windfall | light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

[ Knocking. The roar of ammunition fire in his ears. Blasts of heat and debris sticking to his face, dust crusting in his eyes. A delirious and delicious taste, sweet red like pomegranate, like Aki's skin scraping open in his mouth.

Denji doesn't talk much about what happened that day.

Not unusual, since he doesn't really talk much about any of what transpired prior to meeting Nayuta, either. Or about how sometimes he can still sense, not even hear, but sense a phone ringing in the distance, its pull like a spiral cord that's gone taut, that's trying to make its way back home and if he follows its trail, he might just find someone familiar on the other end of the receiver.

No, he doesn't tell anyone all that, because, see, the last time he did, Kishibe had just hummed and looked at him, the kind of look Denji would get from adults whenever they caught him picking through the dumpster for his next meal: pitying. Then, he'd shook out a flask from the inside of his coat and said, "Sometimes it's better for the line to go dead, kid."

Weird response, right? It'd made Denji go silent, think a bit. And after a while, he hadn't liked that so much, so he'd changed the subject to something inoffensive, like complaining about how much Nayuta's so much better at arcade games than he is, but Kishibe had cut him short at that point to go take a call.

Naturally, Denji had followed.

It's a little sad that a man in his silver years is the only person he can confide in, but Kishibe's not a bad guy — and that's coming from someone who generally hates men. Then again, the guy doesn't show his gaunt face around these parts unless he absolutely has to, which is probably by his own design, so it helps that he's never around long enough for Denji to get sick of seeing him. Up until that conversation, his absence wouldn't have been something Denji paid notice to. It'd usually take weeks and months and Nayuta asking where the funny, drunk geezer who always sneaks her hard candy is for him to see past the everyday chaos of being Tokyo's friendly neighborhood Chainsaw Man.

But as Denji creeped closer, overhearing some words but not registering most of them, a dangerous curiosity brought him to the edge of his hiding spot. What the hell has this dude been up to?

And then he'd froze.

"So the Gun Devil's position has been compromised. Initiate a tactical retreat."

Afterward, he hadn't done anything for a solid week besides go to school, kick some devil ass and stare vacantly at a pair of eggs frying in the pan for dinner each evening. Predictably, Nayuta had rapidly gotten sick of the menu. So before he could make his eighth pair of fried eggs, she'd scaled up his back and twisted his earlobes until he begged for forgiveness.

"Stuuupid! Dummy! Get a hold of yourself!" Nayuta raged on. "No more acting weird, or else I'm putting doggy kibble in your cereal again!"

She was right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Yeah, he was dumb, but that didn't mean he had eggshells for brains. He could still do stuff in his own way.

In the following weeks, Denji spent his time hounding members of the Devil Hunter Club for all and any relevant knowledge pertaining to devils. From rumors about recent devil sightings, to insights into things like the theoretical mechanics behind how long it took for certain types of devils to die in Hell and be reborn, to mathematical equations projecting the survivability rate of fiends based on the velocity and quantity of violence…

Of course, he only understood about three-percent of anything at any given time, but one detail of interest shared by some gloomy, pig-tailed girl stood out to him. According to her, a mysterious amount of devils had been slain in the Kabukicho district, none of which had been reported by either civilian hunters or Public Safety ones.

Anyone with half their wits would be able to easily determine that this wasn't a reasonable lead, but for Denji? He could feel something trilling out to him. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I guess… [ Denji's gaze strays down, aslant, his thumb smudging against a corner of his mouth. Really wishing he could dig through his collection of dirty paraphernalia for ideas right about now. This offer wasn't well thought out. ] Whatever you want me to.

[ Unsure is how he sounds, though, the space between his brows cinching together. What if his lack of imagination isn't what Aki wants to hear? Even if that's not the case, maybe a smarter idea would be to call things a night altogether — Denji's never felt more out of his depth, eluded by whatever Aki's thinking, what he has in mind for the whole point or greater plot that jerking him off had to do with. A broader perspective. No big deal in his eyes, he'd called it, which makes Denji feel strange now, something prickly gathering form in his chest. ]

I could blow you. [ He tosses it out there, on a whim, as if to skip a stone across the surface of a river and see how far it lands. The thing is, he doesn't really know what that means for him. He's seen plenty of blowjobs on the tapes he keeps stashed away from Nayuta, thought about how great one would feel on his dick, but it's not something he ever envisioned himself doing to someone else. He'll probably be terrible at it.

Why'd he even suggest it? To someone who isn't even into him… Ugh, that asshole. He still can't believe he said that! ]

But if you just wanna jack it off into the toilet or something, just say so.

[Aki expects him to offer his own hand. Maybe even both of them, rubbing all over him with unsteady touches and stupid, mood-ruining questions. Stuff like, "Does that feel good?" or "Dude, you're so slippery." But instead he asks if he should use his mouth and the face Aki makes is similar to a wince of pain with how hard he has to hold back from imagining it.]

[He wants to say yes. Truthfully, he wants to simply reach down and shove his face into his crotch, force him down on him and relish his mouth, his lips running over his length. Smack him when his teeth get in the way. But Aki has to sit on it, long enough for Denji to offer him the toilet instead. That gets an actual wince, and a quick, ] No.

[...Leave it to Denji to fluster Aki more than Aki flustered him. He's always so calm about everything, like nothing fazes him. Such a weird kid.]

You can try. [It's the safest response he can muster. Judgmental without denying. Low expectations. But craving that contact. That kind of connection he told Denji just now. The sensation of being close to someone - he's missed it. Didn't have it for so many years until it came to him in the strangest of ways. Only to be stolen away just like the first time. He doesn't want this to vanish again.]

... But watch your teeth.

[ Denji's eyes roll as he removes his bottom half out from Aki's torso, none too elegantly crawling over him to situate himself in-between the gap of his legs. ]

Watch your teeth, [ he quietly mocks to himself in a pitched parody of Aki's voice, because being a brat helps distract from how awkwardly angular he truly feels lowered there, clumsily toying with the opening of his trousers. Somehow more exposed than when his dick was actively bobbing in another person's hand just moments ago. But every interval of this situation has been weird thus far, so if he tells himself this is level with moving to a metropolis in a single day or adopting a whole menagerie of animals and a possessive little sister, he can adapt.

Sucking Aki off should be easy. The most normal thing he's ever done in his life.

In a reenactment of earlier, Denji's the one yanking the obstructive fabric down this time, more spitefully than the action warrants — seems like he's keeping a grudge, because he doesn't stop until the trousers are well-piled at Aki's ankles. He considers doing the same to the next layer, fingers tipping under the band of his underwear, but Denji hesitates. Decides to let his hand palm the protruding shape of his erection through the material instead. Fidgeting with it, almost, while his inexperience momentarily unmasks itself. ]

I've never done this before. [ He doesn't realize he's stating the obvious. ] So, um… If I mess up, you won't get mad at me, right?

[Aki shifts about as Denji gets his pants off, rising up on his knees once he realizes he's actually going to do this. He seems so casual about it, so relaxed like he's done this before. But he knows he hasn't. And confirms it with what he says. Despite the harshness he was giving him moments ago, seeing Denji be like this - self-conscious, awkward, unsure - breaks it down just like it does every time when he realizes something he says hit him too deep. He stares down at him, trying to think of how to give him encouragement to try his best when giving him a blowjob. The small lull in between his rush to get his pants off and now hesitating before taking off his boxers is creating anxious goosebumps all over his skin.]

No. [Probably not. Not unless he literally bites him.] It's - Don't worry about that. I won't get mad. [The way he's rubbing him, both gentle and unskilled, is enough to make Aki salivate, the desire to see him keep going. Maybe that's why he switches to a somewhat pacifying tone. As if he's trying to convince him, he hooks his own thumbs under the elastic, preparing to tug them down if Denji won't.] If you do something wrong, I'll tell you. [But not stop him. He's not sure he'll be able to the moment Denji touches him directly.]

[ Denji’s confidence isn’t usually as flimsy as a house of cards, but he does have his moments. Times where he pursues things, doggedly and shamelessly declarative, and other times where he needs confirmation — or more accurately, permission to do something, to know that what’s being dangled in front of him isn’t just another thing that’ll be taken away at someone else’s punitive discretion. Once, Kobeni told him it was normal to live his life based on the terms and conditions others have outlined; he's still figuring out his thoughts on that, why he feels like an animal strangled by an umbilical cord when for all intents and purposes he's free to do what he wants. Seriously, it’d be easier to divine the end of humanity than shoot his doubts and insecurities in a cup and try to forecast how they might roll out.

But Aki’s signaling, his restrained urging, helps tip the odds. The glint of hunger on his face, the flex of his flesh, is strange and captivating, all the incentive a greedy magpie like Denji needs to gulp down his misgivings. ]

You better. [ He caresses the outline of his shaft one last time, the material thin and lightweight enough to offer Denji an idea of just where Aki's each and every ridge is. Taking the place of where Aki had hooked his thumbs, Denji grips the edges of his boxers and slides them down, less forceful than he had been with his pants. Watches with wide eyes as the head of his penis untucks from under first, then the length of his shaft. Lastly, his balls.

His mouth hovers above just out of reach. A near panicked, breathy laugh escapes from Denji, the puffs of air glancing off his tip. ]

Woah, it's normal-looking. [ What did Denji think it would look like?? ] Kinda cute.

[ He doesn't even think his own dick is cute, but Aki's… ]

So do I just…

[ His lips scrunch, briefly debating. Then, wordlessly, his face ducks down, pressing a closed mouth kiss against the sensitive skin of his testes. Better to act instead of think too hard. ]

[He goes at this way different than any experience he's had before. For one thing, he's chatty. Usually when someone is giving him head they shut up. Not Denji. Aki nearly punches him for saying it looks normal (the hell did he think it would look like?!) but his fist loses all desire to smack him when he calls it cute instead. Cute?? He has never thought any dick looked cute, least of all his own. It's a blessing that he's the first one to do anything with Denji, he decides. He can tell him not to say this stuff to anyone every again.]

[He's glowering due to all his chatter, but when he sees Denji hesitate and look like he's trying to decide where to start from on a sandwich, Aki begins to reach down to guide him. It turns out he doesn't need to. When he kisses him in such a specific place Aki's spine goes rigid, a brief huff of an inhale. Like a gasp but forced silent. He settles his hand on the side of Denji's head for want of somewhere better to put it, but he doesn't yank him with it or move him by his hair.]

Think of it... Like a handjob, but with your mouth. [He can feel his heart in his throat.] Use your tongue like a finger... Kind of. [It's been years since he did this with a man. Explaining it to Denji is so strange - hefeels like he should already know this and doesn't want to underestimate him, but it's also Denji, who got upset at the idea of shaking a dude's hand and almost screamed when he found out Angel was a guy. That idiot is now kissing his balls and Aki is trying to guide him through it with quiet, on-edge words.]

[ It’s a good thing that Aki keeps his hand crowned on Denji’s head, otherwise he would have backed off and said something else to kill the mood. He likes talking, but he hasn't yet harnessed anything close to a skill for dirty banter. For now, sweaty palms placed on either side of his thighs for leverage, he peppers more kisses against his balls — considers staying put there, maybe sucking on one of his ball sacks in his mouth out of curiosity, but Aki’s hardened cock nuzzling his cheek prompts Denji to redirect his lips elsewhere. At the mention of using his tongue, he experimentally darts a lick up and down the underside of his shaft, then back up again, leaving behind a hot lather of spit. He tries to mind his teeth as warned, but the edges still snag against the veins running along his penis — he'd apologize if he were the sort to do that more than once a day, but he'd already reached his quota back at the station.

As he reaches the head of his cock, he opens his mouth wide, almost yawning, against the sticky tip. Lets it slip in, tease inside the wet hollow of his mouth. After a moment, he releases it, doesn't swallow down yet; he's not sure if he's ready to take that much of Aki in yet. He's still getting used to this, but when Denji thinks about the stuff that gets himself off, what to do becomes a little more intuitive at least. ]

[The way he moves is like he's exploring him. Aki swallows down any sound but he's wishing by now that he had fully stood instead of being on his knees. It's harder to hide the shifts of his hips when his center of gravity is different. With an unsure hand he smooths Denji's hair back like he thinks it will get in the way. His throat is dry yet his mouth feels like he's about to drool. When he finally goes to his shaft it's a feat worthy of the Nobel prize that he doesn't groan.]

Yeah - Like that. [When Denji pulls back after barely going down on him, he mutters that quiet encouragement. Even with the brush of his teeth he can redirect.] Put your lips over your teeth - When you go down.

[Never in his life did he imagine this scene before him. He wishes he'd told him to take his shirt off.]

[ He’s getting the hang of this, he thinks. As much as any newcomer to sucking dick can get the hang of anything their first time. Probably a premature self-assessment, but Aki’s quiet encouragement helps, a rare indulgence from the usual chiding he hears, like he’s doing something right for once instead of simply disappointing him. Feeling him barely keep from folding, feeling his hands brushing his hair back — it’s enough to make Denji's heart comet out of his chest, maybe even get him hard again, and he doesn't know why. He just knows that he wants to do well.

So Denji listens, more attentively than he does sitting at his desk in class. His fangs safely shuttered away beneath his lips, he bobs his head down, and initially, he doesn't get very far without accidentally going off-course, the tip stuffing up the inside of his cheek. Withdrawing slightly with a frustrated sigh, he relocates a hand to the base of Aki's dick to steady himself, and then pauses. Swiveling his tongue against the head one more time, Denji tries to copy the movement Aki used when he was jerking him, his fingertips playfully tracing the pathway of his veins, testing their fault lines — before swallowing down again, deeper, deeper, the head reaching the back of his teeth. His rhythm is off, his breath control non-existent, but he keeps going, trying to ruthlessly drink Aki back farther and farther each time, as if nothing else could slake his thirst. ]

[He learns so quickly and Aki remembers he was always like that. Stupid as a doorknob but clever. It's when he strokes him with the hand under his dick that Aki sucks in an audible sound, a gasp if it had to have a word to it, and his eyes flit shut. He has no time to recover from the contact as Denji is suddenly going down hard on him, over and over, harder than he should. He should be going slower in the beginning. He should tell him to ease into it. Not to overwhelm him all at once. Oh - ] Fuck - [He hisses that curse when he feels the brush of the back of Denji's teeth, so far in his mouth that he can barely focus on what he should be doing and instead thrusts deeper, his hips bucking into his wet, hot heat.]

Denji - Slower, you dumbass - [His hands go tight in his hair as he tries to hold him back, on the tip of his tongue as he tries to catch his breath. His hips shiver and twitch and precome openly dribbles from his cock.] Don't - Don't go that hard at once, alright? Not so fast. [He sounds out of breath as he speaks, voice tense and tight. He never thought Denji would be rushing to get him down his throat. But then again... He's always been the kind of person to swallow whatever goes into his mouth.]

[ The sharp pull of his hair has Denji leering up at him through hooded lashes, his lips glossy and wheezing and cobwebbed by strings of saliva and salted pre as Aki's dick rests on his tongue. He'd gagged earlier, gone teary-eyed, nearly coughing Aki up right there from the discoordination of Denji's own movements and the pulse of the hips hitting the rim of his mouth, but even that sting, that knee-jerk resistance to a presence pushing itself into the back of his mouth, needing to, had felt so good in the dark fever of the moment. Tasted better paired with the new knowledge that Aki could lose control of something besides his temper. ]

But, dude — [ He mouths the words against his tip, letting his tongue investigate the ridges underneath it, sinking back down only the barest amount, slower as requested, perhaps too slow. And then, so that he can still speak, he pulls off again with a soft pop. ] You're so slippery…

[ Ha ha.

Really, though, it's less that he's rushing and more that Aki makes it so easy, easier than he figured it'd be, to do something that always used to make his stomach squirm and wriggle. The thought of touching another guy a debasement in itself, but when he thinks of it as just two bodies hunting after a simple pleasure, he can't imagine anywhere else he'd rather have his hands squeezing, his mouth drooling all over. ]

[Whose fault is that?! he could snap. But Aki is speechless. He watches Denji with grit teeth and loose fingers, unable to clench them down to force him into a slower rhythm. He's never felt this warm before, his blood so hot, his dick so hard. He's so close to finishing. So close. He...]

[He could push him over. Put him on his back, shove in with just the lube of his mouth. Any injury Denji has is solved by blood, anyway. He doesn't have to be gentle with him. Aki could chase his own pleasure in this moment, fuck him until Denji is begging for it, until Aki can't possibly hold out. He could actually take his virginity, and make Denji thank him for the gift.]

[He blinks forcibly, erasing the image of Denji moaning below him from his mind. No, he scolds himself, no. He can't. Aki nods at him to continue instead, knowing he's close and knowing he wouldn't last even if he did fuck him. And how awful would that be, to finish in five seconds for someone's first time? God, Denji's first time.]

Use your tongue more - instead of your lips. [It won't make him go any slower, but it at least feels different than the idea of fucking Denji. It will at least wipe away that image from his mind. Aki knows his whole body is red, hips twitchy and moans humming at the edge of his lips, held inside by how tightly he keeps them clamped when Denji is touching him. It would be so good to let them out - but he can't. He's here for Denji. Not himself. Yeah, that's right - this is for Denji's sake. Not his own.]

You're doing good. [Denji's sake. He said it for Denji's sake. Even if he just snapped at him to slow down.]

[ Denji’s brow hitches up as he listens, obvious that he’s got an annoying question about to make itself heard the moment an opportunity arises — except it never does, because the moment you’re doing good reaches his ears, it punctures the thought into silence. Drowned out by an intoxicating sweetness flooding his cheeks, his chest. He doesn't even remember what he was about to ask anymore. Power may have been the one who subsisted more on compliments and adulation between the two of them, but hearing Aki toss a bone meant for him and no one else…

At the moment, he could tell Denji to roll over, show his belly, and he wouldn't even question it.

Focusing his attention solely on the swollen head of cock in front of him, Denji sweeps his tongue up against the slit, nudging into the divot to lap up more of hid precome. Keeps the pressure applied for a moment, before leisurely spreading the fluid around the tip in a slow back-and-forth swirl. Honestly, the idea of enveloping more of his shaft, getting lost in the brutality of Aki fucking into his mouth, is still appealing, especially if he manages to finally elicit a moan from him. But he stops himself, instead, tonguing into Aki's delicate folds, teeth nibbling lightly into the skin.

Denji's gaze flickers up as he does so, probably hoping to gauge his reaction, or hell, he wouldn't say no to praise for exercising some self-discipline. ]

[At this point, it wouldn't matter if Denji simply spit on him and dragged that over his cock. Aki is shaking openly, barely able to contain himself. Every little thing Denji does makes his breath catch, from the way he swirls his tongue to how he drags it through the slit. The hand in his hair goes tight and the other, still sticky with Denji's come, flinches and twitches beside him. He's not going to be able to make it, he thinks, and suddenly chokes out,] Put your mouth on it -

[And one of two things happen: either Denji does and Aki groans as he finishes in his mouth, or he doesn't and Aki groans and finishes on his face. Either way it takes only one more touch for him to come, teeth still grit as he's unable to cover up the final moan of pleasure while he spills on Denji and lets his eyes flutter shut with pleasure. He nearly folds in on himself and, at the very end of it, his jaw finally drops and he hisses out a quick but whispered,] Denji.

[ It’s funny, he’d sensed him coming in the sudden surge of his voice, the tilt of his hips, but it's the desperation in his command that’d taken him most by surprise. Pitching forward, Denji’s mouth wraps fully around Aki’s dick with a wince, his throat moving with each swallow of his semen. Almost just as desperate to swallow down the bitter froth. ]

Nnmmph — ah…

[ Once he feels nothing remaining, his sore jaw opens to release Aki with a noticeable click. Dazed, his tongue slides between his lips to pick up the residual smears of come. For the second time that day, Denji looks at him straight on and asks: ] Did I do good, Aki?

[Denji drinks him down like he's a sundae and Aki shivers so forcefully it's like he's going to have a second round. When he does let go of him, he sits back on his knees and tries to catch his breath, releasing Denji's hair as he stares across at him. Watches him swallow. He seriously swallowed. He's even more conscious of the mess on his hand now.]

[Did he do... Aki blinks at him slowly, still a little off kilter.] Yeah. [Said like he doesn't know what he's responding to. Like he's just responding to a kid showing him a stick figure drawing. After a moment, he blinks out of it, seeming to recognize more what Denji is actually asking - actually looking for.] You - That was really good.

[Embarrassing to admit. Even moreso because Denji doesn't seem that embarrassed. Aki glances down at his hand and seems to consider for a moment, then holds it out, palm up.]

You... Clean it up. [He stares at him, expression neutral but complex behind his eyes. Both wanting to see Denji do this and wanting to mock him for drinking him down so eagerly. He settles for a middle ground.] You made a mess.

[ Denji’s happiness is as easy to split open as it is to grind underfoot, like snuffing out a cigarette; Aki should know this about him already, though. So the swiftness with which his expression goes from a toothy grin, bright and preening, to a blank-eyed stare should come as no surprise. Particularly if he's going to be asking him to do something like that. The self-proclaimed perpetual motion machine goes momentarily motionless.

Eventually, his head cocks. ]

Clean it up? Eh, that’s kinda… [ Considering how enthusiastically he'd approached putting his first penis in his mouth a little while ago, you'd think this display of reluctance might merely be for show. But no, he's really trying to think this through! Denji's tasted his own come before. It's fine, but he wouldn't consider it the palate cleanser he really wants right now. He was hoping to pop in one of the candies he bought earlier or something, but…

He scrutinizes the hand that'd milked him: the palm lines and callouses, his spindly digits, and the sheen of fluid coating all of it, yet to dry. His cheeks go faintly scarlet, bashful. ]

You're such a weirdo, you know that?

[ Sidling up next to Aki, he grasps his wrist, bending it at an angle for easy access to his tongue. Starts by lapping at his palm in wide, ticklish strokes. Leftovers, he'll think of it that way. ]

Edited 2023-08-06 20:53 (UTC)

[He knows he's weird. Aki knows that, as a normal person, he shouldn't enjoy the feeling of Denji's tongue on his hand, the way he strokes it from palm to fingers, how it scoops up the mess he made and cleans it. He watches almost enraptured as his throat moves when he swallows. He's always thought of Denji as something like a garbage disposal, someone who will eat food that's gone bad because it's there and not because there's nothing else. He's the weird one. Aki being turned on by the contact of his tongue on his hand and the way he can see his apple bob in his throat when he swallows - no, that's normal.]

You're the one who made a mess.

[When it's clean, he pulls it back, finally stretching his legs out and exhaling a long, tired breath. No one has sucked him off like that in years. His stare stays on Denji, wondering why he agreed, why he did so well. Why he seemed so excited for Aki tl tell him he was good. Of course Denji likes praise, but... Did he enjoy himself?]

That was good. [He says it again, like he wants to fish that expression back out. The one where he looked like a dog slapping its tail against the floor.] It's... Now you get it. That's the deal. Okay? [His words are a little mixed up, brain still coming down from his orgasm. When is the last time he even came? He has no idea. His mind feels like putty - all he can think about is how Denji looked with his tongue out and Aki's cock on top of it, smearing precome along his lips.] Enough of this Chainsaw Man stuff.

[ It's a shame that Aki's hand drops from his face. He tracks its course, sulky, about what, he wouldn't be able to articulate to someone, not in a way that makes sense. Maybe he's just disappointed to have relinquished his last contact with him, after spending the better part of the hour getting to know Aki, getting to know anyone, more personally than he ever has. Maybe, in his mind, he just wasn't finished. Either way, Denji holds his tongue as he listens — only half-tuned in, because he's trying to dissect which flavor in his mouth belongs to his discharge and which to the oils of Aki’s skin, but it's hard to tell now, he'll have to figure it out next time —

The deal.

Denji breathes out, can feel the air deflate from his sails, the mention of their agreement akin to someone snapping their fingers in front of his face. The breaking of a trance.

That's right. Aki was showing him how sex wasn't a big deal, so he shouldn't bother with it… Or rather, he shouldn't bother trying to be Chainsaw Man to attain it. Whatever, something like that. He doesn't want to talk about this, and he makes his thoughts on the matter known by falling backward with a lamenting grumble, head landing on a seat cushion, a hand rubbing against his forehead. ]

Fine.

[ Given how often and quick he usually is to cast aspersions on Aki whenever he sets terms or expectations for anything, it dawns on him soon after his assent that he isn't putting up enough of a fight. To amend this, his follow-up comes shortly after: ]

Just answer one question. [ The hand on his forehead raises, and looks into it as if it might hold the answer he wants and not Aki. ] How… did you know that you had enough of sex? That it didn't matter to you, that you were — [ What's the word he’d used earlier? ] Satisfied?

[He needs to take a shower, Aki thinks in the midst of Denji's brief silence. That he accepted quickly doesn't hit him until he suddenly speaks up again, and he reflects that, really, that was too easy. He looks up and across at him, at his question, and tilts his head to the side as he stares at him. Trying to translate it. His head feels sloshy, like liquid. This isn't how you do pillow talk, he wants to scold him. It's not like he's any better at it.]

I never said I had enough. [Maybe he misunderstood. Maybe he's just stupid. Truly doesn't understand the purpose of sex. Why people have it.] Sex... It's like food, Denji. [He leans forward and finds his shirt on the floor, uses it to wipe his own hand off. It feels clammy and cold. A little wet, still, from Denji's tongue.] Most of the time, it's just whatever. It's good, and it's filling. But sometimes it's like a gourmet meal. Hotel-style food... So good, you wish you could have it every day. But you know you can't. [Not unless you're rich, he guesses. He balls up the shirt, folding the dirty parts inward.] And sometimes it tastes like a day-old riceball. Or... Biting into a nikuman and realizing it's gone cold. Or plain soba, with no sauce.

[Denji understands food, so this seems like the most apt metaphor. He's had various types - devil guts, convenience store chicken, expensive supermarket sushi platters. He should understand the difference between them.]

I thought I was the plain soba. My first time, I mean - no sauce. No nothing. Piss shit, boring. I figured she'd never ask me again. [No, maybe he just prayed for it, at that time. That she might finally leave him alone about it. No dice.] But the more I had it, the more... flavors, I guess, I experienced.

[He looks at him. Like Denji surely understands, how that relates to this very moment between them.]

If you're going to run around being stupid, all for sex... It's not worth it, just for a chance to have a warm nikuman. It might end up being cold, when you finally dig in.

[And then what? Would he despair? Be heartbroken? That's why he doesn't want Denji to stake his life around this stupid goal. He wants him to search for something more meaningful. Something more fulfilling. Something filling. Surely he can understand that.]

[ Rolled over, watching Aki compare his past self to soggy noodles, he thinks about all the times he would have been willing to argue that plain soba isn’t so bad. That cold nikuman still goes down as easily as it does warmed. It isn’t the fault of the pitcher who keeps aiming for the pole, but the jerkwad who constructed something so inconsistently attainable in the first place — stuff like that, everything he would tell himself to get by. But apparently, there’s something wrong enough with how he’s been living that it's forced Aki to go so far as to beat him over the head with twice as many figures of speech than a regular person should need to sort out a better trajectory for their life.

It's working, though, a chord striking within Denji in a way it hasn't before. ]

…I still like sex and food, [ he says, lightly, as if treading over an icy river bed. Today's been a long one, so he'll do his best to wring his thoughts out all at once before Aki has the chance to snap at him. And afterward, Aki can go clean up and Denji can change into new pants or something. ]

But I think I know what you mean by stuff tasting like day-old riceball. Like, y'know, it wasn't as cracked up to be as I thought. Like there were times I could look and see on the packaging — [ He shifts back upright now, suddenly animated, maybe it's his post-nut clarity at work, but he stretches a hand over to tap against Aki's shirt, using the balled up thing as a substitute prop for actual onigiri. ] — that its best-by date had passed, but I still ate it. [ The shirt comes back with Denji when he withdraws. Barely notices his own casual theft. ] 'cause that's all 100 yen could afford, and if I didn't, I'd just starve… You ever rather have something expired than nothing at all?

[ It's a pathetic way to see himself, to see desire and sex and affection, but to his credit, Denji speaks pretty gamely about the matter. He isn't fishing for consolation from Aki — rather, in his own way, he's trying to reassure him that he's been listening along. ]

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, if you seriously think there's something more out there, something way more and way better that even I can get…

[ He'll try, is what he's hinting at. ]

[Aki doesn't fight for his shirt back. That was another benefit of Kishibe's visit - getting a fresh change of clothes. He doesn't even notice it, truth be told. He listens as Denji blathers his way through his own understanding, the shadows of his food insecurity in everything he says, making Aki want to get up and cook him a full dinner like he'd initially planned. Frustrating, that it still gets to him. He looks up when he finally settles on what Aki is trying to get through to him, and Aki nods, encouraging. Like trying to praise a puppy who just half-accomplished a trick. Keeping him on the right course.]

There is.

[There has to be.]

[Aki's own dream was shallow and stupid like Denji's. Kill the worst devil known to man. Now look where he ended up. That devil, sleeping inside him, twisting his body into metal at the slightest offense. But Denji is different. Denji can find happiness.]

[He has to.]

[Aki pushes himself to his feet, grabbing his underwear as he goes and rubbing his head.] I'm going to wash off. Get some sleep. [He heads into the bathroom without another word. Sated but not. Content with Denji's understanding of things. Hopeful. So stupid, to be hopeful, but he is. Denji is alive and he just felt it, just experienced it. Touched him, really touched him, for the first time and proved it. More than a pinch and he's still sitting there. He thinks about that as water runs over his face, washes away blood he didn't realize was stuck to his skin. He thinks about the blood he saw on Denji and how quickly he reacted. How quickly Gun reacted. Why?]

[When he shuts off the water, he realizes he didn't even turn on the light. Just felt around like a zombie, searching for an answer to all this sudden change. He dries off and gets dressed, then heads out into the living room to sleep. He still can't look at himself in the mirror. Without consciously meaning to, he sets the extra bed out in front of the door, as if that will stop him from leaving too early, missing him, even if he's always up first. It works out - he's the one who sleeps in that morning, unmoving under the bedding.]

[ Aki disappears into the bathroom, leaving Denji to freely reflect on whether he’s said the right things, made the right decisions — or just made all the clearer how much he doesn't understand anything. He wonders if he should have prodded him more about that stuff with Miss Himeno, or what other sorts of people and flavors he’s tried, because who knows when he'll ever get the chance to again down the line. He wonders, too, if he should have admitted that he thought Aki was more like soba topped with sauce and oysters and grilled duck. Sides of tempura and sesame tofu. But no, that would have invited speculation about what Aki thinks of him in turn, if he minds the scent of wet dog, and...

Maybe they should have spoken about Gun. Aki's hybrid transformation.

Actually, this is too much thinking for one night.

Nayuta's unmoved from her usual spot when he shuffles inside. He doesn't think to check if she's actually snoring or faking. Odds are, she probably would have made herself known much earlier if she overheard something incriminating, so they're probably safe. He heads straight for his hamper to toss in Aki's dirty shirt with his own dirty laundry, but halts right before he does, turning it over to examine its neatly tucked sides. Then, his nose dives directly into the collar. It doesn't smell half-bad for blood, sweat, spit, and gunpowder.

The next morning, Denji gets up early.

Not because he wants to, but because Nayuta's a good kid who wakes up at the same hour each day and demands to be fed. He tells her that if she keeps herself and the dogs down, he'll fiddle around with their dinky toaster oven and heat up some of the leftovers from last night. Nayuta sticks two suckers in her mouth and agrees. The dogs sneeze and pant and grunt, but they're otherwise soundless.

It's while Nayuta's standing on her tippy-toes at the sink to get the food bowls prepped for the animals that Denji manages to visit his bedside. Meowy, planted squarely on Aki's chest, chirrups at his approach and he briefly squishes a hand to the top of her head. Aki looks more boyish when he's asleep, which is something Denji was aware of from when he'd catch him napping after work or his head would come knocking against his shoulder during a late night movie — the only time this wasn't really the case was after Darkness. He looked haggard, then. Thinned out and laminated. Right now, his complexion matches more with that of how a young adult should look, or even younger, like they both could be classmates. Aki could probably fit into his uniform if he tried it on.

Acting on impulse, he grazes a knuckle against the fringe of Aki's hair, his forehead, past the dip of his brow. He thinks about inserting a finger into his mouth. But he gives his nose a tweak instead. ]

Wakey, wakey, princess. Mornin'.

[At some point in the night Meowy wakes him up by wanting to sleep on him for the warmth. He was on his side at that point but, upon feeling her in the dip of his stomach, turned over so she could take a more queenly position. He doesn't care. It feels good to feel the rumble of her purr again. He only really got to experience it if he had time to sit down for a bit in between getting home and Denji and Power getting home, and that was a few and far between luxury. When Power got home, she would get off of him and meet her at the door like a dog. Weird cat, he'd said.]

[But those small movements still wake him easily, so Aki is already blinking awake when Denji touches his forehead, then his nose. He shifts, annoyed at the contact. Then the name.]

Yeah... [It's been awhile since he slept mostly through the night. Meowy was the only thing that woke him up. When he starts to shift she climbs off of him and he doesn't watch her go, instead pushing himself up and staring at Denji tiredly. How's he up so early, he thinks, in a strange twist of circumstances.]

[Then he hears the clatter of a food bowl and sees her at the counter. Right. The devil. Aki rubs his eyes and pushes the futon back, getting to his feet so he can pull it out of the way. He doesn't feel like explaining why he put it in front of the door. Even if he thought up a few stupid excuses last night. I was warm. The floor board kept squeaking when I shifted. Stupid stuff when Denji never asks those questions anyway.]

You... Sleep alright? [What a weird thing to say. It's not like they actually slept-slept together. Aki shakes his head, rolling the futon to store for the day.] You need to get a coffee machine, here. [As if he's planning to stay long enough to make that worth it.]

[ Denji doesn't follow after, pausing to overwater the houseplants, specifically the one Nayuta's been neglecting for weeks. He doesn't say anything about the placement of the futon. He tends to implicitly accept that Aki has his own reasons for doing stuff the way he does. So nothing needs to be said. ]

Let's look for one over the weekend.

[ He glances over his shoulder, taking inventory of what counter space they have left and ponders what to shelve. Between Nayuta being so young and Denji having the same taste buds as someone several years his junior, a mud water machine wouldn't get much application if Aki ditches town. Instant coffee would probably make more sense for their living situation, but it's been a long time since he's seen Aki brewing something. It may not be a pourover, but it'd still be one less thing he wouldn't have to compromise. They could get away with stuffing the rice cooker in the lower cabinet, anyway. ]

Uh… I slept? Could've been better. [ The answer comes accompanied by a shrug. He crumples the bottle of water he'd been using, leaves it on the table as he reaches over to turn the TV on. Blood loss and jerking off would have had him dead asleep on any other night, but he doesn't mention that. ] I'll just snooze during class today.

[ The news zaps on. Some interview by an alleged former doomsday cultist promoting his book. Boring. ]

Hey, Aki. What were you like in high school?

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