ɪɴʙᴏx [ᴇxᴘɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ]

[chemex]

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[murderingjustice]

[Perhaps it's good that he can't see or feel Akira's face from this position, he's not sure if he'd appreciate such smile now that he's feeling so miserable himself.

He shifts a little in Akira's hold, trying to adjust his injured hand so that there won't be any pressure on it. Then he closes his eyes again, focuses on listening the way Akira's heart beats inside his chest and breathes in his scent. He can smell the faint traces of the soap and coffee.]

You smell nice. [He whispers out his observation, trying to move closer]

[chemex]

[Gods help him, he is so hopelessly gay for this disaster. He hums, shifting to put his nose against the top of Akechi's head, breathing in against his hair.] Must be your soap.

[murderingjustice]

Mmm.. [He hums in agreement, because obviously that was the case.


He stays quiet for a moment, allowing Akira's warmth lull him into the comfort. Just when was last time he had something like this? When was last time someone had hold him and comforted him through fever?


Of course he knows exactly when that was and the answer only makes him breathe out sharply and eyes feel wet under his closed lids. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He swears in his mind, shaking his head a little.]

[chemex]

[He's not quite dozing, but his eyes are closed and he's very relaxed, trying to keep still so Akechi can rest, but-- that sharp exhale grabs his attention, and he shifts to look down at him.]

All right?

[murderingjustice]

Yeah. [His voice is quiet and muffled against the fabric of Akira's yukata.

There's a brief pause before he adds] I was reminded of someone, that's all.

[He doesn't dare to say "mother" out loud, both from embarrassement and fear that he might give in to his weakened state.]

[chemex]

[He shifts, reaching one hand up to hesitantly stroke the back of Akechi's head.] ...sorry, if it was painful.

[murderingjustice]

It wasn't. [The answer comes out almost too soon to be genuine. He just doesn't want to talk about his childhood to further detail.

At first the hand stroking his hair makes Akechi to stiffen. He's so unused to this kind of touch that his body jumps to alarmed state. Luckily, though, it's short lived and he relaxes back to the touch.]

[chemex]

[He just hums softly, his hand going still until Akechi relaxes again, when he resumes a gentle petting motion.] Will you be able to sleep with me here?

[murderingjustice]

... Yes. [He breathes out the word, bringing his arm to wrap around Akira.]

Don't you dare to leave.

[chemex]

[The arm still around Akechi's shoulders tightens just slightly, his other still petting his hair. This is going to suck a lot whenever Akechi's fever breaks and they have to Address It, but. For now...]

I won't.

[murderingjustice]

[Will they really have to address this? (Yes.) Wouldn't it be just easier if they just added it to their Do-Not-Talk-About pile? Probably not.

The squeeze along with the affirming words almost causes a silent sob escape from Akechi's lips. He bats his eyes rapidly twice, driving away any remains of tears.]

[chemex]

[His arm shifts from his shoulders, moving to rub gently between his shoulder blades, instead. He didn't quite miss that near-sob, and he's not sure if he's meant to acknowledge it or not.]

[murderingjustice]

[The answer to that is obviously no. Of course you're not supposed to acknowledge any of the sounds that might betray Akechi's marble surface any more. Addressing this moment of weakness would be like taking step towards the point of no return.

Akechi clings on him harder as a response to the soothing gestures on his back. He let's another moment of silence fall over them, leaving only sounds of faint rustle of the sheets and their breathing filling the room. Minutes pass before Akechi pulls away just enough that he can arc his neck to look at Akira.

Amber eyes searches for the grey ones in the dim light, flushed and wide.]

[chemex]

[One thing Akira has never quite struggled with is eye contact. People said he had an intimidating gaze-- it was why he donned his plano lenses for his time in Tokyo, why he kept wearing them after, when he wanted to hide. Akechi looking up at him the way he has, Akira meets, his hand stilling against his back. His other reaches up and claims those very glasses, tilting his head just enough to look uncertain of Akechi's staring. He makes no sound, but he sure as hell isn't certain of Akechi's intent, here.]

[murderingjustice]

[To be fair, he's not entirely sure what his intentions are either at the moment and just what he's trying find within the ocean of grey. Maybe, for once there isn't need for any contemplative plans or schemes. Maybe, just maybe it's ok to stop with his constant mental 5D chess and let go.

A beat, then another. Akechi's hand moves from Akira's side to back of his neck and pulls him down closer, brushing their lips together.]

[chemex]

[Of all the things he could have anticipated coming out of this interaction, the most chaste and hesitant of kisses initiated by Akechi had not been one of them.]

[For only a second, his eyes just go wide, his pupils shrinking in alarm, and he draws in an aborted breath. When his brain processes lips, his eyes immediately flutter closed, and he tilts his head just so, pressing his own lips forward. He keeps them closed, keeps it gentle, and nuzzles with his nose gently after. He stays close, their breath mingling, and opens his eyes again to search Akechi's for doubt, for regret. He still doesn't speak.]

[murderingjustice]

[There's a moment when Akechi almost forgets to breathe, the air freezing still inside his lungs. It's only when a feels a light pressure pooling up he realizes to exhale.]

Ha... [He huffs out warm air against Akira's lips and almost immediately pushes back in, sealing the gap between them.

Some could probably argue that this barely counts as a kissing. Lips closed and motionless, lacking the passion and fire. Really, they're like two kids, fumbling around awkwardly in a middle school dance or something along those lines.

But despite all of that his eyes don't reflect any hesitation or fear as he continues to pressing forward, trying to increase the intensity of their kiss through force.]

[chemex]

[Excuse Akira as he ascends into the fucking stratosphere.]

[Akechi has instigated a kiss not once, but twice, coming back with more gusto the second time. There's no way the first could have been an accident, now. His heartbeat ratchets up into his throat, but he draws his hands to Akechi's jaw and holds him gently still, pressing into him. It's insane, he realizes, how long he's wanted to do this.]

[murderingjustice]

[Akechi uses this as an opportunity to wrap his arm around Akira's shoulders and pull him closer. The mattress shifts under their weight as he encourages his rival to climb on top of him, giving them both a better access to each other.

He keeps pressing quick, rough and hungry kisses on Akira's lips, bumping their noses awkwardly together each time. Then, he eventually just sags against the mattress, exhausted and breathing heavily. The earlier heated flush has gained a darker shade of red and spread all around his face, reaching up to his ears. Panting heavily, a pair of feverish eyes keep peeking at Akira behind the sweaty curls.]

[chemex]

[He moves accordingly, spurred by Akechi's continued contact to take charge. He sits on his hips, similarly to how he had outside, but with a different sort of weight to it, and matches him peck for peck until Goro sags backward, panting.]

[Akira takes that moment to put their foreheads together and gauge his temperature again, nosing at him like a cat and then sitting back on his haunches.] Easy, tiger. You'll boil your brain like an egg.

[murderingjustice]

[Yeah, the fever isn't going down anytime soon. He's still burning up with droplets of cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. But Akechi doesn't let that hold him back. He reaches to grab the front of Akira's yukata and pulls him closer, giving his dry and chapped lips a quick lick.]

Don't--- ha, don't be stupid. [He pants out, chest raising heavily up and down as he catches his breath, looking almost uncharacteristically meek under Akira.] Hah.. you just can't keep up.

[chemex]

[Akira sighs, laughing softly and settling, folding his arms over Akechi's chest and draping across him like a cat.]

No, I could. You can't, because you're not at your best right now. So it's not a fair competition. [He reaches out to brush his hair off his face, looking at him carefully.] ...have to wonder if you even meant to start that, or if your brain's already boiled.

[murderingjustice]

[He's about to huff a protest at Akira, that he's always at his best (though, if he were to stop and think he'd realize that Akira is right) no matter of his condition, but is stopped by the latter part of his musings.

Akechi looks up, confused as if he didn't understand what's the issue.]

You didn't like it?

[chemex]

Wouldn't have kissed you back if I didn't like it.

[It's a simple statement. He rubs his thumb gently over Akechi's eyebrow.] ...I just worry you'll be upset about it later.

[murderingjustice]

Mmnnn.. [Akechi hums and closes his eyes, leaning to the touch.]

You're hard to please. [Pot, kettle. But furthermore:] I give you what you want and you're still not satisfied.