Disclaimer:

I do not own the story and the concepts represented in the fiction written. This fiction and all Persona related fictions belong to Atlus, the wonderful company that created the games.

Warning!

This is a Mature story and will feature adult themes such as sex, mature language, murder and etc.

Beauty and the Thief

It was raining outside with loud rumbles of thunder. The harsh churns in the sky nulled out the sound of flesh against flesh and restrained sighs. This noise had been going on for what felt like hours and would continue, she hoped. Willing her exhausted body to maintain its pace, Haru surrendered to the mind-numbing pleasure. Again, the charge below her stomach was beginning to overflow like a volcanic eruption, and to contain herself, she leaned down. She bit harshly on the shoulders belonging to her confidant, Akira Kurusu.

She would leave a mark, as she always did, then they'd use an ice pack the next day to relieve the swelling. But, right now, pressed against each other, chest to chest, Akira was her chew toy. Sweat pulled from her pores, sliding down her face onto Akira and the bedsheets underneath them. It made it difficult to determine who made the bigger mess and was to clean, or replace, the sheets. Usually, they just took turns. This time it was Haru's turn if she remembered right. It was hard to think when she felt him enter and leave her with such furiousness, especially as he was gripping her bottom and pulling it down like he was doing now.

It thundered outside, and Haru cried out. She fell limp on Akira's shoulder. It felt wetter than usual, signifying that she'd probably drew blood without realizing it. Bandages and ice packs for tomorrow, she thought.

"Do you want to continue?" Akira asked.

Haru giggled a little, still high from her recent orgasm. Tightening her sex, she heard him grunt slightly, and she said, "Your little friend isn't satisfied yet, though."

Akira chuckled; it was deep and roguish. "Do you want to continue?"

It was during times like this, when they were bare without anything between them, that Haru stared into Akira's eyes and saw Joker. Cunning, roguish Joker with his deep, crimson eyes. She felt her pulse quicken, and the hunger begins to burn in her stomach once more. "Yes."

Slowly, so painstakingly slow, they switched positions. Haru laid on her back while Akira hovered over her like a protective veil. She loved this position most of all. It was called missionary if she remembered right then flushed, thinking how knowledgeable she was becoming on the topic of intimacy. Akira looked at her, his expression calm and loving. His fingers caressed her face, and she sighed in bliss, savoring his warmth.

"Are you ready?"

Dazed, mind, and body, Haru nodded slowly, trying but failing to stop from smiling giggly. Akira entered her swiftly, fulling her entirely. Without much thought, she arched her back, attempting with all of her might to allow him further access. Akira's hands worked like magic, running down her neck, chest, stomach like a million drops of rain. He leaned forward, continuing his maddening slow pace, and sucked greedily on her breast. It was always her breast. As much as Akira tried to hide it, as much of a gentleman as he tried to act, she still caught his eyes on her body. Haru didn't mind, though; she secretly adored those quick glances more than she'd ever been willing to admit.

"H-haru…!"

It was coming, she thought to her joy and disappointment. Truthfully, her body was beyond the point of exhaustion; her brain was a scrambled mess, but she loved these moments with him more than anything in the world. It was her drug and escape from the demanding world outside where people just wanted, wanted, wanted. Where giving, expressing, helping were foreign acts to the citizens outside of this dainty attic and small bed.

Akira's face hitched toward hers. They shared a hungry, desperate kiss, entwining their fingers together as he continued to fill and empty her. Akira growled. Even with the condom, she could feel him quiver inside of her. That was usually enough for her to orgasm again, and this time was no different. Together they shook in their embrace until their bodies stilled.

Akira kissed her lips then her brow and rolled off of her. With unsteady hands, he removed the condom and threw it into the wastebasket a reasonable distance away. His aim continued to improve. Turning, Haru gripped his arm between her breast and curled into a ball. It was like this that she slept best; like this, the nightmares wouldn't come to her.

Akira's hand brushed against her face. Haru looked into his eyes, no longer red and roguish but gray and caring.

"Are you ok?"

"Mhmm."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Of course, Akira-san. I… (loved it) enjoyed it very much."

He continued to look at her with his eyes, which seemed to give nothing and everything away. If she were asked to describe Akira, she'd say he was Akira. Nothing more and nothing less. If she were asked to elaborate, then she'd be at a loss for words. Staring at Akira's eyes was like looking into a different soul daily; or, another aspect of the same soul. While she could easily describe her friends – Ryuji was short-tempered but loyal, and Ann was lively but aware of others – Akira was different characteristics welled into one. Perhaps it was the many Personae he stored, she wondered.

Regardless, even he couldn't read minds.

I love you, she thought. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

So simple to think in her mind but impossible to say out loud, because they weren't anything special like boyfriend and girlfriend. She was merely a damaged girl who sought the comfort of the only person she could trust with her troubles. The only person who could make her feel safe and cherished. The only person who, if for only a little bit, helped her forget the tragedy her life was and the crime atrocity had committed.

"Haru," Akira said again. "Are you ok?"

Haru blinked then smiled. "Yes…Akira-san, I'm ok. Thank you."

Haru closed her eyes. Subconsciously, she thought back to the beginning, before the crime she committed, the death of her father, the Phantom Thieves, and the raven-haired youth in bed with her.