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

[ His chest heaves laboriously, no longer in a position to thrash around without hurting himself. Jerk. Shithead. And he was being so damn nice to the bastard tonight, too. He's considering giving another shot at kicking the back of Aki's head since his preferred target is out of reach, but the explanation, if it can be called that, gives him pause. It's hard to take at face value, but for someone like Denji, it's precise enough to open a vein of curiosity that seeps into his creased expression, trickle by trickle.

For a moment, he stares up at Aki. Searching for some sort of crack to this joke, sunlight splitting through a hole in the wall, but no, all Denji sees are those same dark strands he'd tied back this morning, gently framing the shadowed slope of his cheekbones. He kinda looks like a…

His gaze falls down to Aki's bare chest. Flat, defined. No, never mind. ]

Yeah, I understand! That you've totally fucking lost it. This is stupid.

[ But for all his griping, Denji's resistance flags. His insides flip and turn, an awkward cocktail of nerves. He remembers how he felt after fondling Power's chest; the cushions were fake, her reactions a mimic of pleasure, but there had still been something full and yielding underneath. Pillowy, how he'd always dreamed a real breast to feel like — yet never imagined the utter underwhelm, the crushing disappointment, when it was finally well within his grasp.

Is that going to happen again? And with no Makima around this time to console him? ]

What do you even plan on showing me…? [ Clearly, he has an idea by now, he's not that dumb. Doesn't make the strangeness of Aki wedging him to the ground with his full weight against his stomach feel any less unreal, though. Then, meekly, with a cringe: ] Is it gonna hurt?

[He's not trying to smack him anymore - that's good. Aki's hold on his wrist loosens a bit.]

[From Aki's perspective, Denji only wants sex for the pleasure of it. The carnal desire, rather than understanding the greater meaning behind why that desire happens. If he can show him the simple act of sex is nothing to be so excited about and instead show him that the connection is what matters, then surely he'll start reconsidering what it is he wants.]

Basic sex. [And then before he starts to panic or ask too many questions...] I'll jerk you off. No one has ever touched you there before - right? [It strikes him that he doesn't actually know that. And why does that annoy him, to think that he wouldn't be his first? No, it's not that he won't be his first. More that his point would be muddled if he's not.] If you can see what it's like when someone else touches you, then you'll understand why I think you're a dumbass for risking your life for it.

[In a way he's telling him not to get his hopes up. That he should expect this to be nothing special. He's insulting himself, really. But Denji needs to understand that the connection is what matters - that's what Aki wishes he would focus on. Not the simple idea of getting his dick wet.]

[ The more he listens to Aki, the stupider and almost more cross-eyed he looks trying to process. ]

…No…?

[ Admittedly, third base has been on his to-do list for a while. He figured the next time he experimented with this stuff, he'd actually be going in order and not jumping around again, but… But more importantly! ]

Um, you sure my junk will even get up? I'm not into dudes.

[ Technically, Denji does get that connection is an important aspect of sex. Makima told him so. Said the better you know someone, the better it feels, and he's pretty sure she was telling some variation of the truth at that time. Does that theory still apply under these circumstances?

He thinks he knows Aki decently enough. Well, up until he pulls crap like this, looking down on him like some type of clinician assessing a skin infection. ]

[Alright, good. It'll be the first time, then. Aki starts to shift on his arms to find the close of Denji's pants, then pauses when he says that. Denji might be looking cross-eyed from confusion, but the look Aki gives him is cold enough to snap anyone back to full focus.]

Do you think I'm into you?

[How stupid is he? The whole point of this is that Denji sees how important a connection is. If they felt especially attracted to one another, the whole point of this would be ruined.]

[Aki shakes his head dismissively, finally reaching down to grab the edge of his pants and tug them free. He doesn't do it with any fanfare or softness, no attempt to be gentle or careful or anything like he would if he were with a woman. It's just Denji, after all. That isn't the point right now.]

But just one thing. [He grabs for his underwear next, ready to yank it down in one swift movemenent after he says this.] When you come, don't you dare do it without warning me. [And that's a when, not if. Aki pulls his underwear down just as planned, expression unchanged even when he finally can see what he's got to work with.]

[ He openly glowers at him, mouth pinching up tight, vainly trying to suppress how burned he feels by Aki's question, insultingly rhetorical. Whatever, Aki sucks. He’s mean. That fact's already been established in his mind. And he is so going to pop this guy’s balls after —

Denji thinly inhales through his teeth. He can't help it. He tenses.

The air in the room is cool and conditioned, even if it costs more to keep it that way. Dog breeds like huskies need it during the summer for their own safety and to avoid overheating while their coats adjust. But now, Denji wishes he’d messed with the settings on the A/C. Surrounded by bristling blond curls trailing up his navel, the head of his softened dick twitches — surely, only in reaction to the room's temperature and not the person hovering over him.

There's something extra humiliating about only being partially clothed throughout all this. Like there's nothing else about him worth seeing, like he could be wearing a bag over his head and that'd be just as well, too. Maybe that's part of the point Aki's trying to drive home.

Starting to feel sore from inclining his neck to address Aki, Denji lets his head flop back against the floor. Looks like there's a yellowed stain he never noticed before on the ceiling; maybe he'll just stare at it the entire time. ]

Just… Just get it over with, alright?

[One thing Aki can tell about Denji is when his emotions shift. He's annoyingly easy to read in that way. The kind of person who says whatever's on his mind with no hesitation. So when he drops his head and stares at the ceiling, Aki glances away from him and back down to his dick.]

[For the first time, he thinks, Maybe this is cruel.]

[Being cruel to Denji didn't matter in the beginning. He wasn't human, he didn't have human rights, he didn't deserve human dignity. But it didn't take long for that to change, to see just how human-like he was in ways he didn't want to see. That little pinprick of light through his own blinders turned into a giant hole in such a short amount of time. He truly does care for Denji, really does want the best for him. That's why he doesn't want him so focused on something that can be so...]

[...]

My first time, I was drunk.

[He sets his hand on Denji's exposed thigh, touching the soft skin on the inside with calloused fingers. He'll go slow for him.]

I don't remember a lot, really. Just... She was upset with me, for headbutting her when I pushed in. [She had been laughing like it wasn't a big deal, but Aki couldn't take it as humorous.] I remember feeling mortified. I was embarrassed and couldn't calm down. Even the booze didn't help. [He finally brings his hand toward his shaft, but changes course and cups his balls instead, again getting him used to the feeling of someone else.] All I could think about was wanting it to go right. That was my main concern - that she had a good time. We were both supposed to get off, have it happen at the same time, just like in a porno. [His cheeks are tinted pink as he recounts this. It's a far away-enough memory that he can talk about her without getting emotional, but he doesn't use her name despite that - figures Denji knows who he's talking about anyway.] But I was too worked up. I didn't even come. I just rolled over once she did and passed out.

[A year ago, he would never tell Denji this story. Even with how he felt for him and his hopes for him to have a good life, he would have never told him this. But now, he's selfish. Now, he's gone a year thinking he has nothing in his life worth living or dying for. Until Denji showed back up. Shame be damned - he wants Denji to understand the importance of why he's making him do this. With someone you care for, bad sex is just as good as good sex.]

Now, I can look back on it and be satisfied.

[He wraps his fingers around his shaft and strokes, once, base to tip. Waiting to see how he reacts.]

[ Imagining Aki as someone with a normal appetite for things like sex and intimacy strikes him as strange; it shouldn’t, though. Denji’s seen him do things like overdrink in public or reach inside his empty pockets for something to light up, even after he’d quit smoking. Aki’s always had plenty of his own vices, and Denji knows he’s lived a whole other life outside of the two bedroom, one bath they shared for a time. To be fair, so has he — but it’s just not a topic that they’ve ever broached, feels like something that’d come up years from now, once he’s finally of drinking age and old enough to commiserate over things like failed hookups, occupational stress, crying over the loss of someone you knew once...

Not as he's trying to avoid trembling under the tickle of Aki's every practiced touch. The sound of his voice, like a physical sensation traveling straight to his warming stomach.

His glassy eyes remain fixed on the ceiling splotch, unblinking. If he thinks about how much it looks like a swirl of dog turd, maybe he won’t feel compelled to speak aloud all the invasive questions he wants to. Things like: Did you regret it? or How long did it take for it to get easier? To feel satisfied? That isn’t stuff they tell each other. He doesn’t know why Aki’s opening that door now. Giving him this when he’s already given his home, his arm, his life — given enough. Who's the stupid one here?

Denji, though? He's a taker. Always takes things before he's even sure if he wants them, and that's exactly what he does when he feels the upwards drag of Aki's hand, he takes, his hips just barely lifting up in time with the movement, a magnet being pulled forward. An unmistakable whimper catches in his throat. One pump, and he's already getting halfway hard.

In a flash, once the realization hits him, his gaze drops, saucered and flying to meet Aki's blue ones, to convince him — ]

Your hands are — are warm! The room's cold. That's why. That's the only reason I…

[ Denji lets the words drop off without finishing, his face as red as the inside of a mouth. It's then that he thinks of the memory Aki just shared, the embarrassment, the mortification. Is this all just part of it? Normal, basic, boring sex? ]

[Aki doesn't look surprised by the reaction until he sees that Denji is. His hand stops mid-stroke until he trails off. He's never seen him look that red before. Didn't actually know it was possible to embarrass him this badly. He keeps his hand still for a moment longer, then resumes stroking him, ducking his own gaze down to his covered chest. The vague indent of the cord under it.]

It's normal. Your body's going to react no matter who it is - Feeling someone else's hand is like that. [He keeps each movement uniform. He doesn't want to surprise him if he's going to be this on edge about it. It's not like he's ever done anything with a virgin before, but the experience is starting to make him wonder how Himeno actually felt about his struggles that first night again. Stuff he thought he pushed down out of embarrassment has begun to start welling up for the strangest reasons, he thinks sourly.]

Don't worry about it. Just - Pretend I'm someone else. [But if Denji's already getting hard, he doesn't want to torture him. Aki slowly quickens his pace, base to head, base to head, over and over again before pausing to run the edge of his fingers along the vein running up the underside of his cock. It's something he, personally, likes. He has half an idea to ask Denji what he prefers, but he's such a horndog he'd probably just be surprised there are different things you can do with just a hand and some effort.]

Oh… [ Normal. Denji accepts that answer readily, nearly nods to himself in reassurance, like, yeah, that makes sense. Aki would know, he thinks. That means he doesn't need to feel bad about feeling good, about liking the steady pressure of Aki's fist hugging his dick, about how each drop and pull leaves his breath a simmer of dizzying heat. The precome beginning to pearl from his flushing head. That's a relief.

This time he doesn't look away. His chin tilts to his chest as he watches, entranced by the fold of his own skin, stretching and smoothing out in an obscene rhythm — it’s different from when he’s the one palming himself, more foreign. Getting hard is so easy, too easy, this way. In comparison, his jerks are always a little erratic, uncoordinated. Treating his dick like he would the cord connected to his heart, as if he's just trying to violently extract his orgasm the way he would a vibrating blade.

Whatever this is, it feels better. Even if Aki's the one who's doing it. Although, he did tell him to think of someone else…

For a moment, he tries following that direction. His lashes drift to half-mast, blotting Aki, the ceiling, and everything else except the hand on his dick from his narrowed view. Sharpened molars gnaw down on his bottom lip in concentration. Think of someone. The news anchor lady. But no, her nails are longer and manicured, a pretty polish of pink, not like how blunt Aki’s are. Asa Mitaka, then. But that's not right, either. Her hands looked more delicate as she paged through some of her research notes when she was helping him last week, not as toughened from years of training. Makima? Once, that would have been the obvious choice, but now, the thought of her at this moment only makes him feel guilty. Thanks to Denji, she doesn't have hands anymore.

His brows furrow, raking through his inner library of beautiful women and coming up weirdly, scarily, empty-handed. He's nonplussed for a second — until he isn't, until he doesn't have the time to be, because Aki's skirting touch yanks him back to the present with a choked gasp. ]

That — wait, that — do that — [ Shit, he can't speak. ] One more time.

[There's no actual satisfaction in simply getting someone hard. Getting someone to react like that, though - Aki's eyebrows perk when Denji gasps. He doesn't even have to ask him to do it. Aki runs the edge of his fingernail along the vein again before sliding down wholly with his full fist, creating a contrast between the two sensations. He sets his other hand down so he can lean over him, his hand speeding up just a bit.]

Yeah. [He shouldn't say anything, he thinks, but watching Denji react like this is new. His eyes drag back up to his face to watch and this time he can't look away. Seeing his hand have an effect on someone - seeing this new expression from him, the strange shock of it, it has a weird effect on Aki's gut in turn. He doesn't know what it means. But he told Denji he would do this, so he doesn't think even for a moment to stop. He twists his wrist and nudges at the vein with his thumb, stroking up the underside of his cock with it before giving him two quick jerks at the head where precome is building. Useful lubricant. He figures Denji doesn't have anything like that.]

[Personally, he can't imagine that it's anyone but Denji below him. He can't think of anyone else who he would do this to. Hell, five hours ago he would have never thought he would be doing this, anyway. But here he is, half-straddling him with his torso as he continues to massage and stroke his shaft and head, sliding his finger through the slit to try and coax out more pre.]

[ Dumbed by pleasure, Denji hardly needs to be coaxed of anything. His dick is sopping wet, dripping from the slit down. A leaking faucet someone forgot to turn off. Aki works him slick, and he can’t even tell where one sensation begins and the next ends, utterly fluid, each stroke and scrape of his nails better than the last. Aki isn't even fucking him, really, but he feels ragged, run-through, to the point that he barely registers being released, wrists staying weighted above him. He only notices once Aki's face shifts closer, his intent focus magnified in front of him, the type of resolution he'd only get on a silver screen. Their eyes locked.

The backdrop of his dingy apartment, Nayuta's snores from the other room — all of it goes distant, and that feels right. But it's suddenly not enough.

He doesn't know why he does it, but using a hand to brace himself up, Denji forces his entire body forward and upright, bucking roughly as he does, once, twice. It almost looks like he might headbutt him in the friction of the maneuver, but instead his forehead painlessly lands against his brow, the rub of Denji's skin pushing his dark bangs back. With his other, Denji reaches for Aki's nape, something to keep him stable,. At this proximity, he could probably kiss him, clean the entire roof of his mouth of the salt and sesame from their crappy dinner. Not that he ever would. It's just coming will feel better this way, touching something real and muscled, and he's so close, so fucking close. ]

[Aki thinks he's about to hit him when he lunges up like that, his grip loosening for a moment as he nearly moves away from Denji. He stops just as he feels his hips buck, his eyes flicking down to see his hand coming up, wrapping around him, holding him close. And Aki misunderstands it. Doesn't know if Denji means to do this. If he's hesitating or simply stopping. He keeps thrusting upward into his hand so he has to assume it's his intention. So Aki bridges the distance and kisses him.]

[It's been awhile since he's done this. Anything like this. Even the simple act of touching someone feels alien and strange after so long without it, despite grabbing onto Denji whenever the opportunity presents itself. He doesn't kiss him for long, simply presses his lips against his before letting it break, allowing Denji to do what he likes. His hand keeps pumping him regardless. Thinking, maybe stupidly, that he'll remember to do the one thing he told him to do during this. To at least give him a heads up before he's going to come.]

[It's just a kiss, he reminds himself, staring down at him. Half the time they never mean anything.]

[ It's just a kiss, a warm passing of their mouths. Nothing to get excited about — this one, particularly chaste compared to what he's used to, but maybe that's why his stomach twists and drops in one go. The fact that he doesn't come away from the contact with either his mouth or throat searing, swimming in blood or something worse — that's what makes it feel better than anything else. Anyone else.

Aki is better than anyone else, he thinks, unbidden and traitorous. It's a thought that's perhaps contrary to the point of all this, to every curse he's filed away for him throughout, but it's one that sparks him over the edge in how true it feels in that moment. Something he wouldn't be able to get away from, even if he were to turn his tail and run.

Peaking, every nerve of Denji's goes pleasantly tight. Coiling like a winding spring in anticipation for the incoming high, his rapid fire pants tumble into a long, guttural moan that finally convulses through him, wrecks him, the kinks of his spine shuddering and shuddering. Of course, Denji doesn't tell him or signal anything; he wasn't planning to from the beginning. Had pettily wanted see Aki and his clothes glazed in his drizzling come, be satisfied watching his dick throb and overflow, completely spent. Like putting frosting on a cake. ]

[Aki knows that Denji has been kissed before. He just momentarily forgot what the kiss he knows about actually was. He forgot who the kiss was with. And even though he doesn't know what he's been up to for a year in terms of kissing, considering he moonlights as a shitty superhero, it's doubtful he's been getting much practice in that department. But despite knowing all of that, he did not expect that to be what pushed him over. He also didn't expect him to totally ignore the one request he gave him. And suddenly his hand is getting covered in his release and the moan he's letting out is deep and heavy and Aki momentarily has to decide what to do, to let go of him and curse or do something to shut him up. He leans down again to kiss him, cover his mouth in his own, try to absorb his sounds. It's not because he wants to feel that again, he reminds himself. Has nothing to do with that. He tilts his head to kiss him deeper this time, like he's chasing the sounds. And fuck, he can feel his own erection when he shifts to meet his lips like that.]

[His hand feels gross and when he backs off his lips, exhaling a huff of frustration, he has half a mind to wipe it on Denji's face. Instead he just glowers down at him, like a dog that just dragged its ass on the carpet.]

Idiot. [He pulls himself upright. Can feel sweat on his temple.] I said to tell me before you finished.

[ Denji looks done and debauched as he sags backward, tongue lolling out from a corner of his swollen mouth. His lungs are still grappling for air, the inside of his head dull from the pressure release. Inexplicably, through his daze, though, he keeps thinking about that last kiss.

The surprised sound hitching from the back of his throat when Aki dove in a second time, not from the renewed contact, but from his own willingness to welcome him back in. The way it heightened his orgasm, if that were any more possible, come bubbling from his tip with one last spurt. He isn’t a good kisser, obviously, mostly because the other times he’s tried it out, he’s been taken off-guard in every worst way imaginable. And this time, too, Denji’s pointed teeth kept catching against Aki’s lower lip, their noses hitting against one another, as his muffled moans reverbed into a moist echo chamber.

But it felt good, maddeningly good. It'd be nice to do something like that again with someone. Preferably, very soon. Maybe when Aki isn't staring him down in disgust. ]

I forgot! [ No, he didn't, couldn't have forgotten by the way his expression looks awfully smug at the moment. ] And you kept making out with me. How was I supposed to? Whatever, just wash it…

[ Is what Denji says, but he begins to shift around. Tries to pull both his crusted underwear and pants back up over his limp dick so that he can find a rag to clean off the milky fluid from Aki's hands, probably his own thighs as well. That is, until he notices the strained tent of Aki's pants and goes still. ]

Do you need me to…?

[Denji's sharp teeth are something Aki didn't expect to actually be sharp. He's been bitten by a lot of things in his life. Devils, fiends. Meowy once, when she was too excited and chomped down on his foot as he wiggled it in front of her. But never Denji, and the shock of feeling how sharp his teeth actually are makes him inhale sharply in the second kiss. Like he shouldn't enjoy it. So why does he?]

[He doesn't look convinced at all that Denji forgot, but the harsh look he's giving him turns guarded and uncertain when he suddenly makes that offer. He wants to tell him no, that he's disgusting and Aki has no desire for him to touch him. But it's not true and he couldn't pass a lie like that. Staring across at him, he can't believe this is what has worked him up. A year of celibacy and feelings of not even being connected to his own body and just watching Denji succumb to an orgasm gets him hard? It's shameful.]

What would you even do? [He tries to make it sound harsh. Like he doesn't trust him to do it right. But his voice sounds too genuine, too much like he's stamping down on curiosity and hope that's curling up and out from under his shoe.]

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. ]

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