“ i’ve never met anyone quite like you. ” @ aki
@frostwinds / sukuna & akihiko.
“quiet,” sukuna commands, “or else they’ll catch us.”
boxed into a corner with little idea of what’s going on, akihiko tenses, but he doesn’t need to be told twice. … especially when sukuna firmly clamps his hand over his mouth. so, really, he has little choice in the matter.
all akihiko wants to know is what the hell sukuna is doing at the noble’s estate at this late hour. didn’t his friend promise him he would spare these people and leave them alone? with a scowl, he remembers the way sukuna peered at the noble’s daughter in the window — a pretty girl of nineteen summers, blossoming with youth. the kind of girl lesser men would die fighting wars for, dreaming of winning her affection. a girl to treasure forever.
coincidentally, also sukuna’s favorite course set. a delight for a night and bird bones by morning.
the thought angers akihiko in more ways than one. ‘you bastard’, he glares, trembling, knowing sukuna can understand him wordlessly, knowing sukuna knows him like the back of his hand, ‘you promised me you wouldn’t come.’
but sukuna’s expression is unchanged. stony-faced like a faraway god, sukuna merely breathes, lying in wait, with one hand covering akihiko’s mouth and the other pressed to his chest, fingertips firm and demanding against his sternum. sukuna is calm, handsome features ever more stark by the moonlight. he shields akihiko with the broad bulk of his mass, casting him into shadow, and the very air surrounding him seems to sizzle.
it is hot this time of year, but typically, the nights are more forgiving, more cool, but tonight simmers, threatening to boil over. there is a cloying sweetness in the warm breeze.
akihiko’s heart pounds like war drums. his blood roars in his ears, howling for something he doesn’t want to admit.
miserable, he looks away, but sukuna’s gaze follows. after all, sukuna knows him like the back of his hand. it’s as if nothing else in the world matters, as if there is nobody else in the world.
it’s too much weight to bear.
akihiko is quiet, secretive by nature, but sukuna doesn’t care. secrets are not allowed.
“i’ve never met anyone quite like you, akihiko.”
he knows. and yet, he isn’t sure why he startles like a virgin when he feels a warm tongue lick into his mouth. it’s not the first time akihiko has witnessed the demon’s abilities, but it’s his first kiss — a luxury he thought he would never get to know because of the path he chose, because of the village he left behind.
it feels good. it feels terrible.
grimacing, akihiko tries to shove sukuna away, tries to push his hand off his face, but he can’t move him, forced to endure his first kiss stolen by a demon with a tongue in his hand. and yet, how often has akihiko dreamed about this moment? all too often, these days, it feels like akihiko wakes up in a sticky mess, thin fabric clinging to his sweaty form after a night of wild imaginary bliss. behind sukuna’s hand, he whines, hot tongues entwined together, knees threatening to buckle, able to endure unimaginable pain, but he was never trained to endure even the slightest pleasure.
it feels good. it feels terrible.
“they’re gone,” sukuna says, without batting an eye, motioning with his head, “let’s leave.”
finally, air! gasping for breath, akihiko covers his own mouth, struggling to process his first kiss. once upon a time, he imagined sharing it with the fisherman’s daughter. now, he can’t even remember what her face looks like. “fuck you,” he hisses, punching sukuna in the shoulder before following him to make their escape. “don’t do that again,” he groans, ignoring the throbbing need in his lower hips.
he’s going to think about sukuna’s tongue for days.
