Work Text:
"I don't remember saying you could come, Koujaku."
Aoba looked down in surprise and slight amusement, watching as his lover's dick swelled in his grip. Fluid decorated his fingers, dribbling down to create a sticky mess on the man's stomach.
Coming down from the high—an incredible one, at that—Koujaku suddenly realized his mistake. Horror seized his veins as his mouth fumbled around the words of an apology, but the strip of cloth between his teeth was a reminder that his words would be nothing but futile.
Aoba clicked his tongue. "That's just too bad. And here I thought you were gonna be good for me tonight..."
Instead of taking his hand away, he began to pump Koujaku furiously, fingers thrusting inside to a violent rhythm. A loud shriek, slightly muffled, tore from Koujaku's throat. He writhed in his restraints, the striking throb of overstimulation seeping into his hips. Aoba was vicious, playing with all of his sensitive spots and getting the biggest kick out of it.
"I guess I need to... discipline you thoroughly," he murmured in his ear, before catching the lobe between his teeth and biting down with so much strength Koujaku whimpered. That was definitely going to leave a mark.
The bluette trailed down his neck, and within a matter of moments, an assortment of purples and reds tinged his lover's ears and the column of his neck. He opted for squeezing his dick with both hands, setting a wringing motion.
Koujaku sobbed as, unbelievably, more fluid seeped out of him. Aoba slowed down his movements, giggling quietly as his cock bobbed pitifully up and down with each and every spurt.
"I can't believe you're coming this much. Does it really feel that good?"
Koujaku threw his head back in frustration. No, it didn't feel good at all. Fiery hot pain bubbled in every inch of his cock, to the point he felt like he was dying.
Aoba, seeming to understand, set back to a gentle grazing of fingertips over the head. His other fingers slid easily out of him, quickly replaced by something far bigger, thicker, warmer...
"Don't wear your neckpiece to work tomorrow," Aoba said, lips curling into an impish smile. "Let all of your girlfriends know that you were totally fucked the night before."
And with that, he pushed his way in, ignoring Koujaku's cry at the intrusion, filling him to the brim in one strong thrust of his hips. Aoba had enough tenderness in his heart to let the man adjust, empathizing how much it could hurt at first—which was clearly a mistake, considering Koujaku's pathetic attempts to move his hips back and forth.
Aoba usually enjoyed when his lover was gagged, but now all he wanted was to hear that pretty voice moan and scream his name. He lifted a hand off Koujaku's trembling groin and carefully stripped his mouth of the cloth that was now soaked with saliva.
"Aoba," was his first word, a hot, heavy gasp dripping with need. "Aoba, please!"
"What? Is this what you want?"
The bluette grasped onto his lover's legs, hiking one over his shoulder, and slowly pressing the other back, further and further, until it rested next to his head. Koujaku's eyes widened considerably, ruby barely visible through doll-like pupils. He pulled out completely, leaving him to whine in displeasure, only to be whining again when he slammed back inside.
Aoba wasn't patient enough for a slow place. He was ruthless, the sensation of power and arousal crackling in the pit of his stomach like wildfire. The pace was dizzying, his cock confined in that godlike mound of tight warmth.
Koujaku moaned like a bitch in heat, fingers scraping at the headboard so hard to the point of nearly bleeding, heart hammering so loud in his ears he couldn't even hear how obscene his own voice sounded, which was probably for the better.
He probably wouldn't be able to speak for the next week with the way he was so shamelessly screaming.
Aoba's grip on his ankle, combined with his vigorous movements, he carelessly slid his leg further and further to rest directly against the side of his head. Koujaku vaguely recognized the sensation of his toes curling against his ear through the haze of euphoria.
"Koujaku, Koujaku, Koujaku," Aoba moaned, like it was a holy mantra. After going this entire night untouched, he figured his climax would be arriving before he even knew what was happening.
Koujaku thrashed from side to side, helpless to do nothing but bask in the overwhelming heat, sweat making his skin greasy and slick. He could have sworn the rope binding his wrists became tighter, biting into his skin.
He imagined the little indentions that would reside there when the restraints came off, the woven pattern ingrained in the skin. They would be on full display, and anyone with half a mind who noticed his lover's marks painted over his neck and the pink marks on his wrists, would easily be able to connect the dots.
It was that thought that made him reach his peak, for the third time that night, without even being touched.
The only way to describe how intense, how breathtaking, how wonderously insane that orgasm was, was to say it was an out-of-body experience for Koujaku. He felt as if he had sunk into a place that was so heavenly hellish and insanely pleasurable that he wouldn't have minded if his body deceased and flopped cold on the mattress in that very moment.
Aoba grinded his teeth together, finally giving in to that intoxicating sweetness and letting himself go. His hips jerked and his entire body arched in a position that would have been uncomfortable if he wasn't flying through the voids of orgasm. His own mewls accompanied his lover's crazed screams, melding into a cacophony that most probably woke their neighbors.
It was hard picking himself up after that. A quick glance up at Koujaku, who was still clenched tightly around him, had came so hard he passed out.
Aoba chuckled to himself at the sight, utilizing the last bit of his strength to ease his legs back down, and gently slide out of his warmth. He crawled to the edge of the bed and grabbed the box of tissues that sat at the bedside table. The bluette took upon the task of carefully cleaning out his lover, and wiping the mess Koujaku made all over himself.
He gazed at him lovingly, and tiredly. Aoba wrapped the used tissues in yet another one, too lazy to go throw it in the bathroom trash. He rested his head on Koujaku's chest, tracing the outline of black ink with a light touch as not to wake him up, letting the even thrum of his heartbeat lull him to a calm state of mind.
His lips turned up as he suddenly remembered the binding around his wrists. Aoba contemplated how he was going to remove it without his lover waking up, before deciding to just leave it there.
Aoba made a mental note to make sure Koujaku was very late for work the next morning.