
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/14031516.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_5
  Relationship:
      Kurusu_Akira/Sakamoto_Ryuji, Persona_5_Protagonist/Sakamoto_Ryuji, Akechi
      Goro_&_Kurusu_Akira
  Character:
      Akechi_Goro, Kurusu_Akira, Sakamoto_Ryuji, Persona_5_Protagonist, Amamiya
      Ren_(Persona_Series)
  Additional Tags:
      Accidental_Voyeurism, Anal_Sex, Masturbation, Semi-Public_Sex, akechi
      goro's_raging_hate-on, he's_so_mad_you_guys, because_it's_easier_to_kill
      someone_than_admit_you_wanna_bone_them, Dissociation
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-20 Words: 1862
****** The Name of the Game Tonight is Getting Lucky ******
by bubblebangbaby
Summary
     Written for the Dreamwidth Kinkmeme:
     honestly i just want akechi, who is continually straddling the fence
     with his massive hate-on for akira, coming across ryuji and akira
     getting freaky during the casino palace and just watching, seething
     in hatred and jealousy lmao
     bonus points if ryuji doesn't know he's there but akira does
     double bonus points for bottom akira
     Exactly what it says on the tin, no artificial colours or
     preservatives.
Notes
     Alternate title: "Have you ever been so angry you pop a boner,
     because Akechi sure as hell has..."
See the end of the work for more notes
He's backtracking, but that's ok. Let someone else get the accolades for
cheating their way through the casino. It's not as important as what could be
on that laptop in the security room. Up and over, through the vent to the left,
and out--or not. There are voices coming from the room ahead. Shadows? No, it
sounds more like… Oh no...
“--seriously, keep it down, I don't wanna get caught like this...”
“C'mon, man, we flattened every shadow on this floor, and the rest of the guys
are on the other side of the effin’ palace. Relax.”
“I’ve never been relaxed in my life. Am I gonna have to make you shut up?”
“Pfft! Just try me, Joker.”
Akechi can't see much more than the desk and the corner nearest the vent he's
in, but there’s a clang and a thump and both of them are suddenly in his line
of sight. Skull has Kurusu pressed against the wall, and instead of banter now,
the air is full of the creak of leather armor and the wet smacking of their
mouths as they kiss. No no no no no, this can't be happening, not right in
front of him, no no no…
He tries to back out of the vent, and the clatter of his mask and boots against
the metal screeches out like a klaxon. But they don’t seem to have noticed. Too
busy tearing each other’s clothes off, it seems. Still, if he tries to back all
the way out, they’ll definitely notice. Can’t go forward, can’t go back. Shit.
A sharp gasp from one of them seems to echo off the sides of the vent all
around him. He scrubs at his face, digs his fingers into his eyes until colours
burst behind his lids. It doesn’t help. He can still hear them, and his mind
fills in all the images whether he wants it or not. Skull murmurs something too
low to catch and there’s more noises, scraping, a thump too close to his hiding
place for comfort. His hands are aching and his head feels too full. He opens
his eyes. Kurusu is sitting on the edge of the table right there in front of
him, stripped to the waist, panting hard as Skull mouths at his neck, one hand
curled around the small of his back posessively, the other shoved down his
leader’s undone pants.
There’s a burning in his throat, his chest, behind his eyes. He’s trapped here.
Trapped. Trapped in here with… this. So close he can smell them, so close he
can hear Kurusu’s breath hitch in his throat, hear the little sounds he’s
making turn breathless and hungry as Skull does something that he can’t quite
see. He retches up sour bile and swallows it back down, both hands clamped over
his mouth now, to keep quiet. Even if he closes his eyes, Kurusu’s arched back
and open mouth are burned onto the back of his eyelids. He can’t look away.
Of course it had to be Kurusu, in here like this. It’s always Kurusu. Damn the
little bastard, the upstart trash, no shame, no respect. Coming in like a
landslide, like Alexander's sword slicing right through all the layers of
propriety Akechi’s been so careful to weave all his life. Slapping all those
expectations and polite denials aside and taking the rewards for himself as
though he had the right. Fucking Kurusu.
They’re shifting position now, Kurusu pushing the other boy back so he can turn
around and bend over the table, spreading his legs and begging like a whore.
“Skull, please...”
“Ohh holy shit, you’re hot like that…” He can just see Skull’s yellow gloves
sliding up Kurusu’s chest, wrapping around him and tugging him up off the desk
There’s the sound of mouths on mouths on mouths again, too wet and too loud.
And now Kurusu is laughing, and Skull laughs with him, and they sound so happy,
so fake and smarmy, like they’re putting on this act just for him, to spite
him. Akechi’s stomach burns. He still can’t look away. The positions they’re in
now, he can see everything. The pale swell and curve of Kurusu’s legs and back
and ass as he bends over the desk again, the way he grips the edge of it in
anticipation with one red right hand, the other reaching back to caress Skull’s
neck, his pants pooled around his ankles. And Skull now, still dressed but his
fly open, rolling a condom onto himself with practiced ease, like he does it
every day. Maybe he does. Is that why he happened to have one with him on a
mission? Because his greedy slut boyfriend can’t bear to go a day without
getting fucked? Skull is pressing his cock in, slow and steady, leaning over
Kurusu as he does, pressing little kisses to his neck and spine. The sounds
he’s making are sickening--breathy, high-pitched whimpers like a girl. Akechi
grinds his teeth till they ache. He doesn’t look away. Bastard, slut, whore,
thief.
“God, Skull… Ohh god, please… Please…”
Skull rolls his hips, still slow, still teasing. “Please what, baby? Please
fuck you good and hard?”
“ Yes, you shit. Ah… yes god, just fuck me…” Akechi can just barely see their
faces, see the smiles over the banter. And he can see when Skull pulls Kurusu’s
chin up to kiss him, soft and sweet, hips still rocking against him in that
slow, teasing way. Almost loving. What a fucking performance. Really laying it
on thick.
“I got you, baby…” Another kiss, and then Skull is thrusting properly, slamming
Kurusu’s thin frame against the desk with each hard stroke. He twists his
fingers into that nest of black hair and yanks back a little. Kurusu’s voice
rises into a hungry wail, and he’s crying out desperately as Skull fucks him.
They have to know Akechi is there. He has to. Kurusu swept in to take
everything away from him, and now what is he doing? Teasing him, abusing him
with this disgusting display not five feet away. Rubbing it in his face that he
can have anything Akechi might have ever even thought about wanting in life.
Taking his own years and years of steel-edged repression and spitting on them.
Showing off his body, taking whatever lover he wants, without a scrap of shame.
Can the bastard even feel shame? From the way he’s yowling like a cat in heat,
it doesn’t seem likely. He’s doing this to twist the knife.
There’s a red haze settling in the edges of Akechi’s vision. The rage is
boiling in his veins and pounding in his ears, and yet he’s still watching.
Can’t stop, can’t look away. He can feel Loki in the back of his brain,
hysterical laughter and smoking ruins. He’s doing this on purpose he’s doing
this on purpose he thinks he’s won and he’s rubbing it in oh just wait just
wait you beautiful slut, you decadent filth, you--you…
His thoughts break down into screaming and sirens, no words left to transcribe
the roiling hate oozing from his every pore. The ghosts of old wounds are set
aflame lighting up under his skin, burning slow and steady like pitch. He can’t
tell if the screaming is in his mind or coming from Kurusu--god, he ought be
screaming, the way Skull has him pressed hard into the desk, one hand on his
cock and one around his throat as he thrusts fast and deep. And no, no there’s
no mistaking it now, Kurusu is crying out for Skull, for more, harder, more
more more more--
Akechi’s not quite sure when or how his hand ended up in his pants, but it’s
there now, stroking himself hard and rough in time with the thrusts, the moans.
The vulgar sound of their bodies slapping together, quickening in pace--it’s in
his head, pulsing and throbbing with his cock, in time with his own hand… and
then he can hear that voice--that voice!--that voice that slithers through his
dreams and stabs him in the back when he least expects it, he hears it rise and
rise and--
“Oh god oh god please don’t stop please please god I’m gonna--”
“Yes, god, Akira… Oh god yes, come for me baby…”
“Gonna come, gonna--”
The sound that pierces the air when Kurusu finally comes stabs through him,
pierces him to the bone, until he has to bite back his own snarl of rage. His
rival’s eyes are dark, unfocused, his breath coming hard and desperate and that
pert, perfect ass is grinding back against Skull’s hips, desperate and seeking
more more more--and Akechi’s coming too, pouring over his hand and onto the
floor, his whole body shuddering and spasming with the force of it. It burns
like rage. It feels like losing.
Sprawled over the desk, his body still quivering, Kurusu is purring from the
pure contentment of the afterglow. Skull is groaning exhausted blessings into
the side of his neck. Akechi is shaking. The haze is clearing from his vision,
and he gapes at the couple in frozen horror. He can’t even wipe his filthy hand
off without their hearing it now. He can’t move. As he watches on, Skull pulls
out of his lover, slow and careful. Kurusu whimpers as he does, then sighs. He
rolls his shoulders and opens his eyes, slow and languid. Opens his eyes and
looks straight at Akechi, huddled in the hidden passage. He meets his eyes and
grins a vicious grin, a smile with knives behind it. And deliberately, eyebrows
raised, he meets Akechi’s eyes… and winks.
There’s a volcano exploding in the back of Akechi’s head. Pure, seething,
explosive rage screams in his ears and turns his vision to blood, blood,
screaming howling boiling blood. The insult , the disrespect, the…
Somewhere near the ceiling, what’s left of Akechi’s awareness drifts,
observing. Kurusu is pulling on the last of his clothes and embracing Skull,
laughing and smiling, pure joy settling around their shoulders and sparking
between them with every glance. They’re kissing again and again as they make
their way out, unable to stay away from each other even for a second. In the
little corridor, Akechi’s body is shuddering in rage and pain, nails digging
into the carpet even through the gloves, eyes unfocused and sweat starting to
trickle into them. As they head through the door and presumably back to the
group, Joker turns for just an instant and blows a kiss toward the corner where
Akechi is hidden.
The door slams shut.
The couple’s footsteps fade away down the hall.
Akechi snarls.
From that faraway place, he watches himself, boiling out of his hiding place, a
whirlwind of fury and rage and disgust. He brings down holy light and sets the
desk--still spattered with Kurusu's cum--on fire, white flames leaping up to
the ceiling. Let it burn, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Two more days and
it’ll all be over.
Two more days. It’ll itch under his skin until then.
He can’t wait to kill that bastard.
End Notes
     I have to confess, it's been awhile since I played through Sae's
     palace, so the exact room they're in is... handwave. Just roll with
     it. Any other disjointed bits are intentional due to Akechi's
     completely unhinged frame of mind. Somebody get this guy some
     klonopin and a therapist, geez.
     Yell at me on tumblr!
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