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Power. Dominance. Control.
The man sitting across the bar with his legs crossed, clad in fitted slacks and ink spilling across the length of toned forearms and dexterous fingers with prominent veins, screamed of superiority. Demanding obedience and submission, the potent waves of charisma radiating from the man left Osamu fidgeting in his seat, feeling especially uncomfortable when the former licked at the rim of his glass of alcohol.
Noting how the man’s gaze had not shifted since Atsumu first dragged him into this sleazy establishment right down the corner of an alley, Osamu felt like a fresh slab of meat on sale. Like prey, being targeted by a predator with hooded eyes that only seemed to glint brighter under dim lights.
Tearing his gaze away to keep a lookout for his brother who had drifted from his side after having a drink, Osamu swallowed the knot of unease building at the back of his throat. His brother seemed to have found a target of his own, with the way he was rolling his hips against a taller man with dark, curly locks on the dance floor. Osamu met his gaze and huffed when the man’s grip tightened on Atsumu’s hip possessively.
Shaking his head, Osamu decided he needed a drink, faltering when someone slid into the seat beside him.
“You're a pretty one, aren't cha,” the dark haired man who had been sitting across the bar earlier, murmured lowly, blinking lazily, a small smirk gracing his striking features when Osamu shifted, a rush of heat surging through his body at the word ‘pretty’.
Sure, he had been complimented for his looks in the past. Handsome, charming, dashing… But never, not once- pretty.
“I'm- I'm not… I'm not pretty,” Osamu stammered, ears burning hot when the man merely chuckled, lidded eyes filled with mirth, amusement and something else he could not quite put a word to.
It left him tense. Taking a quick chug of his beer and deliberating, after a pregnant pause, Osamu added, “...Sir.”
A hitched breath emitted from the other man. Licking his lips that felt horribly dry, Osamu stilled when a large palm, inked with black vines, flora and fauna, rested on his thigh. It was a touch that seared and set his body ablaze. Osamu’s lips parted into a small gasp of his own when that very hand squeezed once, before travelling higher up his thigh.
“Suna Rintarou,” the man introduced himself with a smile, eyes darkening, voice taking on a lilt, “What's yours, doll?”
Osamu swallowed inaudibly. He wilted slightly in disappointment when the heat on his thigh disappeared. Not for long.
That very same hand reached out to caress his jaw, settling into a gentle grip that forced him to meet the heated stare that he had been trying to avoid since he stepped foot into this pub. Osamu inhaled sharply at what he saw reflected in those eyes.
Power. Dominance. Control.
It left his throat running dry.
“...Osamu. I'm Miya Osamu, Sir.” The grip on his jaw tightened. Suna’s smile turned a little mean.
“Osamu huh? Pretty name for a pretty thing like you,” Suna murmured huskily, running an inked finger down the column of Osamu’s throat, feeling it bob under his touch, “Wanna get to know each other a little better, Osamu?”
Osamu nodded once, slightly breathless, watching the smirk on Suna’s face grow.
“Well then, Osamu, I'll let you in on one thing about me,” Suna leaned in, pressing soft lips to his left ear. A shudder raked down Osamu’s spine. His nails dug into the leather couch.
“I don’t make love, I fuck.”
Osamu should've seen it coming when he let out a weak whimper at those words, thighs rubbing against each other to quell the heat running down south. Cheeks flushed and ears turning a shade darker, Osamu should've known what was going to happen when those dexterous, inked fingers of Suna’s wrapped around his wrist in a firm grip, dragging him out of the pub into a sleek car, and back to a penthouse apartment that he probably needed to work ten lifetimes to afford.
Osamu should've known what was coming but God forbid- he wanted nothing less.
Only more.
Now pinned under the punishing snap of hips, Osamu could only cry, gasp and sob brokenly as Suna drove his long, girthy cock into his heat. Scrambling for some form of purchase, he found himself wailing when Suna exerted his body weight and forced him into a mating press, where all he could do was take, take and take.
Blearingly, Osamu wondered how he'd ended up on his back in the first place, lying on the softest sheets he’d ever laid on, legs spread to accommodate Suna’s frame.
(“S-Suna…”
“Rintarou. Call me Rintarou,” Suna shushed Osamu, stroking his cheek, hooded eyes taking in the entirety of the pretty boy standing before him, right in his living quarters, still looking prim and slightly shy.
Suna wanted nothing more than to change that. Break the pretty thing in and smear his cum on those plush lips.
“May I undress you, doll? You look stunning, but I know you'll be even prettier without anything on. The prettiest once you're filled with my cock.”
Osamu turned a scarlet hue. Nodding coyly, he allowed himself to be stripped bare. Shuddering against Suna’s broad frame and commanding presence, Osamu melted into a puddle of goo when long fingers weaved through his hair, tugging him into a demanding kiss that was equal parts hot and wet.
Inked hands ran across the smooth expanse of his skin. Pressing, prodding, marking. Osamu remained pliant through the manhandling, even when Suna lifted him up by the back of his thighs without batting an eyelid, forcing his back against a wall before driving his skilled tongue in, licking at the roof of his mouth hungrily.
It rendered Osamu boneless. Sighing, thighs quivering and wrapped tight around Suna’s sturdy waist,Osamu felt his cock dribble between their bodies, staining the black button up.
“M-more… Rintarou-” Suna groaned throatily, pulling away, cock straining in his slacks.
Who was he to refuse such a pretty thing? Sure, he could be mean at times, but he wasn't mean enough to refuse a pretty boy who begged just as prettily.)
“S-suna, ’s too much,” Osamu sobbed, vision blurring and glazed over with a sheen of tears, “C-can’t.”
The man fucking into from him from atop grinned, cooing lowly, “I'll let you in on another thing about me, Osamu.”
Osamu whimpered, squeezing on the cock that only seemed to drive deeper into him with every powerful thrust, hitting the sensitive numb of nerves that sent his cock bobbing, weeping and dribbling precum on his belly.
“I don't like being told what to do.”
Grunting, Suna flipped Osamu on his knees without pulling out, rolling his hips to fuck into the hot channel that swallowed him happily. Osamu slumped over, resting his forehead on his forearms, shivering when Suna spread his cheeks and spat where they were connected.
“Fuck, you aren't just pretty, ain't cha?” Suna grunted, pulling out, slapping the head of his thick, pulsing cock on the pretty, gaping rim of Osamu’s entrance, “Your pussy’s wet and tight too. It was made for me.”
Osamu wasn't sure if he whimpered at the sudden emptiness or the surge of red hot, humiliation and pleasure from being showered with filthy praise. Tears clinging to his lashes, he rutted his hips against Suna’s cock instinctively, taking in the low growl of appreciation when it sank an inch into him.
“’s.. It's.. It's not a-,” Osamu slurred, chest heaving.
His upper body gave in. Panting into the sheets that were now in complete disarray, Osamu wailed when Suna slammed his hips and shoved the length of his cock into him, thrusting at an unforgiving place. It knocked the breath out of him. Hips held in place only by Suna’s firm grip, Osamu sobbed, cheeks turning splotchy.
“Pretty boy with a pussy made just for my taking,” Suna groaned, pressing his body into Osamu’s back, “You're everything I could ever ask for, sweetheart.”
And God- if Osamu came untouched with a broken sob at those words, knowing he was everything he could ever be for Suna, a man he'd just met at the bar, it turned out to be everything he wanted.
(Even more so, when he found himself outside of Suna’s apartment the very next day with a limp, eyes shimmering at the opening of the doors and the man standing by it with a small grin, eyes reflecting the same emotions Osamu found surging through his entirety.
Fondness. Attraction. Maybe even, love. A new beginning.)