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He shifts in his seat.
The body opposite, slightly hunched at the foot table, bores into his playbook. A mechanical posture, pencil gripped in hand and body bent with no movement in sight. Only an occasional blink gives sign of life.
Sugawara glances, looks back at his shounen jump, then back to fluffed head. Fights a squirm.
“What.” Ushijima’s lips barely budge in his inquiry.
Sugawara, on the other hand, flinches. “What?”
“What is it.”
“...Nothing?”
“Then why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?”
Sharp eyes flick up to meet his gaze. Sugawara reddens before looking away, and Ushijima looks back down to make a mark on the page.
“Well…”
Pen scratches along the margins, unbothered.
“When is your flight tomorrow?”
“11AM.” Baritone voice makes him shrink into his shoulders. His knees jitter under the wood.
Well, I was thinking,” Sugawara slides his hands down flaps of the thick magazine and earns himself a papercut. He swallows his wince. “I still haven’t gotten you a birthday present, and—”
“I already told you, that isn’t necessary.” Ushijima turns a page, finger skimming.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up.” Sugawara rakes at his hair. “And we didn’t even spend your birthday together—”
“It could not be helped.” He’s right; the match in Brazil had been added last minute but inevitable due to a canceled friendly.
“Yeah! But—” Sugawara lets his jump flip shut to lean closer across the table, hoping to catch an oblivious gaze. “I want to...do...something.”
Hands twitch, just so slightly, microscopic. An eyebrow raises enough to urge on.
“You know,” he begins, voice sliding low. A smile threatens to break on his cheeks. Hook. “We haven’t really had much time to see each other this year, which, I know—don’t start that whole speech—is unavoidable. But, I figured, maybe, sometimes out on the road…” his fingers tap arrythmically on the table, ears pinkening. “You get lonely.”
Pen slows. Line.
“And, so,” He swallows, pulse quickening. “I thought. We could make a video.”
Hand stills to loosen. Sugawara watches thick brows furrow. He bites back a grin.
Sinker.
“A video.” Ushijima repeats. His posture still sits in static, this time fingers paused and face clouded. It’s a brief freeze, before he flips back a page. “The matches are automatically recorded with the—”
Sugawara groans and flops to the table. “Ushibaka, no.”
“I’m quite certain they are.”
His head shoots back up to glare at him. “That’s not—I’m saying…!!” Sugawara settles for burying his face in his hands. “Meurggghhhhrgh.”
Ushijima, unfazed and used to the hysterics, returns to his markups.
He takes his time to recover. Face less red, Sugawara looks back up to watch Ushijima’s eyes skate across diagrams, tracing lines and players to alter moves and positions with ink. He huffs, grey hair flinging free.
“Wakatoshi.”
“Hm.”
“I want to make a video.”
If Sugawara didn’t have waning hearing at the ripe age of 25, he would be absolutely confident he’d just heard Ushijima sigh.
“A video… of us.”
Ushijima stops. Eyes flick forward on the page, but not quite up.
“...Doing what?”
“Well, you know…” His lips twitch, pauses left in courtesy to fill the gaps. Eyes lock to his. “For you to use. When you’re lonely.”
It’s always a double-edged sword to see things click in Ushijima’s eyes, Sugawara thinks. When he witnesses his eyes pull from their fog, eyebrows jumping with set jaw he feels like he’s witnessed a pearl pop free from clenched mollusc. It’s a rarity, and a reward, that only he has become privy to.
“When?”
Sugawara licks his lips. “Tonight.”
“Won’t we need to hire a crew?”
“...Wha—”
Ushijima cracks a smile. Small, barely-there curve of lips.
Holy shit.Sugawara feels his heart jump. “Did you—did you just make a joke?”
Wide shoulders tilt as Ushijima unfolds from under the table, playbook snapping shut. He stands. “I need to do some research.”
“Oh—” Sugawara bumps his knee against the table as he swivels to watch Ushijima walk past towards his room. “Wait. Huh??”
“Give me an hour. Be ready by then.”
He swallows. His shonen jump, teetering on the edge of the table, plops open into his lap.
Sugawara takes an embarrassing 38 minutes to shower. You know, preparation and all, he assures himself. Nothing about taking 11 minutes to calm down an erection from considering the events that were to come. Not at all.
He knows it’s exactly 38 minutes because the moment or two following Ushijima’s declaration to “research,” he recovered from his whiplash to set an alarm on his phone. If Ushijima is anything other than a one-track horse, he is a man who keeps his word. Every word spoken into existence is law. To a certain extent. Time, in turn, must be followed.
Sugawara usually says fuck all to that and more but right now, Ushijima is in charge.
The 39th minute to follow scrubbing his body until its red and other necessities, Sugawara takes six minutes to blow dry his hair, three minutes to decide whether he should wear just a towel or his clothes or nothing, one minute and some seconds to change red-faced back into his clothes, and 11 minutes to sit on the edge of Ushijima’s couch, boring holes into his closed bedroom door.
In the seconds that lead to the last and most anticipated moment, Sugawara, like scared child waiting for a clown to spring from its box, jumps as the door clicks and opens down the hall.
“Like clockwork,” he whispers with a grin.
Ushijima, with an expression that makes Sugawara grip his knees, waits with his hand still on the handle. He’s beckoning him.
Sugawara, answers. Withholding the eagerness in his heart, he rises and steps down the hallway.
“So,” He looks around the room to find it as usual: immaculate, spartan, sizable. Ushiwaka-certified. “Finished studying?”
Ushijima, now behind him with eyes on his neck, shuts the door.
Sugawara doesn’t bother waiting for an answer and plops on the bed, crossing his legs. “Well. How are we doing this, then, Ushijima-sensei?”
Ushijima clenches his jaw to which Sugawara, in his head tilt and leaning posture, fights a cheeky grin. He knows that this lumbering loaf, in his brutal upbringing that accompanied the philosophy to be true to oneself, finds it absolutely necessary to hold back until every task is complete. But he knows that behind that severe stare, tempered breaths, line shoulders— that Ushijima Wakatoshi is turned on.
So, Sugawara Koushi, being the courteous bastard he is, plays along.
Ushijima steps closer away from the door until he’s centimeters from Sugawara’s swinging foot. “We need to set some rules.”
Sugawara tilts his head opposite. “Rules?” He smiles. “What kind of rules?”
“Requirements. Prohibitions. Exclusions.”
“Alright. Well then. Go ahead.”
“First. Is there anything you’re unwilling to do?”
Sugawara leans his head forward, voice a little quiet. “I’ll do anything for you.”
Ushijima narrows his eyes. Sugawara’s hitting the right buttons today.
There’s a pause. “It is your turn.”
“Huh? My turn?”
“Yes. A rule.”
“Oh! I didn’t know…” Sugawara clears his throat, leaning up from his hands. “Ummmm… No showing your face.”
Ushijima stares.
“Hey! I’m helping you out! What if this video leaked?”
Pensive, brown crown nods. “Fair enough. I’ll be holding the camera.”
“Cool. Oh! Wait, by the way,” Sugawara jumps up, pushes past Ushijima, out the door and back to plop on the bed in a breeze. He waves his phone. “We’re recording on mine.”
Ushijima raises an eyebrow. “I was under the impression this was for my benefit.”
“Ushijima. You have a flip phone. I’m not making a sex tape with a blurry lens, bad sound, and a full guarantee that it will cut out halfway through.”
There’s a small battle between sharp gazes but Ushijima concedes. Sugawara’s not sure why he was willing to fight that one, really. Maybe only because of that one time he took those photos of when Ushijima fell down the stairs outside of his apartment and sent them to Oikawa as revenge after a heated argument. Yeah… that might be it.
“Rule three. No breaking character.”
Sugawara spits, clutching his sides with painful laughter. “Breaking char— what? Are we roleplaying, then?!”
But he catches his breath and swallows his giggling, because Ushijima hasn’t blinked an eye at his antics and Sugawara realizes it’s just a bit too cruel to laugh when someone so dense but committed is trying so hard. He rights himself, coughs, and flattens his smile. “Right. Okay.”
There’s another pause. Ushijima raises an eyebrow.
“Ah, well,” Sugawara starts. “I don’t have anything else to add. Ready when you are.” Sugawara throws finger guns, despite the situation at hand.
Ushijima shifts on his feet, and Sugawara could almost swear there’s some pink creeping up his neck. “I have one final rule.”
“...Oh?”
Ushijima tucks up his nose, the way he does when he’s hiding how small he feels which is something Sugawara learned recently and has coveted as exclusive information ever since.
“You can only call me by my first name.”
Heart shoots to his throat. “...Oh,” voice small and high. “Okay. But...won’t saying your name at all defeat the purpose of hiding your face?”
Thick mass towering over him, steps closer until heavy thigh brushes knee. “That sort of thing…” Ushijima drawls, giving him a considerable look from hips to lips. “I don’t care that much about.”
Despite it all, with four years between them, a plethora of declarations of love and trials and emotions to fill several lifetimes over, nothing compares to the confession now exposed. It’s more powerful than any touch on skin. More legitimate than laced hands under blankets. He’s willing to throw it all away for his name on Sugawara’s lips.
Silver lashes bat at wet eyes, embarrassed. Always too emotional. “Okay,” Sugawara whispers. “Okay.”
Sugawara shows him how to use the camera and keep the flash on, and Ushijima hits record.
He’s been positioned on the bed, legs no longer crossed but slightly open. Ushijima sits across from him in a chair. An interview to start. Sugawara fights from looking away.
Ushijima catches the shifting in his eyes. “Are you nervous?” He starts, voice neutral.
Sugawara swallows. “...A little.”
He allows for a pause, breathing on the tittering in Sugawara’s lips, and continues. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
He’s tempted to retort from the anger that suddenly fills his throat but remembers that Ushijima is doing this verbatim, as he’s been taught, as he’s learned for the both of them. “...No.”
“Did you ever think you’d do something like this?”
“No.” A laugh. “Not at all.”
“Why are you doing it now?”
Legs shift, pressing down into the bed. “I’m doing it for my boyfriend.”
“And?” The camera is still steady and the flash is strong in Sugawara’s eyes but his pulse strikes fast. “What’s he like?”
“He’s… quiet.” Sugawara squirms, beginning to pull his legs shut before Ushijima halts him with a look. “And stubborn. Sometimes he can be a little dense but he’s really smart. He can do anything.”
He places his palms either side of his hips to calm their damp. Ushijima presses on.
“And. What else?”
Sugawara tilts his head, confused, but remembers the camera and the whole purpose of the recording. He changes gears. “Well, he’s tall… and fit. He works out all the time and keeps his body in the best shape. And he’s big...much bigger than me.”
“Big?” Sugawara’s clothes feel tight. “How?”
“His body is…”
“...And?”
“...His cock.” He heats from his neck to toes, shivering. “It’s huge.”
“Bigger than anything you’ve had?”
He fights the urge to cross his legs, throat tightening. “The biggest.”
Sugawara begins to breathe hard, eyes glass and gleaming. Ushijima, across from him, statuesque, sits unbothered. His eyes, originally focused on the phone, now bleed into his own.
He swallows. Grey hairs curl on the back of his neck with sweat. “When I first saw it, I was scared. I thought it would never be able to fit inside.” He laughs, both in reminiscence and to ease tightness in his chest. “Even now, every time he enters me, it feels like I’m having sex for the first time.”
Sugawara catches Ushijima’s grip shift on the phone. His breath hitches. “Does it hurt?”
His eyes flutter from closing. “...Yes. Just at first.”
“But you like it, don’t you?”
His eyes shoot open, breath catching. His fingers claw into the sheets.
Ushijima’s voice, never changing, reverberates through his bones. “You like being hurt.”
“Yes.” He whines.
“Are you hard?”
Sugawara drops his head, nodding.
“Do you want to touch yourself?”
“Yes—”
“Not yet,” Ushijima says, and Sugawara somehow grows harder.
His erection is obvious, bulging at his jeans. It’s front and center for the camera, and Sugawara fights back from looking at how focused Ushijima looks in his seat.
“Take off your clothes.”
He nods shakily, before pulling off his shirt. His skin is pink and nipples stand on end, making his skin even rosier at their video debut. He scoots his trousers down and over his knees, kicking them to the floor.
“Your underwear, as well.”
He bows, hiding the state of his face. He pulls off his underwear, joining the rest of his clothes off the bed.
“You’re quite hard,” Ushijima states, once he’s back into position on the bed with his legs spread just so. “Your nipples, too. Is this turning you on?”
Sugawara is being examined, and suddenly he feels like he might die. “Yeah.”
“Your nipples are pink, like a woman’s. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Yeah… all the time.”
“Does it embarrass you?”
“Yes but… Not really, anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because my… my boyfriend likes my nipples.”
“Ah,” The light shifts, tilting down. “Your cock just twitched. What are you thinking about?”
Sugawara whines, insecurities blown to dust. “I’m thinking about you.”
Ushijima recenters the camera. “About who?”
His arm goes to wrap around his waist, body tilting. “About you, Wakatoshi.”
“What are you thinking about?” He leans forward in his seat, chair creaking. “What am I doing to you? Say it.”
Sugawara begins to pant. “You’re biting my chest. And… you’re fucking me hard. I just want… ugh, fuck—”
“What do you want?” Ushijima looks stiff in Sugawara’s frenzied gaze. Free hand is gripping his knee, fabric pulling.
“I want your cock,” He moans. “I want it so bad.”
“You’ll have to earn it first.”
Sugawara whines, head ducking. His hips begin small ruts up from the bed.
“Stop that.” His voice, loud, rings through the room and shuts Sugawara down in his place. His hands shake at the tone, eyes wet.
“I want you to show me,” Ushijima, who’s said more words in the past five minutes than he’s said to him all week, shifts closer in his chair. “How you touch yourself when you’re thinking about me.”
Sugawara, threads pulling taut in his body, gives a painful nod. “Okay.”
He leans up, straightening. A hand flies to his nipple to knead and pull, sounds hitching in his throat. He drops his other palm to wrap around his cock, fisting at a lazy pace to quell the pressure that’s built up too fast.
He prods and digs his nails into rosy, skin, twisting in on himself and moaning. There’s a camera on him, he reminds himself, echoing between his ears to the tip of his dick. There’s a camera on him. There’s a camera on him. Sugawara fights the urge to duck and hide and call it quits. Instead, he pulls his legs wider, and thrusts nice and deeply up into his hand. He groans, head tilted back, eyes locked with the lens.
Ushijima, however, maintains that frustrating calm. “That’s not really how you do it, is it?”
He shudders, hips slowing.
“You touch yourself somewhere else, don’t you?”
Sugawara is starting to think that this whole sex tape thing was a really bad idea.
“Pull up your legs,” Ushijima orders. “Place your feet flat on the bed.”
He leans back, knees bending and and wide. He leans back on his elbows for support, looking at the camera despite the shame running rampant through him at his whole groin now open and ready for scrutiny.
The first foreign touch graces a cheek, and Sugawara jumps. It’s a soft brush, immediately gone. “Spread it, with your hands. I want to see.”
His chest buckles, panting, pulse gone. He drops his elbows, arms crawling forward to spread his ass. Somehow, Ushijima has creeped impossibly closer without his knowing, camera lens close, breath fanning his knuckles and fingertips that redden in clasping.
“Your hole keeps twitching.” No shit, Sugawara thinks; can feel the unconscious clenching at what he wishes could be wrapped around him. “Why?”
His grip is getting sweaty. “Because I want you. I want you inside me so bad.”
“You haven’t shown me you deserve it yet,” His voice rasps heat on his backside, and Sugawara’s starting to think Ushijima has less control over himself than he originally assumed. “Will you prove to me that you want it?
“Yes. Yes.”
“Then. I’ll ask again: show me how you touch yourself.”
Sugawara pulls a hand pack, fingers jutting into his mouth and he licks. His breath is jagged and mouth hot around his own palm, fingers sliding between his tongue. He stares heavily at the camera, camera staring back at him. Ushijima, behind, always observing, looks on.
Lubed fingers come back closer in the viewfinder. Ushijima shifts the camera back down to his groin to watch as fingers push into puckered flesh. It’s a satisfying feat, and Sugawara deflates with pleasure, pace immediate fast and rough as he fucks himself for Ushijima.
“You’re already wet,” Ushijima says, voice muffled by Sugawara’s own clipped grunts.
“I prepared—nf, myself. For you.” His arm keeps getting caught on his hip. He bends on his side for more reach, thrusting deeper, wrist bending. Fingers squelch at the lubricant already buried inside. The patterned noise, with his own mouth, and Ushijima’s detached baritone make for music for the phone. His cock flops with abandon between his hips.
“Is this how you finger yourself? This hard?”
Sugawara moans. “Yes…”
“Or harder?”
He doesn’t have time to answer but instead yelps as Ushijima grips his wrist and bends his fingers further in. His hand gulfs smaller palm to ram digits in further and more rapidly, pace too hard on his hips and his arm and his mind.
Sugawara melts into the bed, hand flailing and fucking under Ushijima’s will. He tilts up, chin to chest to peek at Ushijima’s gaze on his ass, clinical in his stare, marveling at what he’s done to skin and flesh and heart.
But Ushijima stops before Sugawara feels the tightening in his cock and instead slaps his thigh. “Sit up.”
He rocks forward, unsteady. Legs fold under him as he looks up to see Ushijima now standing over him at the edge of the bed. A deity rising to his servant.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, please, Wakatoshi.”
Ushijima steps closer, calves and knees hitting the bed. His crotch is just below Sugawara’s chin.
“Suck my cock.”
It takes everything within Sugawara not to come right then and there.
He shuffles forward, grabbing the sides of Ushijima’s sweats with his briefs and pulls them down to let his clock flap free. He’s unbearably hard, and somehow hid it well, head red and wet with precum. It’s hot on Sugawara’s nose as he glances up, phone directly above him, right under Ushijima’s chin. The lens is his eyes. Sugawara pulls back, gaze locked with the camera, to tongue flat at the tip of his cock.
Ushijima, above, behind, quickens his breath. Sugawara, smiles sweetly.
Tongue gives ample greeting to his head, licking clean what steamed and leaked while he was tucked in his sweats. Sugawara’s hand holds him at the base while he explores what he missed so much. His own cock, throbbing below, leaks at the way Ushijima pulsed in his hand, veins jumping under flesh, hips stiffening just slightly, missed by an untrained eye.
Sugawara, drooling down his chin, takes him into his mouth. He hums, gaze tilting and blown for the camera before focusing on the flesh between his lips. Tongue rolls under the base with every bob, a languid movement, unpatterned and unpredictable and messy all the same. Sugawara slurps and hums and rotates, now attuned to the bright flash on his face and much too happy to suck Ushijima’s dick.
But he loves it. Adores it. Loves that when he grips his balls Ushijima will straighten just slightly, hips fighting in their lock. Or that when he moans with every thrust he’ll hear Ushijima grunt in his throat. He’s lost in his cock, and in turn, Ushijima is lost in him.
It’s only a few full swallows before Sugawara is pulled off by a hand in the back of his hair. He winces, head yanked back to look up.
“You want some pain?” Ushijima, face hidden by the flash in Sugawara’s eyes, sounds like a storm.
“Wakatoshi,” he moans. Nails dig into his scalp. “Please.”
He loses sight of the camera. His head, gripped hard, is pushed back down.
“Open,” Ushijima commands.
Sugawara lets his mouth fall, tongue out. Hand juts him forward to take cock to the hilt.
There’s no such thing as recovery. He’s yanked and pushed, mouth thrusting on Ushijima. Wet bubbles in the corner of his lips, a mix of precum and stick from the back from his throat. His face is a wreck to consider, something that’s probably perfect for the camera, but making his body shiver and hips rut pathetically below.
With a last tug to take him full, Ushijima holds him, length down his throat and breath gone. He chokes, coughs clipped around his cock, but moaning for a second more, a push more of the panic that builds up his chest. Sugawara grips the back of Ushijima’s thighs, claws at the fabric and feels the tremble in his muscles.
His eyes are clenched shut but Sugawara hears Ushijima moan softly above him. That’s what he wants. This is what he needs.
He’s yanked backed right before his vision begins to blot, rasping on air before he’s rammed again. The grip in his hair has shifted just to the side so that Ushijima has better hold to fuck into his mouth this time, thrusts deep and quick. His face is wet with tears and spit and Ushijima has moved the phone profile to his cock and Sugawara. He’s gone from reasoning, left the state of his body and now under Ushijima’s full consumption. Being used as a toy was not a first for Sugawara, but being teased and prohibited and bent under that omnipotent power that Ushijima has in conjunction puts him on another universal plane of pleasure.
His thrusts get sloppy, phone shaking slightly in his grip. Ushijima’s grunts, hard, ramming fully in to bury Sugawara’s nose into the wiry hairs near the base before he comes.
Sugawara lets the thick wet slick coat his throat, squirming his hips to fight from choking. At the last spurts pulsing in his mouth, the hand in hair releases its grip, letting him tip his head back up to meet Ushijima’s gaze. His dick slips from his lips, dripping on his chin and cheek.
The camera is back up to Ushijima’s chin, hiding a blazing gaze. “Show me.”
Sugawara, head tilted, opens his mouth wide and shows the mess inside. What a prize.
“Can you get me hard again?”
Sugawara nods and swallows, eager in his descent, teething at Ushijima’s balls and stroking his shrinking member back to life. He slips a hand back under falling sweats to massage between Ushijima’s cheeks, tight skin fighting at his fingers. His cock jumps in his hand.
Ushijima has always been energetic, and Sugawara has always wondered if it’s due to the lack of self-exploration before they met or from the insane upkeep of his body, but he knows his stamina is what’s perfect for this kind of thing. In mere moments after being seemingly sucked dry, Ushijima is again hard and thick, ready to go. Sugawara kisses his cock, a job well done.
There’s a hand on his chest and he’s pushed back, falling back to bounce on the sheets. Ushijima leans over him, flash bright on his body.
“What do you want?” Ushijima asks.
Sugawara thrusts into the air, chest bending like bow. “I want you, Wakatoshi. I need you.”
A knee shifts to the bed, mattress tilting. “Where? Where do you want me?”
And Sugawara shows him. He rolls over onto his knees to reach behind and grab his cheeks, spreading without care. “Right here,” he rasps, head digging into the sheets. “I want you to fuck me.”
Ushijima, slipping from his own control, wastes no time. Sugawara is pulled back on the bed by his hips to feel a wet cock on his entrance. Hand on the base, Ushijima presses in, phone catching skin grip around reddened length. Sugawara moans at the completion, the answer he’s been waiting for buried deep in his hips and pressing through his stomach. It really is like having sex for the first time.
Hips tilt back to slam deep at impossible pace. Sweat on his body makes Ushijima’s grip slip down his ass. He’s fucked without care, Ushijima jaunting on his ankles to fuck him hard and down and deep.
“It feels so good, Waka,” Sugawara pushes his ass up and back with each thrust, belly full and tight. His name is on his lips like a chant, slipping out between thrusts.
He’s reaching crevices inside that Sugawara didn’t know he had, didn’t know that Ushijima knew he had. The phone, still gripped tight in Ushijima’s hand, has a personal view of where cock disappears between cheeks.
He’s barely been inside before Ushijima’s spurting with every thrust, hips jerking despite and not planning to stop in their motion. Sugawara is, for lack of a better word, overwhelmed. Overwhelmed as Ushijima pulls out, knocks him to his back, and thrusts back in without missing a beat.
Low groans fall out of tight lips with every slide of his cock. The camera takes Sugawara in full.
“Grab behind your knees.” Ushijima sounds like he could collapse.
Sugawara, writhing on the bed, takes a shaky grip around his knees to pull himself even wider. He’s exposed for him to see, cock flopping on his abdomen with every slap of hips to ass, wetness pooling in the crease. Sugawara doesn’t know if he’s ever felt like this, both terrified and filled to the brim with pleasure. He feels like he might die with the way Ushijima hits his prostate every other tilt.
“Waka,” He’s sobbing but thrusting back in full, “Wakatoshi, I— please—”
“Come, Koushi.”
A few snaps inside him and his hips shoot off the bed. Sugawara yells as he comes untouched, semen jumping in rivelets up his chest. Ushijima pauses for the camera to catch the pulsing of his cock in focus.
“You’re beautiful,” Ushijima says, and Sugawara’s not sure if that’s a part of what he’s researched or something that’s just happened to slip from his mouth. His chest shudders under his gaze.
Thick fingers play in the slick, smearing it across his chest before scooping it up. Ushijima brings his fingers to Sugawara’s lips. He opens, licking them clean.
Heavy body readjusts behind him. Cock, buried deep, twitches, and Sugawara groans, rotating his hips in response. Ushijima hooks his ankles to his shoulders and continues to fuck him into the sheets.
“Wakatoshi,” In the waves of his orgasm, Sugawara gives in to delirium. “I love yous” babble from his mouth. Ushijima loses rhythm and bruises hard in his thrusts, moaning, licking at the ankles near his neck. All the while, phone holds steady view above Sugawara’s hips.
Ushijima comes hard, breath escaping with a hiss. Sugawara whines at the shake of hips to his own, jerking.
He pulls out, leaving Sugawara to flop his legs to the bed before he’s tugged back around and to his knees. His pulse shoots through his body, boneless and out of power. Wasn’t this it? How could he have any—
Ushijima grips his waist, fingers in the curve of his hip. He squeezes. “Can you push?”
He’s buried in the sheets but the quiet of his voice shoots through his skin. Hips still rock in the aftershocks of endless ramming, his own cock still hard and leaking pathetically. He turns his head to look back at Ushijima in question, eyes blown.
Hand shifts from waist to cheek, pulling apart to reveal wet heat. Sugawara mewls.
Ushijima watches puckered skin gape and contract, lewd in its rosy bruising, and licks his lips. How, in such a short time, did it go from unbearably tight to leaking open? Sugawara’s body, for his to conquer and mar, was a wonder to pray to.
There’s a strain in his throat. “Push it out.”
Sugawara curls in as it finally clicks. He might just come at the idea of how nasty Ushijima has become.
He takes a shuddering breath, puffs from hyperventilating, and digs his knees a little wider into the bed before bearing down. The pressure he puts through his ass is not strange but embarrassing, being held for exhibit by thick fingers and a camera lens just millimeters from his hole.
Semen pops and foams from his ass, slipping down his thigh, noisy and more than lewd. Sugawara shudders, red to his neck. Ushijima huffs shakily behind the lens.
“You did very well, Koushi,” he says, a final moment for the camera, before he presses stop. The phone is placed on the bed.
“Waka…” Sugawara moans, lost, but is pushed down to his side. Ushijima leers over him.
Lips meet his own, wet and fervent. They bite into his mouth to let tongue lick at teeth and taste him full. He hums, into and through Ushijima, hand lost in brown crown.
“Koushi,” he breathes. “We’re not done yet.”
“...Wha—” thick hand grabs under his knee before Ushijima thrusts back in.
“You were quite scary, you know.” Sugawara says, later, when they’re dead muscled and in the bath.
A bath that, Sugawara would argue very passionately and win, was the best part of Ushijima’s apartment. A particularly overly muscular girth of a man and himself could lounge quite comfortably in it, as they did now. His feet found purchase on either side of Ushijima’s hips as larger ones did around his own. He combed a dripping a hand through his hair with a sigh.
“'Scary,'” Ushijima repeats, voice echoing in the room. “How?”
Sugawara scoffs. “Other than the fact that we did it, like, six times, you just… said things. And, did things I never thought you would ever do.”
Ushijima would blame the pink that stained his ears on the temperature of the water. “I only did what I learned would be best.”
“Oh, from your ‘research?’” Sugawara grins, head tilting in his cheeky gaze locked to Ushijima’s unmoving stare. “Perv.”
Ushijima blinks, hair falling into his eyes.
Water sloshes as Sugawara eases forward to straddle strong thighs. He dips his hands in the water to run them wet through brown hair, slicking it back. Ushijima’s eyes close during his efforts, slipping back open when he feels fingers under his chin.
“Happy birthday.” Sugawara kisses his nose, eyes soft. “Belated,” he adds.
Ushijima, full of surprises tonight, nestles his chin into Sugawara’s palm. “Thank you.”
They kiss, this time on the lips, and soft enough to melt into. Lips press with laze, swollen from ministrations, but wet from the bath. Sugawara breaks away, sighing into Ushijima’s neck.
“Yeah,” he muses. “Let’s not do that again.”