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emeraldembersTitle: Patience and Trust
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Pairing: The Collector/Naoki/Futomimi
Rating: NC17
Warnings: PWP like woah.
Dedication:nyxmidnight without whom I would not know the value of kicking ass.
Summary: Naoki brings Futomimi back to life and to Asakusa; the Collector approves.
Notes: I have no idea why this fic decided to pwn my brain over the 19823719827319 other fics I want to do right now but I don't care, Nyx deserves it and I've kind of owed her it forever <3.
The Collector's breath actually sticks in his throat for a moment before he takes it back so he can jump over the counter and throw his arms around Futomimi's waist.
"You're back!"
"I -"
The Collector cuts Futomimi off with a finger before disentangling himself from his leader and shifting his attention to Naoki. "It was you, wasn't it?"
Naoki raises his eyebrows at finding himself with an armful of the Collector, but a small smile twists his lips after another moment.
"I knew you could! I knew -" He's never been very good at concentrating for more than a few seconds unless it's in the pursuit of something he's interested in, and with Futomimi back - and he still can't entirely believe that, Futomimi is back, he's not dead, he's not alone in standing out anymore - and in arm's reach he finds himself freeing an arm again, grabbing for his leader and pulling him over into a kiss.
"Coll-" He ignores Futomimi's attempts to speak, one hand around Naoki's waist and the other gripping Futomimi's shoulder tight. Futomimi's lips are soft, and pliant, and it's only when Futomimi scowls that the Collector pauses. "Collector. Naoki -"
"Oh, right," The Collector interrupts before turning back to Naoki and kissing him too.
"That's not what I meant," Futomimi says, but smiles anyway; Naoki certainly isn't complaining, not that he was ever particularly vocal anyway.
"I knew -" Another kiss, because Naoki's lips are a little thinner, a little crueller than Futomimi's, and kissing him once doesn't feel like enough. His lips feel like they need the attention. "I knew you'd come back."
"I didn't," Futomimi says, but after sharing a quick glance with Naoki he slides his hand down to the fastening of the Collector's robe, and even though it's warm and familiar, it's still strange under these circumstances.
"The scars -"
"Naoki will not mind," Futomimi reassures, and that confirmation from his leader is enough; he lets Futomimi part his robes, and the warm air of Asakusa is a blessing under these circumstances. "He has punished enough of those who deal scars already."
The Collector knows he looks like the patchwork doll that first triggered his interest in humans, rough stitches zig-zagging across his body like a road map of injuries, but Naoki doesn't shrink back from them; doesn't pay them undue attention, either. Futomimi leaves them for a moment and the Collector laughs as Naoki's fingers rub into his scalp; the gesture reminds him of something but he can't quite place what, and Naoki controls the kiss this time. It's slower than he'd expected, and deep, and almost greedy, and he feels a little dizzy for air that he doesn't entirely need when Futomimi calls them over.
The bedroom is rudimentary, even if the Collector has far, far more pillows than anyone could really need; humans made them in so many colours and materials and he's been able to add to the collection since most of the others left Asakusa. Futomimi lies down, hair liquid-smooth where it brushes his shoulders, and for a moment the Collector is confused by Naoki's startled, wide-eyed expression before he remembers the demi-fiend hasn't seen Futomimi naked before.
Normally the Collector reserves 'beautiful' for Naoki, because half-human is better than not-human, and things humans made, but Futomimi warrants the exception.
He gives Naoki the shove he needs, literally, sending him sprawling across the pillows, and Futomimi laughs - actually laughs - before reaching a hand up to the demi-fiend's face, thumb tracing over the markings, and drawing him into a kiss.
It's only enough to hold the Collector's attention for another few seconds; but he's more interested in seeing how far Naoki's markings go, and seeing as Futomimi's hands are occupied, he figures it's his own job to get those pants removed.
Naoki doesn't flinch, although maybe that's because almost as soon as his pants are down to his ankles Futomimi wraps a leg around his hip and grinds up against him; not quite enough to break the kiss there and then, but enough that when they do, Naoki has to gasp to get his air back. It's easy to forget that of the three of them, he's the only one who particularly needs it.
The Collector lies down next to Naoki and presses up against his back, adjusts Futomimi's leg to rest more comfortably across both his and the demi-fiend's; and though his right arm feels a little trapped beneath his own weight, his left slides easily around Naoki's waist, lets him splay his fingers across Naoki's stomach.
He can't really resist licking the little horn on the back of Naoki's neck just to see the reaction; feels a little let down when he gets nothing more than he would from doing the same to fingernails or hair. Still, it's satisfying to know that it feels about the same as he'd thought, hard and smooth.
"Naoki," Futomimi breathes, leg drawing tight against them both, and the Collector shivers in turn, grinds up against Naoki himself, the slight curve of the demi-fiend's ass all too tempting. He almost complains when the warmth of Futomimi's leg draws back and Naoki elbows him gently to move; almost, if it weren't for Naoki rolling onto his back and tugging the Collector to straddle him, Futomimi curling up sleepily to one side.
"My turn?" The Collector asks, and Naoki nods in agreement, smiling with satisfaction as he stretches out against the pillows, thighs slicked white with Futomimi's come. It's easy to get a hand between them both, grind down and set a rhythm, but even so he feels oddly exposed; wishes for a moment he had hair like Futomimi's to cover himself.
His heart still gives a little leap when he looks at his leader lying there, whole, and when he buckles slightly Naoki catches him with ease, waits for him to settle back into the rhythm.
Naoki comes as quietly as he does everything else, just a long, low hiss of intaking breath and then jerking hard, but the Collector doesn't last long after, discards the pillow beneath them both for a dry one nearby before sliding down to settle between Naoki's legs, resting his head against the firm stomach.
"Hey, Naoki? How did you -"
He's interrupted by a finger pressed to his lips, feels fit to burst with questions, like he'll never sleep again for needing to ask them.
But he's wrong. The warmth of Naoki's stomach, the lull of orgasm, and the very fact that it's Futomimi lying to their side - it's enough to soothe him into sleep.
It's more than enough.
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Pairing: The Collector/Naoki/Futomimi
Rating: NC17
Warnings: PWP like woah.
Dedication:
nyxmidnight without whom I would not know the value of kicking ass.Summary: Naoki brings Futomimi back to life and to Asakusa; the Collector approves.
Notes: I have no idea why this fic decided to pwn my brain over the 19823719827319 other fics I want to do right now but I don't care, Nyx deserves it and I've kind of owed her it forever <3.
The Collector's breath actually sticks in his throat for a moment before he takes it back so he can jump over the counter and throw his arms around Futomimi's waist.
"You're back!"
"I -"
The Collector cuts Futomimi off with a finger before disentangling himself from his leader and shifting his attention to Naoki. "It was you, wasn't it?"
Naoki raises his eyebrows at finding himself with an armful of the Collector, but a small smile twists his lips after another moment.
"I knew you could! I knew -" He's never been very good at concentrating for more than a few seconds unless it's in the pursuit of something he's interested in, and with Futomimi back - and he still can't entirely believe that, Futomimi is back, he's not dead, he's not alone in standing out anymore - and in arm's reach he finds himself freeing an arm again, grabbing for his leader and pulling him over into a kiss.
"Coll-" He ignores Futomimi's attempts to speak, one hand around Naoki's waist and the other gripping Futomimi's shoulder tight. Futomimi's lips are soft, and pliant, and it's only when Futomimi scowls that the Collector pauses. "Collector. Naoki -"
"Oh, right," The Collector interrupts before turning back to Naoki and kissing him too.
"That's not what I meant," Futomimi says, but smiles anyway; Naoki certainly isn't complaining, not that he was ever particularly vocal anyway.
"I knew -" Another kiss, because Naoki's lips are a little thinner, a little crueller than Futomimi's, and kissing him once doesn't feel like enough. His lips feel like they need the attention. "I knew you'd come back."
"I didn't," Futomimi says, but after sharing a quick glance with Naoki he slides his hand down to the fastening of the Collector's robe, and even though it's warm and familiar, it's still strange under these circumstances.
"The scars -"
"Naoki will not mind," Futomimi reassures, and that confirmation from his leader is enough; he lets Futomimi part his robes, and the warm air of Asakusa is a blessing under these circumstances. "He has punished enough of those who deal scars already."
The Collector knows he looks like the patchwork doll that first triggered his interest in humans, rough stitches zig-zagging across his body like a road map of injuries, but Naoki doesn't shrink back from them; doesn't pay them undue attention, either. Futomimi leaves them for a moment and the Collector laughs as Naoki's fingers rub into his scalp; the gesture reminds him of something but he can't quite place what, and Naoki controls the kiss this time. It's slower than he'd expected, and deep, and almost greedy, and he feels a little dizzy for air that he doesn't entirely need when Futomimi calls them over.
The bedroom is rudimentary, even if the Collector has far, far more pillows than anyone could really need; humans made them in so many colours and materials and he's been able to add to the collection since most of the others left Asakusa. Futomimi lies down, hair liquid-smooth where it brushes his shoulders, and for a moment the Collector is confused by Naoki's startled, wide-eyed expression before he remembers the demi-fiend hasn't seen Futomimi naked before.
Normally the Collector reserves 'beautiful' for Naoki, because half-human is better than not-human, and things humans made, but Futomimi warrants the exception.
He gives Naoki the shove he needs, literally, sending him sprawling across the pillows, and Futomimi laughs - actually laughs - before reaching a hand up to the demi-fiend's face, thumb tracing over the markings, and drawing him into a kiss.
It's only enough to hold the Collector's attention for another few seconds; but he's more interested in seeing how far Naoki's markings go, and seeing as Futomimi's hands are occupied, he figures it's his own job to get those pants removed.
Naoki doesn't flinch, although maybe that's because almost as soon as his pants are down to his ankles Futomimi wraps a leg around his hip and grinds up against him; not quite enough to break the kiss there and then, but enough that when they do, Naoki has to gasp to get his air back. It's easy to forget that of the three of them, he's the only one who particularly needs it.
The Collector lies down next to Naoki and presses up against his back, adjusts Futomimi's leg to rest more comfortably across both his and the demi-fiend's; and though his right arm feels a little trapped beneath his own weight, his left slides easily around Naoki's waist, lets him splay his fingers across Naoki's stomach.
He can't really resist licking the little horn on the back of Naoki's neck just to see the reaction; feels a little let down when he gets nothing more than he would from doing the same to fingernails or hair. Still, it's satisfying to know that it feels about the same as he'd thought, hard and smooth.
"Naoki," Futomimi breathes, leg drawing tight against them both, and the Collector shivers in turn, grinds up against Naoki himself, the slight curve of the demi-fiend's ass all too tempting. He almost complains when the warmth of Futomimi's leg draws back and Naoki elbows him gently to move; almost, if it weren't for Naoki rolling onto his back and tugging the Collector to straddle him, Futomimi curling up sleepily to one side.
"My turn?" The Collector asks, and Naoki nods in agreement, smiling with satisfaction as he stretches out against the pillows, thighs slicked white with Futomimi's come. It's easy to get a hand between them both, grind down and set a rhythm, but even so he feels oddly exposed; wishes for a moment he had hair like Futomimi's to cover himself.
His heart still gives a little leap when he looks at his leader lying there, whole, and when he buckles slightly Naoki catches him with ease, waits for him to settle back into the rhythm.
Naoki comes as quietly as he does everything else, just a long, low hiss of intaking breath and then jerking hard, but the Collector doesn't last long after, discards the pillow beneath them both for a dry one nearby before sliding down to settle between Naoki's legs, resting his head against the firm stomach.
"Hey, Naoki? How did you -"
He's interrupted by a finger pressed to his lips, feels fit to burst with questions, like he'll never sleep again for needing to ask them.
But he's wrong. The warmth of Naoki's stomach, the lull of orgasm, and the very fact that it's Futomimi lying to their side - it's enough to soothe him into sleep.
It's more than enough.
