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00:43
You eventually make it back to the bar, hand in his as your friends cheer loudly the moment you reach the table.
More shots, more highball.
The drinks go down fast, but the burn in your throat is nothing compared to the way his hand won’t leave the curve of your hips, the small of your back. He stays mum, easily slipping back into whatever conversation your friends are having. As if you can’t feel the heat of his palm sliding lower as the number of empty glasses in front of him increases. As if you’re the only one drunk on his touch.
You nudge him when the tips of his fingers dance just above the waistband of your jeans.
“Hoy,” you whisper hurriedly. “Hands where I can see them.”
His eyes widen in faux innocence, eyebrows raised in a way that makes you feel both stupid and completely endeared. It’s a look you’re so used to seeing, a look you still fall for.
“Oops,” he lifts his hands in surrender before wrapping his right hand around his glass. Then, when no one’s looking, he places his left on your thigh, pinky edging up towards dangerous territory. “Can you see them now?”
You glare at him, but he just smiles sweetly in return.
“Happy anniversary, babe,” he leans over and whispers, mouth sticky with whiskey as he kisses below your ear. “How many times should I make you come tonight?”
Tangina.
“Babe,” you warn. Your eyes scan the table to see if anyone heard, but most of your friends are too wasted to even care. Still. “Behave.”
“Should I make you come twice with my fingers and mouth?” he hums, breezing by the sharpness in your voice, his words burning against your skin. “Do you think you could come a third time? If I let you sit on my cock and ride it - ”
“Babe,” you plead. Your legs shake, and you can feel him smile wickedly. “Later na.”
“Yeah?” he asks, and you watch as he squeezes your thigh, suddenly reminded of how big he is. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it...want him.
So you tell him the truth, easy and simple. A promise.
“Yeah,” you say. “Whatever you want. ”
01:12
He behaves for the remainder of the night (or early morning). By the time the bill is paid, his hand is still lingering at the top of your thigh, but nothing more. Almost like an afterthought.
It’s incredibly impressive, but also a little bit disappointing.
He gently wraps an arm around you when you get up to leave, shoots you a small smile.
“Ready to go?”
You nod, and he hums one of the songs that played earlier — something in Japanese, along the lines of tonight, I’ll do as you wish — as you both stumble back to the train station.
It’s a world of a difference from the heated gaze back at the bar, the words he pressed against your neck when your friends weren’t looking. This is innocent and kind and sweet.
But you know better.
And you know that the night is far from over.
1:48
It starts as soon as you get back to the hotel.
The elevator is cold and empty, but it hardly matters when he has you pressed up against the glass wall as soon as the doors close, the sleeping Osaka skyline a blur behind you as he licks into your mouth.
It’s hot and desperate and long, and you can’t help but whine when he pulls away.
“God, I…” he scrubs a hand down his face, the other smoothing down your waist. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
“Kiss me?” you ask, a little distracted by the way he looks under the dim lighting of the elevator, the heat of him down to a simmer. A little hazy, a little lovely.
He grins and kisses you again, and again, and until the elevator doors slide open. He takes your hand and pulls you towards your room, his laugh echoing down the empty hallway —
"Touch you.”
02:00
He touches you as soon as the door is locked. But it’s not the touch you expect. He doesn’t pin you to the door, doesn’t grab you and throw you onto the bed.
Instead, it’s light and sweet as he helps you out of your jacket, hands gentle as he takes your bag to hang on the coat rack, lips soft as he presses a kiss to your temple.
It unsettles you.
"What are you doing?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you study him.
“What?”
“I thought you wanted to touch me,” you pout, batting his hand away when he tries to pinch your cheek.
“I am touching you... oh,” he says in like he’s just realized, like he didn’t plan this all along. He wraps his arms around you with a sly little smirk on his face. “You’re so bad.”
“Shut up,” you push him until the back of his knees hit the couch. He sits down obediently, lets you straddle him. Lets you hold his face. “You’re mean.”
“I am, aren’t I?” he agrees, both cute and terrible. “And you love that.”
“I do,” you say. You play his game. “Are you gonna be mean to me tonight?”
“On our anniversary?” he wonders, and you feel his hands slide up the backs of your thighs. “How romantic.”
“Yeah,” you say, and just to throw him off: “Nothing more romantic than me sitting on your face while I watch you jerk off.”
His hands still, and you watch heat rise to his cheeks. You laugh. You love him, adore him, but it’s almost too easy to turn the tables, the line between love and lust crushed to dust. Crushed to nothing.
“You said you wanted to see if you could make me come thrice, right?” you stroke your hand down his face, palm to his throat. “Then you don’t get to come until after the third time.”
“You’re crazy. Holy shit,” he closes his eyes, tightens his grip on your hips. “I fucking love you.”
“I know, baby,” you brush your lips to his, barely a kiss, before standing up. “I’m taking a shower,” you look over your shoulder and smile when he stares up at you with wet lashes, “and you’re welcome to join me.”
2:27
You don’t make it to the shower.
You don’t even make it past the sink.
He makes you hop up on the counter instead. The mirror is cold against your bare skin when you lean on it, and idly, you wonder if the marble floor is just as cold against his knees.
“It’s not bad,” he says as he casually places one of your legs over his shoulder, the other spread out wide with his hand on the back of your thigh. “But let’s talk about that after I make you come on my tongue.”
You snort, and he winks up at you before licking into where you’re most desperate to have him.
It’s good. It always is with him. He runs his tongue over your folds, flicks the tip of it over your clit before closing his mouth around it and sucking. He lets you use his mouth, lets you ride his tongue when he dips it into you.
You arch your back, hand pressed to his nape as you move against him.
“God,” you moan when he curves his tongue just right. “Tangina, ang galing mo.”
He groans at your praise, and you think you can hear the slick movement of his hand on his cock.
“This gets you off?” you ask, as if you don’t already know. “You like getting your face wet with me?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps going, and you have to pull him back by the hair to get his attention.
“I said,” you ask again, pulling at his hair, watching the way his eyes roll back just slightly. “You get off on eating me out?”
“Yes,” he nods, gaze half mast as he stares between your legs. He rubs his palms against your thighs, hot and heavy. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
He leans forward to suck a kiss to your inner thigh, and you can’t control the noise you let out.
“Oh?” he looks back up at you, brow raised. And just like that, the tables are turned again. He smiles. “You like that?”
“W-What?” you bite your lip, easily betrayed by the quake in your voice.
“If I remember correctly...you like it when I leave marks, right?” he asks, mouth wet at the top of your thigh. “You like it when it hurts just a bit?”
You moan when he bites at the tender muscle, legs spreading wider as he licks over where it’s starting to bruise.
“Y-Yeah, I do.”
“You like feeling it the next day?” he wonders, moving to press kisses to where your skin is still unmarked. He looks up at you when you don’t reply. “Answer.”
“Yeah, I - holy shit, wait - ” you grip the counter when he bites down again, thumb pressed to your entrance, barely pushing in. It’s almost nothing, and yet you can’t help but double over as you suddenly orgasm. It goes in waves, washing over you until you feel like you’re drowning, like you can’t get your head above it.
He’s sitting back on his heels by the time you recover, cock hard and mouth wet as he grins up at you. It’s a dirty visual, a familiar sight, and it’s enough to let the heat simmer under your skin again.
He licks his lips, brushes his thumb against the bruises on your thighs, against where you’re wet. Still wet.
“One.”
03:01
You soon learn that bathrooms really do have the best acoustics.
“Yeah,” he agrees, two fingers in you as he meets your gaze in the mirror. “But I can’t hear you.”
You’re bent over the sink, legs spread wide as he fucks you with his fingers. You watch your breath fog the glass as you lean your forehead against it, then you watch him watch you.
“It’s embarrassing…” you say softly, arching your back as he adds a third finger.
“What was that?”
He curves his fingers just right and you let out your loudest moan yet. “I-It’s embarrassing!”
He slows his hand, and you’re suddenly aware of how hard he is against your hip. You wonder how much longer he can wait, how much longer he can resist.
"Embarrassing?” he repeats, fingers scissoring instead of pumping inside you. “But I thought you liked it like this?”
“I do, but I...” you gaze at him in the mirror, cheeks red with shame when you see your reflection. “I can’t kiss you. Not in this position.”
He stills completely, the stern slant of his brow betrayed by the way his ears start to turn pink.
“Oh, babe,” he coos, and before you can be thrown off by the sudden sweetness, he pulls you up with his free hand until your back is pressed to his chest. He holds your face in his hand, makes you look in the mirror again. The image makes you burn, the length of your bodies pressed so firmly together that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. His eyes in the reflection are afire, but when he turns you to face him directly, you see something softer. Something warmer. He smiles at you, “You can kiss me like this.”
He presses his lips to yours, the gentleness of it a stark contrast to the way he starts fucking you again in earnest. It’s too much — the kiss, his grip on your face as he licks into your mouth, his fingers, the sounds of it all…
“I’m gonna come,” you warn him. “Babe, I’m gonna - ”
“I love you,” he says against your lips, fingers curved inside you and palm against your clit. “I love you so much.”
You arch against him as he steals another orgasm from you, your whole body on fire as you watch him lift his fingers, wet even in the reflection. He sucks them into his mouth, eyes trained on you.
Two.
03:57
“Get on the bed,” you tell him as soon as you both step out of the bathroom, freshly showered with the intent to dirty yourselves up again.
“Yes, boss,” he says, all too pleased for a guy that hasn’t come in nearly two hours. You watch in amusement as he flops onto the mattress, cock hard as he lays on his back. He looks at you, hand at the base of his length, holding it up like an offering. A tease. “You wanna sit on it?”
“Yeah,” you start making your way to the bed. There’s no point in lying. You love his mouth and his fingers, but you love his cock too. “Wanna choke on it first, though.”
“Oh,” he breathes out as you get closer. “Yeah, I want that too.”
“You just wanna see me cry,” you grin as you get on the bed and between his legs. He sputters but you cut him off with a hand on his dick. “I like it.”
“Babe,” he groans and throws an arm over his face, red with shame.
“Babe,” you echo before you close your mouth around him, taking him to the back of your throat.
“Putang ina,” he curses, back bowing off the bed. You hold his hips down before he can thrust up. “Tangina, wait - ”
You pull off, tears already prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Don’t come.”
“Well, don’t fucking deepthroat me like that,” he laughs in disbelief, skin flushed pink down to his chest. He reaches down to wipe at your tears. “Fuck, baby.”
You blink wetly, strangely surprised at the gentleness of his hand, and you lean into the touch. You look up at him. “Hey, I love you.”
He smiles, presses his thumb to your lips. “I love you too.”
You smile back before opening your mouth to suck at his thumb, and he groans.
“Way to ruin the moment,” he laughs, a little bite to his voice as he presses the pad of his thumb to your tongue.
You let go of his finger and get your hand back on his cock, stroking at it loosely.
“Is the moment really ruined if I make you come?”
His eyes darken at that. You smile.
“Get the condom, babe.”
04:15
“You are the worst,” he moans hands above his head as you straddle him.
“Who’s the one who wanted me to come thrice?” you tease as you sink down on him, just enough to take in the head of his cock. "Sarap.”
“I can make you feel even better,” he says, a hint of desperation at the end of it. “Bet I could make you squirt again.”
The suggestion makes your skin flame up with want and shame.
“Ah, got you,” he grins.
"S-Shut up,” you slap at his chest before sitting up straight. “Watch me.”
You start moving, just taking in a little more of him before lifting up again, the tip of him barely keeping you open. You watch him watch you with a gaze hot enough to melt, you watch him bite his lip hard enough to bleed as you keep teasing him.
Then you sink down on him completely.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans in surprise.
You place your hands on his chest, clit rubbing against his skin as you rock against him. The friction is crazy, but you know it’s not enough for him.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” you breathe out, “Always wanted to sit on your cock and make myself come on it,” your gasp when your hips circle just right. “All while you just lay back and watch.”
“Yeah?” he asks, eyes never leaving where his cock is buried in you. “Wanna keep my cock warm? Wanna use me like that?”
“Yeah,” you nod, hips stuttering as you get closer. “Then let you use me til you come after.”
He groans and shifts his hips, and even the slight change of angle makes you cry out.
“Let me touch you,” he begs. “Let me make you come.”
You don’t answer right away, rocking your hips until you can’t anymore. He notices, and thrusts his hips up just enough to make you sob.
“Yeah,” you concede, bending over to kiss him. “Make me come, please.”
He smiles against your mouth, and you feel him shift to plant his feet on the mattress.
"I love you,” he says again, his arms wrapping around your waist, barely a warning before he thrusts up and into you with all the pent up energy and arousal he has left in him. You push up on your hands to gaze down at him, and the sounds he makes, the way he looks up at you, gorgeous and desperate…you wonder how you could even deserve this, deserve him.
He’s a perfect picture under you, and it makes you want to take a photo, a video...anything to keep that look locked in your mind forever.
Instead, you kiss him again and again and again, until you both come.
Until the sun rises.