Akira's set the timer on his phone to give himself eight minutes before Mona comes back. The fact Morgana knows what Akira wanted the privacy for is one thing, hearing Akira and ruthlessly picking on him for it is another. Akira has accepted he has needs and Morgana can sleep anywhere for an hour.
"You egged me on anyway," Akira mutters, dropping his phone to the floor. Only to lie in bed fidgeting before realizing he wants it back, wants the newest picture in his gallery here too. Akira and Souji, after Souji recovered from his change of heart, their bodies close and leaning into one another. Feeling more than strangers, and finally, more than friends.
Akira huffs, his leg rolling out and his face heating up, when he remembers how close they sat, how Akira thought about placing his hand on his knee, or even better, on his warm solid thigh.
What are you like, Senpai?
That doesn't sound right.
What are you like, Souji?
That's better. Nearer. Realer.
Fantasies aren't suppose to be accurate, just suppose to make you hot but Akira feels underwhelmed imagining a stranger in bed with him. He wants his boyfriend and he doesn't settle for the easy jerk off fodder.
He'd probably be attentive, a slow starter. Kissing, rubbing, touching. His hands feeling every inch of Akira's body. That's what Akira wants. Wants to return the favor. Wants to get at Souji's back. Akira's chest always getting tight when he wants Souji's shoulder blades move underneath his school uniform.
Wildcat scratch his brain supplies, and Akira sniggers into his pillow. No marks, but definitely his fingernails dragging down Souji's spine. Make him shiver, make him moan. Akira puts Souji on his stomach and he has to finally touch himself, phone dropping to the bed while he palms his cock, already straining the elastic of his pajama bottoms.
"Ah," he gives himself a squeeze. Takes a moment to remember where he was, Souji on his stomach. Akira's mouth on his neck, his back, his ass, his thighs. The backs of his knees and he wants him to shudder while he's there. He probably hides, especially on his front, but Akira doesn't want him to. Probably quiet but Akira wants him to make noise.
He'll make him. It gets his blood boiling and he's stroking himself light, doesn't need much else. Muscles in this thighs already tight and primed, because he'd get Souji on his knees, squirm around him and cover him, arms wrapped around Souji's middle.
Got you and Is this okay and
I want to be good to you.
The ugly flush of red that spreads from Souji's face down to his chest, the rest of his blood pumped to his leaking cock leaves Akira's hand wet when he fists it. The sound Souji makes Akira doesn't know if it exists but he wants it and
I want you too
and oh, oh, that's it, that's it it it, his feet lifting off the bed when he comes, groaning, head thrashing back and forth.
And then his stomach is slick and its over, with twenty minutes to spare before Morgana comes back up.
Akira takes a deep breath because before he cleans up, he grabs his phone instead, texts his boyfriend with his dick out because it's thrilling and awful at once.
Good night, Souji.
He finds tissues and wraps them up in another clean one. Souji's already sent him a good nyaght text with an accompanying picture by the time Akira's back in bed. He smiles sleepy and warm, curled on his side when Morgana comes back to bed.
Akira dreams he and Souji are fishing at the pier and they catch a big one.