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Cherry Blossom almost never loses. He’s all deliberate grace and lean violet lines, every move calculated and precisely executed. He did lose last night, though, flung himself over the finish line at S a few seconds after Shadow, strolled through the crowd without a word and went straight home.
He’s stressed, has been too stressed all week, and Kaoru won’t admit it. As the days crept on, Kojiro watched his shoulders creep towards his ears, the sharp toothed bite to his voice grow even sharper. Nobody else can get past those snapping jaws, but Kojiro’s never been afraid of Kaoru. He’s more than willing to be shredded and scarred, if it means slipping into the secret space Kaoru holds around himself.
Kaoru’s competitive, recklessness winning out over control only when he has something to prove. The beef against Shadow should have been an easy win, a soothing balm to the rawness of his week. Victory has always settled over Kaoru like it’s peace, softening his snarls and smoothing the lines out of his face. He needed that.
Defeat, on the other hand, pulls Kaoru taut, a bowstring on the verge of snapping, with nowhere specific to direct his sharp point. It flies true, in barbs directed at Kojiro the next morning, though they roll harmlessly off of his skin, ricocheting off of the armor found in the surety of Kojiro’s love. He’s a safe target for the messy spills of Kaoru’s big feelings, and Kojiro has never minded being there to catch Kaoru when he falls apart.
When Kaoru is tying up his hair, insistent on going back to S again tonight, stubbornly planning to wade through crowds and his own sense of failure and insecurity, he snaps again, anger layered thin and careless over his hurt. He shrinks into himself as soon as the words fling outwards, avoiding Kojiro’s gaze.
Kaoru is so tightly controlled all the time, and now things are rattling out of his control, and things will only get worse if Kojiro does nothing. Kaoru needs a release for everything that’s tangling up inside him right now, and Kojiro has the patience to undo each knot.
Kojiro presses his big hands against Kaoru’s shoulders, knotted and hunched, and meets his eyes in the vanity reflection where he sits. Kaoru’s ponytail is pulled up tight, and his fingers twitch, likely with the urge to fuss with it for the tenth time, but Kojiro’s weight pins him in place.
“Baby,” Kojiro says softly, dragging his nose through Kaoru’s hair. Kaoru’s eyelashes flutter as Kojiro digs his fingers in harder. His shoulders clench, he stubbornly fights the promise of relaxation. So, so stubborn, his Kaoru. “You are so tense.”
“I’m going to be even more tense if we’re late because you won’t put any clothes on,” Kaoru’s eyes flash in the mirror’s surface; bright like a colorful bird, warning predators of danger. Kojiro isn’t cowed, he’s ready to bite down, to dive into Kaoru and let the venom seep into him.
“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Kojiro muses. Kaoru hasn’t been this stressed in a long time, and now the buzz of competition fizzes through Kojiro’s veins. He will get him relaxed. Lax, and boneless, and hopefully blissed out, by the night’s end.
“Oh? You don’t?”
“Nope,” Kojiro says simply. Before Kaoru can protect, he fits his mouth over Kaoru’s pulse point and sucks, hard enough to bruise, swiping his tongue over the tender skin in almost apology. “I have an idea.”
Kojiro winds Kaoru’s hair around his hand, pulling his head back, with a little more force than necessary. Kaoru’s eyes darken, shutter, and they don’t close as Kojiro ghosts his lips over Kaoru’s, breathing hot and damp onto his chin.
“We can go to S if you want,” Kojiro says, flicking his tongue against Kaoru’s plump lower lip. Kaoru’s tongue chases Kojiro’s but he pulls back again. Kaoru’s impatient whine is loud, filling the air around them. “But first, I’m going to fuck you.”
Kojiro’s hand tightens in his hair, the other one wrapping around Kaoru’s throat. Just the promise of pressure there, of blunt tipped fingers subduing his pulse, that’s all Kojiro gives him. He promises to wreck Kaoru with that touch, but not yet; God, he wants to. Wants Kaoru messy and brainless and dripping under him. Wants to take such good care of Kaoru; the trouble has always been getting Kaoru to let him.
Kojiro thinks of the box in his side of the vanity drawers, tucked away neatly for a special occasion. He had pictured a special occasion maybe, Kaoru’s birthday, or an anniversary; but, Kojiro supposes, this is a little more fitting.
“I got you something for when I’m done,” Kojiro promises, “a pretty little flower to plug you closed, keep you full of me while we’re at S. If you behave, I’ll make you feel so good when we get home.”
“Kojiro—”
Kojiro swallows whatever else Kaoru was going to say, slotting his mouth over Kaoru’s and licking into it. Kaoru meets his tongue’s swipes with his own, teeth dragging over Kojiro’s lips until they’re out of range again.
“I am not asking, Kaoru.” Kojiro’s voice is quiet steel, and he watches Kaoru struggle for a moment before his head jerks, the biggest nod he can manage while he’s trapped between Kojiro’s grip on his throat and in his hair. Kojiro drops one more kiss, quick and sweet, on Kaoru’s lower lip.
“I knew you could be good for me.”
☼
“Remember what we talked about, bunny,” Kojiro whispers, pitching his voice low. Kaoru’s cheeks flame as the pet name washes over him, stained pink even under the cover of night. He’s been flushed since they arrived, shifting from foot to foot, oddly quiet whenever someone comes by.
Kojiro knows why, knows that every step Kaoru takes, every flex of his knees as he rounds corners on his board, shifts the silicone plug Kojiro had pushed into him. The memory clings to Kojiro like lingering smoke; the sight of Kaoru’s perfect hole stretched around his cock, the cries he’d driven from Kaoru’s lungs with every thrust. He’d been careful to keep Kaoru’s clothes clean, flipping his yukata out of the way and shifting his bodysuit to the side, wrapping fingers tight around the base of Kaoru so he didn’t make a mess, even as he painted Kaoru’s insides with his own orgasm.
Kaoru had whined then, angry hisses of bastard and let me come goddamn it slipping through his teeth, but Kojiro didn’t relent. He pressed the plug into Kaoru’s body until it slid into place with a satisfying pop, promising Kaoru he would let him come when they got home, as long as he was a good boy at S. As long as he skated and mingled and conversed, full of Kojiro’s cum, held open and ready to be taken again when Kojiro decided.
Maybe it’s mean, cruel even, to not let Kaoru relieve a little of the tension that has plagued him all week. But it’s not the right time yet. The desire to push back into Kaoru, to make him come again and again, is a thrumming under Kojiro’s skin, a buzzing at the edge of his mind at all times, but he shoves it down. Later, he thinks.
“You just have to be a good boy for me a little longer, hm?” Kojiro thinks aloud. He leans a little too close to Kaoru, and on any other night he might have been snapped at, deflected and insulted. On any other night Kaoru’s eyes would be slitted and furious above his balaclava, not round and pleading. God, Kojiro wants to kiss him, wants to soak the fabric of his mask between their lips, tear it down with his teeth to taste Kaoru again. It’s a herculean effort to simply tilt his head an inch closer, to breathe Kaoru in, and retreat again.
Tonight is about Kaoru, about bleeding every drop of tension from his lean muscles and his sharp mind. Kojiro’s hand cups Kaoru’s ass, squeezing and pressing against the bubbly curve of it. Kaoru’s head darts around, peeking behind them for witnesses to his groping, but Kojiro planned better than that. They’re at the fringe of the crowd, backs to a jagged mountain wall. The beef is in full swing now, and the faces of other skaters around them are upturned to the large screen. The voices of the crowd roll together into a dull rumble all around, so nobody hears Kojiro when he starts talking again.
“Does it feel good, Cherry Blossom, ” Kojiro asks in a rumbling purr. His fingers find the plug, nestled between his cheeks, pressing hard enough to wrench a gasp from Kaoru’s throat. “Being so full of me, stretched and plugged up?”
“J-Joe…” Kaoru breathes his name out, voice wobbling. It might be a protest, but it sounds more like a plea with the way he pushes his hips back into Kojiro’s touch and retreats, like he’s fucking himself on Kojiro’s fingers. He presses so hard, Kojiro can feel the ridges on the surface of the plug through the layers of fabric, delicate cherry blossom petals, parting Kaoru’s equally delicate skin, tugging at his rim as he grinds helplessly against Kojiro’s hand.
“Tell me, baby,” Kojiro coos.
“Yes,” Kaoru gasps. His pupils are blown wide, and his mouth is still covered but Kojiro can see the way it’s fallen open. He pants through it, sounds muffled and thick, and Kojiro almost feels bad for making Kaoru wait. Kaoru’s pulled tighter than he has been all night, wound up and aching for relief.
Kojiro loves him like this, eyes glazing and body blindly seeking release, seeking it from Kojiro in single minded desperation. So tightly laced all the time, he deserves to not think for a night. To not be able to think, even if he tried.
“Good boy.” Kojiro loves the way Kaoru reacts to that too, how he bites back a whine; his hips jerk, seeking a touch he can’t have. Not here, at least.
“Kojiro, please,” Kaoru begs, not thinking of their secreted identities, the danger of using Kojiro’s real name, only thinking of the hot slosh inside of him and Kojiro’s fingers pulling at the plug, stretching him wider, before pushing back in, “please take me home, please—”
“Why would we leave? The beef isn’t over yet,” Kojiro’s voice is strained with his own want, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it from Kaoru. He’s so gorgeous in the flickering light of the screen, wisps of hair escaping his ponytail and clinging to his face. Kojiro brushes one away, out of his eyes, and Kaoru doesn’t even try to stop him, leans into the touch, even. “Tell me. Tell me why I should take you home now, and we can go.”
“I, I need—” Kaoru shivers.
“Yes, love?”
“I need to come, please, Kojiro,” Kaoru’s eyes squeeze shut, like he can hide from the words as they drip from his lips, voice reedy and thin. “Take me home and make me come, god, please, please.”
“Yeah, Kaoru,” Kojiro promises, maybe that was too easy but he doesn’t care. He’s wrapping a hand around one of Kaoru’s, engulfing the slender bones in his calloused palm and pulling hard, leading Kaoru out of the crowd. Kojiro grips his board in his other hand with a white knuckled grip. The walk back to Kaoru’s car is too fucking long ; Kaoru makes noises of pain and pleasure as he fights to keep up, as the plug shifts with every movement.
The drive is almost as torturous. Kaoru writhes in his seat, flushed, whining. His hand creeps over his thigh and towards his cock, bulging through the pale fabric of his yukata, but Kojiro reaches over, yanking the hand away. Kojiro slides his hand between Kaoru’s thighs instead, smiling when they widen instinctively, Kaoru making space for Kojiro's breadth. He avoids Kaoru’s cock, slipping his fingers under Kaoru and finding the hard edges of the plug again.
“Oh my god,” Kaoru gasps. His hips move in tiny, aborted movements, rocking the plug inside himself. His hand curls into a fist in his yukata, head thrown back and pressing hard into the leather headrest. Kojiro wiggles his fingers rapidly, practically vibrating the plug, until the shaking pressure radiates out into the rest of Kaoru’s body. He bounces and shudders, panting, “Please, let me touch-”
“Not yet,” Kaoru chides, “be good just a little while longer for me. I’ll make you feel so good, baby, but you have to wait.”
“Kojiro”
Kojiro slides his hand away from Kaoru, savouring the bereft noise the loss pulls from his throat. He brings Kaoru’s hand to his mouth, kissing it sweetly, a sharp contrast to the frantic need that sits heavy in the air between them.
“Love you,” he murmurs against Kaoru’s skin.
“Sap,” Kaoru retorts, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. The traffic light before them turns red, and Kojiro raises Kaoru’s hand again as he rolls to a stop, this time wrapping his lips around one of Kaoru’s fingers, tonguing at its tip. Kaoru’s eyes, liquid metal under the darkness and city lights, fix on Kojiro’s mouth as he sinks lower. Kojiro hollows his cheeks, sucking the digit in until his lips meet Kaoru’s hand, throat working around his fingertip.
His tongue swirls deliberately around Kaoru’s finger as he pulls back, languid and slow, a trail of spit stretching between them, breaking, dripping onto Kojiro’s chin. He only has a moment to admire the lust-clouded look on Kaoru’s face before the light is green, and his foot is punching hard into the gas pedal.
In the elevator, they fall together before the doors have fully closed, Kojiro crowding Kaoru against the wall and caging him in with his arms. Kaoru is a wild thing, pawing at Kojiro’s jacket, digging dark painted nails into his skin. His breath comes in wavering whispers, a plea of KojiroKojiroKojiro filling the stale air. Kaoru’s knees threaten to buckle at the first jolt upwards; Kojiro pins him in place, keeps him on his feet.
“Gonna give you what you need, baby,” Kojiro coos, holding Kaoru’s sharp jaw in his hand, tugging his balaclava down roughly, holding him in place so Kojiro can dip his tongue into his mouth, tasting the sweetness of his desire. It’s like expensive red wine, deep and lingering on Kojiro’s tongue.
The doors slide open and Kaoru is the one dragging Kojiro now, through the front door, into the bedroom, on unsteady legs. Kojiro pushes Kaoru’s yukata from his shoulders, it crumples on the hardwood floor and before he can peel any more layers away, Kaoru makes an impatient noise, shoving Kojiro onto the bed with both hands; Kojiro’s back bounces hard on the mattress, and then Kaoru is climbing into his lap, grinding down onto his cock.
“That’s it, baby, take what you need.”
Kaoru’s fingers curl punishingly into the swell of Kojiro’s chest as he ruts, and Kojiro lets him, content to watch Kaoru give in to this, throw his head back and expose his bobbing throat. He should look intimidating, still wearing his dark gloves, biceps swelling out of his sleeves; his bodysuit is still on, clinging and stretched over the taut muscles of his chest, tented where his cock throbs and leaks into the material. He would be intimidating, with his high ponytail and sharp slash of a mouth and burning eyes.
But straining in Kojiro’s lap like this, Kaoru is devastating . His hair swirls in a pink cloud around him, swaying with the ragged thrusts of his hips, mouth falling open, spilling delicious noises. They drip onto Kojiro like honey, sticky and sweet, until he feels like he’s suspended, floating in the sounds and heat of Kaoru’s pleasure.
Kojiro curls his fingers around Kaoru’s hips, thumbing hot skin over jutting bones. They span Kaoru’s waist, so small in his broad grasp, and squeeze again, then up to his chest, plucking at nipples that are pulled tight and hard. Kaoru mewls then, nails digging into Kojiro’s wrists as he touches him relentlessly, thumbs flicking quickly over the peaks that press through the material of his body suit. He shudders apart and Kojiro’s the only thing holding him upright. It’s so easy, then, to reach further, slide one thumb between Kaoru’s parted lips.
Kaoru’s eyes drift closed, pink lips closing around Kojiro’s thumb, tongue swirling and sliding against it. He suckles and bobs his head, hum vibrating up Kojiro’s arm, hips never ceasing their rhythm.
“Fuck,” Kojiro pants, throbbing in his pants where Kaoru is grinding without mercy. He’s not considerate of Kojiro at all, chasing his own pleasure. Kojiro replaces his thumb with a finger, then two, bullying them into the back of Kaoru’s mouth, his throat, until Kaoru is choking and moaning and drooling. His hips never stop, not once. “You’re so beautiful like this, Kaoru.”
Kaoru squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering around Kojiro’s fingers. That won’t do. Kojiro drags his spit sticky fingers out of Kaoru’s mouth, fitting his hand over Kaoru’s throat and tugging him down against Kojiro’s chest.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” Kojiro murmurs, fingers tightening until Kaoru’s eyes pop open, lovely and heavy lidded. From this close, Kojiro can watch the pleasure ripple through Kaoru’s features as he pulls the bodysuit to the side, pressing his fingers firmly against the plug; Kaoru humps harder, sliding his cock against Kojiro’s, caught between the pressure of Kojiro’s fingers and the damp hardness of his cock.
“Good little bunny,” Kojiro coos, pleasure slicing up his spine at Kojiro’s whimper of pleasure, his desperate nod. He is good, grinding hard and fast against Kojiro, face scrunched in concentration.
“Kojiro!”
“Go on,” Kojiro tells him, releasing Kaoru’s throat and gripping his ass with both hands, spreading Kaoru open and pulling him down, increasing the pressure. “You’ve been so good. You can come, just let it go.”
Every exhale from Kaoru is a cry, climbing in pitch as he thrusts. Kojiro’s pants are soaked by his own leaking, the white fabric see through and straining against his tip, disappearing under Kaoru over and over again.
“That’s it, take what you need, Kaoru” Kojiro gasps. He yanks Kaoru forward, pressing his cock against Kaoru’s hole, his perineum. Kojiro’s fingers grip bruises into the skin of his ass, holding Kaoru spread open as Kojiro thrusts hard against him. Kaoru’s face twists when the pressure hits just right , and Kojiro chases that, hips snapping up in a furious rhythm. Kaoru’s thighs go lax around Kojiro’s hips as he fucks against the plug again and again, his fingers clamped around Kojiro’s forearms in a vice grip as his body jerks in Kojiro’s hold, a familiar tremble that Kojiro knows well. A growl rumbles out of Kojiro’s chest, and he thrusts faster, pushing Kaoru over the edge. “Yes, fucking take it.”
Kaoru gasps, and comes , breath caught in his chest as Kojiro works him through it. His cock twitches under black fabric, sticky cum leaking through and dripping. It seems to last forever, the sight etched into Kojiro’s memory and burning through him. Kaoru comes apart for Kojiro, arching and curling in on himself, muscles bunching as pleasure ripples through them.
“Breathe, baby,” Kojiro tells him, hands petting over his shuddering body. Kaoru’s hips jerk with the aftershocks, and he draws in air raggedly, like he momentarily forgot how to.
“Kojiro,” Kaoru keens, “Kojiro.”
“I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Kaoru gulps, nods, and when he opens his eyes and peers down at Kojiro, his lashes are clumped and shiny with tears.
“Sweetheart, ” Kojiro says, pulling Kaoru close again. Tiny drops cling and frame Kaoru’s eyes, like constellations around the glowing sun, and Kojiro can’t stop himself from pillowing his lips against Kaoru’s, unhurried, content to simply hold and kiss him until he’s breathless once again.
“Thank you,” Kaoru whispers, and when Kojiro starts laughing, a deep chuckle that makes his chest shake under Kaoru’s, he pulls back, gold eyes wide.
“Oh love,” Kaoru tells him, “don’t thank me yet.”
“Wha—oh! Kojiro!” Kojiro moves quickly, aided by the sticky slowness clinging to Kaoru’s muscles, sliding Kaoru up until his thighs bracket Kojiro’s head. Kojiro’s smile splits wide in catlike satisfaction as he turns, eyes burning into Kaoru’s as he kisses the tender skin of his inner thigh.
“What are you…” Kaoru trails off as Kojiro’s kisses climb up his thigh, breath ghosting over the damp fabric that clings to his pelvis. Kojiro watches understanding settle over Kaoru’s features, watches his fingers flutter in the air, like birds unsure of where to land.
“Shhh, baby, I told you,” Kojiro says, lapping at the cum dripping there, clinging to the bodysuit. Kaoru shudders, with pleasure or oversensitivity or both. “I’m going to take good care of you.”
Kojiro laps up every drop that lingers, in kittenish licks and bold, flat strokes of his tongue, leaving the shiny wetness of his spit on the fabric in its place. His fingers massage over the firm muscles of Kaoru’s ass, swipe closer and closer to where Kaoru must want them; he twists his hips, chasing the touch.
“So impatient for a man who just came in his clothes,” Kojiro murmurs,sliding his tongue under the bodysuit’s seam, tasting Kaoru’s skin and sweat.
“Shut up,” Kaoru mutters, shifting impatiently on shaking thighs. Kojiro opens wide and bites into the meat of Kaoru’s thigh, smiling around his mouthful when Kaoru cries out sharply.
“Make me,” Kojiro purrs.
“Oh it’s going to be like that, hmm?” Kaoru asks, but he’s smiling just as hopelessly. He brushes a curl off of Kojiro’s forehead, carding his fingers against his scalp.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it a few minutes ago, did you, little bunny?”
Kaoru’s fingers tighten in Kojiro’s hair.
“You were so good, so desperate, making yourself cum like that,” Kojiro continues, goading Kaoru with his words, the hot challenge of his words. “I think you’re gonna do it again.”
Desire and stubbornness war in Kaoru’s eyes; he wants more, wants Kojiro’s deft tongue, but taking that pleasure is submitting to Kojiro again, letting him shape Kaoru’s pleasure however he pleases.
Desire wins out.
Kaoru twists his fingers into Kojiro’s hair, holding him steady as he tilts forward, letting his balls rest against Kojiro’s lips. That’s what I thought , Kojiro would say, if he wasn’t smothered beneath Kaoru’s weight. Kaoru pulls his bodysuit aside further, until his cock, shiny with cum and reddening with overstimulation, slips free.
He drags his cock across Kojiro’s open mouth, where his tongue waits, wet and hot, laving over the underside of his shaft, his glans. He might have changed angles again, pressed his cock onto Kojiro’s tongue and pressed his mouth open, but Kojiro’s hands take over. His fingers hold Kaoru open as he tongues over Kaoru’s perineum, swirling around Kaoru’s puffy rim where it meets silicone.
“Fuck!” Kaoru hisses. Kojiro sucks one of Kaoru’s balls into his mouth, then the other, impatiently pulling the bodysuit out of his way. It was hot, watching Kaoru come untouched while he was still wearing it, sucking Kaoru’s cum out of the fabric, but now it’s in his way . Kojiro growls, grabs the fabric with both hands, and yanks.
“Kojiro!” Kaoru protests, but it’s too late. The fabric tears with a loud sound, falling away and fluttering freely against Kaoru’s skin.
“Take it off, Kaoru,” he murmurs, voice muffled against Kaoru’s skin. Kaoru will be angry about it later, he knows, and he’ll call Kojiro a beast and a thirsty gorilla and Kojiro will buy him a new one. He’d buy Kaoru fifty new bodysuits just to be able to tear them off of Kaoru’s body again and again. This is his hole to ruin, his cock to draw orgasm after orgasm out of, and flimsy fabric won’t stand in his way.
Kaoru drags the fabric up his body, and when it’s almost off, Kojiro presses his lips to Kaoru’s taint and sucks , rewarded by the violent twitch of Kaoru’s body. He grabs at the plug, tugging at Kaoru’s rim but not pulling it out , not yet. He stretches Kaoru’s hole with tiny thrusts of the plug, licking over him, until everything is slick with spit and deliciously pink.
“Kojiro, please,” Kaoru whines, “take it out.”
This time, Kojiro relents. He pulls on the plug slowly, savouring Kaoru’s low groan as he’s stretched wider and wider, and then the plug comes free with a resounding pop. Kaoru’s hole winks around nothing, leaking sticky cum. Kojiro’s cum.
Kojiro swipes his tongue over Kaoru’s hole, salt and musk blooming on his tongue. The knowledge ripples over Kojiro, the awareness that he had filled Kaoru up, plugged it all inside, just to lick it out of Kaoru’s hole hours later, and it’s almost too much. Kojiro fights the urge to wrap a hand around his own cock where it throbs in his pants. If he did that now, he’d spill instantly. For a moment, Kojiro thinks he might come untouched anyway; he moans into Kaoru’s skin and hears himself echoed.
He eats Kaoru out in earnest then, swirling his tongue around his rim, swollen and red, before pressing in. Kaoru drives his hips down against the insistent thrust of Kojiro’s tongue, slippery muscle working itself inside him. His cries pitch higher as he rides Kojiro’s face.
Words he can’t say flit through Kojiro’s mind, You taste so good, and That’s it, sweetheart, fuck my mouth just like that, but his mouth is full of Kaoru so he just grunts, hips jerking in an echo of Kaoru’s. Kojiro’s jaw and lips and tongue work until he’s aching; Kojiro holds Kaoru open with his tongue and guides his hips to slide back and forth, dragging himself over Kojiro’s waiting tongue. Good boy, Kojiro thinks, driving Kaoru harder, faster, until he falls forward on his elbows, hips tilting out of Kojiro’s orbit.
“You okay, love?” Kojrio coos, cupping Kaoru’s thighs.
“Yeah, I just—I can’t, like that—"
“Okay, baby, I’ve got you,” Kojiro tells him, “don’t move."
“You got it,” Kaoru laughs shakily. Kojiro slides out from under him and sees why. Kaoru’s barely holding himself up, collapsed onto his knees and elbows, head hanging heavily. The view steals Kojiro’s breath, Kaoru bathed in the distant hallway light, already splattered with the beginning of bruises from Kojiro’s hands, his mouth.
Kojiro strips his own pants off in a rush, hands sliding over Kaoru’s folded hips, pressing his lower back towards the mattress.
“Relax,” he tells Kaoru, pressing his hands up to Kaoru’s shoulders and pressing them down too, until he’s resting on his arms on the mattress, breathing hard against the blanket. Kojiro licks a broad stripe over Kaoru’s hole, pries him apart; it is so pretty , clenching around nothing, and Kojiro dives back in. He laps and sucks at Kaoru’s hole until spit drips down his chin, until Kaoru is gasping his name over and over, a mantra of pleasure as he bows, spills hot and white over the bedspread.
“Good, baby, come on,” Kojiro coos, and this time he gives Kaoru no reprieve. He pushes two fingers into Kaoru’s slick channel, “One more for me.”
Kaoru’s cry is strangled and he jerks away, but Kojiro presses his hips back down, thumb sweeping soothingly. He fingers Kaoru in a steady rhythm, pressing deeper with each thrust, curling his fingers down and against Kaoru’s prostate. He keens, thrashing, and still Kojiro doesn’t stop.
“Let me see you, sweetheart,” Kojiro says, pushing at Kaoru’s hip, flipping him onto his back. He’s so glad Kaoru’s hair is up, instead of splashed across his face. His cheeks bloom red, lips swollen and shiny and so fucking pretty that Kojiro just has to kiss them. “So gorgeous, Kaoru, you know that?”
“What the fuck, Kojiro,” Kaoru grits out.
“Beautiful,” Kojiro continues, driving his fingers in faster, watching Kaoru’s pupils blow wide. “You’re so good for me, gonna come again on my fingers, aren’t you baby?”
“I—Kojiro, I don’t know—”
“I do, baby, I know,” Kaoru says. He works a third finger inside Kaoru, dizzied the tight clutch of his hole, the liquid heat seeping into his fingertips. He looks down and loses the words he was going to say next, captivated by the stretch of Kaoru’s sensitive skin around him. Kaoru’s dick bobs and twitches against his messy stomach, more than half hard and flushed violet with the strain.
Kaoru’s ribcage heaves, his nipples stark against the pale expanse of his skin. Kojiro dips down and pulls one into his mouth, sucking it between his lips, flicking with his tongue. Kaoru’s hand grips the hair at the back of Kojiro’s head, pulling it tight into his fist, shoving Kojiro’s face harder into his chest.
Kojiro fucks his fingers into Kaoru in a punishing rhythm, shoving Kaoru towards that next peak. He twists and curls them into dripping heat, each thrust messy and wet. Kojiro curls his fingers, dragging the calloused pads over Kaoru’s prostate again and again.
“One more time for me baby,” Kojiro coaxes, leaving clumsy, distracted kisses across Kaoru’s jaw. He sucks Kaoru’s earlobe into his mouth, digs his teeth into it, panting hot and wet into Kaoru’s ear. “Come on, come for me,” he begs.
“Oh god, oh no, oh- ” Kaoru manages, before his orgasm rolls over him, almost violent in its intensity.
“Yes, yes, baby,” Kojiro coos, “so good, sweetheart, look at you.”
Kaoru’s stomach is a mess of flushed pink skin and splattered cum, and he fucking whimpers into Kojiro’s mouth when Kojiro crashes their mouths together again. He swallows all of Kaoru’s sounds, drinking them down greedily.
Kaoru is boneless in the tangled bedspread, but Kojiro’s never been more tightly wound. He sits back against the headboard, pulling Kaoru into his arms, holding him into his lap.
“Can I fuck you, baby?” Kojiro asks, using every crumb of his self-control to keep from bullying into Kaoru’s tight heat. Kaoru doesn’t speak for a long moment, nuzzling into Kojiro’s neck, dragging in long pulls of air. His tongue darts out to taste the skin of Kojiro’s neck, layered in a sheen of sweat.
“Kaoru, please,” he begs. “I need you, need to be inside you.”
“Yeah, Kojiro,” Kaoru breathes, and Kojiro doesn’t waste one second; he lowers Kaoru onto his cock, hissing as his length is enveloped in slick fire, burning Kojiro down to his core. Kojiro doesn’t stop until Kaoru sits flush against his body, stretched to his limit and so full of Kojiro. No matter how many times he sinks into Kaoru, it’s always like this, stealing Kojiro’s breath and his brain power.
He wraps his arms around Kaoru, pulls him in tight until their chests rub together, until Kojiro’s stomach is just as sticky with Kaoru’s cum. Kojiro rocks into Kaoru, shifting Kaoru’s hips languidly in his lap.
“I love you,” Kojiro whispers into Kaoru’s hair. He can feel his peak approaching too quickly, driven higher each time he felt Kaoru come apart tonight. It’s inevitable; Kojiro chases it, rolling his hips up into Kaoru, pressing deep.
“I love you too,” Kaoru whispers back, kissing Kojiro’s hair.
“I’m not going to last,” Kojiro grits out. “Baby, I-”
“Let me have it,” Kaoru says, pressing his cheek to Kojiro’s, pulling back to watch his face as he starts to come, “I want it, Kojiro, give it to me.”
As if Kojiro could deny Kaoru that.
He groans low, fingers bruising Kaoru’s velvet soft skin, as he spills hot and thick inside. Kojiro’s dick twitches, his entire body throbs as pleasure licks over his skin like flames. He pulls back and shoves back into Kaoru, pushing it all deep, leaving no part of Kaoru unclaimed.
Kojiro shudders, hazily aware of Kaoru’s hands petting through his hair, rhythm of Kaoru’s breath like the steadying rhythm of waves against the shore, or raindrops against the window. Kojiro finds Kaoru’s mouth with his eyes closed, kissing him once, then again, tenderly. They stay just like that for minutes, maybe hours, Kojiro isn’t sure. He cradles Kaoru to his chest, Kaoru cradles Kojiro’s softened cock in the warmth of his body, and they just breathe. Eventually the bubble of silence pops, and Kaoru shifts, like he’s seeking a comfortable position.
“You did so good, sweetheart,” Kojiro croons. It’s the start of the comedown, Kojiro thinks, but Kaoru clenches at his words, a bitten-off noise filtering through his teeth.
Kaoru’s eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed.
“Baby? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just,” Kaoru begins. Kojiro sweeps a thumb over his cheekbone, grounding, but he’s not ready for the way Kaoru’s cheek tilts, sliding Kaoru’s parted lips against his touch. Kaoru nuzzles into his hand, murmuring against his skin, “I need-”
It all clicks at once; Kaoru is still shifting, and his cock is hard, somehow, sliding in the sticky mess between their bodies.
“You need one more, is that it?” Kojiro asks, awed. Kaoru’s pleasure is a sacred thing he’s entrusted Kojiro with, sensitive and overwhelmed and still grinding down onto Kojiro with inescapable need.
“I don’t think I can, ” Kaoru whines. He presses inexorably the hand that Kojiro snacks between their bodies, hissing with the sting and ecstasy of it. Kaoru pants out breathless pleas, twines bonelessly around Kojiro’s thick frame, lets himself be held and stroked through it.
“You can do it,” Kojiro tells him, twisting his hand over Kaoru in a gentle grip. “I’ve got you, come on, Kaoru.”
Kaoru’s last orgasm is a slow creeping thing, enveloping his body in sticky sweetness, like he’s moving through honey. He stays lax through it, pulsing in Kojiro’s hand. Kojiro murmurs praise without pause, soothing the painful edge of Kaoru’s pleasure with gentle affection. Hot tears drip over Kojiro’s chest as Kaoru comes down, floating lazily back to his body.
“Greedy, like I said,” Kojiro teases, chuckling when Kaoru’s fingers twitch in his best effort at a slap. He has no strength left, and satisfaction rumbles through Kojiro at the realization. He did that, sapped Kaoru’s strength and tension alike. He presses his lips to Kaoru’s forehead, pressing a reverent kiss there.
Kaoru protests weakly when Kojiro maneuvers him out of his lap, stretching Kaoru out in bed. He is almost asleep by the time Kojiro pulls his gloves off, and wipes the mess from Kaoru’s skin with a warm, wet cloth. Kaoru nestles close as soon as Kojiro slides in beside him, like a cat seeking heat.
Kojiro pulls Kaoru into his side, guides his head to his chest, stroking his fingers over Kaoru’s naked skin. He feels sleep claim Kaoru completely, the residual twitching of his muscles as he sinks more deeply into unconsciousness. Kaoru’s heat bleeds into Kojiro, lulling him to follow.
“Carla,” Kojiro calls softly into the darkness.
“Yes, Master Nanjo?”
“Turn off morning alarm.”
“Yes, Master Nanjo.”