Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13867701.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_5, Persona_Series
  Relationship:
      Akechi_Goro/Sakamoto_Ryuji
  Character:
      Sakamoto_Ryuji, Akechi_Goro
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Violence, This_is_a_bit_dark, Spoilers, Rough_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-04 Words: 7669
****** The Hit ******
by Mishiman
Summary
     If Ryuji was good for anything, it was taking a hit.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Watching Akechi in battle really pissed him off.

The Shadow rushed in, and he fell back, step for step. The Shadow swung, and he
skipped aside, soles squeaking on the glossy floor. The Shadow came in high,
and he ducked in low to counter, those stupid fucking tassels flying
everywhere. Just once, it'd be nice to see him trip and fall on his face.

Maybe he just wanted to see him have to try.

The Thieves filed out of the safe room. Everybody but him and Akechi, anyway.
Akira was last. Ryuji stood by the door, and Akira dropped the quietest "Be
careful" you ever heard. Didn't even move his lips. Then he was gone.

Akechi reached the door, and Ryuji stood in front of it.

"Did you need my assistance, Skull?" All prim and proper.

"Yeah, actually. Think there is somethin' I need your help with." It was so
easy. Akechi was so focused on being perfect that all Ryuji had to do was sit
back down on the couch in the safe room. Akechi followed, because of course he
did. Probably thought he wanted advice for the entrance exams, or some stupid
fucking thing. Ryuji laid out his shotgun, club and his Skull mask in a pile
next to the couch, then stood for a moment to shimmy out of his heavy ammo
belts as well for good measure. They were gonna be here for a while.

Akechi just sat down and watched him lay everything out, that fake little smile
of his already on his face. Like a thin layer of paint. He took his example and
laid out his weapons and Crow mask on his own side of the couch. "How can I - "

Ryuji wiped that smile off real quick. He grabbed his marching band uniform, or
whatever the fuck he was supposed to be, and balled his fist at his throat,
wrinkling the fabric. Good. "Wanna ask you a favour."

"Skull, what are you - " Even now, not a hair out of place. Yeah, that smile
was gone, but he still looked like the cameras were about to come on any
second. Like he was sitting in some TV studio somewhere, waiting for the
commercial break to be over.

"Aw, don't make me say it, man." He left his fist bunched in his uniform and
reached out for Akechi's junk with his other hand, grinning. How far would he
have to push?

Akechi thrashed, thrashed like Ryuji had stung him. Hadn't even made contact
yet. "Let go of me." Like he still had a say.

Ryuji just swung his leg over Akechi's lap and sat there like he belonged
there. Akechi was spitting mad and for a second he looked like he wanted
nothing more than to bite him. Just lean forward a couple inches and sink his
teeth in. It meant Ryuji was making some progress. But then Akechi's TV face
came back, slotted into place like a second skin on top of his real face.

Ryuji laughed. "Figure it out yet, 'Detective'?"

Akechi finally raised a hand to him and tried to shove him off - did it
seriously take him this long just to fight back? - but Ryuji stuck out his
elbow to block him with his forearm. He clenched his fist tighter around that
ridiculous uniform and settled his other hand onto Akechi's crotch.

More thrashing. More pointless shoving at his shoulders, more open-handed slaps
at his chest. Ryuji gave him points for actually trying to headbutt him. Not
something he'd have expected from him, if he was being honest. But he
telegraphed it and Ryuji could see it coming a mile away, so he dodged and got
only a thump on the meaty part of his shoulder. Oh well. Akechi seethed and
said something unimportant.

Ryuji's thumb had found something interesting, though. He stroked it, and it
became a little more interesting. "See, you do like me. Wanna be friends?" He
switched to himself and angled his hips to show Akechi.

The face he was making was incredible. No more TV face. Now he was just as ugly
as anyone else, his lip curled in disgust. "You... they're going to come back,
you know. If we stay behind for too long, the others will notice."

Ryuji threw back his head and laughed. Sure they were. "What makes you think
they don't know what's goin' on, 'kechi-kun?" He put a little croon into it.

It was a bluff, of course. Akira would've made up some reason for Ryuji to have
stayed behind with Akechi, so the others wouldn't worry, but he wasn't just
going to go out and tell them what Ryuji had planned, either.

"Don't - we're supposed to use the code names. Joker said - "

Ryuji tuned him out. Akechi could be like a little kid sometimes. It wasn't
just the toys that he brought into battle, and it wasn't just his shiny white
uniform. He also thought the rules were meant to be followed. He really
believed that.

That shiny white uniform wasn't so shiny white anymore, though. Strings of
black Shadow ichor here, on both the sleeves. A big maroon stain there, on the
chest, behind the silly gold rope things. Whatever they were.

Akechi had stopped flailing around, for a minute at least. Good, because Ryuji
was busy. He traced first the black Shadow goop, then the bloodstain with his
gloved finger, leaving it there on his chest.

Akechi had actually made a mistake for once. Here was proof, right in front of
him. "Shadow gotcha, huh?"

Now that Ryuji had stopped touching him below the waist, Akechi just sat back
and watched him, hands at his sides. "Yes. Mona healed me," he said evenly. As
if Ryuji had asked because he was worried about him.

His eyes went back to that stain, again and again. Akechi wasn't so perfect.
He'd fucked up in battle just like he'd fucked up his big plan to betray them.
Fucked it up all the way back when they'd first met him at the TV station. Of
course, that was what Akira had warned him to be careful about. He knew how
this was gonna go. He knew Ryuji would come out on top. He just didn't want him
to tip their hand too soon.

Akechi already thought he was dumber than dirt, so it was easy enough to let
him keep thinking that.

He'd kept quiet for too long. Akechi was struggling beneath him again, giving
him these weak-ass little shoves. "Skull, if you don't let me go, I'm going to
have to... "

Now this was interesting, too. "You'll what? You're gonna have to what?" He
made himself comfortable on Akechi's lap, just to shove it in his face. He
grinned as his black Metaverse outfit caught at him and pulled it tighter for
Akechi's benefit. He wasn't gonna let him forget why they were here.

Akechi didn't answer, because he was too busy staring. Ryuji worked himself up
through the material and pulled it taut against himself, and Akechi watched.
When Ryuji finally let go of his stupid white uniform and patted out the
wrinkles for him, maybe a little harder than strictly necessary, Akechi didn't
start struggling again. And when Ryuji stroked himself with one hand and
settled the heel of his other hand back on Akechi's crotch, Akechi didn't say a
word.

Maybe Akechi was human after all.

Here was a face that wasn't fit for a TV interview, either. Akechi's tongue
darted out and licked his lips, and as Ryuji stared at him, he closed his eyes,
like he couldn't stand to watch what was happening any longer. What Ryuji was
doing to him. When Ryuji looked closer, he realized Akechi was fucking
blushing.

Did he close his eyes out of trust? Or resignation?

Ryuji gripped his junk through his white pants, hard, until Akechi hissed
through his teeth. But he kept his eyes closed. So Ryuji finessed him a little.
He could trace his outline through the fabric now. He kept it up, pressing his
palm into it and thumbing the head until Akechi floated his hand up and covered
his own mouth, gasping.

But he kept his eyes closed. What did he think this was, exactly?

He couldn't figure out why that pissed him off at first. But then he got it.
Akechi was that comfortable? Akechi was so self-assured, felt like he belonged,
to the point that he could just... ignore him? Did he feel safe?

Ryuji didn't like being ignored.

He kept on stroking him with one hand and used the other to grab Akechi's wrist
and yank his hand away from his mouth. Then he leaned forward, all at once, and
kissed him.

It wasn't a nice kiss. Ryuji took every inch he could until Akechi's head was
laying back against the top of the couch, the cords of his neck standing out.
Ryuji crushed his lips with his. Was it still called kissing when there was
this much teeth involved? Akechi made a noise of protest into his mouth. Too
fucking bad. It spurred Ryuji on to grab him harder and harder, until his
fingers were closer to a steel cage than something you'd want anywhere near
your cock. He thought of Akira, suddenly, of him saying one of his witty one-
liners that he was so good at - something like You have to keep a firm hand at
a time like this, complete with that smirk of his - and laughed into Akechi's
mouth, rough and dark.

Akechi tried to pull away. Ryuji followed him, and Akechi slapped him.

Finally. Ryuji brought his face back to centre and grinned. His hand had never
stopped working at him, not for a second.

Another slap. Akechi couldn't dish out a fucking hit to save his life. But
Ryuji liked this face. If Akechi showed this face during a TV interview, he'd
never be asked for another. His eyes had gone dark and dull like a dead
thing's, no colour.

Ryuji found his zipper and pulled it down.

Akechi slapped him backhanded this time. He could feel his knuckles strike him,
glove or no glove, and then his face started to sting a bit. But if Ryuji was
good for anything, it was taking a hit.

It had been a talent of his for as long as he could remember. When things
started to amp up, the air took on this crackle. Tension. You could feel it and
you could smell it, too. Shouting could start it, but so could the right words,
even if they were real quiet. Sometimes it was shoving, or slamming doors.
Things could get further and further on their own, but then they'd just...
hang. Like everybody was waiting for it. Everybody knew. There'd be this real
long stretch, like a gap. A chasm between one thing and another. Something
needed to happen to get to the other side. Then he'd take the hit.

It hurt. Of course it hurt. But pain wasn't bad. It was just pain, its own
thing all to itself. You get hit enough times and you know how it's gonna be
before it gets to you, and you can just put it in its box and keep going.

There'd be this big fat silence after. Like everybody was so fucking shocked.
Really, they all knew what was coming. That was the other side of the chasm. By
the time you got there, the crackle was gone. Things came back down on the
other end of that silence, and it would be better. Yeah, his mom'd be crying.
Or the track team would all be staring at him. Whispering. Didn't matter.
Taking the hit meant things could cool down again after, so it was worth it.

But it had to be a good hit. None of this slapfight bullshit.

What he was not good at was dealing them out himself. It didn't come to him
naturally. When you offered yourself up to take the hit, there was a method to
it. You stood up tall to show you could take it. You put your shoulders back
and looked at them head on to show you wanted it. What you did not do was make
a fist. Make a fist, and that turned it into something else entirely. The deal
was the hit itself, in exchange for the silence after. The end of the tension.
Make a fist, and you'd get more than just the hit.

That's how he'd fucked up the track team. Kamoshida didn't seem to know how
things worked. He pushed and he pushed and he pushed, but he wouldn't take
things that last little inch. Ryuji stood tall and waited in front of him, but
the hit never came. Then Kamoshida brought up his parents, and Ryuji finally
understood. Kamoshida was on the other side of it. Ryuji was the one who had to
dish it out this time, so he did. Instead of silence, he got himself a fucked
up leg, a suspension, and the track team was terminated.

That was the one and only time he'd laid out the hit himself, and to say things
hadn't gone well afterward would be an understatement. But his talent had
always served him well in the past, time after time. He had to trust in it.

Of course, sometimes, to get to the hit, you had to push for it. There'd been a
handful of times when his dad had tried to change their routine, to shout
threats and slam things into the walls until the room was filled with that
crackling intensity, that thrum, and then just... leave it there. Tried to amp
everybody up until you could feel your hair stand on end and then just fucking
go to bed. As if that were an option. Ryuji had needled him, pushed pushed
pushed, and in the end, got them all over that gap and into the silence past
it. Nothing felt better than that silence.

He couldn't even really blame Akechi for not knowing. TV celebrities didn't
have to know. It wouldn't come up for a prodigy junior detective either.

Ryuji had already done everything he could think of to push him where he needed
to go. Somebody would just have to show him.

In the end, it wasn't as hard as he'd thought. All he did was lean back a
little for a better reach, then looped out his fist and mashed Akechi's lips
against his teeth, easy as breathing. He'd spent all this time putting it on a
pedestal, but there was nothing to it. No harder than breaking a glass.

He sighed with satisfaction when he got a good look at this face. Akechi had a
red grin, his lips pulled tight around his teeth. Could you see all of
somebody's teeth at once? Close to it, maybe. Akechi spat blood at his face,
and without thinking twice, Ryuji wiped it off with his glove and gave it right
back. It looked pretty good smeared next to that maroon stain from where the
Shadow had gotten him before. Complemented his outfit, really.

"Think red's your colour." He sat up straighter in his lap, squared his
shoulders, and waited.

Akechi did not disappoint him. He lunged for him, and Ryuji didn't block him
this time. It was enough to bowl him over backward and took them both right off
the couch. Ryuji slammed into the hard floor back-first and Akechi followed
right after him, sitting on him and hitting him.

It was a good one. Closed fist, square on the highest point of his cheekbone.
Akechi had missed his eye, if that was what he'd been aiming for, but Ryuji
would have a good raised knot there for a long time after. It was already
getting warm and swelling. Ryuji smiled. Now he could take them to the other
side.

Akechi straightened up and loomed over him as Ryuji slowly raised his hands,
prepared to hit him again, but Ryuji locked eyes with him and kept going. He
took off the glove of his right hand and reached into Akechi's open fly.

This time he was practically tender. Ryuji slipped his fingertips along his
length, still trapped behind what looked like plain white briefs, and Akechi
just let him. Akechi didn't look comfortable, and he definitely wasn't ignoring
him now. He glared down at him, red teeth bared, and waited to see what he
would do.

Akechi had gone half soft again in the interim. Getting popped in the mouth
probably had that effect. Ryuji brought up his other hand, slowly and
deliberately, to show him what he meant to do. Then he fumbled with the slit of
Akechi's briefs until he managed to draw him out.

"Very nice, 'kechi-kun - " He meant it, too.

"Skull. It's Crow," Akechi gritted out.

Even now, after all that, he still couldn't do it. Akechi could backhand him,
take a punch in the mouth and even send one back, but he couldn't break the
rules. Akira had told him they'd be using codenames, so he called him Skull, no
matter what Ryuji called him first.

There was such a thing as pushing too far. "Whatever you say," he said sweetly.
He pulled his fingertips over Akechi, first one hand, then the other. Soon he
had him standing tall, ready to go. Felt real good in his hand, too, when he
finally let Akechi's length lay against his palm and wrapped his fingers around
him. Akechi seemed to think so too. Ryuji liked this face of his the best. That
fucking blush was back, but his eyes stayed open this time. Now they were the
opposite of the dull, dead-thing eyes he'd had before - his eyes were lit up,
anticipating what Ryuji might do. He left his lips apart just a little, shiny
and dark red. A slick of blood oozed out the corner of his mouth, and a strand
of his hair had fallen forward and stuck to it.

Ryuji looked up at him and rolled his hips against his ass, just enough to
remind him this wasn't gonna be a one-sided deal.

One step too far for Akechi. "You - you piece of filth," he spat - literally: a
little red spray misted down and decorated his white uniform. Ryuji admired it
for a second. "You really think I'd let you - "

"Aw. Thought we were friends now. Thought we were real close." He smiled up at
him and squeezed the head of Akechi's cock.

Watching Akechi's face tip from abject hatred to lust and back again was pretty
fun, but there were other things on the agenda today. Ryuji stroked him slowly
with one hand and used the other to reach into a little zip pocket at his
waist. He pulled out a bottle of lube.

Off like a shot. Ryuji laughed from the floor and listened to Akechi blow
through the safe room door and pound down the hall. "You forgot your weapons...
" he called. "Be a shame if a Shadow found you now."

The footsteps stopped. By the time Akechi reappeared in the doorway, Ryuji was
sitting on the arm of the couch, his light sabre thing in one hand and his ray
gun in the other. His own club and shotgun leaned against the side of the couch
next to him.

That face he was making... "Skull. Give them to me." He held out his hand, but
when Ryuji slapped his ray gun into his palm, he nearly dropped it. Guess he
didn't think it'd be that easy.

"A-and... now the sabre."

He savoured that little tremor in his voice for a second or two before he
answered. "Sorry. Gotta borrow it for a sec."

Akechi took a big step back.

"Nothin' to worry about, chickenshit. You got your gun." He picked up the sabre
and eyed it. He'd feel real stupid if the fucking thing was too long after all.
But if he stretched out his arm all the way, like that, and then reversed his
grip, like this... Akechi gasped as Ryuji started to melt a hole in his
Metaverse outfit with the tip of the laser. A nasty burning plastic smell
filled the air.

"You're going to - "

Ryuji dropped the sabre to the floor and laughed again as Akechi lunged forward
to snatch it while keeping his gun trained on him like he was doing some kind
of stupid maneuver - shit he'd seen in a movie, maybe - then put it away. Ryuji
stuck two fingers of each hand into the hole he'd made just above his crotch
and pulled, hard. His outfit was great for some things, like battle, but not so
great for other things, like fucking. Since it was a cognitive thing, his brain
had apparently decided a zipper wasn't necessary. Oh sure, there was one that
started up by his collar - but the stupid thing only went to his chest and no
further. Luckily, whatever plasticky shit his outfit was made of tore easy once
you got it going. He kept it up until he had a good foot long hole to take the
breeze with. Akechi's Metaverse outfit had come equipped with briefs, but it
seemed Ryuji's brain didn't think he needed those, either.

Akechi stood between him and the closed door, his red mouth open in shock.
Ryuji gloried in the attention and started to stroke himself with a little
groan. Felt good to finally get some skin on skin contact. By the time he
looked up again, he caught Akechi still staring. He crooked his finger, and
Akechi took a step forward, then stopped.

Interesting.

Ryuji crooked his finger again, still working at himself. He circled himself
and squeezed hard, hard enough to hurt. "C'mere, 'kechi-kun," he said softly.

Akechi stayed where he was, a foot or two out of reach. But Ryuji could see his
hand, the one not holding his stupid toy gun, twitch. It looked like he'd
almost started to touch himself.

"Gonna watch me? That it?" He glanced down at the side of the couch. "Ah.
Gotcha." He kicked his club away, then slid his shotgun along the floor after
it. "Anythin' else?"

Akechi just gave him another TV face. Maybe the one he used when he was trying
to sound all badass, talking about the Phantom Thieves' next move or whatever.
He didn't look shocked anymore. More like he was trying to figure him out.
Calculating the odds, maybe.

Ryuji moved down from the arm of the couch to the seat and grinned at him.
"Yougot your gun, man," he repeated. He crooked his finger for a third time,
and this time Akechi came.

Akechi settled into his lap to pin him down, their positions reversed from
before, and Ryuji let him. If Akechi thought he was the one in charge, that was
fine. It just meant he was gonna be in for a surprise later. Ryuji tipped his
head back against the couch and grinned up at him. "Change your mind?"

Akechi didn't look comfortable this time, either. His mouth was open again in a
red smile. "Shut up, Skull." He grabbed Ryuji's cock in his gloved hand and
gave him one rough pump, his ray gun still down by his side in his other hand.
When Ryuji wrapped his fingers around Akechi's cock in turn, Akechi started
stroking him.

Not bad. Not great, but not bad. Ryuji kept his own hand going, and Akechi let
out this little moan. Aw. "Fuckin' virgin, ain'tcha."

That blush was back. Akechi baring his bloody teeth at him at the same time
sort of gave it a different vibe, though.

"Listen. This is nice n' all, but. Got other plans for you." He reached back
into his zip pocket and fished out the lube again with his free hand.

That toy gun of his made sort of a high pitched whine when Akechi... cocked it?
Whatever you did with a ray gun, anyway. He'd flown off of Ryuji's lap the
second the lube came back out and stood in front of him, panting. The ray gun
was pointed at his chest, dead centre. Flighty little prick.

That was okay though. He'd needed Akechi up and off his lap again anyway. He
still wore one yellow glove, so he uncapped the lube and slicked up the first
two fingers of that hand. He slouched down on the couch, spread his legs wide
and let his eyes fall shut as he shoved his fingers inside himself.

It hurt, but pain was just pain. The stretch started out as a burn but you
could turn it into a dull ache, then a nice warm feeling pretty quick, if you
kept at it. His gloves were thick and had sort of a rough pebbled texture,
probably to give a better grip. Not really the go to for something like this,
but he'd come to like it, over time. He pulled them back out and coated them
with more lube, then sent them back inside, good and deep this time, until he
felt his muscles loosen a bit.

Akechi had lowered his gun.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think that shit was for you... ? You musta been so
worried. Silly me."

Ryuji locked eyes with him and kept it up, curling his fingers now. His cock
stirred and stood taller, all on its own. Akechi couldn't seem to decide if he
wanted to look at that or at what Ryuji's fingers were doing.

He stopped. He crooked his finger and beckoned to Akechi with his clean hand.

"C'mere, 'kechi-kun." Akechi came. He dragged his feet, and he kept his gun in
his hand, but he came.

Akechi went all quiet and just let Ryuji lube him up. The couch was low to the
ground so Akechi knelt between his legs and thrust in, all at once.

More burn, more pain. Not a problem. What was a problem was Akechi's face. He
thought he'd won.

How could someone so smart be such a stupid fuck.

He leered down at Ryuji, red smile and eyes down to slits, and laughed. A real
ugly one, not at all like that light little TV laugh he did that made Ryuji
want to gag. He must've made a face because Akechi brandished his ray gun at
him, inches from his skin. "Careful now, Skull." A deep thrust, until Ryuji
felt his balls hit him with a smack. "You're going to have to keep that filthy
mouth of yours shut. I know that must be hard for you, but - " Shorter, rougher
thrusts now. " - you'll just have to find a way."

This wasn't the way it needed to go. Things were still up in the air, amped up
and crackling. The thing Akechi was doing right now between his legs, all
frantic and spazzy, wouldn't get them to the other side.

Ryuji's talent was taking the hit, and this was just more of the same.

He did it so the others didn't have to. So the others wouldn't even have to
think about it. Not that the Thieves would ask him to. They didn't know about
taking the hit either. Akira came close, maybe. He'd seen how Ryuji had
resolved things with the track team. How he'd put his shoulders back, stood
tall, and waited. And just in case that hadn't been enough, he'd even given
them permission in words on top of it. "So if you wanna hit me or something, go
ahead. I'm ready." That was what he'd said. In the end, Akira must've known a
little about it, because he stood back and let him handle it.

Akira had still helped, though. Those two guys from the track team didn't know
how it was supposed to go, so they'd really laid into him. Things could've come
back down again with just a punch in the gut, but they'd kept it up until they
were satisfied. That was okay, too. He deserved it. But it still felt a little
dicey in the middle there. He'd started to wonder if they'd ever stop laying
into him. But when they weren't focusing on his face, he could look over, and
Akira was there. And he didn't look away, either.

They practically thanked him after, and everything was better after that. He'd
fixed everything. The track team was reinstated, and they got a new coach. And
he got to show Akira what he could do. His talent. He got everybody through
that crackling tension, past that gap and into the silence after, and it was
the best one yet.

Ryuji knew that Akira was here for him this time, too. The other Thieves were
out front waiting for Akira, or maybe they'd all just gone home. But Akira was
down the hall. Somewhere not too far off, anyway. He was close by but he
trusted Ryuji to handle it, because he knew he could fix things for this team,
too. Just like he'd done with the track team.

But it wasn't gonna happen the way things were going.

Akechi was all over the place. Maybe it was just because he was a virgin, or
maybe it was because of that fucking ray gun. He still had it pointed at
Ryuji's face, and the effort of keeping it there and having to pay attention to
that and what Ryuji's hands were doing - not that they were doing anything, not
right now - was making him sloppy. Shallow thrust here, long pause between
thrusts there, then a hard deep thrust as if to make up for it. They weren't
gonna get anywhere like this.

Part of taking the hit was setting it up just right. If your posture wasn't
right, if you raised a fist, then things would just escalate. You'd fuck it all
up and things would just get worse. With his dad, it had practically been a
ritual. Timing was important. Where you stood was almost as important as how
you stood. It had to do with control. Set it up right and you'd get what you
wanted. Do it wrong and there'd be more where that came from. Either more pain
or just more of that unbearable crackling tension, neverending.

"Ahhh... " He had it. He knew how to get them to the other side now. He'd
fucked up the setup by letting Akechi have his own way, but it was still
salvageable. He just had to take control.

Akechi seemed to think Ryuji had made that noise because of something he'd
done. His grin was ghastly, and he sped up, until he stopped again. His rhythm
was nonexistant.

Enough was enough. He wasn't afraid of that toy gun. Akechi had no real
intention of killing him, because that would fuck up his whole plan to
infiltrate their team. Ryuji supposed he might intend to just give him a
warning shot with it instead - zap a hole in an arm or a leg, maybe, or give
him a gutshot - but he wasn't afraid of that, either. Even if he'd had a more
typical relationship with pain, something about the fact that he could just go
find Panther or Mona or Queen and get some healing if he asked real nice made
him a lot less worried.

But there was always the chance that Akechi might pull the trigger
accidentally, given their current activity.

More of Akechi's hair was stuck to his mouth now. He hunched over him, panting,
until Ryuji reached up and wrapped his fingers around his upper arm. Gentle,
for now.

That high-pitched whine again as his ray gun cocked, or charged up, or
whatever. "Skull," he warned. Ryuji pointed to his own mouth and waited for
Akechi to nod before he spoke.

"How d'you feel about constructive criticism?"

Now that was a face.

"It's just that, uh. We're not gettin' too far, huh?"

The hand holding his stupid fucking toy gun was shaking.

"I mean. Look." Ryuji waved a hand at his cock. He'd gone almost entirely soft.
Akechi hadn't managed to hit his prostate once. Having a gun to his head
probably didn't help either, of course. "And your arm must be real tired from
holdin' that gun up."

He thought of adding in another dig - something like You're not a selfish
lover, are you?, maybe - but that sneer Akechi was giving him decided for him.
He raised the hand not already on Akechi's arm and swatted the ray gun right
out of his hand. It went off when it hit the floor and lit up the room with a
flash. Akechi's eyes followed its beam, and Ryuji took his chance while he was
distracted. He grabbed Akechi's other upper arm and sat up, all at once, then
pushed them both off the couch and back onto the floor.

He felt Akechi try to pull out, but he just chased him with his hips and sat
down on his cock with all his weight. Akechi had had his chance. He didn't get
to decide how things were gonna go now. Ryuji towered over him and grinned.

His brain didn't seem to think his Metaverse outfit required a real zipper or
underwear of any kind, but it did grant him kneepads. Wasn't even the first
time they'd come in handy.

Ryuji took him by the wrists and put his weight on them until he felt Akechi's
bones grate between his hands and the floor. Pain stood out on his face, and
that nearly made Ryuji give it up. It wasn't about being nice. It was just that
that wasn't what he was here for. Pain came with it, sometimes, but it wasn't
supposed to be the main show. He eased up, and now Akechi just looked pissed
again. Better.

"Skull, what are you doing - "

Ryuji rolled his hips and showed him.

He took it slow. He grinded down on Akechi's cock, an inch at a time, and now
he finally felt it. The head stroked that spot inside him, first on its way in
and then on its way out, and Akechi was thicker than his fingers, too. He felt
stretched, he felt full, and he knew things were gonna work out. They were past
the tension. Now they were in the gap between.

Seemed like Akechi was convinced. He moaned again, just this little quiet
noise. Hard to hear over Ryuji's own breathing. Akechi's eyes flew open anyway
- when had they closed? - all prepared to snap back at him in case Ryuji so
much as smirked. But he didn't. Now that he'd gotten his way, he liked that
sound. Akechi closing his eyes before had pissed him off, but now he liked
that, too. It definitely didn't mean that Akechi felt safe this time. There was
no way he could feel safe, with Ryuji looming over him and keeping his hands
out of commission.

And that little moan meant Ryuji was doing a good job. Being proud of a job
well done wasn't a bad thing.

Akechi was still wary, waiting for Ryuji to react to the noise he'd made. Ryuji
gave him a smile. A nice smile. He didn't get one back, but he wasn't expecting
one. He smiled because they were finally working together. They'd get to the
silence, and things would cool down, and their little team of Phantom Thieves
would feel good again. It would feel right. Yeah, Akechi would still try to
pull his bullshit. He wasn't deluding himself into thinking this would change
things that much. But that part was on Akira, not him. All Ryuji could do was
get them through this part. He couldn't change what Akechi was gonna do, but he
could make things a little better for the team in the time in between. He could
fix it.

"Can I trust you, man?"

"Perhaps that's something you should have asked yourself before you... " He
trailed off.

Ryuji realized Akechi was so polite, so goddamn uptight, that he couldn't even
put to words what they were doing. Oh well. He knew the answer to his question,
but he let go of Akechi's wrists anyway. Nobody ever said he was smart, after
all.

Ryuji's weight grinding on his wrists had probably been hurting Akechi more
than he'd let on. He immediately took them back and rubbed them, over and over,
until Ryuji started to move again. He dipped low, taking Akechi in, then raised
high, letting him out again. He kept an eye on Akechi himself, of course. It'd
be just like him to roll away and make a grab for his stupid blaster thing,
just so he could feel like he was in control again. Even if they both wanted
the same thing, Akechi was like that.

Maybe they really were working together now, though. Akechi lay still, his eyes
watching him back, and let Ryuji fuck him.

It wasn't like he'd forgotten exactly whose cock was in who, here. Akechi
stretched him wide. He'd even twitch inside him every now and then, feeling
thicker for a second or two. Ryuji's cock was left untended, although he did
like to see the little drizzle of precum hitting Akechi's Metaverse uniform
below him. Less and less shiny white by the minute.

But that part didn't matter. If Ryuji taking his cock was like taking the hit,
then Ryuji fucking him was like setting up the hit just right. Yeah, there'd
been a little pain. But the hit had never been the important part anyway. There
was control in getting the setup just right, and there was control in this,
too. He grinned, satisfied, as Akechi's face contorted below him. He'd
gradually started to move a little faster, using his glutes and his quads more
than his abs now, and rubbed the head of Akechi's cock right up against that
spot inside him like he was scratching an itch.

Noisy fucker. Akechi had covered his mouth with both of his gloved hands now,
but Ryuji could still hear him. Not that he was being so quiet himself, now.

Time to bring them to the other side. Yeah, he could've just gone ahead and
done it already, true. But he'd always been one to push his luck. He sank down
and buried Akechi's cock inside himself extra fast, extra deep, and used the
distraction to snatch Akechi's hands away from his mouth. This face was a weird
mix of fear and hazy eyed arousal and animal wariness. Maybe there was a
question there, too.

Ryuji had no ulterior motive. He wasn't gonna grab Akechi's wrists again, and
he wasn't gonna hurt him if he didn't have to. He just wanted to hear him. He'd
always been a sucker for compliments, too.

Ryuji planted his hands on either side of Akechi's arms, still down by his
sides, and stared at his mouth as he filled himself with Akechi's cock. Akechi
held out as he took him in deep, and he held out as he arched his hips above
him. But then Ryuji hung his head low between his shoulders as he picked up
speed and slammed himself down onto Akechi, around Akechi, and that was what
did him in. Could've been the speed, or it could've been the fact that he
wasn't being stared at anymore. Either way, Akechi let himself make a little
noise, and then another little noise followed. He left his hands at his sides.

"Ungh... h-hah... " Ryuji half laughed, half groaned as he enjoyed the string
of sounds he was wringing out of Mr. Perfect himself.

Stop dragging it out, idiot. The longer this went on, the more chances there
were for Akechi to get creative and put a stop to it, one way or another.

He quit fucking around. Ryuji stuck his tongue between his teeth and pistoned
Akechi in and out of himself, building up to a good rhythm that had Akechi loud
enough for him to wonder if Akira could hear him down the hall. Not that what
he'd been doing had been just for Akechi. Akechi's cock was hitting Ryuji just
right when he started to come inside him, a throbbing pressure just where he
wanted it. Ryuji immediately took his own aching cock in hand and flat out
sobbed from the sheer relief of it. Maybe he was the noisy fucker. Two or three
quick pulls and he was gone, shuddering outside and inside, too, if Akechi's
brand new noises were telling the truth.

One more reason that shiny white uniform wasn't so shiny white anymore. Or at
least not so clean. Oops.

For all that time spent at the gym, after all that training, his legs were
still a little shaky as he lifted himself off of Akechi. It all started to run
back out of him, cum and lube alike, and Ryuji wasn't quite quick enough to
avoid pattering Akechi's pantlegs with a couple droplets on his way.

He stood tall over Akechi, considering things. Turning them over in his head.
Then he reached out his hand and helped him up off the floor.

His gut told him to treat him like shit. Akechi had made too many snide little
jabs at his intelligence. Called him a thug one too many times, maybe. Not to
mention what they all knew was coming down the pipe from him. But. So they'd
never be pals. So what? They were there. The silence. It hadn't been easy, but
he'd gotten them there. They'd both gotten them there, together.

The tension was over. It felt good.

Akechi carried himself with care as he surveyed the damage to his uniform. He
sat on the couch, his posture so perfect even as he looked down at his dick,
coated in fuck knows what. Ryuji watched the gears move inside his head and put
out his hand to stop him.

"Aw, don't, man. You don't want that in your pants." He untied his ascot and
handed it to Akechi.

He took it cautiously, as if, even now, there was some trick. Some hidden
assault on his dignity. He wiped himself clean, then folded the ascot in a way
that kept the mess on the inside before handing it back.

Akechi zipped himself up and straightened out his ruin of a uniform as best he
could before he spoke. TV Detective Akechi was nowhere to be seen. His voice
was very quiet as he stared at the floor.
"Was that the kind of treatment the others received when they joined the
Phantom Thieves? Or was that solely for me?"

"Huh?"

Even quieter now. "The, ah. Hazing."

Was it better to let him think that?

"Yeah, man. Not just you, I mean. They all, uh. Yeah." He stuck out his hand,
the one that he hadn't used to finger himself with a few minutes before.
"Welcome to the team." Akechi shook it.

If Akechi thought that they'd each been broken in, or whatever he was thinking,
then he wouldn't wonder why this had been just for him. He wouldn't guess that
they knew about his plan to betray them, at least. And the alternative was to
try to explain about taking the hit to him. About easing tension and fixing the
team. It wasn't something he would understand.

Still. It felt kinda shitty.

It started out stiff and awkward, Akechi still on his guard, but it was better
after Ryuji squatted low to hand him his ray gun from where it had skidded to
the corner of the room. They both heard a little plip plip plip as Ryuji
continued to leak onto the floor. He'd managed to forget that both his ass and
his junk were still out in the open, too.

Akechi was so fucking red. "Skull, why on earth wouldn't you just... " He
gestured to the folded ascot, still in Ryuji's hand.

"Oh." Ryuji gave himself only a cursory swipe with the cloth, then tossed it to
the floor. "Don't matter. We'll be outta here in a minute or two, and then I'll
be back in my civvies anyway."

"Yes, but... won't you still be... " So prim and proper, even after all that.
He licked at his bloody lips.

"It, uh. Keeps comin' out for a while, sometimes. Heh. More of a shower thing."
He grinned at him. "I'm a piece of filth, remember? Gotta be true to myself, or
whatever."

Akechi's mouth quirked, like he was torn between being polite and honest, and
wound up saying nothing. But then he glanced down at his uniform again, mottled
with new colours, and his face crumpled. Another face you wouldn't catch him
making on TV.

It was supposed to be better after the silence. If Akechi was part of the team,
even as some bastard double agent, then that probably meant him too.

Sometimes he was just too fucking nice.

Ryuji clapped him on the shoulder and felt him tense up like a coiled spring
under his hand, prepared for the worst. Prepared to scrap with him all over
again. "Joker n' me got you, man. He's gonna give me his coat, so I'm not -
y'know, flashing everybody - and then you can walk behind him and me. Just hit
the Nav as soon as we get out the doors."

Akechi still had that face on. Bitter.

Ryuji gave him some space. Probably what he preferred. "You did good though.
Crow." He reached up to his own cheekbone and grinned wide until it hurt his
face. "Didn't know you could throw a hit like that."

His pride wouldn't allow him to thank him, not after the day he'd just had, but
he could return a compliment when given one. "And I didn't know you could...
Take one. Like that."

He knew it was the closest he'd ever get to hearing Akechi talk about what had
just happened, so he took the compliment.
End Notes
     Sort of an attempt to make sense of Ryuji after thinking about Rank 8
     of his Confidante (when the track team guys beat him up and Akira
     either tells him it's for the best or that he DESERVES IT. Shit.)
     Ryuji was going to be even less of a Good Boy but I am a coward and
     wound up with this ending.
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