Death's Harvest | Komahina Fanfic

Chapter 16

Sort of NSFW? Idk, it depends on how you perceive it. Just please, don't take it the wrong way lol.
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Hajime met Nagito outside when he was finished with his meal, locking the door with the key the albino had given him a couple of minutes ago.

"So, what's our last job for the day?" Hajime asked, shoving his pockets in Nagito's green jacket.

"It's to clean the altar," Nagito said, adjusting his glasses which were gradually slipping off his nose.

"You know you don't have to wear them, right? You look better without them anyway." Hajime huffed, repeating the statement for the third time. Truth be told, he really wanted Nagito to ditch those glasses. The albino looked more confident and determined without them on.

"No. I want them on." Nagito replied, walking away.

"Fine, then." Hajime's heart dropped in disappointment. "Then tell me what the altar is."

"The altar?" Nagito kicked open a door, its hinges creaking as the wood opened to reveal a supply of items used for cleaning. "It's where the horrid souls are killed."

"Killed?" Hajime echoed, his arms fumbling as Nagito tossed him two brooms, pails, mops, sponges, and bars of soap.

"Yeah, killed. You know that Her and His Majesty decide whether a soul is deemed fit for the Afterlife or not. Sometimes they're not so merciful and well," the Grim Reaper shrugged. "That's where they execute them."

Hajime shuddered slightly as he wobbled on shaky knees, his arms unable to support all the weight.

"Help me carry some, would you?" He snapped, almost dropping the sponges.

"I need to fly you there. I can't carry a broom while I'm carrying you." Nagito countered, wrapping his arms around Hajime's waist.

The sound of heavy wing beats filled the air as they ascended into the crimson sky. Hajime noted how skinny Nagito's arms were as they circled his stomach. He needed to make him eat more.

Hajime could see a small hill in the distance after a couple of minutes of flying.

"Is that the altar?" Hajime asked.

"Yes. It's quite different than you expected, isn't it?"

"Not really. I thought it would-" His words were cut short as Nagito suddenly toppled sideways in the air, causing Hajime's stomach to flip.

"Hey! What's your problem?" He glared up at the pale boy.

His menacing gaze faltered when he saw Nagito's face, which was contorted into pain.

"Hey, you okay?" Hajime asked when the messenger of death righted himself again.

"Yeah," he winced visibly. "Just a little cramp. That's all. Nothing to worry about."

Once they had landed on the ground, Nagito took the supplies needed to clean the place and sauntered off, beckoning Hajime to follow him.

"This is where you refill the water bucket." The white-haired boy instructed, using the well to pump water into the metal pails.

"Remind me why I'm doing this dirty work again?" Hajime growled as he rolled up his sleeves, soaking the sponge in the bubbly water.

"Because you're my apprentice, and you work for Hell now." Nagito blandly said from the air while dusting the cobwebs from the corners of the altar.

Hajime gripped the sponge tighter and continued vigorously scrubbing the floor, the faded red color of blood washing away with the clear water.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded like so. Dip, wash, scrub. Dip, wash, scrub. Hajime's leg and arm muscles were burning once he had finished cleaning the floor, a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

"I think I'm done here," Hajime yelled loud enough for Nagito to hear.

"Same for me. Let's go return the supplies, and then we can go back."

Hajime nearly collapsed on his futon when the two returned to the room, having put away the cleaning items already.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Soft shuffling noises passed through his ear, and he lifted his head high enough to see the source of the sound.

Nagito had taken off his shirt, his gradient black and red wings wrapped around him like a cocoon. His hand was coated with a green substance, and he was attempting to reach behind him.

"Komaeda?" Hajime pipped up, scaring the albino.

"I thought you were asleep." Nagito wrapped his wings tighter around him to cover his exposed skin.

"I wasn't." He frowned. "You need help?"

For some unknown reason, his offer took Nagito entirely by surprise, and the male turned his head away from the brunet.

"No, it's fine. I can manage." Nagito tried again, his arm still unable to reach the back of his wings.

Hajime walked over to the pale boy and gingerly touched the place where the wings protruded from the Grim Reaper's back.

With a yelp, Nagito jumped backward, his wings quivering.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to-" Hajime stumbled over his words, backing up.

"It's just a little sensitive, that's it. I usually don't let anyone touch my wings..."

"What are you even trying to do?"

"My wings were sore for a couple of days, so Tsumiki, the head of the health committee in the Afterlife, created a lotion for me, and I'm trying to apply it now. But... it's not going so well."

"Lay down on the bed."

"What?"

"Lay down on the bed. I'll help you." Hajime offered yet again.

Nagito gave Hajime a look of doubt and hesitancy before handing him the lotion and laying face down on his bed with his wings outstretched.

Sitting between his legs, Hajime tenderly placed his calloused hands on the wings, smoothing them out.

Nagito stiffened, his whole body going rigid as Hajime's warm skin came into contact with it.

"Relax, would you? I won't do anything stupid." Hajime laughed.

His wings sagged against the bed, the crystals clinking against each other.

It felt like leather, but a tad bit softer than the actual material.

Nagito sighed in ecstasy when Hajime kneaded certain parts of his wings, loosening the knots that had built up. He ran the lotion along those spots, relieving Nagito of the soreness.

His fingers flitted over the sensitive skin, the Grim Reaper's breath shuddering every time he caressed it.

"There, that should do it," Hajime muttered as he rubbed lotion onto the last area.

The brunet stared at the majestic wings for a couple of more seconds when a thought blared through his head like a siren.

If Nagito's wings were overly sensitive, and a few gentle touches could make his breath hitch, then what would happen if Hajime decided to place his lips against the skin?

Without thinking twice, the mafia lord brushed his lips against a wing, his breath hot on the albino's back.

A sharp squeal erupted from Nagito as he tumbled off the bed, landing in a heap on the ground.

"Wha- What was that?"

Hajime's brain laughed at his lack of self-control as he began processing what just happened.

Oh, shi-

What the heck did he do?