[ If Aki was mean earlier, then the person inside him right now is — different: Punishing, except Denji doesn't know which of his sins, his innumerable wrongdoings, he's being disciplined for; demanding, except Denji doesn't know what left he has to offer Aki, that hasn't been wrung out of him by the wrong hands, the wrong circumstances. He drives into Denji, again and again, his back dragged raw against the railing of the door, each punch of his cock shaking the adjoining wall, the picture frames jerking crooked, the menu boards rocking off their screws. Like he wants the whole bar, the whole neighborhood, to feel the mindless collision of their hips riding into one another, wave after wave.
If there were any amount of space between them for it, if Aki weren't keeping him pinned up, Denji would certainly collapse to his knees. But he wants this, wants whatever is making Aki crazed and callous, tells himself that he wants this badly enough to hurt for it. So when Aki widens the gap between Denji's thighs, his cheeks spread all the easier for him to pump into, he groans and tries to flex himself open, to take the insane tug, clamp his insides down instead of doing what his body really wants to. Push him out. Reject the greedy way Aki swallows the dirty red from his mouth, his self-disgust mounting with the pressure he feels stacking in his guts.
It's confusing, it's so confusing. What does Denji want? Rest? Tenderness? No. ]
Nnngh, please, please — [ The more Aki slams into him, the more the fit improves, each slide more elastic than the last. Denji shifts his hips to grind back down against Aki's cock pulsing between his walls, a shudder singing up his spine as he hits his prostrate exactly the way he needs. ] You're — killing me. I want you to — kill me, kill me, ahhh —
[ Aki's name is right there, right on the tip of his tongue, but before he can even think to take the plunge, his standing leg is starts to buckle, lose strength. The knee bends like an old floorboard, despite his efforts to cling to Aki's shoulders, his neck, nails scorching marks wherever he can get his hands on. ]
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If there were any amount of space between them for it, if Aki weren't keeping him pinned up, Denji would certainly collapse to his knees. But he wants this, wants whatever is making Aki crazed and callous, tells himself that he wants this badly enough to hurt for it. So when Aki widens the gap between Denji's thighs, his cheeks spread all the easier for him to pump into, he groans and tries to flex himself open, to take the insane tug, clamp his insides down instead of doing what his body really wants to. Push him out. Reject the greedy way Aki swallows the dirty red from his mouth, his self-disgust mounting with the pressure he feels stacking in his guts.
It's confusing, it's so confusing. What does Denji want? Rest? Tenderness? No. ]
Nnngh, please, please — [ The more Aki slams into him, the more the fit improves, each slide more elastic than the last. Denji shifts his hips to grind back down against Aki's cock pulsing between his walls, a shudder singing up his spine as he hits his prostrate exactly the way he needs. ] You're — killing me. I want you to — kill me, kill me, ahhh —
[ Aki's name is right there, right on the tip of his tongue, but before he can even think to take the plunge, his standing leg is starts to buckle, lose strength. The knee bends like an old floorboard, despite his efforts to cling to Aki's shoulders, his neck, nails scorching marks wherever he can get his hands on. ]