[ There's a stagger to how air vents out his nostrils as Aki stuffs himself into him at a leisurely tempo, a maddening one, Denji relishing the curl of heat aching up the dips in his spine. The sensation is duller now that they’ve both rut to completion once already, but he thinks that if they keep at it, they could plunge over an even steeper ledge than the one that sent them crashing into the roof of a police vehicle. His lashes, nearly the same gossamer as a moth’s wings in this lighting, quiver as he counteracts the impulse to moan outright by doubling down on his bite, the whites of teeth fully submerged in red, unwilling to let his lips break too far from the column of Aki’s neck. A territorial hound trying to hoard what he thinks is his, what he wants so much to be his, just his.
Drinking someone else's blood was never like this, never something he would prefer over a fresh meal prepared over the heat of a stove. When he was still part of Public Safety and getting accustomed to imbibing blood from both devils or injured, sometimes dying, civilians, he did it without thinking too hard; he did it to stay in motion, stay on his feet. At some point, he'd started doing it because he hoped it would make Aki stop pinning him with that worried gaze of his, that is, if he came out of battle as close to in one piece as he could. He never really managed that, though.
But now, the more he commits Aki's flavor to memory, trying to metabolize his blood, assimilate it to his own bodily systems, he thinks he could live and frolic in it. Stoke an addiction for it. His chest jumps at the weight of Aki's hands finding his nipples, the darkening skin peaking beneath his fingers. A low-pitched lilting sound rumbles from deep inside Denji's mouth, the reverb able to felt through his palate, through the teeth dragging hard against the indent of a vein. His palm slides on top of the back of one of Aki's knuckles, holding him in place against his pectoral, urging him to play with the nubs, to pay attention to him. He's so impossibly full like this, so distracted by it, he barely registers the blood skating between both their chests. But when he finally does dare a glance down, and without wasting anytime, that same hand appears at the puddle of the blood that's gathered at Aki's collar, swiping the sticky residue up. Bringing it to the sliding juncture between their bodies, already slimy with come. He doesn't care. He slicks the shaft of Aki's cock, what skin of his is visible and isn't inside him, with a layer of red — he wants to feel him everywhere. ]
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Drinking someone else's blood was never like this, never something he would prefer over a fresh meal prepared over the heat of a stove. When he was still part of Public Safety and getting accustomed to imbibing blood from both devils or injured, sometimes dying, civilians, he did it without thinking too hard; he did it to stay in motion, stay on his feet. At some point, he'd started doing it because he hoped it would make Aki stop pinning him with that worried gaze of his, that is, if he came out of battle as close to in one piece as he could. He never really managed that, though.
But now, the more he commits Aki's flavor to memory, trying to metabolize his blood, assimilate it to his own bodily systems, he thinks he could live and frolic in it. Stoke an addiction for it. His chest jumps at the weight of Aki's hands finding his nipples, the darkening skin peaking beneath his fingers. A low-pitched lilting sound rumbles from deep inside Denji's mouth, the reverb able to felt through his palate, through the teeth dragging hard against the indent of a vein. His palm slides on top of the back of one of Aki's knuckles, holding him in place against his pectoral, urging him to play with the nubs, to pay attention to him. He's so impossibly full like this, so distracted by it, he barely registers the blood skating between both their chests. But when he finally does dare a glance down, and without wasting anytime, that same hand appears at the puddle of the blood that's gathered at Aki's collar, swiping the sticky residue up. Bringing it to the sliding juncture between their bodies, already slimy with come. He doesn't care. He slicks the shaft of Aki's cock, what skin of his is visible and isn't inside him, with a layer of red — he wants to feel him everywhere. ]