieves? No, I wouldn’t bring them here.”
Goro raises an eyebrow. “And why not? Not their type?” He wouldn’t be surprised. The rowdy bunch of kids that they are, Muhen would probably kick them out after a couple minutes anyway.
“You told me the first time you took me here. This place was special to you, and you’ve never brought anyone else before me,” Akira explains, as if this is obvious. “I’m not about to ruin that.”
And it strikes Goro, like it always does every time Akira shows him how much he really listens and cares. Aren’t you left-handed? Because we’re similar. I’m your rival, aren’t I?
He really should have known, way back then, that getting so close to Akira was the start of something dangerous. Being known so intimately is all but painting a giant target on his back. He probably shouldn’t have ever introduced Akira to the club at all; it was the first sign that he was inching his way closer to Goro’s heart, breaking his walls down with ease. He should have fought harder, shouldn’t have let him in as much as he had, but. Akira never took aim at the target marked on him.
“So, dooming yourself to nights alone for the rest of your time in Tokyo?” is all he asks.
“Not the first time I’ve done it.” Akira’s smile is painful again. “You should’ve seen me after…”
He trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish his sentence.
“Hey,” he starts quietly, returning Akira’s attention to him. “Is this really a good idea?”
“What?”
“Spending time with me tonight. You’ve promised me your resolve, and I’ve learned not to doubt you once you’ve made your mind up. Still, this feels…” Like rubbing salt on a wound. Wasting hours with a dead man walking instead of allowing the pain of losing him to start healing.
Akira shrugs. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. For now, I just…”
“Just…?"
“I just want to pretend this is a regular night out,” Akira lets out. “Like all the other nights we’ve spent together. Can we… do that?”
One last request. And even if Goro can’t understand it, it’s still one that isn’t difficult to fulfill. He sighs. “Whatever you want.”
Akira’s smile softens. He scoots his chair closer, close enough that he can lean in and rest his head on Goro’s shoulder. He intertwines their fingers together. “C’mon. Let’s listen. We didn’t hear her first song.”
They stay like that for the entirety of the singer’s set, with Akira’s head on Goro’s shoulder. Neither of them speaks. Akira abandons his drink in favor of playing with Goro’s hand, tracing the lines of his palm over the glove, massaging each of his fingers, feeling for the pulse on his wrist. He’s still humming along to all the songs, though, so Goro can’t even reprimand him for not paying attention.
Akira’s head only lifts when the last song of the set peters out, earning the singer a quiet round of applause. As the performers pack up, so too will all of the other patrons at the club; they’ll have to clear out soon. He still hasn’t let go of Goro’s hand. “Guess we should go.”
Goro finds himself not wanting to move at all, already yearning for the peaceful moment that’s long gone. But it’s not like he’s left with a choice. He removes his hand from Akira’s grip. “You should go, yes. While the train is still running.”
“What about you?”
“You don’t need to worry about me. My apartment’s a ten-minute walk away.”
“Really?” the side of Akira’s mouth twitches up. “Then why did you always walk me to the station before?”
“Because I’m not rude,” he grumbles, his cheeks warming.
That only makes Akira laugh. “You? Since when have you cared about being rude?”
“I had a reputation to uphold, you know,” he huffs, “back when I was still holding up the facade of the Detective Prince. After that, it just… became a force of habit.”
“Force of habit,” Akira repeats, but his eyes are still alight with amusement.
Goro shoots a glare at him. “You know, it’s truly a miracle that your friends can stand your presence for longer than a few minutes.”
“I haven’t even said anything,” Akira says lightly. He stands up, taking his coat and shrugging it back on. “But, while we’re still talking about it…”
Goro rolls his eyes. “I’ll walk you back, if that’s what you want.”
“No, no. That’s not what I was gonna say.” Akira plays with his bangs, avoiding Goro’s gaze when he looks up at him. “I just… well, if it’s just around the corner anyway…”
He knows where this is going, but he lets Akira dance around the question. At least it gives him more time to think of what to say. “What?”
“Maybe I could spend the night at your place?” Akira rushes out, cheeks burning red. “I mean, you’ve spent a couple long nights at Leblanc before, and I’ve never seen your apartment. If this is my only chance of seeing it, then…”
It’s somewhat true. He’s never slept over at Akira’s dusty little hideout, but there have been occasions where the both of them have stayed in Leblanc after closing, losing track of time, wrapped up in another conversation or another game of chess.
Still, there’s that, and there’s this: the vulnerability of letting Akira in his space, letting all of his defenses down, and being unconscious in his presence.
“You can say no,” Akira says quietly, “if you don’t want me to.”
And the worst part of all of this is that Goro does want him to. He’s not ready for this night to end, knowing it’ll be the last. He sighs and stands up. “Follow me.”
It’s not until they’re both out of Jazz Jin and turning away from the station that Akira brightens, catching up to walk beside Goro instead of following behind him.
“Thought you were gonna shoo me away.”
“As if that would ever stop you.”
“Never.” Akira entwines their fingers again, and Goro tugs him through the streets without looking back.
Despite the late hour, Kichijoji is still bustling with people, but the area around Goro’s apartment building is nice and quiet. He leads Akira into the building, up the stairs, and down the hall until they stop at his unit, where he gently shakes Akira’s hand off to unlock the door.
The studio apartment is as spotless as always; he never spends enough time here to create much clutter. For all the insults he tosses at Akira about his attic, his home is an even smaller space. There’s a bed, a desk, a closet, a tiny kitchen, and a door leading to the bathroom.
At least he has his own bed frame, unlike some people here.
“No dining table?” Akira asks as he toes his shoes off.
“I usually just eat at my desk,” Goro replies. Akira makes a face as he hangs his coat on the rack, but he’s not about to take any advice from someone who stores his clothes in a cardboard box.
He lets Akira look around as he removes his shoes, coat, and gloves. He’s poked around the attic enough to give Akira the right to do the same. Akira picks up the 48-sided puzzle he keeps on his desk, the same one he gifted to Goro months ago.
“Hey. You kept it.”
“It’s good stress relief,” Goro mumbles.
Akira laughs. There’s a blush creeping up his cheeks again. “Did you keep all the other stuff I gave you?”
He gestures to the foot of his bed, where the robot vacuum cleaner sits, powered off. “I don’t toss away things that aren’t useless to me,” is all he says. Akira crouches down and pets it as if it were some sort of cat.
It’s a bit embarrassing now, but he’s sure Akira can find every one of the gifts he’s given Goro over the months in the tiny apartment unit. The vitamins are in the bathroom cabinet, and the electric toothbrush is on his sink. The incense set is in the kitchen drawers. The silver bangle is on his wrist, not that he’s ever dared to show it to him. Each gift is chosen with care, with nothing but Goro’s best interests in mind. That’s just the kind of person Akira is, he knows, but—
”I should’ve given you more presents,” Akira says, standing up now that he’s done cooing over an electrical appliance. “Like a poster or something. It doesn’t hurt to decorate a little, you know.”
“What do you want me to do, hang up a Phantom Thieves tapestry?” Goro says snootily.
“I wouldn’t mind. You’d be reminded of me every time you wake up.” He sidles up to Goro, a finger hooking on one of his belt loops to pull him closer.
“Please,” Goro says, but his voice is wavering. “The Phantom Thieves were everywhere last year. I couldn’t escape you no matter how much I wanted to.”
“I’m that repulsive, huh?” Akira’s other hand reaches out, playing with a lock of Goro’s hair curling towards his cheek. “And I suppose that’s why you couldn’t stop texting me.”
Goro’s cheeks heat up again. “I was gathering intel.”
“For what, detective? I don’t recall you needing any of it when you were tasked to shoot me.”
“And I don’t recall telling you anything about my plans that would lead you to these conclusions,” Goro says with a scowl, batting Akira’s hand away. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
Akira catches his hand before Goro can pull it away. “I know you’re smart. Smart enough to know any of the things you told me about yourself would have ruined you if you had given it to the wrong person.” He entwines their fingers together again. “But you knew I wouldn’t, right? Because you trusted me.”
He did. He still does. “Stop going around in circles and get to the point.”
“If I showed you instead of telling you,” Akira says, voice down to a whisper, “would you pay attention?”
He’s so close. When did he get so close? Goro can feel his breath against his lips. All he can see are a pair of silver eyes, framed by long lashes and glowing from the moonlight.
In the end, he’s the one who moves forward.
Akira breathes out a sigh as soon as their lips touch, as if he’s been holding his breath for it. His free hand hooks around Goro’s waist, pulling him closer.
Goro half-expected Akira to kiss as if he were still donning Joker’s mask, fierce and overpowering, not giving his opponent a chance to breathe. Instead, he lets his sentimentality lead, guiding the kiss into something slow and sweet. He’s even smiling against it, his fingers clutching tightly in the fabric of Goro’s shirt.
Frustratingly, he only breaks the kiss when Goro tries to deepen it himself. He tries to follow Akira’s lips as they pull away, stopped only when both of Akira’s hands move to cup his face instead.
“What is it now,” Goro grumbles.
“I love you,” Akira says.
Logically, he deduced this a long time ago. He had noticed, of course, Akira’s attraction to him that had bloomed way before everything else got so horribly complicated, from the very first time they laid eyes on each other. He watched as Akira slowly put more trust in him, confided in him, listened when Goro confided in return. Something grew between them in the months they’ve known each other, and he can’t deny that.
But it was never supposed to go this far. Goro only meant, and this is what he tells himself, to gain the trust of the Phantom Thieves leader so that he could kill him in the end. He never expected Akira to bang his fists on the bulkhead door between them as he bled out on the other side. He never expected to see that expression on Akira’s face on Christmas Eve, and again after New Year, like all of his wishes had come true. He never expected himself to be a wish. To be wanted to such an extent.
It’s one thing to know that Akira loves him and another thing entirely to be faced with the fact head-on.
He’s been quiet for too long. Akira’s eyes are losing their glow. “This doesn’t mean I’m accepting Maruki’s deal,” he continues, voice still low. “I just… wanted you to know.”
“... Sit down,” Goro orders. Akira sits on the bed obediently, his hands sliding down with him until they settle back around his waist. Goro tilts Akira’s chin up with his fingers. “What do you want from me tonight, Akira?”
“I-I don’t know,” Akira says. “Anything you want to give me.”
“How vague,” Goro says reproachfully, clicking his tongue. “It’s my last night alive, you know. My last chance to give you what you want. If you’re going to waste the opportunity, you might as well catch that last train back to Yongen-Jaya.”
For a minute, Akira stays silent. He breaks their unwavering eye contact to pull Goro closer, hugging him around the waist and resting his head on Goro’s stomach. Then, “I want you to tell me something you’ve never told me, too,” he says, voice muffled in Goro’s shirt. “Any secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
Goro hums, fingers sinking into Akira’s locks. Unfairly soft for someone who brings 3-in-1 shampoo to the bathhouse. “You’re right,” he says. “I didn’t contact you all those times just to gather intel.”
Akira laughs. “Does that count? I already knew that.”
“Do you not want the satisfaction of being right?”
Akira shakes his head. “I didn’t need confirmation. Tell me something else.”
Goro pulls at his ear, lips twitching upward at the resulting whine. “So picky,” he says. “Give me time to think, then.”
Akira smiles. He pulls at Goro’s shirt, untucking it from his pants, dipping his hands under it to explore the expanse of skin underneath. “I can give you plenty of time to think.”
It’s easy enough to understand what he’s insinuating. “And how will you do that?”
Akira looks up at him, eyes glinting. “Come down here and find out.”
So Goro leans down, capturing his lips in another kiss. Akira’s hands hook to the back of his thighs, pulling him forward until he gives in and climbs onto his lap. Like this, Goro still has his leverage, and he keeps his grip on Akira’s hair as he pries his mouth open with his tongue and deepens the kiss.
But even as Goro pushes, bites at Akira’s bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, and grinds downwards with such intent that it makes Akira whimper loudly against his mouth, Akira still fights to keep their pace slow and sweet. Every kiss is punctuated with a smile, and the hand on Goro’s waist is underneath his shirt again, holding him securely against him.
He’s expecting Akira to snap any time now, to just reach out and take what he wants, knowing he’ll never have it again. Instead, he’s gentle about it, as if savoring every second. Goro doesn’t know which one is worse.
Akira only pulls away from the kiss to trail his lips down Goro’s neck instead, with little pecks and nibbles that feel like sparks of fire against his skin. He undoes the buttons of Goro’s shirt, tugs it past his shoulders so that he can leave his kisses on there too. It’s only when he reaches the junction between his neck and shoulders that Akira finally latches on, biting into him.
Goro tamps down the moan stuck in his throat, clears it before he speaks. “Is this your next request?”
It’s a moment before Akira unlatches from his neck. He can feel every hot breath against him, fast and labored. “Is it okay?”
“Depends on what you want to do. Give me specifics, Joker.” He tugs at Akira’s hair again, and this time, it makes his breath hitch, something Goro delightfully tucks in his mind for later. “And don’t say this is all we’re doing. Make my last night more memorable, will you?”
If the reminder affects Akira in any way, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his grip on Goro’s waist goes tighter. “I want you in my mouth,” he says quietly. “Can I?”
It’s such an obvious Akira thing to want that it makes him laugh. That's his Joker, always more concerned with other people’s wants and needs. “Would you let me return the favor?”
“Y-You don’t have to.”
“But I want to.”
“Then… okay. But I’m going first.”
Goro rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” He glances at the bed. “Now, should I–”
In response, Akira smiles, tilting them both until Goro lands on the bed on his back. Akira takes his glasses off and sets them on Goro’s bedside table before gently parting Goro’s legs, settling in between them. “This better?”
“For now.” His hands reach out for him again, curling them around the nape of his neck. “Thought of this often?“
He meant it as a tease, but Akira’s sigh comes out shaky. “So much.” He leans down and nudges against Goro’s crotch again, mouthing teasingly, and Goro can’t help the moan that escapes him, both at the muted sparks of pleasure and the sight alone. “Let me make you feel good?”
”Yes. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Akira gives him a soft look, one he can’t meet without wanting to hide. Thankfully, his pants and underwear are tugged down and off before he can start to panic.
He’s already embarrassingly hard. If it isn’t already apparent to Akira that this is his first time experiencing anything like this, he’ll surely have figured it out by now. Yet Akira is unfazed, pleased even, as he leans forward and licks tentatively at Goro’s tip. When Goro gasps, he opens his mouth and slowly sinks down.
Goro’s hips jump off the bed, but Akira pins him back down with a hand before Goro can choke him. The new sensation completely floods his senses, narrows the world down to just the velvet heat of Akira’s mouth. Akira doesn’t give him any reprieve, holding Goro by the base as he takes him into his mouth inch by inch.
He’s struggling to keep himself in check, his body shaking, his breathing kept to sharp huffs to keep himself from making noise. Akira’s eyes flicker up to look at him as he bobs his head, tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, and Goro has to shut his eyes before he does something stupid like call out his name.
Akira hums against him and pulls off. “You’re so quiet.”
“I—” he turns his head, cheeks reddening at how his voice trembles. “This is just—how I usually am.”
“I don’t believe you.” Akira stupidly presses a kiss on the side of his dick, his hand dragging up and down the length. “C’mon. It’s your last night alive, right? Give me something to remember you by.”
“Is the sight, ah, not enough for you?”
“No.” Another kiss, right at the tip this time. “Nothing will be enough. I want everything you can give me, so stop holding back.”
Then, the tantalizing warmth of his mouth returns before Goro can think of a cutting response. When Akira tongues roughly at the slit, Goro lets the quiet moan escape him, his hands moving back to grip lightly at the curls. As if spurred on by the noise, Akira sinks further down until Goro hits the back of his throat so he can swallow around him.
“Fuck!” Goro cries out, hips jumping again, because nothing could prepare him for this; how it feels, how Akira looks below him like this. “Akira—”
But it’s not enough—not to Akira, who huffs through his nose before reaching up to wrap his fingers around Goro’s wrist. He looks straight into Goro’s eyes as he pushes his own head down even further, then bobs his head back up, squeezing Goro’s wrist with intent. And Goro understands precisely what he’s asking from him.
Shakily, he puts his other hand on Akira’s head, raising his hips to slowly thrust into Akira’s mouth, biting back the keen that follows. Akira sighs, eyes fluttering as he lets go of Goro’s wrist to prop himself up instead. His head follows easily when Goro pushes him down, then wrenches him back up by his hair. He's giving the control to Goro’s hands entirely, confident he can take anything Goro will give him. Because of course he’s good at this, too.
Who else could he have done this for, Goro thinks wildly. Who taught him to be this good, who did he practice with—who will he do this with after I’m gone?
Goro swears, thrusts into Akira’s mouth even rougher, setting a pace that isn’t brutal but certainly isn’t gentle either. His nerves spark along his spine each time he fucks in and out of Akira’s willing throat, unable to keep the moans from spilling out of his mouth. He can’t fully let himself go like Akira wants, but Goro can let him have something. Something he’ll remember, Goro hopes, if he ever does anything like this with someone else.
Not that it’s a cause for concern right now. For now, at least, every thrust into Akira’s throat only draws out even more desperate little moans from him. The sounds and vibrations of his voice are enough to drive Goro crazy, the pleasure digging deep into his core.
“You’re so—pathetic,” Goro grits out, and his pace is starting to stutter, still thrusting clumsily into Akira’s mouth, “can’t believe this is what you wanted, relegated to nothing more than a hole for me to use—“
The mewl Akira lets out is obscene. Goro chances another look down; Akira’s eyes are glazed and half-closed, expression completely blissed out. One of his hands is still propping himself up; the other, Goro realizes, has disappeared between Akira’s legs. Palming himself at being used for Goro’s own pleasure.
The sight makes Goro’s heartbeat pound in his ears. He’s perfect. “Is—Is this really all that it takes—hah—to tame the leader of the Phantom Thieves?” Goro asks, heat and pleasure pooling in his gut. He’s on the precipice of tipping over, but he doesn’t stop, propping himself up with an elbow while his other hand keeps Akira’s head steady. “If I had known—that you’d drool over anyone’s cock like this, perhaps I could’ve caught you before you went and ruined me—”
Akira whines, pulling off despite Goro’s efforts to push him back down, replacing the heat of his mouth with his hand, moving in quick strokes. “I wouldn’t act like this with anyone,” he says quietly. “Only you will ever get to see me like this. Just you.”
And that, of all things, is what tips him over, legs shaking as the pleasure seizes his body and he spills in Akira’s fist with a cry of his name, vision blurring and hands trembling as he clutches at Akira’s curls.
His body starts to relax slowly into the mattress as he comes down from the high. He lets go of Akira’s hair, his legs falling back open as he catches his breath. He can barely see straight, but he still watches as Akira lets go of his cock to lick his hand clean, tongue lapping at Goro’s come in broad strokes.
The sight sends another spike of pleasure through his gut, and he beckons Akira forward. Akira trails kisses up Goro’s body, dropping kisses on his thighs, his stomach, right over his heart, before finally arriving at his lips. He licks at the seam of Goro’s mouth, who easily lets him in. He can still taste himself on Akira’s tongue; he’s still dazed and lightheaded by the time Akira pulls away.
Akira’s as smug as he’s ever seen him, even with tear stains on his cheeks and drool gathering at the corner of his mouth. There’s a splatter of come on his face, and when Goro wipes it off with his finger, he obediently opens his mouth to lick it clean. He pulls off and rests his cheek on Goro’s chest, an accomplished smile on his face. “Good?”
“You’re such a little freak,” Goro says instead of answering. He runs his fingers through Akira’s hair, much gentler than anything he was doing not five minutes prior. “Do you just get off on being used or something?”
“That was barely anything,” Akira says, blinking innocently. “You could’ve been rougher.”
“Is that so? Now I’m curious to see exactly how deep your depravity goes.”
Akira nuzzles at the junction between Goro’s neck and shoulder. “Well, maybe you can—” he starts before falling strangely silent, turning his head to press a kiss on Goro’s skin instead.
And, well. If this is their first and last night together, then he still hasn’t made it worth Akira’s time, not yet. Akira yelps as Goro rolls them both over until he’s hovering above him.
“Goro? What—”
“Didn’t I tell you I’d be returning the favor?” he asks, pushing Akira’s shirt up until he takes the hint and shucks it off himself, tossing it on the floor. “I’m not letting you win that easily.”
Akira lets out a surprised laugh. “Is that what this is to you?”
“You were thinking the same. You looked as smug as I’ve ever seen you.”
“Not everyone can say they’ve made the Detective Prince lose control—ah, Goro—“ Akira yelps as Goro seals his mouth over his nipple and sucks, teeth sinking into the skin for good measure. He drifts his hand down, undoing Akira’s pants and pushing them down until Akira lifts his hips and pulls them all the way off.
He pulls away to get a better look. The slightest reciprocation has left Akira blushing, looking up at Goro with wide eyes. The reddening teeth marks around his nipple are stark against his pale skin. There’s a damp patch on his underwear, the sizable bulge of it making Goro’s mouth water.
He’d try to get Akira in his mouth the same way, but his own lack of experience makes him hesitate; the last thing he wants to do is make a fool of himself now, of all times. Still, there are other ways for him to give as good as he got. He leans down to mouth teasingly at Akira’s clothed cock, enjoying the musk, experimentally tonguing at where the slit would be. Akira reacts beautifully, hips twitching up with a moan that he tries to cover with his mouth.
Goro pulls away. “I’ve barely done anything,” he says, unable to keep the marvel from his voice as his eyes scan up and down Akira’s body. “Are you truly this sensitive? I’d have thought your experience would make you last longer…”
“You expect way too much from me,” Akira says with a shaky laugh. “If I was with anyone else, yeah, maybe. But it’s you. And, I don’t know, maybe that just… heightens everything for me.”
He needs to shut up. There are only so many declarations of affection he can take in one night, and if Akira brings up another hint of his feelings towards him, Goro might just explode. “That appreciative of my pretty face, I suppose,” he says nonchalantly, pulling Akira’s underwear down and allowing his aching, flushed cock to spring free.
“You know it’s not that,” Akira says, barely reacting when Goro nudges between his legs, as if he doesn’t even care about what’s about to happen. “Everything is different when it’s you.”
“Akira.”
“You can’t keep ignoring me every time I try to tell you.”
“Akira, drop it,” he hisses.
“Goro, you’re—all that I want is—“
He cuts himself with a gasp as Goro wraps a hand around his cock, thumbing at the slit, spreading the precome as he pumps his fist up and down. The sudden, rough pace makes Akira keen loudly, both hands reaching to grip Goro’s shoulders.
“Ah! Goro—“
“You’re so stupid,” he spat. He can barely think straight anymore, his mind and body taken over with the need to make Akira shut up, to make him fall apart, to make him stop talking before the panic swells up in Goro’s chest any further. “I’m what you want, is that it? I would be all you need to make you happy?”
“Yes, yes,” Akira chants, arching up at him with a whine as he wraps his arms fully around Goro’s neck, but it’s not enough.
“What would you have me do,” Goro growls, “If we had chosen to take the offer?”
“Goro? What—“ Akira cuts himself off with another mewl as Goro twists his hand, but something’s changed in the haze of his eyes.
“Answer me, or you won’t get to come.” He pushes away Akira’s hands to trail down his body and slows his hand so he can lick a broad stroke up Akira’s dick. “What would you make me do?”
“Nothing! Nothing, ah, Goro, I swear, please—“
“Tell me what you wished for,” he orders, opening his mouth and letting just the tip in, swirling his tongue against the slit.
“I just—wanted you to stay alive—” he stutters, and his damned hands are reaching out for Goro again, landing on the nape of his neck as Goro pulls his head away. “Alive, and with me. That’s, mm, that’s all I want—“
“What would happen if I decided I wanted to leave?” He demands. “And not just you. What if, in this false reality, I decided I’d leave Tokyo entirely?”
“Goro—“
“Answer.” He slows the pace of his hand again, and when Akira tries to buck into his grip, he pushes his hips back down with his free hand. “Or I swear to god I’ll leave you like this.”
“I’d let you do whatever you want,” Akira babbles, blinking away the wetness of his eyes, “I just—I just want you safe and alive. You don’t have to stay with me, please—“
“And if there’s no way for you to know?” Goro asks, and he dreads the answer, feels something cold settling in the pit of his stomach already, but he has to know. “If that’s the last time you’ll ever see or hear from me, and all you’re left with is the hope that I might still be alive out there. Would you change your mind then? Would you force me to come home?”
“No.” Akira breathes without a second of hesitation, and it tilts Goro’s world on its axis. “I’d—I’d let you go. Even if it means I can never see you again. Goro, I’m—“
“I know,” Goro whispers, all the venom leaving his voice. He holds Akira’s cock by the base so that he can take it into his mouth again. He can’t take much more than a small mouthful, but it’s enough—all he needs to do is hollow his cheeks and sink down, bobbing his head once, twice, before Akira’s choking out his name. He pulls Goro roughly away before he seizes and comes, trembling violently as his come streaks across his chest.
And then there’s the aftermath, which Goro is left to deal with. The come drying on both of them will start to get uncomfortable eventually, their clothes are strewn across half of his apartment’s limited floor space, and he can no longer tell if the tear streaks on Akira’s cheeks are purely from the sex.
He starts by taking his shirt all the way off to clean his own face. Akira is silent beside his own exhausted panting, his red-rimmed and hazy eyes following Goro’s every movement as he wipes the come off Akira’s body. Goro drops the dirtied shirt on the floor once he’s done—he can deal with it tomorrow—and reaches out to cup Akira’s tear-stained cheek. “You with me?”
Somehow, despite all that’s been said, Akira’s gaze still softens at the question. “Yeah.” He leans into Goro’s touch, eyes fluttering closed, turning his head to press a kiss on the palm. His voice vibrates into Goro’s hand as he speaks. “I feel fine, just tired. What about you? Are you okay?”
And isn’t that a question? He’s overwhelmed by everything, the weight of Akira’s devotion, the consuming fear of his own death that he’s been trying to push aside. But that’s probably too much to lay onto Akira right now, not when he’s contending with his own grief. So instead, Goro says, “I’m alright.” And then, because that doesn’t seem enough, “Sorry about…”
Akira chuckles weakly. “It’s okay. It was hot.”
Goro blinks. “...You’re always so strange,” he eventually says, resting all his weight on Akira’s body. He can feel the thud of Akira’s pulse when he hides his face in his neck.
“You like that about me,” Akira replies, resting his hands on Goro’s back.
“I hate everything about you.”
“You’ve told me. I still don’t believe you.”
Goro pinches Akira’s side, making him laugh, and for a second, it almost feels like a normal night.
“Hey,” Akira says suddenly, taking Goro’s hand. The silver bangle rests around his wrist, no longer hidden by Goro’s layers of clothing. “You kept this, too.”
“...It was expensive. It’d be a waste if I just let it gather dust here.”
“Denying it till the end, huh?” Akira says lightly, but there’s a quiver in his voice that he couldn’t quite mask.
Goro stiffens in his hold. “Akira—”
“Sorry. Nevermind.” He lets go of Goro’s hand, letting it drop back on the mattress. “You’re not gonna kick me out now, are you? I don’t know if the train’s still running.”
“... You can stay.”
“Okay. Good,” Akira says, wrapping his arms tighter around Goro’s waist. “It’s pretty comfortable here.”
It’s not, really—they’re both covered in a layer of sweat, it still smells like sex around them, and Akira’s bound to start feeling pins and needles from Goro’s weight. But it’s nice to feel the warmth of another person again, to be treated lovingly like he hasn’t been in years.
It’s bittersweet, Goro thinks, to have gotten all that he’s ever wanted when he’s one step into death’s door. Maybe it’s only fair to let the person who gave it to him feel that love in return.
“Akira.”
“Mm?”
“You said you wanted me to tell you something I’ve been keeping from you.”
“Oh. Right. I guess you do owe me that.” Akira turns his head towards him, whispering every word into Goro’s ear. “What is it, then? I won’t tell anyone.”
“I can’t be sure, but I think… you might be my wish, too.” He turns his head so that he meets Akira’s eyes. They’re so close that Akira must feel every word coming from Goro’s lips better than he can hear them. “I don’t know if wishes can have wishes of their own. But if I do… that’s what mine is.”
Akira smiles, as bright as always, but his lip is trembling. “Well then, it’s a good thing you have me tonight.”
And when he presses his lips to Goro’s and rolls them over, Goro ignores the teardrops that fall on his cheeks, every shaky breath Akira takes before surging in for another kiss. Instead, he closes his eyes, pulls Akira in, and dreams of different circumstances.