[This is good, he thinks. It feels like he can reach even deeper inside of him like this, burrow into Denji's depths and feel his essence. The motion is sloppy and unpracticed and Aki can tell he'll slide out before he even does. He raises a hand to settle on his hip as if it will help him in some way, but he doesn't tug him or yank him down.]

Come on.

[A quiet little supportive sound - is what Aki intends, but it comes out hollow. He helps to re-align himself and sink back in, then props himself up on his elbows to better thrust his hips.]

[Denji wasn't alone in wanting to go again. Aki wants to stay smothered inside of him until the wick of his candle burns away. He struggles to aim as deep as he wants to and, with a final, rough huff of his own, sits up more and wraps his arms around Denji, tugging him in close.]

Here.

[It presses himself in as deep as his body can manage, brushing against his prostate and dripping come down his balls. He has to bend his knees to stay upright while his arms keep him pulled close. He's still as he sits there, face pressed into Denji's shoulder, the sensation of blood on his cheek from the wound on his neck. It's not enough, he keeps thinking, even as he holds him close. Why isn't it enough? Why can't Denji give him enough?]

Fuck. [He whispers that, shaking his head. It's the devil. But even knowing it's a devil's curse, the feeling of never being full is as painful as starvation.]