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“Ya’ trust me, dontcha?” Osamu murmurs, backing Kiyoomi against the headboard, hands bracketing his torso.
He swallows, lets his head sink into the pillow because there’s nowhere else to go. “What kind of question is that?”
“Tch,” Osamu reaches down, cups Kiyoomi’s face, thumb pressing into his cheek. “Don’t kill the mood. I just wanna’ try somethin’ new.”
He comes closer till they’re chest to chest, legs tangling with Kiyoomi’s. “Ya’ can always tap out if ya’ don’t like it. But just bear with me for a sec, alright?”
Kiyoomi stares at him, eyes narrowing as he tries to find anything suspicious in Osamu’s expression. But the man just grins, teeth bared and eyes crinkling. Not at all trustworthy, no matter how he tries to appear. Kiyoomi huffs, pinches the thin skin of Osamu’s neck. “Sure. I trust you.”
Saying it out loud doesn’t make him feel any less nervous, but Osamu just laughs, low and easy, like he never expected a different answer from Kiyoomi.
It gets on his nerves.
“Relax,” Osamu murmurs against his lips, pries his mouth open with teasing kisses. His hands are warm, thumb sliding under his shirt to press against his waist but not moving more than that. Kiyoomi squirms, drags him down by his shoulders but Osamu huffs, nips his lip to keep him still.
He always does this. Keeps the pace so agonizingly slow till Kiyoomi feel’s like he’ll explode.
“Osamu,” he pulls him up by the back of his head, fist curled in his hair, wrenching him off like a particularly sticky bandage. Kiyoomi grunts, tries to glare but Osamu dives back in, nipping at his mouth, opens him up again with practiced ease. His hands come behind Kiyoomi, kneading at his ass, strong hands keeping him in place.
“Lift your hips,” Osamu breaks the kiss and Kiyoomi shudders, does as he’s told, arms limp at his sides as he watches Osamu strip him, strong hands sliding over his ankles, squeezing. Osamu smoothes his palms over the back of Kiyoomi’s legs, hooking his knees over his shoulders and leaning in, bending Kiyoomi in half.
Kiyoomi pulls his face in for another kiss, moaning as Osamu grinds his clothed cock against his bare skin. Is this what he wants? Clothed sex? A little unfair for him, but it’s not the worst thing, and it makes Kiyoomi wonder about all the secrecy.
Osamu bites his lip and Kiyoomi makes a startled noise, pulling away and glaring. “What was that for?!”
“I can hear you thinking,” he drawls, and Kiyoomi can’t figure out whether he looks amused or annoyed, “Relax baby. I’m not gonna hurt ya’.”
And that’s definitely something Kiyoomi’s going to overthink, mind buzzing with what that means and the very small part of him wondering if it’d be so bad if Osamu did hurt him. Just a little bit.
He huffs, gets his hands under Osamu’s shirt to tug it off, impatient. Osamu stops him, catching his wrists and pinning them to his sides. Kiyoomi snaps his teeth at him, glaring. “Now you’re just being mean. Are we going to have sex or not?”
Osamu kisses his nose, spitefully gentle. “You take all the fun out of teasing you. Turn over.”
Osamu pulls away, getting off the bed and Kiyoomi watches him step into the bathroom before obediently turning over onto his stomach, chin planted on the pillow. His legs feel cold without Osamu’s warmth, but he just crosses his ankles, listens for Osamu returning.
“Lift your hips.”
Kiyoomi does as told, watches Osamu slide a towel under him. It’s a little rough, the friction making his cock twitch, but he can be patient, and he appreciates not having to change the sheets later. Osamu’s hand slides under his stomach, prompting him up onto his hands and knees.
Osamu kneels behind him, hands squeezing his ass, pulling apart his cheeks and letting go, eyes hungry as he plays with him. It’s embarrassing and Kiyoomi flushes to his chest, looking away sharply and staring at the pillow to avoid having to see Osamu’s face.
He presses his cheek into the pillow, shirt sliding down his back, and settles in. Osamu seems content to just play with him, pressing and squeezing and slapping his ass, blowing over his skin to cool him down, hands both firm and gentle. Osamu cups his ass cheeks and pulls them apart, thumbs pressing down hard next to his rim, stretching it just a bit. He hasn’t prepped yet but it still feels good, gets him hot just thinking about Osamu’s hands and cock.
Something cold hits his rim, not lube, and he gasps, turns his head to see Osamu dribbling spit onto hole, tongue swiping over his lips before he leans in, presses the flat of his tongue over Kiyoomi’s ass.
“Oh my god,” Kiyoomi moans, thighs trembling as he spreads his knees farther apart, back arching. He buries his face into the pillow, hiding a whimper as Osamu squeezes his knee to keep him still, tongue teasing his hole, getting him slick and wet and hot.
He wouldn’t have guessed this. No one’s ever- he’s never-
“Osamu,” his voice cracks, hips jerking when Osamu presses his thumb into Kiyoomi’s perineum. He’s never considered this, never thought about it till now, and it makes him feel filthy, makes him feel slutty, skin burning as Osamu makes a mess of him. His cock dribbles precum onto the towel, twitching with every slide of Osamu’s tongue into his rim.
“It’s ticklish,” he manages, voice shaking.
Osamu hums and replaces his tongue with his finger, pressing in till the first knuckle. It’s tight, not even an inch but Kiyoomi shudders, hips jerking away. Everything feels too sensitive, too much and not enough, hot and cold and wet everywhere. It’s only when Osamu slides a hand down his spine does he realize he’s sweating.
“Your ass is so sexy, Omi,” he drawls, voice low and husky, “been wanting to do this for ages.”
The attention is embarrassing, and if he wasn’t already flushed he’d probably blush even more. Kiyoomi mewls, honest to god mewls, and hides his face in his pillow, canting his hips back. Osamu slips his finger in a little farther, tongue pressing at his rim, and Kiyoomi moans. His whole body is burning and he’s pretty sure his brain is melting out of his ears, turned to goo with the way Osamu’s messing with him.
“Your body… You’re so sexy, Kiyoomi.”
Osamu holds his hips with a bruising grip and replaces his finger with his tongue. His tongue is in him, his tongue is inside him, and Kiyoomi screams into his pillow, writhing and shivering.
Kiyoomi shudders, reaching back to fist his hand in Osamu's hair, keeping him in place as he grinds his ass back onto his tongue. It feels so good, so, so good and Kiyoomi can’t get enough of it, eyes rolling back as he feels spit trail down his balls, cold and hot, his cock dribbling pathetically onto the towel.
Osamu pauses, lifts his head up and makes eye contact with Kiyoomi. He takes the hand out of his hair and presses his mouth to Kiyoomi’s palm, teeth grazing over skin, over his knuckle. His eyes are dark, pupils shot wide, and he takes Kiyoomi’s finger into his mouth, over his tongue. His fingers are loose around Kiyoomi’s wrist, but he wouldn’t dare think of moving; he can’t even think straight. He moans as Osamu sucks on his finger, gaze pinning him down while his other hand wraps around his cock.
Kiyoomi cums before Osamu even has a chance to jerk him off, eyes rolling back as he shudders, cock spurting cum into Osamu’s fingers, hot and messy. His hole clenches around nothing, whole body jerking as his orgasm washes through him, too intense and embarrassingly fast.
Osamu lets go of his hand and Kiyoomi slumps against the mattress, dizzy and gasping for breath. He feels the bed dip, and it’s a moment before Osamu comes back, wash cloth in hand, hands gentle as he cleans up the mess around Kiyoomi’s ass and cock. His skin feels extra sensitive now and Osamu hushes him when he twitches, kissing the back of his neck. “I’ll be right back.”
He hums, eyes falling shut. His body has turned to liquid, and he splays out, stretching weakly, sated and warm, the blood still rushing under his skin.
It’s a long time before Osamu comes back and Kiyoomi sits up, frowning. Was he still in the bathroom?
He tugs off his shirt, tossing it to the floor and wanders to the bathroom naked, legs wobbly still he can lean against the door frame. Osamu is brushing his teeth, a little shocked to see Kiyoomi but he winks and smiles. He’s shirtless now, sweatpants slung low, and it pisses Kiyoomi off that he’s so sexy, solid and good to hold, easy on the eyes.
He’s silent for a moment, watches Osamu brush his teeth, rinse his mouth out, eyes wandering over his forearms, his biceps and shoulders, the strong line of his neck. He’s so sexy. The kind of man that makes him weak at the knees before they’re even in the bedroom.
His eyes drift down and his mouth goes dry. “Osamu, where’s your boner?”
Osamu spits into the sinks, raising a brow at him. “I already took care of it.”
“What-” Kiyoomi sputters, “what the fuck?! Why ? Weren’t you going to fuck me?”
“I was going to eat your ass and I did that. What’s the problem?” Osamu wipes his mouth on the towel, too casual for Kiyoomi to stay calm.
“The problem? Get it back up and finish what you started.” Kiyoomi walks up to him, crowding him against the sink and pulling their hips flush.
Osamu stops him with a hand to his chest, fingers splayed over his pecs. His mouth is set in a line, lips twitching. “Slow down tiger. I’m not going anywhere.”
Kiyoomi flushes, quickly hiding his face in Osamu’s neck. “Why do you say things like that, god.”
Osamu just laughs, low and rumbling in his chest, and brings his hands up to Kiyoomi’s waist, squeezing. “You don’t like it? You get all sweet when I call you pet names.”
Kiyoomi huffs, pulling back to glare at him. He’s so infuriating.
“Relax. You still want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he takes Kiyoomi’s chin in his fingers, smiling. “Get me hard again.”
Kiyoomi swallows, legs trembling under the intensity of Osamu's gaze. “You want me to…?”
Osamu nods, laughing a little, like Kiyoomi’s a child. It makes him blush again, but he sinks to his knees obediently, hiding his face against Osamu’s stomach to preserve his pride. Osamu’s hand cards through his hair till Kiyoomi looks up at him.
“Well?” Osamu stares down at him, dark eyes and dark grin, lips curling back to reveal his canines, white against the rest of his shadowed face. His thumb sweeps over Kiyoomi’s bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to show his teeth.
Kiyoomi swallows, nods, and opens his mouth.