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It hurts a little when Atsushi speeds up his movements. Akutagawa doesn't mind. Sure, the pain is getting a little too much for what he likes, but that's still better than the shame that backing off now would bring. He lets out a moan and grits his teeth so hard he wouldn't be surprised to feel them crack.
His hands nearly instinctively grip the sheets. Akutagawa imagines his nails tearing through the material like claws of some beast, but all he has are his own stubby fingernails, so of course they fail to even leave a mark.
Weretiger's hand gently slides across his side, across the frail pillars of his rib cage, the tenderness of his touch nearly contrasts with the way his thrusts make Akutagawa's knees bend and press into the mattress. He leans over, the warmth of his breath crashes against Akutagawa's ear.
"Does that feel good?" he whispers, the immeasurable softness of his voice makes something inside Akutagawa's chest feel as if a small, fuzzy animal moved inside it.
It only makes it clearer that there's only one way he can answer. He presses his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.
"Shut up," he growls, because that's the only way he can stop his voice from breaking, "Shut up and keep going, Weretiger."
Luckily for him, Atsushi just listens to what he's saying and doesn't change a thing. It's a good thing. It's a wonderful thing. Akutagawa can't stand being pitied. Pity is for the weak after all, and no matter how weak he is (he barely can handle the sex he's having after all, how embarrassing), he doesn't want to be reminded of that. The torn-up, shattered remains of his pride can't handle that.
Atsushi holds up his hips. Flesh slaps against the flesh. Akutagawa can feel his body burning. He can't back out now. He was the one who asked for it. He'd make a fool out of himself if he asked the Weretiger to slow down now. Worse than that, he'd make a fool of himself in front of Atsushi.
"You're doing so well," Atsushi coos, petting Akutagawa's thigh.
Akutagawa feels a wave of embarrassment wash over his body. Is he? He doesn't think so. He doesn't think so at all. After all, he can barely take it. Atsushi says he can say that stupid word they agreed on, but it's stupid. Everything about that concept is stupid, so Akutagawa refuses.
He remembers well how Dazai taught him that the world won't care if he begs for a break, if he begs for anything to stop. He remembers his head being pressed into the warm, wet mud by the sole of Dazai's shoe and- No, no, no. It's not the time to think about it.
For once, he's grateful for the pain in his rear, because this pain helps him keep grounded, because it reminds him that he's in his own bedroom, in his own bed, and he's being fucked by the Weretiger. Roughly. That's what he wanted. That's what he asked for, because the way Atsushi made him feel cared about was embarrassing.
Atsushi's hips crash against his once again, and Akutagawa nearly stumbles forwards. Atsushi slows down, and suddenly, Akutagawa can feel his stomach twist uncomfortably.
"What are you doing, you fool?" he snaps, and that causes Atsushi to freeze.
"It's just-" he stutters, but then quickly takes a deep breath, "Are you sure you're okay?"
The veil of rage Akutagawa surrounds himself with shatters, evaporates, dissolves, and suddenly he feels more naked than ever. It feels wrong to be mad at Atsushi because Atsushi cares, because Atsushi doesn't want to hurt him. He must be turning into the biggest idiot in the world, into the king of fools, because that's the exact reason he should be angry.
"Yeah," he says, his voice slipping into a monotone, "Finish what you've started. Go on. Now."
For a moment, the Weretiger doesn't move, and at that moment, Akutagawa wants nothing more than to find a voice to scream at him. To tell him not to treat him that way. Not to treat him as if he's weak, as if he needs to be fussed over.
A warm hand is placed on his side, it makes him feel secure in the way that is nearly too out of place to be real.
"If that's what you want," Atsushi says, his tone gentle and loving in a way that just feels so, so wrong.
He starts moving again. For a moment, he's slower, gentler than he was before, and it feels good. Akutagawa's body feels good. He doesn't feel like he deserves to feel good. He wants the pain back, he wants the roughness and the bruises forming on his pale thighs to stay until the morning.
At least until Atsushi returns to his previous pace, and suddenly it's too much again. And sure, Akutagawa could back out, could try to fight back and tear himself away, could say that stupid word-
And who in the world would care that you ask for a break?
-He couldn't say that stupid word.
The Weretiger's nails press into his sides, and he can imagine them leaving tiny half-moon marks in his skin, he can imagine them extending into the tiger's claws and splitting his abdomen open, he can imagine his blood dripping onto the mattress.
And then he realizes that won't happen. And only a split second later he realizes he had let out a yelp, and that Atsushi is no longer moving, only his hand is gently rubbing Akutagawa's side.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, and his voice nearly makes him melt in embarrassment and something else that he can't quite name.
"What makes you think so?" Akutagawa spits out, his face feels as if it was burning.
He squeezes his eyes shut, even if he's not looking in Atsushi's direction. He can imagine the expression of concern on his face, and that's bad enough.
"Akutagawa," he speaks slowly, and every word drills deeper into Akutagawa's gut, "Did I hurt you?"
In that very moment, every fiber of his body is filled with so much rage, so much embarrassment. But he can't do anything about it, so he just clenches his hands over the sheets and bites down on his lip until his mouth fills with a familiar, metallic taste.
Atsushi remains still.
"Did I hurt you?" he repeats, his voice just as soft, just as full of concern.
"Why would you even care?"
Only after the words have already left his mouth does Akutagawa realize exactly what he said, the exact weight of admission.
Atsushi slowly slides out of him but keeps his hand on the side, almost as if he wanted to remind Akutagawa that he's still there, that he's not going anywhere.
"Why did you stop, Weretiger?"
This time, he gathers the courage to look at Atsushi, and of course it's a mistake. The concern in his eyes is enough to make Akutagawa want to scream, but he can't find the voice to do anything more than whisper, "Why?"
Atsushi presses his lips together so tightly they form a thin line.
"You were in pain," he says, sounding as if that was supposed to be a good enough explanation.
"Bullshit! You didn't have to do a thing. Why would it even matter what I'm feeling?"
The Weretiger moves his hand to Akutagawa's cheek. It's warm, and he should be enjoying the touch, but it just makes the pit in his stomach feel even more painful.
"Can't you understand that I don't want to hurt you?"
Akutagawa curtly nods. He should move his head away, but instead he leans into Atsushi's touch.
"Indeed, Weretiger, for the life of me, I cannot understand."
Atsushi traces his jawbone with his finger, gently, oh so gently, but the frown on his face causes Akutagawa to hate himself a little more. Just enough to make him miss the pain, just enough to convince him that he deserved the pain.
"Really? Why is it so hard to get that I care about you and I want you to feel good?"
And who in the world would care that you ask for a break?
Akutagawa moves his lips in total silence. He can't find a single word he could say. At that moment, it's the eyes that do the talking. Atsushi's are soft, but Akutagawa can feel the hurt underlining that softness. Almost as if he was asking Akutagawa to put some trust in him.
At first, he wants to call Atsushi a fool, because after all, isn't it foolish to expect him to just lower his walls like that? They've been going at it for weeks by now, and he really should know better. But then he realizes that maybe he's the foolish one - taking more than he can handle and then refusing the way out he was given.
And who in the world would care that you ask for a break?
The echo of Dazai's words feels like scratching open an old wound. Right. Why would he expect the Weretiger to care if no one ever cared? And yet, some foolish hope wants to beg him to be different. Is it a huge ask when all the other hands and faces always blur, but Atsushi's stay Atsushi's even in his dreams?
"Kiss me, Weretiger," Akutagawa pleads. It's meant to be an order, but in the end it sounds way too pathetic to be one.
And yet Atsushi doesn't judge, just closes the meager distance between them and presses his lips against Akutagawa's. The kiss is gentle, awfully gentle, almost as if to contrast with the sex they've been having.
Akutagawa guides Atsushi away from his mouth and to his neck with a mere touch. It still feels foreign how he's always so responsive to even the subtlest signs Akutagawa gives him, how he never ignores them to do whatever he wants.
Akutagawa lets out a tiny moan. The Weretiger's lips feel warm against the soft skin of Akutagawa's neck, the tongue slides over the jugular, and suddenly, for some reason, he imagines his teeth sinking into his flesh. It's not entirely a bad vision. Akutagawa already knows that dying feels peaceful, and that just calms down the rest of his fears. Still, the same thought freaks him out.
"Stop," he says, still not quite expecting Atsushi to listen, but he does. He immediately does.
The way his face softens, the shyness suddenly appearing in his eyes, both of these things make Akutagawa want to melt. But at the same time, his body feels cold and shakes before he manages to stop it. Damn it. Another sign of weakness. He knows he should have been more in control of his reactions.
"Is there something wrong?" Atsushi asks.
His voice feels like a warm blanket placed on Akutagawa's shoulders. His voice feels like a rusted knife in Akutagawa's gut.
"Nothing, Weretiger," Akutagawa grumbles, barely louder than a whisper, and then adds an even quieter part, so quiet that it must be the tiger's senses that allow Atsushi to even hear it, "I didn't expect you to actually stop."
Atsushi's expression softens even more. The blanket tightens around him. The knife twists inside him.
"Of course I would. I wanted it to be good for you."
Ah, of course. Such a foolish, trivial reason. And who in the world would care that you ask for a break? Well, apparently the Weretiger does, and for once Akutagawa wants to just accept it, wants the feeling of that warm blanket to stay around his shoulders. He wraps his arms around Atsushi's body, rests his head against his chest, listens to his heartbeat. And Atsushi hugs back. His touch feels warm enough to send a pleasant shiver down Akutagawa's spine and gentle enough to calm the storm inside his chest, even if only for a moment.
He takes a deep breath, and Atsushi rubs his back.
"You are good to me," he finally whispers.
Atsushi responds by pulling him into a tighter hug and presses the softest of kisses against his forehead.
"Do you wish to continue, or do you need a break?" he asks, and this time Akutagawa doesn't doubt him even for a moment.
"Can you lie down?" he responds.
Atsushi nods and does as he is told. His face still looks soft enough to melt the layers of ice that spent so long protecting him from getting close to someone again, from getting hurt by someone again. For a moment, Akutagawa just looks at him, at his flushed cheeks and lips dampened with saliva, at that horrible haircut that still managed to grow on him.
He leans forward and places a gentle kiss against the Weretiger's lips, noting that their softness is becoming familiar and realizing that he likes that. He likes the new familiarity. He likes the care and gentleness when Atsushi reciprocates and the familiar eyes that remind him of tiny sunsets. He likes that so much more than strangers' eyes and lips that only cared for any kind of warmth, he likes that so much more than sneaking out of the backseats into pouring rain.
Akutagawa deepens the kiss and straddles Atsushi, helping their cocks line up. Atsushi breaks the kiss, his voice is low, nearly like a purr, as he wraps his fingers around their lengths.
"Is that what you want?" he whispers, his voice feeling like a wave of pleasant warmth wash over his body.
Akutagawa bites his lower lip and nods, the sweat makes the strands of his hair cling to his face. Only then, Atsushi does anything, only then, Atsushi gently rocks his hips, making their cocks rub against each other. A spark of pleasure shoots through his spine, forcing him to let out a moan.
Atsushi gently puts his hand on the side of his face, and Akutagawa nearly instinctively leans into his touch, letting his eyes close as he lets out a small whimper.
"Please, Weretiger, please, don't stop."
He must sound pathetic, but he can't even bring himself to care about that, and Atsushi must not care either, because he continues slowly moving his hips, grinding against Akutagawa, and moaning quietly.
"I won't stop," he whispers softly, his breath catching in his throat and causing him to slur a little on his words, "Not unless you tell me to."
But Akutagawa can't even bring himself to think about that. Not when Atsushi's touch feels so good. He just wants the moment to never end, but the familiar feeling in his stomach reminds him that he can't just hold back forever. His eyes grow darker with pleasure.
He wants to order Atsushi around, he wants to beg for more, he wants to spread his legs wider, and he wants to shut them close. Fuck, he just wants more .
Akutagawa buries his face in the side of Atsushi's neck, breathing in his scent and melting into his warmth. He can already feel that he won't last much longer. His whole body is shivering with every movement, no matter how small and insignificant it might seem.
He grits his teeth, but it doesn't matter, he comes anyway. But he can't let it end now, not until the Weretiger comes too. He moves away, ignoring the surprised expression on Atsushi's face and silencing him with a kiss. His hand wraps around his still erect cock, slightly sticky from the mix of already drying lubricant and Akutagawa's cum.
It takes a few flicks of his wrist, a few wonderfully familiar moans, and Atsushi's face twists in pleasure as he lets out a louder, raspier breath. Warm, thick liquid spills on his fingers.
It feels familiar, just like the heavy weight settling in his bones as the last of the dopamine faded out. And only Atsushi is looking at him, almost as if he expected Akutagawa to tell him what to do. But he was too tired, too spent, so he just lays down on the mattress, draping his arm across Atsushi's chest and nuzzling against the crook of his neck.
"Stay," Akutagawa says, the pitch in his voice getting slightly higher in a plea, "Just stay."
The Weretiger doesn't say a thing and doesn't move from Akutagawa's side.