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The dim light of the room cast long, languid shadows across the rumpled sheets, the air heavy and thick with the scent of alcohol, cologne, and raw, unspoken want.
Suzuki’s heart thundered in his chest, a frantic war drum that echoed in his ears, his breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. He’d been fighting this magnetic pull for weeks, months, but tonight it had shattered him completely. He couldn’t stop replaying it: watching this fucking sexy man dancing so gracefully, so passionately with his ex, every sway of his hips and lingering glance screaming a love that still burned bright. She was breathtaking, radiant in that dress that hugged her like liquid starlight, and together they had looked ethereal, untouchable, two souls intertwined in a way Suzuki could only dream of invading.
Sugiki lay there beneath him now, unmoving on the bed, his sharp, impossibly beautiful features schooled into cool indifference. Those dark, piercing eyes watched Suzuki with the lazy detachment of a predator toying with prey; his lips slightly parted, revealing the barest hint of those sharp, flawless white teeth that gleamed whenever he smirked like that. God, he was devastating, every line of his face a masterpiece that made Suzuki’s throat tighten with helpless obsession.
Am I really jealous ------ of his ex in a beautiful dress?
Suzuki thought, the realization only fanning the flames raging inside him.
That desperate, clawing yearning twisted deeper, a hollow ache that screamed he’d never earn even a fraction of the devotion Sugiki had poured into her on that dance floor.
He’d never get that. Never be looked at like he was worth worshipping, worth ruining someone over.
And yet the thought only made him hungrier, desperate, filthy, shameless.
A vicious ache low in his belly, spreading slick heat between his thighs. Every pulse of his heart throbbed in his cock, half-hard and sensitive, begging for a release he knew he’d never truly earn, not the way she had.
His hips rolling in a slow, needy grind. A soft, broken whimper escaped his parted lips, wet and swollen from earlier kisses that had never been returned.
Please, his entire being screamed, look at me like that. Want me like that. Even if it’s just once. Even if it breaks me.
The jealousy burned hotter, twisting into something darker, more intoxicating: he wanted to be the one who made those sharp, beautiful eyes go soft with possession. He wanted to be the reason Sugiki’s breath caught, the reason those perfect teeth bit down on a stifled groan.
He’d settle for scraps, for cruel teasing touches and mocking smirks, if it meant being seen at all.
And God, he needed to be seen right now. Needed to be taken until the only name in Sugiki’s mind was his.
“Fucking hell,” Suzuki whispered, voice hoarse and trembling with raw need. He slid closer, hands shaking as they reached out, fingers grazing the crisp fabric of Sugiki’s pullover. The contact sparked like lightning, shooting heat straight to his core. He couldn’t hold back anymore, the ache was too visceral, too consuming. With a surge of reckless desperation, he fisted Sugiki’s collar and yanked him in, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was pure fire from Suzuki’s side: hungry, devouring, his tongue pushing insistently for entry, tasting and claiming with frantic urgency.
Sugiki didn’t fight it, but he didn’t match the fervor either. His lips parted just enough to allow Suzuki in, his tongue brushing lazily against Suzuki’s in teasing flicks, promising depths he refused to give. One hand rose slowly, fingers curling into the fabric at Suzuki’s back, holding firm but not pulling closer, a silent declaration of control. Suzuki moaned into the kiss, pressing his body flush against Sugiki’s, reveling in the solid heat of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing that betrayed nothing.
It drove Suzuki mad, how composed Sugiki stayed, his free hand resting lightly on Suzuki’s hip like a brand, not gripping, not exploring, just there, reminding him who truly held the power.
Gasping, Suzuki broke the kiss and fumbled with his own shirt buttons, ripping them open in frantic haste. Fabric slid from his shoulders, baring flushed, heated skin to the cool air, his chest heaving with every ragged breath.
“Uhhh,” he moaned, voice cracking, eyes wide and glistening with desperate plea as he reached for Sugiki’s pullover next. Fingers hooked under the hem, tugging it up slowly, reverently, revealing the smooth, toned planes of his abdomen; skin like warm silk over firm muscle. Suzuki’s mouth went dry, arousal throbbing painfully as he leaned in, capturing those soft, perfect lips again while his fingertips traced feather-light patterns over the exposed belly, then trailed desperate kisses down Sugiki’s neck, inhaling the intoxicating mix of cologne and natural musk.
His hands roamed greedily, palms sliding up Sugiki’s sides, thumbs brushing the defined ridges of his ribs, memorizing every inch as if it might vanish.
Sugiki let out a low, amused chuckle that vibrated through his chest and into Suzuki’s touch. “So eager,” he murmured, voice velvet-smooth and dripping with unbothered tease, those white teeth flashing in a faint smirk that made Suzuki’s knees buckle.
Then, with sudden, effortless strength, he flipped their positions, throwing Suzuki onto his back across the bed before sitting up to smooth his pullover and coat. Suzuki’s hands immediately returned, wandering hungrily over Sugiki’s arms, back, threading through his dark hair, while Sugiki’s own remained infuriatingly passive: one braced on the mattress, the other resting casually on his own knee.
Undeterred, Suzuki surged forward again, shoving Sugiki back down and straddling him. “What’s the problem?” he demanded breathlessly, grinding down instinctively.
Sugiki hummed, eyes half-lidded, that sexy smirk deepening.
“You think you can just take what you want?” Sugiki’s voice was calm, almost bored, but the words lashed like whips.
The taunt stung, but it only fueled Suzuki’s fire. A shiver raced down his spine, his body arching into the minimal contact.
Suzuki growled, though it sounded more like a whine while kissing Sugiki’s face and fingers fumbling desperately at Sugiki’s belt.
He rocked his hips forward, grinding shamelessly against Sugiki’s thigh, sparks exploding behind his eyes. His kisses turned messy, trailing down Sugiki’s neck, sucking greedily at the pulse point, savoring the taste of skin and heat.
Sugiki tilted his head slightly, granting access, but his fingers tangled in Suzuki’s hair and tugged, just enough to pull him back, drawing a frustrated whimper from deep in Suzuki’s throat. Those dark eyes stared up calmly, unreadable. “You don’t get to claim anything yet,” he said casually. His free hand drifted lower, fingers ghosting over the curve of Suzuki’s ass, light, teasing circles that dipped teasingly under the waistband before retreating, leaving Suzuki squirming and breathless.
Why are you like this? Suzuki panted, nails digging into Sugiki’s shoulders as he rutted harder, chasing friction.
Sugiki’s scent enveloped him, clean, musky, addictive and making his head spin. He claimed those lips again, slower this time, pouring every ounce of desperation into the kiss, tongue exploring with fervent worship. Sugiki still didn’t kiss back, not even a little, just breathed hotly against him, sending jolts straight to Suzuki’s groin.
He was yearning so badly it felt like his skin was on fire, every inch of him flushed and hypersensitive, nerves crackling with electric need, screaming for a release that felt forever just out of reach. His breath came in shallow, trembling pants, lips still parted and glistening, eyes glassy with unshed tears of pure frustration and want.
Desperate for any sign, any proof that he wasn’t alone in this inferno, Suzuki’s hands slid lower, shaking as they roamed over the hard lines of Sugiki’s abdomen and down to the front of his pants. He palmed him slowly, deliberately, fingers pressing, searching, stroking through the fabric for that tell-tale swell of arousal.
Nothing.
No hardness. No twitch. No involuntary thrust into his touch.
Sugiki didn’t react at all, just lay there beneath him, impossibly composed, those dark, unreadable eyes fixed on Suzuki’s face like he was studying every flicker of desperation, every humiliated flush creeping up his throat. His lips curved in that faint, devastatingly sexy smirk, teeth barely visible, the kind of half-smile that promised cruelty wrapped in silk. It made Suzuki’s stomach flip violently, a sick, dizzying lurch of arousal and shame that only fed the ache throbbing between his own legs.
The indifference was worse than rejection. It was a quiet, deliberate power; Sugiki letting him touch, letting him beg with his hands, his body, his ragged breaths, and giving absolutely nothing back.
Suzuki’s fingers pressed harder, almost pleading now, rubbing in slow, needy circles as if he could will a reaction into existence. His hips rocked forward involuntarily, grinding his own slick, aching erection against Sugiki’s thigh for any scrap of friction, a soft, broken whine escaping his throat.
Still nothing.
Just that calm, predatory gaze and the faintest tilt of that perfect, infuriating smirk, like Sugiki was savoring the sight of him unraveling, piece by filthy, desperate piece.
And God, it only made Suzuki burn hotter.
Finally, Sugiki moved, one hand sliding up Suzuki’s bare chest, thumb circling a sensitive nipple with agonizing slowness, pinching just hard enough to wrench a sharp gasp. The other pressed against Suzuki’s lower back, guiding his hips in a torturously slow rhythm that denied the frantic pace he craved. “You’re so desperate, Latino,” he purred.
God, yes. Suzuki just blinked, tears of frustration pricking his eyes. His skin burned, every nerve screaming for more.
Sugiki’s gaze flicked upward, slow and heavy-lidded. That faint, devastating smirk curving his perfect lips. It was the kind of smile that made Suzuki’s heart stutter and his cock throb all at once. With a sharp jerk, he flipped them again. Suzuki’s back hit the mattress with a soft thud, breath punched out of him in a gasp as Sugiki settled atop him, knees bracketing his thighs, weight pressing him down with lazy, unbreakable dominance.
The shift dragged Sugiki’s firm thigh right between Suzuki’s spread legs, nudging deliberately against the soaked fabric clinging to his sensitive length. A helpless shudder ripped through Suzuki’s body, his hips snapping up on pure instinct and moan.
Sugiki’s hand moved fast. Long fingers trailed up the flushed column of Suzuki’s throat, first feather-light, tracing the frantic jump of his pulse, then firmer, palm settling warm and possessive over his Adam’s apple. His thumb stroked once, slow and deliberate, pressing just enough to feel Suzuki swallow desperately beneath it. Not choking. Never choking. Just holding him there, pinned and claimed, reminding him with every heartbeat who owned the air in his lungs.
Suzuki bucked wildly beneath him, back bowing off the bed, raw, broken moans spilling from his parted lips, high, needy, shameless. His hands scrabbled for purchase, fingers clutching first at Sugiki’s shoulders, nails digging in and then on his fingers around his throat, as his hips rolled and ground frantically against that unyielding thigh, chasing any friction he could steal.
“Hah…” Sugiki’s soft laugh was dark velvet, laced with pure amusement and something far more dangerous. It vibrated through his chest and straight into Suzuki’s skin as he leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of Suzuki’s ear, breath hot and teasing. “So greedy.”
His thumb pressed gentle, possessive while tilting Suzuki’s chin up, forcing their eyes to lock. Those dark, unreadable depths drank in every flicker of humiliation and hunger on Suzuki’s face.
He withdrew, leaving Suzuki whining, hips thrusting into nothing before grinding desperately against Sugiki’s thigh again. The pressure built unbearably, his movements growing erratic.
Sugiki leaned close, watching him closely.
Eyes glazed and pleading while thrusting against Sugiki’s thigh, Suzuki’s body tensed, as fresh heat pooled low in his belly and a broken whimper tearing from his throat as orgasm ripped through him in violent waves, release soaking through his pants as he clung to Sugiki’s hands, shaking and utterly spent.
Sugiki held him through it, expression composed, though satisfaction glinted in those dark eyes. Then, with gentle possession, he slapped Suzuki’s flushed cheek light, sparking against damp skin. His voice dropped low, velvet-rough, that wicked smirk flashing those perfect teeth.
“That was awfully quick.”
Suzuki could only stare up at that heartbreakingly beautiful face hovering above him, those deep, smoldering eyes that still held ghosts of another love; that elegant nose; those gleaming teeth behind pretty lips curved in teasing triumph.
His breath came in ragged waves, hands clinging weakly to Sugiki’s wrists, fingers resting loosely around his throat, not pressing, just there, warm and steady.
The climax had torn him apart moments ago, but the hunger hadn’t faded. It had sharpened into something feral, insatiable.
A deep, slick throb pulsed between his thighs, his body still oversensitive, trembling with aftershocks like warm honey spilling through his veins. His lips parted on a soft, involuntary whimper; half-open, wet and swollen, begging silently. Eyes glazed with raw, tear-bright need, lashes clumped and heavy, he arched subtly beneath Sugiki: a tiny, shameless roll of his hips that brushed against him in unmistakable plea.
Please, his entire body screamed. Take me. Slow and Deep. Make me the only one you see. Consume me until there’s nothing left.
In his fevered mind, the thoughts swirled endlessly:
He’s so fucking beautiful… those eyes that burn right through me, that perfect nose I want to kiss, those teeth that flash when he smirks and ruin me, those lips I’d die to feel moving against mine for real… Why can’t I be enough? Why can’t he want me like he wanted her?
And yet, staring into those dark depths, Suzuki could almost sense the mirror; the way Sugiki drank in his desperation: the trembling half-open mouth, the pleading eyes, the flushed and quivering body still slick and open beneath him, silently begging for more.
He couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
But every inch of him ached with it: I need you. I’m yours. Please… make me yours.
Sugiki let out a tsk, the sound sharp in the quiet room. In one fluid motion, he rose from where he’d been kneeling moments before, straightening his pullover with calm, practiced precision.
He turned toward the window, hands slipping casually into his pockets, and gazed out at the city lights as if they held all the answers. His voice came low, steady, almost gentle in its dismissal:
“Just focus on 10 Dance.”
Then he walked away, the door clicking shut behind him with quiet finality, leaving Suzuki alone with the lingering ache between his legs, the cool air brushing his flushed skin, and the hollow echo of pleasure that never quite reached far enough.