Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8555728.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_5, Persona_Series
  Relationship:
      Akechi_Goro/Kurusu_Akira, akira_kurusu/goro_akechi, akechi_goro/
      protagonist, goro_akechi/protagonist
  Character:
      Akechi_Goro, Persona_5_Protagonist, akira_kurusu, Kurusu_Akira
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Hand_Jobs, Dry_Humping, Grinding, Sloppy_Makeouts, Rough
      Kissing, Hair-pulling, Tenderness, Sexual_Fantasy, Strangulation, Self-
      Hatred, Undecided_Relationship(s), Possessive_Behavior, Marking,
      Masturbation, Secret_Crush, hanakotoba, Language_of_Flowers
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-11-14 Words: 3976
****** Close Your Eyes and Make Believe ******
by mousaerato
Summary
     He'll play along.
Notes
     SPOILERS FOR PERSONA 5
“A place made from the twisted desires of people,” they called it; a vile and
sinister cesspool where demons take shape from the tar-black filth of a so-
called ‘human’ mind. The image from the words was vivid: the acrid smell of
burned hair, singed flesh, the pitter-patter of thousands of pitch-tinted
insect limbs with a humming, frenzied buzz.  Degenerate, despairing, vile –
Goro Akechi’s eyes widened involuntarily as he opened the smoothly-painted
coal-hued door to the room inside. A faint, thin musk of gardenia wafted to his
nostrils while creamy beeswax-colored walls framed the room. As he stepped
further into the room, he could discern the practically plush texture of the
lavender-gray carpet even under his shoes; comfortable, welcoming even. The
couch was immaculate, a dim ecru; the wooden coffee table was similarly
spotless, hosting a glass vase of yellow camellias and pastel-pink carnations.
Even in the next room beyond, Goro saw no signs of mar or maltreatment – the
kitchen floor was without stain, and the curtains on the windows were ivory
white and smelled of fresh linen. The scene, the scents, and utter softnessof
it all made the boy feel warm inside; indeed, the room even looked like faint
candlelight.
Only after an unwitting sigh escaped his lips did Goro’s muscles relax from
their normal attentiveness. Still, the detective gazed carefully upon the
walls: framed photographs of an adult male and a young child, faces smeared and
edges blurred beyond recognition. Some were clearly planned photos, indoors
with formal clothing; others appeared to be outside playing in grass greener
than he had ever seen. A tickle of curiosity – curiosity, he was certain –
pricked at his chest as he tried to discern the figures and faces. He ran long,
gloved fingers along the pristine glass above the photos with deep interest,
walking around the room to find some detail to give him context. Boredom and
restlessness began to bloom in his mind – same, same, same – until he reached
the right wing of the room. A staircase, similarly flawless, stood before him.
The dark-haired boy hummed to himself in satisfaction as he glided contently up
the stairs. Along the butter-yellow walls were award ribbons, at times
seemingly translucent, peppered between more smeared, blurred, featureless
images of a child with a man by his side. The aroma of gardenia was stronger
now; he knew he was coming to its origin. At the top of the stairs, Goro
walked, nearly gliding now, down a glossy, cleaner-scented hallway to a
lavender-painted door. Without thinking, he grasped the doorknob and opened the
door. It was as if no other choice was conceivable.
This time, there was no surprise in what his dark eyes observed. Perfection
abounded, as anticipated: one window with cream-colored curtains, pastel peach
walls, a desk with a vase of twenty-two identical gardenias perfuming the room,
a small bed with pristine bone-ivory sheets, and the same lavender-gray carpet
beneath it all. Seemingly autonomously, Goro removed his shoes and socks,
allowing himself to feel the floor for himself. Soft, clean, immaculate.
Sterile.
The silence and idealism of the place choked him; it knotted into a lump in his
stomach that churned violently upwards to his throat. Still, the young man
pushed those emotions downwards in defiance, instead willing his body and his
mind to sit on the edge of the bed. A deep, shaky exhale left his body,
emptying his lungs as if to purge himself of the feelings that had found their
way up again. Closing his eyes, he could feel thoughts becoming words: “I know.
I know. I-“
“Stop it,” he spoke, shattering the ubiquitous quiet as he grabbed a piece of
bed sheet in his left hand in frustration. As he released the sheet, he took a
moment to notice the wrinkles and imperfections he had created. A small voice
rose from his throat, a plea rather than a command now: “Stop.” Hands calm with
resignation, Goro quietly removed his gloves and tossed them apathetically to
the floor. His jacket next, followed by his tie, draped over the edge of the
bed without care for order or cleanliness. Finally, he allowed himself to rest
in the bed, pulling sheets over himself as he closed his eyes and let his mind
become quiet.
Seconds dragged into minutes; eventually, Goro gave up on keeping track of the
time. He wanted not to think so much. He wanted not to analyze, not to plot,
not to plan. The steady, cold rage he felt in his heart had finally given way
to exhaustion – limbs heavy with guilt sleepiness, focus dimming. He wanted
something else; he wanted something different, he wanted –
The sound of soft but certain footsteps woke the boy from his trance-like haze.
They gradually increased in volume, and by the time Goro had risen from the
bed, the thud of footsteps had been replaced by the sound of a hand opening the
door. As if sleepwalking, he stepped confidently to the door to greet the
guest. The detective knew who it was, of course; it didn’t take his skill to
know.
Clean, well-worn black dress shoes slipped from the body’s feet to the floor as
the person approached Goro, standing mere inches away from him. The body
paused, allowing the young man to take in the details of their form: slim legs
in black and red plaid pants, jet-black blazer with crimson buttons, revealing
a snow-white shirt beneath at the chest, pale neck, sharp jaw, steel-gray eyes
framed by slick black glasses, and similarly black hair in curls on his head.
Tenuously, Goro’s hands softly grasped the young man’s glasses as the two gazed
at each other. Akira’s determined gray eyes looked intently, unchangingly at
Goro as he removed the glasses, allowing them to fall to the floor near the two
pairs of shoes. A silence lingered between them, the air hot and thick with
emotion, tensely urging one of them to take action. Still, Akira’s eyes
remained unchanged as he placed a hand on the side of Goro’s face, using his
thumb to trace his cheek in a gesture of tenderness. A chill and shudder rocked
the brown-haired boy then; the sheer thrill of Akira’s touch made him close his
eyes tightly before opening them quickly to take in those same, unchanging gray
eyes. There was no fear or doubt in them; taking comfort from them, Goro acted.
Placing both hands at the sides of his face, Goro let his fingers intermingle
with the youth’s dark curls, grasping at them with certainty as he closed the
space between them at last. Akira’s lips were soft, warmer and more moist than
expected; he could detect a lingering bit of warm, roasted coffee on the boy’s
mouth as he planted small, soft pecks against it, asking for more.  His
invitation was answered with pale hands settling firmly on Goro’s hips, pulling
him closer and allowing their chests to touch, creating a seam of jet black and
bone white. The heat and proximity overwhelmed Goro, and with Akira’s approving
gesture, he attempted to part the other boy’s lips, hungrily sucking his lower
lip and allowing the tip of his tongue to skim it. Akira’s hands tightened
instinctively, holding Goro to him like a vise, encouraging the still-soft
sounds of their lips locking to become more intense. In response to the tongue,
Akira bit softly at Goro’s lower lip, allowing his teeth to drag gently along
it, eliciting a throaty, soft sound.  Goro’s hands moved frantically from
Akira’s head and slid down his back, fingers skimming along his spine, savoring
the sensation as his hands moved then to Akira’s waist, then up to his lapels,
gripping them as he attempted a deeper kiss. The meeting of their tongues was
messy and chaotic, but the sensation of being able to taste his friend was
absolutely intoxicating: sweet, with a mix of that same warm coffee he had come
to associate with the boy, combined with the scent of his skin from being so
close. It was everything Goro expected and everything he wanted.
 The scene settled into a rhythm: deep, passionate kisses with tilted necks and
sounds of affirmation, punctuated with soft, chaste kisses to the lips and
corners of the mouth. As they became comfortable with the pace, the rest of the
boys’ bodies began to quicken it – Akira stepping forward, making Goro step
backwards toward the bed, and Goro’s hands tugging desperately at the lapels of
Akira’s coat, as if trying to find a way to remove it without extricating
himself from the gray-eyed boy’s grasp. Feeling his leg touching the edge of
the bed, Goro allowed himself to fall back in the soft sheets, giving Akira the
chance to move his hands from his torso. Akira leaned forward into him, not yet
joining the other boy in bed, but giving him the chance to remove the coat.
Seeing the opportunity, Goro did so with aggression, practically tearing off
the red buttons as he undid them, pulling it from the boy’s frame and allowing
Akira to remove his arms from the sleeves, letting it fall to the floor.
The brunette stopped for a moment to appreciate the view, particularly of
Akira’s neck: pale, warm, and inviting. Without a second thought, Goro kissed
at it gently, curious to the response. Akira responded with a sudden, sharp
exhale, placing his hands frenziedly at the back of Goro’s head, keeping him at
his neck. The sound and sudden feeling of Akira’s hands on him sent a jolt of
energy and warmth pooling in his abdomen, causing his pants to feel suddenly
too tight. This, combined with the excitement, caused the boy to blush as he
continued to lavish his partner with kisses and taunting bites along his neck
and collarbone.
Akira took the moment to act, finally letting himself into the bed, hands
resting against the white sheets on either side of Goro’s head as he loomed on
his knees over him. His steel-gray eyes stared intensely, still confidently,
into the chestnut eyes of his partner, waiting. The detective knew what he
wanted; he sat up slowly and looked self-consciously at his own shirt, letting
his fingers play at the hem. Before he could begin removing it, Akira’s lips
curved upward into that smirk Goro knew all too well – the one that made him
weak inside with fear and excitement. Pale, smooth hands started at the first
button of his shirt, gently working his way down as Goro felt himself freeze,
uncertain of how to respond. Just as he was finding words again, Goro found
himself at the mercy of another wave of pleasure shake him as Akira’s tongue
dragged from his exposed abdomen to his chest, leaving a chilly sensation and a
desperate desire for the warmth of his tongue again. A cocky chuckle escaped
from Akira then, getting close to his friend’s face and smirking, waiting for
his response. Not to be humiliated or outdone, Goro’s hands reached for the
black-haired boy’s shirt, making little ceremony of taking it off his body and
letting it lodge itself between the wall and the mattress; he never once took
his eyes off of Akira, making sure to keep an intense gaze.
The two boys took a moment to look at each other, torsos completely bare. Goro,
finding himself again, was the first to make a move. He extended his hand to
touch at Akira’s chest, admiring it as his fingers dragged lower to feel the
muscles at taut abdomen. He looked exactly the way he imagined he would, hoped
he would – even with the thin layer of sweat from their passionate
interactions. Goro felt no shame or shyness around Akira in his undressed state
– he knew, somehow, that the dark-haired boy would be pleased with him. Sure
enough, Akira showed his appreciation with a deep, lingering kiss, pressing
Goro back into the mattress and straddling his hips, giving a moan of approval
as the brunette laced his fingers into his black locks, pulling at the curls
and savoring the feeling of the soft hair against his skin. The sensation of
being pinned under Akira’s weight was overwhelming; unintentionally, Goro
bucked his hips up into his friend’s, earning him Akira’s pulling his hands
away from his hair and pinning his arms over his head, but not without a thrust
in response.
Akira broke their kiss and looked at the squirming, overheated youth beneath
him, opting then to kiss along his jawline and down his neck, sucking slightly
into it. This elicited an undignified moan and whine from the brunette, and
another thrust of his pelvis upward. Akira pressed into Goro’s arms harder,
tightening his grip on his wrists as he felt the boy try to free his arms.
Another blessed bruise came, sharp pain mixing with the pressure and pleasure
of feeling helpless underneath the trickster and pooling straight between his
legs. He throbbed when he felt Akira grind into him again, making it obvious
that he was just as eager.
Finally, Goro found himself able to break free of Akira’s grip, hands now
wandering to the pale boy’s belt as recognized the sound of his own heavy
breaths for the first time. Goro examined the image before him as he sat up
again: Akira’s eyes were closed, lost in action, torso glistening under the
light as his hips and groin impatiently rutted subtly against Goro’s
instinctively, autonomously.  The image was too perfect to break with useless,
stuttered words – instead, the brunette let his fingers work quickly, deftly
unhooking the boy’s black belt from its buckle, pulling the length from the
loops and dropping it to the floor beneath them.
The soft thud and clink of metal roused Akira from his trance. The boy’s eyes
opened, seemingly darker than before, and held the brown-haired detective in
his gaze. His glare was all-consuming; Goro could neither look away nor move as
his hands remained close to Akira’s zipper. A trickle of adrenaline found its
way down his spine as he looked back into those dark-gray eyes; something in
the room had changed, he realized. For a split second, he doubted his actions –
perhaps it was too much, too soon, too bold. Thankfully, the fear was quickly
abated, replaced by the familiar hum and electricity of excitement as the youth
above him began to finish what he had started, undoing the top button of his
pants and punctuating the quiet soundtrack of soft panting with the sound of a
zipper. Legs shifted around as the two of them worked together to strip Akira’s
pants away, leaving ivory, lean legs and charcoal-tinted boxers in their
absence, tented by his erection.
A smile played upon Akira’s lips now, glare replaced with a kinder glance,
discerning Goro’s hesitation. His warm, pale hands smoothed at Goro’s still-
covered thighs as he moved to close the space between them, inching
precariously close to his cock, earning a sharp, exhaled hiss as Akira’s palms
passed over the heat to his belt buckle. As Goro expected, Akira worked with
agility; indeed, it seemed it took only seconds for it to end up mingled with
the other scraps of clothing on the floor. Savoring the proximity, Goro took
another chance to play with Akira’s hair as he worked on his pants, rubbing
into his scalp encouragingly as he could feel that suffocating layer of fabric
fall away, leaving him in nothing but ash gray boxers, hot with want and moist
at the front with precum.
He thought he would feel shame from his unbidden responses, but once Akira
returned to kissing him, biting his lips and roughly shoving his tongue into
his mouth, only desire filled his mind. Goro forced himself to take inventory
of each sensation as they kissed: the same welcome pressure of Akira’s chest
against his, the feeling of sweaty skin crashing and gliding against more
flesh, the heady musk of arousal that permeated the room, overwhelming the
gardenias, the force and desperation with which Akira let himself between his
legs as he licked along Goro’s jaw, and his own legs parting to give the other
boy space, pulling him closer as he began to kiss along Akira’s neck, biting
and sucking deeply enough to leave the beginnings of a faint brown bruise. The
gesture earned a throaty grunt from Akira, coupled with a roll of his hips,
causing their erect cocks to collide and grind together.  Goro pulled at his
hair and thrusted upward in response, intensifying the friction between them.
Akira hissed when he felt dull nails rake his back, forcing his eyes open to
look at the culprit. He saw the brown-eyed boy’s pupils were large with desire,
his cheeks exhibiting a minor blush, biting at his lower lip as if to restrain
himself from making more of the small, feral sounds he was prone to generate
unwittingly. Goro looked up at the boy with adoration and desire, hands now
resting at his hips, urging him on. Without breaking his gaze, Akira thrusted
against Goro again, watching the young man sigh and struggle to keep his eyes
open as he continued his work, tilting his hips at just the right angle to rub
Goro just the way he liked it. A moan tore from his lips this time, full-bodied
and undignified, in unison with his own desperate canting upwards to increase
the tension and the pace. His hands moved instinctively to Akira’s ass, pulling
him closer, encouraging him.
Goro panted, still trying desperately to keep his eyes open. He wanted to
memorize the scene, keep it tucked away his memory for as long as he could. A
sudden shift in weight, however, coupled with a new pressure, drew all his
attention from the pale form on top of him and to his dick. Akira’s hand had
found its way between Goro’s legs, now squeezing at his dick from outside his
boxers. Words dried up and died in his mouth as he watched a soft, certain
right hand work on him, still teasingly, now gripping and covering his tip,
jerking softly without reaching underneath the last layer of fabric between
them.
A huffed groan came from Goro now; half frustration and half pleasure,
desperation bleeding through. Akira looked up from his work and into Goro’s
eyes, looking for a sign or direction. Finally, the detective managed to
sputter out words, pathetic and biting: “Yes – yes, y-“
His lips were suddenly busied with the other boy’s tongue, caught in a violent,
wet kiss. Akira slipped Goro’s boxers off to his knees, leaving the boy
completely nude beneath him, and brought his hand from his crotch up between
them. Goro’s eyes closed from the sudden loss of sensation; when he heard the
sound of the other boy spitting, he knew what would come next with excitement
and anxiety.
A loud moan of approval permeated the room as Akira’s slick hand firmly gripped
Goro’s dick, encasing it in moist warmth. Goro bucked forward automatically,
still groaning as Akira tugged along the length, keeping the pressure constant.
He worked slowly, giving the base a tight squeeze as he pumped the boy’s dick,
feeling it throb in his hand. Still, the sounds Goro made left it abundantly
clear he wanted more, gasping roughly into the air noisily. His sounds were
suddenly muffled, finding Akira’s other hand now firmly clamping over his
mouth. Akira’s face was now inches away from his own, eyes dark and determined,
glare daring him to try to be too loud again. Goro felt suddenly powerless
under his hands – powerless, but safe  – letting his eyes close in bliss, but
not without licking at the hand over his mouth. The fingers entered his mouth
now instead, the boy sucking on them hungrily, not caring about the saliva
dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Akira knew his partner wanted more. He continued his work, increasing the speed
gradually with his other hand, meeting Goro’s thrusts with a warm, steady grip.
He would at times rotate his hand, letting his paramour feel the sensation of
having his dick encircled intermingled with the simple jerks. Goro’s hips
shivered and he sucked harder on his lover’s fingers, soaking them with spit;
Akira knew he was close as he hummed to Goro in approval. Sure enough, a few
pumps later, Akira could feel Goro’s dick twitch, spilling hot streams of cum
on his hand and his lover’s stomach.
The scene was quiet then. Akira removed his hand from Goro’s mouth, marveling
at his sticky fingers and the boy beneath him. Goro opened his eyes, seemingly
moist from tears, and looked at Akira expectantly, caring not one bit about the
mess on his body, the chaos on the floor, the odor of the room. A smile was in
his eyes as he said the words, softly but decisively: “I love you.”
Akira looked back at him, silent, wearing the same determined expression in
those steel-gray eyes.
“I love you,” he repeated. “Tell me you love me, too.”
“I love you,” Akira responded, but the words sounded a wrong note to Goro. No,
the words were hollow, devoid of that curvature in tone that denoted sincerity,
and Goro knew it.
“Tell me you love me,”Goro commanded as his limbs found their way out of
entropy, putting on his boxers and abruptly rising to his knees to meet his
lover’s empty gray gaze. Unfocused eyes and stiff lips responded, “I love you,”
still mechanical, apathetic.
“Are you saying that because you feel that way, or because I’m telling you to?”
The brown-haired boy demanded now, hands trembling with anger. “I loveyou. Tell
me you love me too.”
“I love you,” the body responded, voice seemingly removed from its source. The
voice was too thin, practically metallic this time, Goro noticed.  Finally,
Goro put his hands around Akira’s neck, shaking. His voice revealed a roughness
and fury as he responded to Akira’s declaration: “No, you don’t! You’re-”
Goro stopped mid-sentence as he came to the realization that Akira’s eyes were
now blank, matte, and inhuman. A wave of disgust and fresh rage surged through
Goro’s veins as he began to press down tightly on the body’s throat.
Choking noises came from Akira’s form, somehow mocking Goro. He continued,
pressing harder into the skin: “You never could! Liar!” With the last word,
Goro released his neck and punched the body in the nose and cheek, earning a
trail of blood down his face and the beginning of the swelling of a bruise.
Goro looked at the face, which offered no resistance, no response, and kicked
the form off the bed to the floor, tears in his eyes. The body’s lack of
response infuriated him, prompting a staccato yell before he continued to
strangle him.
He watched the body’s breathing slow to a stop as he tightened, knowing he
would soon crush the boy’s windpipe. He spat in Akira’s face, growing, “You’re
a liar. You don’t love me. You just do what I think you’d do.” A splitting,
crushing noise broke the tense silence, brusquely signaling the end. Akira’s
eyes rolled back in his head, and Goro watched as the deep red blood, sweaty
ivory skin, and beautiful black tresses disintegrated and melted into a pool of
black tar, and eventually faded away.
Resignation painted his voice now: “No. You couldn’t ever really love me.”
“A place made from the twisted desires of people,” Goro remembered. Yes, a
happy home with a doting parent and an understanding lover were certainly his
own twisted desires – he knew that from the moment he walked into the door.
Twisted, vile, and impossible. He knew the home would soon fade into
nothingness, mixing again in this world created by human thought.
Still, it was nice to be able to pretend, even if only for a while.
 
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!