kiss a kitty

by persimmonsandcats

Summary:

“We have a problem.” Satoru announces, slamming into Suguru’s studio two days later. He feels guilty. Like so so guilty.

“That so?” Suguru asks from his bed, lounging in a pair of sweats, his shirt hiked up. He scratches at his happy trail and glances over at Satoru. His demeanor changes instantly at whatever he sees on Satoru’s face. He swings his feet off his low bed, sitting up and leaning forward. “Satoru, what’s wrong?”

Satoru situates himself on the bed next to Suguru, crossing his legs and sitting so they’re facing each other. He meets Suguru’s eyes and cannot speak. Totally blank brain. Suguru touches his knee gently, probably about to say something helpful and kind like take your time or whatever you need.

For some reason, Satoru panics.

“I can’t come.” He announces, much louder than he needs to. “Unless I’m thinking about you.”

Notes:

Satoru’s horny— which is a terrible thing for him to be.

The thing is, Satoru doesn’t touch himself very often. Rarely even. Almost never, actually, if he’s being perfectly honest. Not that he has a problem with his body or anything, and touching himself does feel good, no problems there— but he does have a problem with the fact that he can’t fucking come. Masturbating is an exercise in frustration. The finish line, so to speak, is always just out of reach. And it’s not that he hasn’t tried, to be clear. He has tried. Copiously, even. But it’s always been less than good when— or if, really— he orgasms. If he does manage to get himself all the way there, his orgasms are these weak little things, not not-fulfilling necessarily, but not fulfilling enough for the time and effort it takes. Sometimes he touches himself for over an hour and doesn’t come. He’ll get close maybe, if he’s lucky.

On top of that he doesn’t get wet easily. He’s tried using lube but then it’s too wet, which he likes in theory but, in practice, his fingers slide on his clit almost unpleasantly and he can’t build up any kind of rhythm. He’s tried to finger himself too, stimulate his body in that way, but he’s too tight to get more than a finger in and he’s wary of trying anything else. Even when he does work his finger inside himself he doesn’t get the oh god so full yes please more that people seem to get in porn. It’s almost uncomfortable, his hips shifting and forehead creasing. It’s not a bad feeling— although the first time he tried it definitely was— just not a particularly good one either.

Way more often than not, when he touches himself, he ends up frustrated as hell, sweaty and glaring at his ceiling, his pussy sort of sore and clit swollen in an uncomfortable way. If he had to choose a word to associate with masturbating it would be whatever the hell the opposite of relief is.

Satoru honestly thinks he’s orgasmed only, like, twice for real for real and both were freaky fluke situations.

Once was after he went out with his friends, got caught up in the laughter and fun. It was just one of those times when everything felt good, the world clicking into place. Even Nanami’s shoulders relaxed from their perpetual tightness as the night wore on. Satoru had drank just slightly more than he normally would, feeling safe and surrounded by his friends. He ended up a bit more tipsy than he meant to be but felt good about it, carefree.

It was a hot night, humid in that way only August in Tokyo can be. Satoru ran to the station to catch the last train, giddy with it, almost laughing as he was dragged along by Suguru’s firm hand on his wrist. He would have paid for a cab for them but Suguru was determined to catch the last train and Satoru, for all the whining he might do about it, would follow Suguru into hell.

The shock of the cold AC inside the train made Satoru realize just how sweaty he was. How hot he felt. His shirt was clinging to the small of his back and his boxers were sticking to his pussy, making him squirm. He had tried to ignore it, pressed his nose to Suguru’s neck and breathed in the clean bergamot scent of him as Suguru held him steady on the moving train.

Suguru had piggybacked Satoru home from the metro station, his strong back against Satoru’s cunt— which had started to throb or something, a weird feeling that had Satoru’s whole brain focused on, like, trying to not grind against Suguru, totally unable to participate in the conversation except for lots of uh-huh and mmm sounds while his hips twitched and he tried to still them.

When they got to Satoru’s apartment, Suguru had turned the AC up to make it blissfully chilly. Satoru whined about needing a shower, then stripped down uncaringly and turned the spray as cold as he could stand. When he got out, hair damp and dripping because he was too lazy and tipsy to dry it, Suguru handed him a bottle of water with a smile, looking like he was preparing to leave, clothes still on, phone in hand. He had rolled his eyes fondly when Satoru whined that Suguru needed to stay, handed Satoru his phone to plug in, went to the bathroom, and came back with a blowdryer.

Once Satoru’s hair was dried to Suguru’s satisfaction, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it in Satoru’s laundry pile. Satoru flopped on his bed and enjoyed the view, Suguru’s happy trail appearing as he took his pants off. Satoru pinched his eyes tight before he ended up staring at Suguru’s thick heavy cock, soft against his thigh, for an inappropriate amount of time. Suguru headed to the bathroom and Satoru stared at the ceiling. He spread his legs wide under the sheets and kept his hands above his head. An indeterminate amount of time later the shower stopped, then the hair dryer stopped, and then Suguru joined Satoru in bed, crawling under the sheets and into Satoru’s arms easily, shower-warm and smelling like Satoru’s peach soap.

Satoru woke up a few hours later still slightly tipsy, feeling wriggly and horny, a dream half in his brain that he didn’t remember except that he felt hot between his thighs. It didn’t help having Suguru’s strong body around him, leg thrown over Satoru’s, calloused palm on Satoru’s stomach, nose pressed into the nape of Satoru’s neck. Satoru had made it to the bathroom, sucked on his fingers to get them wet, then slid them under his waistband while he thought about Suguru’s soft cock. He had barely started rubbing his clit in quick tight circles before he came, his vision blurring a little, legs almost giving out as they shook.

There was also the time a month or so ago, after a gym session with Suguru, when Satoru had gotten home feeling antsy but wasn’t sure why. He had collapsed on his couch pre-shower, thinking about Suguru hip thrusting 225 lbs like it was nothing, the clench of his muscles as he did, the sound he made with each steady thrust. Satoru had slipped his hand between his thighs and found himself already wet. He let his mind drift, started thinking about what it would be like to have Suguru holding him steady by the waist, pounding up into him. Satoru pressed a finger against his entrance and was surprised by how easily it slipped in up to the second knuckle. Pressing on his clit with the heel of his hand, he fucked his finger in and out, a little deeper each time, his hips kicking up. He felt himself get wetter when he thought about how Suguru’s cock might not even fit in him– but Suguru would make him take it, the same way he makes Satoru do another rep in the gym, soft sweet encouragement, Satoru’s name dripping off his tongue. It didn’t take long after that before Satoru was coming, Suguru’s name guiltily on his lips, body locking up. His calf muscle cramped so bad it felt sore for a few hours after.

Satoru stares at the ceiling and kicks his sheets off, slips a hand under the waistband of his boxers, and strokes idly over his trimmed pubic hair. He runs a finger down to lightly graze his pussy lips as he ponders. There’s a theme, isn’t there, to his successful masturbation attempts. A potential pattern, if you will, in the fact that the two times he’s managed to come he’s been thinking about Suguru. It’s coincidence most likely, but three times would be—

Satoru thinks about Suguru’s mouth, his lips pursed around a cigarette, the way his tongue flicks out to touch the edge of a glass when he drinks, the way he fiddles with Satoru’s necklaces or runs his fingers up and down Satoru’s earlobe, tracing his undercut, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Satoru strokes himself slowly and, as his finger dips between his folds, he’s surprised by how wet he already is. Heat pools low in his gut and his hips move unconsciously as he rubs at his clit with slick fingers, thinking about Suguru wet with sweat after the gym, dragging his shirt off in the locker room.

Satoru groans softly, legs twitching. He’s literally played with his clit for hours to only get, like, halfway to where he is now, no matter how horny he was when he started. He does feel a little guilty thinking about Suguru while he touches himself but it is for science. Suguru would respect the process.

Satoru closes his eyes and thinks about Suguru’s hand on his waist, the way he’ll guide Satoru down a hallway or off a train. How he fights in their sparring sessions. The way he never goes easy on Satoru. The way he would never let anyone go easy on Satoru. How proud he gets of Satoru. The way he talks about him.

Satoru’s fingertip slips inside his cunt and he inhales sharply. He slides his other hand down his body to spread himself a little and rub at his clit, the left side where he’s more sensitive, underneath where it makes his body shake. Satoru pants as he keeps working his clit, fucking his finger in and out. It’s a lot. It feels good. He whines, forces his finger deeper, a small desperate sound escaping his throat as he presses harder on his clit.

“Please,” he whispers to no one, clenching on his finger. He slides the wet fingers of his other hand— god, wet from him— up to pinch his nipples, twist lightly. “Fuck,” he mumbles, grinding against the heel of his hand. His hips twitch pitifully as he feels the wave inside him recede a bit, the warmth in his stomach roll over and collapse in on itself. He whines, sliding his finger out of himself and dragging it up to rub at his clit, familiar motions to try to get himself back to the edge.

His clit pulses a little under his fingertips the longer he goes. He grunts and rubs it between his pointer and middle finger, hissing at the feeling.

“Fuck.” He mutters. “Fucking—” He’s so frustrated and— not thinking about Suguru anymore, he realizes. Just about how much he wants to come.

He pauses, takes a deep breath.

Suguru would tell him to slow down, he decides, his mind careening from the plausible deniability of thinking about Suguru vaguely, testing a theory out, to thinking about Suguru. About Suguru watching Satoru touch himself. Knocking Satoru’s knee open to get a better view of his wet pussy. Satoru draws in a shaky breath, letting his legs fall open, eyes pinched shut as he imagines Suguru there with him. Suguru, with his large hands on Satoru’s thighs, keeping Satoru’s legs spread, even if he whines in embarrassment and tries to close them. Satoru feels his cheeks flush. His fingers slip on his clit.

He’s soaked.

So wet for me, ‘toru, Suguru would say, like he was proud of Satoru for it. Satoru’s pussy clenches as he strokes his clit, teasing at first, then with more intent, unable to bite back a moan. He digs the nails of his free hand into his thigh, presses it against the bed, pretends his hand is Suguru’s.

You’re almost there for me, aren’t you? He imagines Suguru saying.

“So close, S’guru,” Satoru whines. He works his clit a little faster, hips kicking, stomach tightening. “Almost—” he pants, “almost there—”

You gonna come for me? The Suguru in his head asks.

“Wanna,” Satoru groans, sliding his hand down his thigh to press against his entrance, his finger slipping inside him easily and drawing a startled gasp out of his throat, “wanna come, please, wanna come so bad—”

Yeah? mind-Suguru says, Come on, you can come.

And then, damningly, Satoru’s mind conjures up how sometimes— like when Satoru brings Suguru a beer before he asks for one or his blue light glasses when Satoru notices Suguru wincing at his laptop— Suguru will say, in this low voice that makes Satoru’s gut clench,

Good boy.

Satoru comes so hard his vision whites out.

 

 

 

After Satoru has that mind-blowing imaginary-Suguru induced orgasm, he’s horny all the time.

Like all the time.

He does his best to be normal and chill about it, but it’s hard, especially when Suguru is so— Suguru. Gentle and kind. Strong and doing all sorts of fucking exercises at the gym. Cooking them dinner, bringing Satoru sweets when he’s been studying, playing with Satoru’s ears when he drinks, pulling his hair up in this bun that leaves a few strands stuck to the nape of his neck. It’s infuriatingly sexy, especially if they’re at the gym and he’s taken off his pump cover or is wearing those little spandex shorts he sometimes works out in. Or even worse, when he’s just in his boxers, sleepy eyes and soft smile when he sees Satoru in the kitchen.

“Terrible.” Satoru mumbles, when Suguru shows up with a surprise bubble tea for him, wearing a sort of cut-obscenely-low V neck sweater, slacks that fit his form too well, fucking glasses, his hair half down.

“Hmm?” Suguru asks, rubbing the back of Satoru’s neck with a slightly chilled hand. It’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, fingers trailing against Satoru’s skin like it’s second nature.

“You’re the spawn of Satan.” Satoru informs him and sucks angrily at his bubble tea straw. “This is amazing, thanks.” He adds.

“Satan, huh?” Suguru shrugs. “That’s new.”

He keeps rubbing the back of Satoru’s neck.

Satoru ends up spending half their study session with his thighs clenched together because of Suguru’s gentle casual touches, the way he keeps rubbing Satoru’s neck and shoulders like he thinks Satoru’s stressed even though Satoru’s not.

He’s genuinely not stressed– he’s horny.

Satoru tries to not jerk off thinking about Suguru when he gets home, but the arousal that’s been thrumming under his skin since he woke up, before he even saw Suguru, is driving him crazy. He can jerk off, he decides, he just won’t think about Suguru, is all. It just seems rude, surely, to use Suguru as, like, masturbation material every single time.

(He maybe tested his Suguru induced orgasm theory one more time and came so hard he almost broke his phone.)

So Satoru adamantly does not think about Suguru as he slips out of his boxers and spreads his legs and touches himself. He doesn’t think about Suguru and, holy fuck, it is terrible. He’s dry and it’s boring and he keeps accidentally thinking of Suguru and has to stop. He tries again, sucking on his fingers to get them wet first, rubbing his clit with three of them. It’s not that it’s bad bad but like— it’s not good. He’ll maybe get close or something if he keeps it up for, you know, a few hours. He stops, panting at the ceiling, irrationally angry.

As a test, he closes his eyes and thinks about Suguru at the gym the other day, the imprint of his dick in his sweats last night, the rough pads of his fingers on Satoru’s neck today. He gets wet so fast it irritates him, like he can feel it drip out of him, slide down to his ass. He throws a mini fit in his bed until his pillows and sheets are all fucked up. Then he climbs out of bed and stalks to the kitchen to eat some food, determined not to masturbate. He has got to chill the ‘if Suguru then pussy wet’ neural connection he has going on. It’s embarrassing, is what it is.

Not as embarrassing as the fact he ends up humping his hand late that night, too horny to fall asleep, imaging Suguru holding him down, holding him still, telling him in the exasperated almost condescending voice he gets that Satoru’s so wet and does Suguru turn him on that much and aren’t the sounds he’s making sort of loud, and do you want me to help you be quiet, ‘toru?

Satoru imagines Suguru pulling out his cock for Satoru to suck on, jams four fingers into his mouth as tries to imagine what Suguru’s dick must look like hard.

He comes so hard his legs lock up.

After his breathing stabilizes, Satoru winces and gingerly inspects the teeth marks on his fingers from where he bit down when he came. He rolls over and peers at his twitching pussy, his swollen clit peeking out. He hisses when he brushes his finger against it– but it actually feels sort of good? He keeps rubbing it tentatively, until the overstimulation dissolves fully into pleasure and, surprising himself, he ends up coming again, imagining Suguru fingering him and calling him needy and fucking perfect and mine.

When Satoru comes back down he stares at the ceiling for a good ten minutes, pussy throbbing.

Well fuck, he thinks.

 

 

 

“We have a problem.” Satoru announces, slamming into Suguru’s studio two days later. He feels guilty. Like so so guilty.

“That so?” Suguru asks from his bed, lounging in a pair of sweats, his shirt hiked up. He scratches at his happy trail and glances over at Satoru. His demeanor changes instantly at whatever he sees on Satoru’s face. He swings his feet off his low bed, sitting up and leaning forward. “Satoru, what’s wrong?”

“I’m going to need you to stick with me.” Satoru says, pausing to organize his shoes because Suguru hates when he leaves them all scattered. “It’s going to sound batshit so just focus. New plant?” He launches himself toward Suguru’s little veranda, peers at a pot that’s new, the tiny flowers catching sunlight under some of Suguru’s drying laundry. Satoru coos at the plant, turns back to Suguru. “What are you reading?”

“New plant.” Suguru confirms dryly. “A novel. Love the concentration. The focus is unparalleled as always, ‘toru. Come here, what’s going on?”

Satoru situates himself on the bed next to Suguru, crossing his legs and sitting so they’re facing each other. He meets Suguru’s eyes and cannot speak. Totally blank brain. Suguru touches his knee gently, probably about to say something helpful and kind like take your time or whatever you need.

For some reason, Satoru panics.

“I can’t come.” He announces, much louder than he needs to. “Unless I’m thinking about you.”

There is a really long pause before Suguru makes a strange sound, all vowels and vaguely like what Satoru imagines a goose choking would sound like. Satoru frowns at him in concern.

“What.” Suguru says after a moment, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. “What do you— what—”

“I feel like you heard me.” Satoru pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. He falls back on Suguru’s bed, landing in the pillows with a little oof.

Suguru’s face appears above his, softly quizzical, long hair falling over both of them. Satoru uncrosses his arms so that he can tuck Suguru’s hair behind his ears, then he cups Suguru’s face and squeezes.

Suguru lifts a hand up and pinches Satoru’s cheek. Hard.

Satoru attempts to not react but eventually whines, twisting to try to free himself from the pinch. Suguru doesn’t let go and Satoru’s sorta making it hurt worse by struggling so he relents, releasing Suguru’s face so that Suguru stops pinching him.

“I have trouble orgasming.” Satoru says with a sigh.

“Okay.” Suguru agrees. “It was really the second part of the sentence that threw me.”

Satoru frowns up at him.

“I struggle to orgasm,” he repeats, “but the times I have is when I was thinking about you. First of all, sorry about the boundary violation.”

Suguru stares at him.

“It was an accident.” Satoru huffs. “At first.” He adds, figuring he might as well share all the information for, you know, honesty’s sake or whatever.

“Okay.” Suguru says slowly.

There’s an extremely long pause.

Satoru fiddles with the hem of his shirt. He knows that he might be a little out of touch with standard social etiquette sometimes, knows he was raised bizarrely, gets that people sometimes think he’s rude because he doesn’t quite pick up on a cue that he was apparently supposed to— but he’s not an idiot. He cares about other people and he knows you’re not really supposed to rub one out thinking of your best friend calling you a good boy or, you know, shutting you up with their cock. And if you do, you’re probably supposed to take it to the grave or something. Satoru knows that. He understands the concept of shame. He’s feeling it the longer Suguru stays quiet.

“Are you mad?” Satoru asks quietly.

“I’m not mad,” Suguru says slowly, “I am confused though.”

Satoru kicks aimlessly at Suguru’s comforter, wriggling until he’s a bit more comfortable. Suguru shuffles with him until they’re lying side-by-side, Suguru’s hand on Satoru’s hip, his thumb stroking gently. It’s soothing and Satoru counts the touch, one-two, back and forth, as he organizes his words.

“I don’t come easily or at all really when I try to, you know,” he makes a strange aborted gesture toward his crotch, “but I realized I have orgasmed properly a few times and it was when you had popped into my head. So, for science purposes,” he stresses that this has been a scientific endeavor, even though he’s not sure it technically has been, “I masturbated while deliberately not thinking about you, terrible by the way, and then deliberately while thinking about you—”

Suguru’s hand has stilled on Satoru’s hip, a heavy weight. His eyes are trained on Satoru. He makes a small sound and his eyes glitter with something Satoru doesn’t know. It makes Satoru’s belly clench. He almost says wanna see how but manages to not actually voice that thought. He clears his throat.

“—and it worked.” He finishes, feeling slightly out of breath. “It really worked.”

“You came.” Suguru says.

“Uh-huh.” Satoru nods. Suguru starts stroking his hip again, long fingers brushing against his bare skin where Satoru’s shirt has ridden up.

“What did you think about specifically?” Suguru asks. Satoru feels himself flush. “No, sorry, that’s—”

“I mean, the one with the boundary issue is me.” Satoru offers as he carefully avoids Suguru’s eyes and studies the ceiling. “But just, you know, stuff.”

“Stuff.” Suguru repeats.

“Yeah.” Satoru says and nods a few times for emphasis. “Stuff.”

“Okay, ‘toru.” Suguru says quietly. He pinches the skin of Satoru’s stomach so that Satoru looks at him. “Is there a reason why you’re telling me this?”

“Uh, because we’re best friends,” Satoru scoffs, “so obviously you need to know.” He pauses, then adds, “Also because I felt really guilty.” It’s like he says that and then the words keep tumbling out. “And I got worried if you knew you would think it was gross or something— but then I couldn’t not tell you because you can tell when I’m lying, which is so unfortunate, and also because it felt like the kind of thing I would randomly blurt out one day– or what if you spontaneously developed the ability to read minds and got pissed I kept it from you? So then it was either tell you now and deal with the fallout or be unprepared and have you hate me or something but—”

Suguru places his fingers gently on Satoru’s lips to stop the flow of words. Satoru adamantly does not memorize the feeling of Suguru’s fingers on his mouth for future reference or anything. He rolls over and curls into Suguru, puts his nose into the hollow of Suguru’s collarbones, which takes considerable squirming. Suguru’s feet knock against his shins.

“Don’t be mad.” Satoru says.

“I’m not mad.” Suguru assures him, his hand trailing to the nape of Satoru’s neck and squeezing. It does a pleasant thing to Satoru’s whole body, like cotton candy dissolving in water, but it’s Suguru’s touch, dissolving against Satoru’s skin and spreading through his blood, sugar sweet and warm.

“Do you hate me?” Satoru asks quietly, playing with Suguru’s shirt.

“I don’t hate you.” Suguru says calmly.

“Are you disgusted?” Satoru asks even quieter. He pokes Suguru in the side a little.

“Far from.” Suguru says.

“Contemplative?” Satoru offers after a second.

Suguru laughs.

“It’s— look, Satoru, I don’t know what to say exactly. It’s— it’s fine that you thought of me when you, you know, touched yourself.”

“What if I do it again?” Satoru asks. Suguru’s hand pauses in its gentle movements. Satoru flounders a little. Clearly whatever line there is he’s gone too far, asked too much. “Not, like, purposefully obviously but, like, what if you pop into my head again— should I adamantly make sure to not even remotely think of you when I jerk off?” He pauses, conceptualizes. “God, this conversation is weird, isn’t it? I’m a freak.” He pulls back to meet Suguru’s eyes so Suguru can tell him, yes Satoru, respectfully, you are being a freak.

Suguru brushes his hair back from his eyes with soft fingers.

“You’re not a freak.” He says. “It’s just— not a conversation I ever considered. Um, I guess— it’s fine? It’s fine.” He repeats. “I’m kind of— touched—” He winces as Satoru leers at him, “honored,” he corrects, “that the thought of me gets you off? That’s.” He clears his throat, ears tinged pink. “Good.” He says.

“Good.” Satoru repeats. There is a pause. “Um, and what about if it was, you know, purposeful?” He asks, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. He feels his cheeks flush.

Suguru’s gaze is unreadable when Satoru meets his eyes.

“That’s okay too.” Suguru says. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, snaps it closed again. He blinks once, hard, squeezing his eyes shut then opening them.

“Yeah?” Satoru confirms. “It’s okay?”

“It’s okay.” Suguru says.

“Nice.” Satoru says and curls into Suguru again, humming to himself. “Really okay, right?” He feels Suguru nod against his head. “You can think of me too,” Satoru offers generously, “if you wanted to or whatever.”

Suguru stays silent long enough that Satoru peeks up at him. Suguru doesn’t quite look at him. Clears his throat a few times.

“Okay.” He says after a second.

“Okay.” Satoru beams.

 

 

 

Which is fine. Great even.

Satoru doesn’t immediately jerk off to the thought of Suguru because, you know, he can have boundaries and self-control and stuff. He’s chill.

Or he is until two days later when Suguru’s at his apartment, hanging out, generally just sharing space how they usually do. Satoru puts the kettle on to make Suguru a pour-over coffee because he knows Suguru’s got shit to do tonight and work tomorrow and he keeps rubbing his eyes like he’s tired.

When Satoru brings Suguru the mug Suguru says good boy almost idly, ruffling Satoru’s hair before tugging him down to sit, playing with Satoru’s earlobe and stroking the nape of his neck as he reads. It’s not that abnormal for them, Suguru’s not even really doing anything, just, like, existing and yet Satoru gets wet. Like wet-wet. Like he goes to the bathroom and his boxers are wet enough he wants to change them, but has no clue how to do that without drawing attention to it.

Satoru goes back out to the main room with the intention of ignoring how sticky and uncomfortable he is. He does plan to be normal, but he keeps staring at Suguru’s thick thighs where his shorts are hiking up and it makes his thighs clench. He feels squirmy, can’t settle. He flops down on Suguru’s lap with the intention of curling up and dozing off, but realizes that puts him face level with Suguru’s dick. He huffs, shifting on the couch and trying not to think about sex or sex with Suguru or–

Suguru gives him a look, puts a hand flat on Satoru’s stomach to still him. Satoru feels it in his pussy.

“Why do you even say that?” Satoru blurts out.

Suguru blinks down at him.

“Say—” He pauses. “Say what?” He asks, a slight frown on his face.

There isn’t actually a reason for Suguru to know what Satoru is talking about, which means Satoru has to say it out loud.

“Good boy.” Satoru says, blushing furiously as he pushes Suguru’s hand off his stomach so that he can sit up. God, are Suguru’s hands always so warm? “You call me good boy sometimes, I don’t know.” He stares avidly at the ceiling, watching Suguru out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh,” Suguru frowns, “you told me to.”

Satoru sputters.

“No, I didn’t.” He objects, spinning to face Suguru. Although, now that Suguru’s saying it, Satoru does have a faint sense memory of demanding Suguru tell him he was a good boy when he was drunk one night, demanding head pats and cuddles. “Maybe I did.” He acquiesces.

“Don’t like it?” Suguru asks after a minute.

“Didn’t say that.” Satoru mumbles.

“Like it too much?” Suguru asks, sounding all smug and knowing. It pisses Satoru off.

“Fuck you.” He says with a bit too much bite.

There’s a very long pause.

“Wait, really?” Suguru says, sounding slightly taken aback. “You like it when people say that to you?” He doesn’t sound like he’s mocking, but Satoru’s face feels like it’s on fire. “‘toru,” Suguru says softly, “hey, come on.” He turns Satoru’s face toward him with soft hands on his chin.

“Not people.” Satoru admits. “You.”

“Me.” Suguru says, careful. “Okay.” He adds after a second. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to tease.”

Satoru adamantly does not say that he wouldn’t mind Suguru teasing him but something on his face must show the exact kind of teasing his brain conjures up because he feels himself, somehow, flush harder. He curses his pale skin.

Suguru stares at him for a second. Satoru swings a leg out, kicks him. Suguru catches it easily, tugs a little so Satoru slides down the couch. He rubs at Satoru’s ankle bone.

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks after a second, voice low. “Want to be good for me, ‘toru?”

Satoru’s pussy, like, leaks.

He grabs a pillow from behind him and whacks Suguru in the face with it, scrambling back across the couch and assuming a defensive position. Suguru carefully puts his book aside and then pounces.

Satoru’s been working on his hand to hand though so, like, he puts up a decent fight. He also lifts and everything, so Suguru can’t just totally manhandle him, even if Suguru is broader. Satoru does end up losing– although in a whole different way it’s winning– when Suguru pins him on his stomach by the hips, Satoru’s arms locked behind his back in a way he can’t quite finagle out of. It’s frustrating enough that his arousal is forgotten. Or it is until Suguru bends over, lips right by Satoru’s ear, and practically purrs,

“Good boy, Satoru.”

“I hate you.” Satoru announces vehemently, ignoring the way his cheeks are on fire and he’s so turned on he thinks he might cry.

Suguru laughs and lets go of him, wincing when Satoru’s final kick lands on his ribs.

When Suguru leaves later that evening Satoru tries to ignore how horny he is. He sits on the couch and it’s like his brain fully processes how he was on his stomach with his arms twisted behind his back and Suguru on top of him like he was going to fuck Satoru into the couch. And the way Suguru said good boy? Jesus Christ. Satoru squirms on the couch for a second. He knows it’s probably fucked up that Suguru literally just left and Satoru’s already thinking about getting off to the thought of him but like–

Honestly, Satoru deserves a reward for putting up with Suguru. And besides, he got permission. Suguru said it was okay.

Satoru straightens up and stalks to his bed, flops down. He rolls onto his back, closes his eyes, and slides a hand under his waistband to pet over his pussy. Suguru’s long deft fingers flash through his mind. Suguru chewing on his lower lip. The way he reached out and thumbed at the corner of Satoru’s mouth during lunch when Satoru had a speck of seaweed. Satoru pants softly, drags his fingers out of his boxers and to his mouth, sucks on them, pretends they’re Suguru’s. It makes him squirm, imagining it, imagining part of Suguru inside him. His thighs clench, his pussy, and he feels— fuck, he wants—

Satoru rolls over onto his stomach, rolls his hips against the bed, slides a hand between his thighs and humps it, the rough of his shorts on his skin. He wonders what Suguru would do if he was here. If he would let Satoru nuzzle into his neck, lick at his skin. He wonders if Suguru would work his thigh between Satoru’s legs for him to grind down on, guide Satoru’s hips for him.

“Fuck.” Satoru mumbles.

He rolls over and trails a hand down his stomach until he gets to his happy trail. He slides his hand under his waistband, presses against his pubic mound, letting his fingers slip down, on either side of his clit, and, fuck, he’s so wet that his fingers slide into his folds easily. He groans, coating his fingers before he lifts them up, watching his slick string between them. He kicks off his shorts and boxers, spreads his legs wide, hiking one up a little, bracing his heel against the wall. He looks down at himself as he spreads his puffy folds, strokes with a finger. He’s wet and red and his clit is out, swollen and pushing the hood back and—

“Fuck.” Satoru mumbles, strokes his finger up and down his pussy. He starts working his clit and it’s so sensitive he twitches and his head falls back against the pillows.

His mind is spinning. He wonders if Suguru would want to see Satoru’s pussy, want to watch him do this. Satoru loves the way Suguru focuses in on him, how dark his eyes get. He wonders if they would get darker, wonders if Suguru’s hands would dig into Satoru’s thighs as he kept Satoru spread for him so that he could watch, so that he could see Satoru come.

He wonders if Suguru would want to touch him.

Satoru whines, works his clit in quick circular motions with two fingers. He imagines Suguru there, kissing his neck, tries to pretend his fingers are Suguru’s. But what would Suguru’s fingers feel like? Satoru knows them on his skin but not— here. His hips kick off the bed a little. Would Suguru tease him? He would tease. Satoru doesn’t want to tease. He wants to come. He wants to be good. He stops touching himself, twisting against the sheets, a sob caught in his throat.

“Suguru,” he breathes, feeling guilty even as he says it, “Suguru, please, please touch me, I want to come.” He traces around his clit, doesn’t touch himself properly. It’s awful. It’s so good. He doesn’t have the restraint to hold off for long, rubs at his clit and then smacks it, which is not a thing he’s ever done before, except lightly in frustration when he gives up on masturbating. It makes his back arch off the bed and, God, would Suguru do that? If Satoru asked him too maybe but— Satoru doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what Suguru would be like. He wants to know. Fuck. He wants to know so bad.

He chants please please please under his breath while he grinds against the heel of his hand before lifting his fingers up to taste himself, sucking on them as he rubs his thighs together with a whimper.

“More.” He begs his empty apartment.

Needy, he thinks Suguru might say. Be patient, he might say. Be good, he would say, just like he did today, whispered low, right in Satoru’s ear.Satoru whines, slides his spit-slick fingers down to twist at his nipple, other hand sliding between his thighs to rub at his clit. His hips kick up into his hand and he gasps, works himself harder.

He’s so close.

“S’guru, gonna—” he chokes out.

At which point someone buzzes his apartment, the doorbell echoing through the room. Satoru jerks, his pussy throbbing. He blinks dazedly at the ceiling, panting helplessly through a sob as the doorbell rings again and then again.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, voice echoing through his door, “come on man, let me in.”

Satoru’s shaking, orgasm ripped right out of his fingertips, pussy clenching around nothing, and Suguru is ringing his doorbell and Satoru doesn’t— he can’t–

“Satoru?” Suguru calls, an edge of concern in his voice.

“Hold on,” Satoru shouts, “fuck, just, wait, I—” He can’t think. He feels like he’s moving through water. He rolls off the bed and nearly falls, legs shaking. “I—” He fumbles for his boxers and puts them on. It makes him hiss, even though they barely touch his cunt and, fuck, his hand is wet, sticky, stringing between his fingers and he doesn’t even look in the mirror he must look— he feels—

“Are you okay?” Suguru calls as Satoru stumbles toward his entryway, tugging his shirt down, trying to steady his breathing.

He swings open the door and stares at Suguru, panting heavily. Suguru looks at him, hand raised like he was gonna maybe knock or use the keypad or something. Suguru blinks once, twice, three times. His eyes sweep slowly down then up then back down Satoru’s body. Satoru tries not to look down at himself too. He’s not sure he wants to know what Suguru sees.

“Uh.” Suguru says, and his face does this thing that Satoru can’t even begin to decipher.

His pussy throbs and he resists the urge to rub his thighs together, cup himself or something. He’s still on edge, wants to be touching himself again. He glances at his hand, tries to wipe it discreetly on his shirt, move it behind his back. He can’t catch his breath.

“I—” He tries. His voice sounds a little wrecked. He clears his throat. “Hello.” He manages.

“I forgot my wallet.” Suguru says after a second. “I got to the train station and realized I didn’t— my train pass is on my phone but I— I was going to stop at the store and needed my ID, I—”

They stare at each other.

“Yeah, no, come in.” Satoru says weakly. “I was just, um, playing switch.”

Suguru stares at him. Satoru stares back and tries to pretend there’s not sweat and possibly his own slick drying on his face. His shirt is sticking to the nipple he was playing with and he’s so fucking wet it’s uncomfortable. Every time he moves his pussy clenches. Jesus. He takes a step back from the door, trying to keep his expression neutral. Suguru takes an uncertain step in, slipping out of his shoes.

“Sorry.” He says after a second. “I was gonna– I know the code so I was going to just let myself in but I was worried you’d be in the shower and I would scare you so I– I didn’t–”

Satoru’s cheeks color thinking about if Suguru had just opened the door and walked in. He tries not to let his mind follow that train of thought like it’s a plot for a bad porn movie but it plays out anyway. Suguru walking in on him. Watching him. Offering to help. Suguru’s mouth on his, traveling down his body, on his—

Satoru clears his throat a few times rapidly and blinks at the floor, hazards a glance up at Suguru. Suguru is looking at him but quickly averts his eyes. Satoru stares for a second as Suguru determinedly looks up at Satoru’s smoke detector like he’s inspecting it or something.

“Fine, I was jerking off.” Satoru says, throwing his hands up in surrender. Suguru’s eyes dart toward him, away, back to Satoru again. “Fuck you, man.”

“Were you—” Suguru pauses, then focuses his gaze at an unidentified spot on Satoru’s ceiling. He’s looking at it so intently Satoru almost looks as well to make sure there’s nothing there. Suguru’s question goes unfinished for a second. Satoru watches his finger play with a hangnail on his thumb, an old habit of his, a tell for nervousness that he’s mostly gotten rid of. “Did you–” Suguru frowns, clears his throat.

“Was I?” Satoru snaps. “Did I?”

“Did you come?” Suguru asks after a second, glancing at Satoru.

“No.” Satoru admits. “I— was very close.”

Suguru winces.

“Sorry.” He says after a second, “didn’t mean to conceptually, like, blue ball you.”

Satoru shrugs.

“Thwarted orgasms are pretty familiar to me.” He says without thinking, thrown by the completely nonsensical turn the night has taken.

“Right.” Suguru says after a second.

“Unfortunately.” Satoru adds. “I mean, usually I’m not, like, close, but this time I definitely would have come, so that’s a bummer.”

“Right.” Suguru says. “Were you—” He starts, stops. “You said it helped if you— I mean, you had said, or asked really, you—” He stops talking and closes his mouth with a little snap, like he has decided to simply never speak again. There’s a pause. “Were you thinking about me?” Suguru asks in a rush, the words blending together like the question escaped his mouth without him meaning for it to.

Satoru blinks, not sure what to say. He’s so confused how they ended up here. Well, they ended up here because he has no boundaries and shared information that Utahime and Shoko later informed him he didn’t need to share but whatever.

Suguru takes a step backwards, toward the door.

“You don’t have to tell me.” He says. “Sorry, ‘toru, that was such an unnecessary question.”

He means it too. Which is probably why Satoru answers.

“I was.” Satoru says. “I mean, you gave me permission and I— it was— helping. A lot.”

There’s a very strange pause. Satoru has the urge to ask if Suguru wants to see what he was doing, give him pointers or something. His hips twitch a little at the thought. God. He feels hysterical. Maybe he is hysterical. Maybe he came and knocked his head on the wall and he’s having some sort of concussion dream as he dies from orgasm induced severe head trauma. What a fucking way to go.

“I should go.” Suguru says, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I can— I’ll just— you can bring me my wallet tomorrow, okay? It’s not a big deal. Sorry about that, ‘toru.”

Satoru blinks, glances up at Suguru, glances down toward Suguru’s socked feet as he turns to leave and– Satoru’s gaze gets stuck because, right before Suguru turns toward the door, Satoru sees it. Suguru is— Suguru is definitely a little chubbed up in his pants. Definitely a little— turned on? Turned on because Satoru was touching himself thinking about Suguru, right? Because he’s thinking about Satoru touching himself, right?

The bad porn plot in his brain takes over right as Suguru, balanced on one socked foot, leans over to grab his shoe.

“Do you want to watch?” Satoru blurts out.

Suguru stumbles forward and knocks into Satoru’s shoe closet.

“What?” He says, turning around to stare at Satoru, crouched on the ground, hair in his mouth, socked foot on the genkan floor, which is how Satoru knows he’s genuinely thrown off, “do I— what?”

“Watch.” Satoru says and then, “Sorry, I— you— nevermind— talk about inappropriate questions, right—”

“Okay.” Suguru says.

“Okay.” Satoru says blankly. “Wait, really?”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean—” Suguru pauses and does that deep breathing thing his therapist taught him. Satoru silently counts the inhale, hold, exhale and tries not to think about the wider implications of what he just pitched to Suguru like it was a standard evening activity. “Do you want me to watch?” Suguru finally asks.

Suguru’s eyes, when they meet Satoru’s, are a little desperate for guidance. Satoru’s not used to Suguru looking at him that way. He speaks without thinking.

“I mean, I was thinking about you watching me so it would track with the fantasy.”

“You were thinking about me watching you.” Suguru repeats in monotone, like he’s in shock.

“Watching me and— saying things.” Satoru continues, figuring he might as well be all in. “Am I ruining our friendship?” He asks, pretty belatedly. “You should really stop me if I’m ruining our—”

“You’re not.” Suguru says. “Just watching?”

“Well, touching a little too. I hadn’t gotten very far in the fantasy, didn’t need to.” Satoru says and Suguru makes a choking sound in response. “Listen—” Satoru wishes to God he knew where he was going with his sentences before he starts them. He’s winging it here. “I think it could be good if you were here because I don’t think I’ll be able to get back to, like, the edge easily, you know? But maybe, if you helped, then I—”

“Right.” Suguru says, putting his shoe back on the ground and stepping back into Satoru’s apartment. “Right.” He repeats. “That makes sense since, like, it was my fault that you didn’t— you know—”

“Yeah.” Satoru says nodding, “so this way I could still— I mean, you can jerk off too, if you— if you wanted— that’s like—”

“Okay.” Suguru says, taking a step toward Satoru.

Satoru takes a step backward. Suguru takes another step forward so Satoru takes another step back and then another until his knees hit the bed. He sits down heavily, blinks up at Suguru.

Honestly, now that he’s got them both here he’s not sure what’s next.

Suguru’s hands flex by his sides like he’s thinking about reaching out to touch. Satoru wants him to. He wants to see what Suguru does. But also this was his idea so he should— steer the ship, so to speak. He scoots back on the bed, wriggling until he’s sitting where he was lying before. Suguru sits down gingerly on the edge and they look at each other.

“This is weird.” Satoru says and laughs a little, fingers finding the hem of his shirt to twist.

“I’ll go.” Suguru says instantly, standing up. “Sorry, this— sorry, Satoru. Don’t worry, okay, we don’t have to mention this again, I—” He looks distressed, turns away like he’s ashamed.

Satoru grabs him by the wrist.

“Wait.” He says softly. His fingers are tacky from touching himself and he blushes, releasing Suguru. Suguru takes his hand back, threads their fingers together.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks, voice soft and gentle.

Satoru is allowed to say yes or can we stop this or can you stay but not to do this and it would be okay. He knows it would be okay. Hell, he could probably get his shorts off, get a finger inside himself, and then tell Suguru actually I don’t want you here and Suguru would be like okay, let me know if you need anything, have a good night and make sure the door was locked on his way out.

Suguru is the safest person Satoru knows, hands down, forever and always. Suguru has stuck with Satoru through pretty much all sorts of shit without even blinking. From the first day they met, even when they were snipping back and forth at each other, Satoru knew he could trust Suguru. Suguru has always been on Satoru’s side. Has never once done anything but be Satoru’s best, most trusted person, in the whole world.

“No.” Satoru says, soft but firm. “I want you to stay. I need you to, actually. I need you to help me.” Suguru likes to help. Satoru wants him to help. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but he wants Suguru.

He always wants Suguru.

“Help you.” Suguru repeats.

Satoru brings their fingers to his mouth, disentangling them, and puts Suguru’s pointer finger on his lower lip. He opens his mouth just slightly so that he can feel Suguru’s fingertip against his teeth. Suguru inhales shakily, pupils darkening as he pushes his finger a little deeper into Satoru’s mouth, pressing against Satoru’s tongue.

Satoru shivers, brain on some sort of static repeat. All he can think is suguru inside me, suguru inside me, suguru inside me. His belly clenches and he squirms, rubbing his thighs together, closing his mouth around Suguru’s finger to suck. He wants it deeper.

“‘toru,” Suguru breathes, his voice low.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Satoru gasps, letting Suguru’s finger fall from his mouth. Suguru’s eyes are so dark. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Satoru repeats, “but I want to be— I want you to—”

“Help you.” Suguru whispers.

“Uh-huh.” Satoru nods, as Suguru slowly pushes him back against the pillows, keeping his eyes trained on Satoru’s face like he’s looking for the slightest hint of hesitation, of anything that will mean stop, mean I’m not sure.

Suguru rubs his thumb against Satoru’s lower lip. Satoru’s dreaming, maybe. He doesn’t want to be dreaming though. He wants this to be real. He opens his mouth so Suguru’s thumb slips in and curls his tongue around it, sucks, watches Suguru’s nostrils flare when he breathes in. Suguru has his other hand flat against Satoru’s chest where Satoru’s heart is thumping wildly, uncertainly, turned on and desperate.

“What were you imagining?” Suguru says softly. “What was I doing?” He slides his thumb deeper in Satoru’s mouth before Satoru can speak. Satoru’s eyes flutter shut then open, a little sound escaping him— Suguru inside him, Suguru inside him, Suguru inside him. “‘toru, why are you making that face?” Suguru breathes, leaning forward as he presses down on Satoru’s tongue, his nose glancing over Satoru’s cheekbone.

“You’re inside me.” Satoru mumbles around Suguru’s thumb.

“Fuck.” Suguru says. “Jesus, ‘toru.” He drags his hand out of Satoru’s mouth, down over his shirt, rucking it up like he’s inspecting, like he can see how Satoru was pinching and twisting at his nipple. Maybe he can. Maybe it’s still shiny from spit and slick. Maybe one is redder than the other. Satoru twists on the bed as Suguru trails the wet pad of his thumb over one of Satoru’s hard nipples then the scar underneath his pec. Suguru’s fingers trail down to the waistband of Satoru’s boxers, rub at the seam. “What were you thinking about while you touched yourself?” He asks again.

“‘s’embarrassing–” Satoru manages to gasp, arching slightly into Suguru’s touch, into his hand flat and low on Satoru’s stomach. He feels dizzy. It feels so good.

“No, it’s not.” Suguru says softly. “It’s hot.”

Satoru shivers, the cool air against his overheated skin. He wriggles a little so he can hook his fingers in his boxers, drag them off. He’s embarrassed as he does it, Suguru fully clothed, sat watching him, his hand leaving Satoru’s stomach and ending up on his ankle. Satoru flushes but doesn’t stop. Bends his knees and spreads his legs so that his dripping cunt is exposed to the cold air. He wonders if he looks slutty. He must, pussy out and legs spread, shirt up over his chest. God, he’s so wet. It’s so embarrassing. He’s so turned on. He whines at the look in Suguru’s eyes, the way Suguru’s fingers squeeze his ankle tightly as he looks between Satoru’s legs.

Satoru clenches his thighs together, resisting the urge to cover his pussy with his hands. Everything in him throbs. He pants quietly, staring at the ceiling, flexing and unflexing his hands by his head. He looks at Suguru, and finds Suguru already looking at him.

“I—” He says. “You—” He pauses. Suguru’s thumb is stroking his ankle bone gently, the touch grounding.

“Want to stop?” Suguru whispers, so soft.

“You were holding my thighs open so you could see, so I couldn’t— couldn’t close them—” Satoru blurts out, pinching his thighs tighter together.

There’s a pause.

Suguru slides one hand up Satoru’s shin to his knee, lifts his other hand to Satoru’s other knee. He locks eyes with Satoru as he pushes Satoru’s legs open, slow and sure, exposing his pussy again. Satoru’s legs jump as Suguru presses them down onto the bed, holding them there firmly by the thighs.

“Was I doing it like this?” Suguru asks quietly, still looking at Satoru’s face. “Were you thinking about me doing it like this?”

“Uh-huh.” Satoru manages, his legs jerking in Suguru’s hold. He wants to cover himself and doesn’t want to all at once. He never wants Suguru to stop looking at him like this— like he’s hungry. Like he wants Satoru. Satoru’s pussy clenches and his hips twitch as Suguru’s gaze travels down his body and between his spread thighs to his cunt.

“Fuck, ‘toru.” Suguru whispers.

Satoru looks down, where Suguru is looking, to see what he sees. Satoru’s pussy is red and wet, lips puffy, entrance just visible, his clit swollen and twitching. He’s so good-embarrassed by the intent way Suguru is looking that it makes him wetter, his thighs trembling with the want to snap shut, Suguru’s hands pressing down to keep them open. Suguru’s gaze is like a brand. Satoru makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“‘toru–” Suguru says and then just stops, like he doesn’t know what the rest of the sentence should be.

“I—” Satoru gasps, head falling back because he can’t look at himself anymore. He covers his face, tries to breathe, all of his muscles trembling. When he moves his hands and flicks his eyes back down, Suguru is still staring at his pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. Satoru’s hips kick at the sudden thought of what it would be like if Suguru ate him out and he makes an embarrassingly loud sound. Suguru’s fingers clench hard on Satoru’s thighs and he looks up at him, eyes wide.

Satoru lets out a shaky breath.

There’s a pause and then–

“Do you want to show me how you touch yourself?” Suguru asks and it’s a real question. His thumb strokes Satoru’s skin, makes him shiver.

Satoru stares at Suguru, nods slowly. He doesn’t move though.

“Show me how you like to touch yourself.” Suguru says, almost a command, voice so calm, liquid and silk.

Satoru wonders if Suguru will call him good boy if he listens. He clenches around nothing at the thought. Suguru watches as Satoru trails his hand down his stomach until he gets to his pussy. He makes his pointer and middle finger into a V, slides them around his clit, down over his lips, spreads himself a little. He can feel his entrance, like, trembling as he leaks. God, he’s so wet.

“M’so wet.” He whispers, unable to stop himself. “I—” His words cut off as Suguru’s hand slides lower on Satoru’s inner thigh to his hip joint, so close to Satoru’s pussy it’s almost like he’s touching. Satoru gasps, rubs his fingers up and down his cunt.

“You don’t usually get this wet?” Suguru murmurs, his thumb stroking Satoru’s skin, eyes locked between his legs.

Satoru shakes his head, bites back a whimper. Only get wet like this if I’m thinking about you, he doesn’t say.

“No? You must like being watched.” Suguru says, voice low. “Is that what it is? You like someone watching you, ‘toru?”

Satoru whimpers, licking at his lip and trying to think. It’s not quite right, what Suguru said. Satoru doesn’t like the thought of a random someone watching him. Doesn’t even like the thought of it being someone famous and hot and who maybe he should want to fuck. Actually, the thought of it being anyone but Suguru makes the arousal in his stomach curdle. He likes Suguru watching him. Suguru’s dark brown eyes. Suguru’s large palms on his inner thighs. Suguru’s gentle voice, rough with what has to be arousal, a low tide dragging Satoru down so prettily.

“You—” Satoru manages. Suguru’s eyes flick up to Satoru’s face and then back down as Satoru dips his fingers between his folds to gather up some wetness, brings his fingers to his swollen clit. He doesn’t really need to, his clit is already wet and slippery because, God, he really is so wet. He’s never gotten this wet naturally. He feels crazed with it, hips kicking up into his hand, his rhythm stuttering. Suguru stops his hips from moving with a press of his hands. “Like you watching me.” Satoru manages.

“Fuck.” Suguru says, as Satoru starts to move his fingers on his clit, watching Suguru’s face, the way his eyes are glued to Satoru’s cunt. Satoru can’t bite back a moan as the heat spreads through his body, electric shocks that make his muscles jump, his breathing go stuttered. “Feels good?” Suguru asks.

Satoru nods, chews on his lower lip. He feels overstimulated and understimulated all at once. He wants more. It’s too much. Suguru watching him, here for real, touching him, stroking his thumb softly over the prickly hairs at the sides of Satoru’s pussy— it’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Feels good.” Satoru breathes, fingers trembling. He slides a finger down over his entrance, pressing at it, strokes his pussy with all of his fingers before he goes back to playing with his clit, flicking at it a little. It makes his hips kick up again, free hand clenching in the sheets. “Do I–” he tosses his head back against the pillows, squeezes his eyes shut tight. “Do I look good?” He manages. “Am I— doing good?”

“So good.” Suguru breathes. “‘toru, you’re so gorgeous.” Suguru’s fingers stroke dangerously close to his folds and Satoru moans softly. “Does it feel good, touching yourself like that?” Suguru asks, voice low in a way Satoru has never heard it. “You’re doing so good, so perfect.” He continues, like he didn’t ask a question or maybe just didn’t expect an answer. “Good boy.” He soothes.

Satoru jolts at the words.

Suguru hums. He’s rubbing gently against the side of Satoru’s pussy like he wants to touch. Satoru wants him to touch. He wants him to so so bad.

“S’guru,” Satoru moans, “can you— I want—” He arches against the bed a little, fingers gliding down to his entrance, still so tight that pushing one fingertip inside makes him whine, hips rolling. “Do you like pussy?” He manages.

“God,” Suguru says, “Satoru, ‘toru, I like your pussy, I like y—are you asking me to— can I—”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Satoru chants, before Suguru can even finish the question. He doesn’t know what Suguru wants to do. He doesn’t really care. Anything, everything, it doesn’t matter— it’s Suguru. Satoru would trust Suguru with anything and then some, has trusted him with so many things already, has trusted him with this. It’s nothing to trust that whatever Suguru does next will be good. Will feel good.

“Satoru,” Suguru whispers, pushing his thighs wider. His fingers are cool on Satoru’s overheated skin, guiding his hands to his thighs to hold them open. Satoru’s toes dig into the bed and he spreads his legs wider when Suguru brushes a knuckle just barely over his wet cunt, does it again, the shadow of a touch.

“Oh fuck,” Satoru whines, “don’t tease, I can’t—”

”Wanna come?” Suguru whispers, lips brushing against Satoru’s inner thigh, as he nuzzles it, still gliding his knuckle up and down Satoru’s pussy. He presses his knuckle against Satoru’s entrance like he wants to see something. Satoru clenches and Suguru groans softly before he speaks. “It’s a shame.” He says, almost like it’s to himself. “Pretty pussy like this and no one makes you come, ‘toru?”

“No one’s ever tried, haven’t wanted anyone– oh, oh– wanted anyone to–” Satoru whines, hips kicking up as Suguru’s knuckle presses a little harder, as he unfolds his finger and strokes Satoru properly. “You’re the only one—the—” Satoru loses his words as Suguru uses the thumb of his other hand to rub Satoru’s clit, just like how Satoru was doing. How did Suguru already figure out how to touch Satoru best? Suguru’s fingers feel so different, pads of them rougher, his touch foreign and soothing all at once. “Suguru—” Satoru gasps, his back arching off the bed.

Suguru presses against Satoru’s entrance with his pinky, Satoru lifting his head to watch as Suguru presses it in, folding his other fingers out of the way. Suguru’s finger, even with how wet Satoru is, is a tight fit. Satoru clenches around it, bearing down. It’s a lot in the best way possible.

“So tight.” Suguru says, sounding like he’s losing his mind, “fuck, ‘toru, you’re so tight, so fucking pretty.”

“M’not,” Satoru mumbles, “I’m— it’s—”

“No one, right?” Suguru says, “no one’s gotten to see this before, gotten to see you like this, ‘toru? Just me?”

“Just—” Satoru whines, his belly unspooling with a heat that keeps growing as Suguru fucks his finger in and out, rubbing his walls, working Satoru’s clit at the same time with his other hand. “Just you— wanna come, want you to make me come, fuck, please, please, Suguru, God, please—”

Suguru pulls his finger out and Satoru sobs at the loss but then Suguru slowly pushes his pointer finger in instead which is— God, Satoru feels full and empty all at once. He can’t understand anything he’s feeling. Suguru’s eyes are so dark, so intent, locked on Satoru. Satoru whines, unable to form the sentence he wants to say.

“Please.” He manages. “S’guru, please.”

“You beg so pretty,” Suguru whispers as he crooks his finger and then he bends down and kisses Satoru’s clit.

Satoru comes so hard his whole body locks up, clenching down enough that it forces Suguru’s finger out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, just waves of pleasure that roll over him from his cunt, up through his stomach. He gasps in air, lets it out in a stuttered moan, can hear Suguru mumbling against his skin– there you go, god, look at you, ‘toru– but all Satoru can focus on is the waves of pleasure, his whole body shaking.

“Oh my God.” Satoru slurs, blinking at the ceiling, his words barely making it out of him. He can feel his pussy clenching around nothing. Suguru kisses Satoru’s trembling thighs as he slides his finger back inside Satoru, drawing a strangled shout from him. “Fuck, fuck—” Satoru grabs at Suguru’s wrist, tries to get his eyes to focus, panting out an approximation of Suguru’s name.

Suguru looks like Satoru has never seen him. There’s an obvious bulge in his pants as he shifts. His eyes are wild but his voice, when he speaks, is calm.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, very seriously, dragging his finger out of Satoru and then up, from Satoru’s entrance to his clit. Satoru gasps, arching off the bed, overstimulated, never wanting this to end. “Do you want me to make you come again?”

“Ah—” Satoru gasps, “I—”

“Do you want to come again?” Suguru repeats slowly, pressing his finger lightly against Satoru’s clit in a way that would almost be soothing, except for the shockwaves it sends up and down Satoru’s body, his thighs trying to clench closed even as Suguru forces them open again, fingers digging into the muscles.

“Yes.” Satoru manages, his gut tightening at the hungry look in Suguru’s eyes. “Yes, yes, please—”

Suguru releases Satoru’s legs and squeezes himself once, adjusting his dick in his pants and, God, Satoru wants to see it, touch it— but then that thought is lost as Suguru slides down on the bed, propping himself up on his forearms. He slides his hands under Satoru’s thighs and tugs him closer, close enough Satoru can feel it on his pussy when Suguru exhales.

“What are you—” Satoru slurs.

“I’m going to eat you out.” Suguru says matter of factly.

Satoru sort of yelps in surprise, falling back against the bed as Suguru’s hands slide under his ass a little and drag his hips forward. Satoru goes to say, like, anything, really, but then Suguru’s mouth is on his pussy and words are so far from a thing he knows how to use.

He’s never— he doesn’t know—

Suguru kisses his clit gently, hands sliding up around his thighs to hold him open. Satoru moans, legs flexing at the sensation, body in overdrive. Suguru hums in response, licking long and slow from Satoru’s entrance up to his clit, does it again, then again, like he wants to taste Satoru, wants him all over his tongue.

“Suguru,” Satoru gasps, “oh God–”

“Mmm,” Suguru hums and his tongue circles Satoru’s clit slowly, like how his fingers did, pressing on it with the flat of it, using the tip to trace it. Satoru is so overstimulated that his hips keep jerking. He honestly can’t tell if he’s trying to move away from or toward Suguru’s mouth. It feels so good that tears prick in Satoru’s eyes.

When Suguru sucks hard on Satoru’s swollen clit, Satoru’s hand flies to Suguru’s head with a shout, tangling in his hair. Satoru tugs lightly and then harder as Suguru groans against his pussy, the vibrations of Suguru’s mouth on Satoru’s clit enough to wrack his body with overstimulated shakes. He’s making sounds he didn’t know he could make. He’s feeling things he didn’t know he could feel.

“Suguru,” he whispers, trying to stop himself from grinding up against Suguru’s mouth, his tongue. Suguru’s hands tilt his hips up, encourage him in his movements.

“Yeah, like that.” Suguru breathes, lapping over Satoru’s pussy with his tongue. Suguru squeezes one of Satoru’s thighs before he releases it, pulling that hand back to slip between his folds. Suguru’s finger slides inside Satoru easily, Satoru wet and relaxed from his orgasm. Satoru gasps, tugging at Suguru’s hair, as Suguru fucks his finger in and out, playing with Satoru’s clit with his tongue.

“More?” Suguru says into Satoru’s pussy. “You can take two, ‘toru.” Satoru barely hears, grinding down on Suguru’s hand, up into his mouth. He only fully comprehends what Suguru said when he feels the stretch of two of Suguru’s thick fingers pushing into him.

“Oh—” Satoru gasps, and that’s all he comes up with, overwhelmed and unable to draw in a proper breath to say anything else. It’s more than he’s ever had inside of him. It’s Suguru, inside of him. He forces himself to relax, a moan stuck in his throat, as Suguru sucks and kisses his clit.

Suguru fucks him shallowly with his fingers, stretching his entrance, as he licks over Satoru’s clit teasingly. Satoru arches off the bed, the wet squelching sound of Suguru finger fucking him and lapping at his pussy at the same time equal parts embarrassing and arousing.

“You taste sweet.” Suguru says, pulling back, chin covered in Satoru’s slick, and then bends his head again, working up and down Satoru’s cunt with his mouth, licking around where his fingers are buried in Satoru, crooked just right and massaging his inner walls. Satoru sobs as Suguru spreads his fingers and licks between them, inside Satoru. His other hand holds Satoru’s thigh down firmly, before he lifts it so his thumb can rub the underside of Satoru’s clit, elbow pinning Satoru’s leg to the bed.

“Oh my God,” Satoru babbles, trying to draw in air, words broken around sobs, “oh my God. Please, Suguru— I need, need you—”

”Yeah,” Suguru practically purrs, the vibrations against Satoru’s pussy sending another tremor through him. Suguru pulls his finger out and rubs two fingers up and down Satoru’s cunt, rubbing his clit, toying with it, “you need me, hm?”

“Yes.” Satoru begs. “Please.”

Suguru pushes his fingers back inside Satoru with a wet sound, deeper, fucking them in and out faster. It’s so loud and filthy sounding and it makes Satoru feel like he’s going to come. It’s so much. So good. Satoru moans, fingers clawing at Suguru’s hair, his neck, as Suguru sucks on Satoru’s clit hard.

“I’m—” Satoru gasps, tugging at Suguru’s hair. He lifts a hand up and covers his mouth, sucks on his fingers, bites at the heel of his hand. He’s overwhelmed. It’s so much. Something is different too, he doesn’t— his hips jerk up into Suguru’s face, pussy clenching around Suguru’s fingers, and Suguru doesn’t stop, doubles down, and it’s— Satoru is— he’s— “I don’t—” he manages around another sob, the words crashing into one another, “wait, S’guru, something— it’s—”

“You can come,” Suguru groans, still finger fucking him, rubbing his face against Satoru’s wet pussy like he wants Satoru all over him, like he’s never tasted anything better, “God, fuck, you can come, ‘toru—”

“I—” Satoru tries to explain, as Suguru starts working his clit again. He can feel something building in his belly, all-consuming, and he’s not sure what’s happening. He’s going to come. He’s going to come.

Suguru teeth scrape lightly on his clit and Satoru would scream but all the air is punched out of him as his muscles spasm, his eyes rolling back as he comes hard, harder than he ever has. He clenches down and feels something hot and wet coming out of him, spraying out of him.

“Oh God,” he slurs through sobs, nails digging into Suguru’s neck, “Oh God—” He can’t talk properly, at all, can’t suck in air, can’t remember how to breathe. He’s not sure what’s happening— he’s peeing maybe, peeing on Suguru, but that— he—

Tremors wrack through Satoru’s body and he sobs through his orgasm, pleasure overwhelming, trying to look down at Suguru through his tears. Suguru, who is looking up at him with desperate eyes, mouth still pressed against Satoru’s aching pussy.

Satoru quivers as the intensity slowly starts to diminish into aftershocks. He tries to formulate a thought but barely can. Whatever was coming out of him though, Suguru doesn’t seem upset. The opposite, really, he has his fingers still half buried in Satoru, tongue lapping at Satoru’s pussy as he humps the bed, groaning lowly—

A final violent shiver rolls through Satoru’s body and he unclenches his hands from the sheets with a whimper. He twitches, letting out a desperate little ah sound as Suguru licks over his clit a final time. He lifts up, his face dripping with Satoru, and slowly pulls his fingers out of Satoru’s pussy, watching as he does. Satoru can feel himself trembling, twitching, clenching around air and Suguru, eyes locked on him, licks his lips like he’s going to start eating Satoru out again. Satoru groans, twisting a little. The bed underneath him is soaked and Suguru is dripping with Satoru, not just his face but his arm, wet up past his wrist.

“I—” Satoru tries to say, slurred and trembling, “I—” His brain struggles to formulate a thought. He didn’t pee, he doesn’t think. He squirted, maybe? Did he squirt? He didn’t think that was real. He thought it was a thing for porn. “S’guru—” He says weakly.

Suguru pushes himself up to his knees with a soft sound. His eyes are trained on Satoru’s dripping cunt as he unzips his pants, gets his hand in his boxers. His hand that— fuck, that was inside Satoru, that’s wet with Satoru. Suguru’s jerking himself off fast, gaze flicking between Satoru’s face and his pussy, pressing Satoru’s thigh to keep his legs mostly spread, even as Satoru’s body jerks unconsciously to try to close them, so overstimulated even the air makes him ache.

Satoru wants to see Suguru’s hand working on his dick, wants it to be his hand on Suguru’s dick, wants his mouth on Suguru’s dick. He wants Suguru to come on him, wants Suguru’s cum mixed with his wetness, wants it all over his pussy, wants Suguru’s cum inside him, he wants— fuck.

Fuck.

“S’guru—” Satoru’s shaking as he tries to lift up, reaching for Suguru, for Suguru’s hand to grab. He brings Suguru’s free hand to his mouth, lets his tongue twist around Suguru’s fingers, fingers that were on Satoru’s clit, working him to the best orgasm he’s ever had, will ever have maybe. He tastes himself and the sweat of Suguru’s skin and he— “S’guru,” he babbles around Suguru’s fingers, tears still leaking out of his eyes. Another aftershock trembles through him and he shakes, wet and aching, such a good ache, satisfied for once, “S’guru,” he manages, “you made me feel s’good.”

Suguru’s body tenses, fingers hooking on Satoru’s lower teeth. Satoru watches as his mouth falls open in a groan. He stutters out Satoru’s name as he comes, which sends Satoru’s gut clenching. Suguru collapses forward over Satoru, pressing him into the bed, half on top of him, a hot dampness on Satoru’s thigh that he can feel despite how wet everything is. Suguru shakes against him, a mumbling words Satoru can’t quite hear, his ears still ringing from his orgasm.

Satoru flying. He feels so good. He wants to do that every day. Will Suguru want to do that every single day with him forever, maybe?

“Holy fuck.” Satoru says to the ceiling when he gets his words back for real. He’s still trembling a little, aftershocks racing sporadically up and down his spine. “I didn’t pee on you, right?” He asks, just to confirm.

Suguru laughs breathlessly into Satoru’s shoulder, pressing something like a kiss to his skin.

“No.” Suguru says, rolling off of him with a groan. “That was not pee, Satoru.”

“Well damn.” Satoru says.

Suguru grunts.

They stare up at the ceiling. Satoru feels dazed and— wet. He shivers.

“Fuck, that was hot.” Suguru mumbles. “Fuck. ‘toru—”

“I’m cold.” Satoru says. “Clammy, if you will.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, shoves at Satoru’s shoulder like he’s going to tell him off, but then he goes to turn on the shower for Satoru, draw him a bath. Satoru gets up after a minute on shaky legs, his pussy aching when he washes himself, a good ache, his core settled. When he gets back, Suguru has stripped the bed, replaced his sheets, and the washing machine is running.

He flops onto the bed and gives the general direction of Suguru a thumbs up.

“Please,” he slurs, “do not make me go to bed alone tonight. I am begging you, my man.”

“There’s something wrong with you.” Suguru says, but he’s stripping off the shirt and shorts he borrowed while Satoru was in the shower and heading into the bathroom. Satoru totally definitely does not sneak a peek at his ass. He’s kidding, he does. He’s seen it before, but it’s really a work of art.

“Fuck.” Satoru mumbles to himself as his pussy, like, throbs. Even his loosest boxers are so much against his oversensitive skin. He closes his eyes, batting at the remote to turn the lights down. Honestly he’s pretty much dead to the world by the time Suguru gets back from his shower, but he curls into him, wanting Suguru’s body heat and the smell of him, the feel of him. Suguru wraps his arms around Satoru and pulls him close.

Satoru wakes up the next morning to Suguru’s morning wood pressed against his thigh. This has happened before honestly. Not often, but it has. It’s part of sharing a bed with your best friend who happens to have a dick. Satoru usually just ignores it and goes back to sleep or shifts delicately away, but this morning it makes his pussy sort of pulse. He has a weird flash vision of stripping off his shorts, climbing on top of Suguru, and seeing how big Suguru’s dick is when it’s hard, seeing if it fits inside him.

He wonders what Suguru would do if he did.

Satoru’s whole body flushes with heat. He sucks in a breath and goes to pull away— he doesn’t need to cross any not previously discussed somnophilia boundaries, thank you. Suguru makes a muffled sound in his sleep, pressing his nose to Satoru’s neck, pulling him closer. His dick, solid and thick, rubs on Satoru’s thigh. It’s doing a lot for Satoru, frankly. He doesn’t even think Suguru’s fully hard.

Satoru squirms, pinching his thighs together. He can feel himself getting wet. Suguru grunts in his sleep and Satoru wriggles harder, his core filled with molten heat. What the fuck. He shouldn’t be horny after last night. It’s unbelievable. It defies rationality.

Suguru, of course, wakes up his usual grumpy morning self at Satoru’s wiggling. He makes a sound of displeasure, slides his hand from Satoru’s hip to his belly, and presses it flat.

“Stop wriggling,” he grunts.

“Or fucking what.” Satoru says, for no reason except that he likes to rile Suguru up.

Suguru blinks open his eyes balefully and looks at Satoru for a second before something like understanding dawns in his expression. Satoru feels himself blush, averts his eyes, and stares determinedly at the ceiling, doing his damnedest not to move a muscle. Suguru spreads his hand wider, fingers splaying lower, brushing at Satoru’s happy trail where it’s peeking out of his boxers.

“Hmm.” Suguru hums when Satoru shivers. He pauses there, stroking the coarse hairs, until Satoru shifts slightly, opening his legs. He can just see Suguru’s smile out of the corner of his eye as Suguru’s fingers dip between Satoru’s thighs, find the damp spot on his boxers. “What’s this?” Suguru asks, lifting up on his elbow and raising an eyebrow. Satoru frowns at him, tries not to give Suguru the satisfaction of begging for it even as he spreads his legs a little wider to give Suguru better access.

“Nothing.” He huffs.

“You’re soaked, ‘toru.” Suguru says, in his damningly husky morning voice, nosing at Satoru’s cheek.

Satoru slides his fingers into the bird’s nest of Suguru’s morning hair and tugs Suguru’s face toward his like he’s gonna kiss him. He sorta wants to, teeth unbrushed and everything. That’s a thought to unpack another time.

He pulls Suguru’s hair hard.

Next thing Satoru knows, Suguru’s got two fingers hooked in Satoru’s pussy and is sucking a hickey into his neck, licking over the bruised skin as Satoru whines and grinds up against the hard heel of Suguru’s hand. He comes with a gasp, arching off the bed. Suguru pulls his hand out of Satoru’s boxers, holds it up. Satoru pants and watches his wetness string between Suguru’s fingers before it snaps.

“Want me—?” Satoru tries to say, struggling to catch his breath. He motions toward where Suguru is clearly fully hard, tenting his borrowed shorts.

Suguru doesn't answer, pushing the covers off of himself and sliding down on the bed. He taps at Satoru’s hips, gets him to lift them and tugs Satoru’s boxers off.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, staring at Satoru’s twitching pussy.

“Don’t stare—” Satoru starts but he loses the sentence as Suguru licks a broad stroke up his cunt, moaning softly to himself, and then he’s licking into Satoru, spreading Satoru’s folds with his thumbs. His tongue pushes deep into Satoru not long after, a finger rubbing lightly on his clit, and Satoru shudders out another orgasm, sooner than he would have thought possible, clenching down on Suguru’s tongue as his whole body convulses.

Suguru doesn’t stop, just groans against Satoru’s pussy, mouth traveling up to his clit as his finger presses inside.

Satoru’s alarm goes off after Satoru’s third orgasm of the morning. Suguru looks up at Satoru blearily, face wet, lips swollen, and makes a disgruntled sound at the interruption. He fumbles for the phone, snoozes the alarm, buries himself back between Satoru’s thighs.

“You’re gonna kill me.” Satoru wheezes. “Not complaining just— oh fuck, like that, please, please, please—”

Suguru makes Satoru come again, rubs his swollen clit through it, his orgasm a burning flood in his shaking body. And then Suguru places another sweet soft kiss to Satoru’s twitching clit like he’s not done yet. Satoru whole-body shudders. Suguru sucks a hickey into his thigh and then another one and just when Satoru’s about to be like, okay, maybe actually he can go again, Suguru’s alarm goes off.

Suguru glares at his phone.

“You have—” Satoru gasps, as Suguru silences his phone and presses a wet finger against Satoru’s entrance, “work, S’guru, you— have to—” He kicks Suguru in the shoulder blade a little hard to get Suguru to look up at him, grumpy frown on full display. “You have to go to work.” Satoru says, impressively coherently he thinks, given that Suguru still has a finger pressing into his pussy and Satoru’s brain is melting out of his ears.

Suguru groans in displeasure, bends his head to press a lingering kiss to Satoru’s pussy. He stays there for a bit, face buried in Satoru’s cunt while Satoru struggles to breathe, chest heaving. After a few moments, and another gentle kick from Satoru, Suguru pushes himself out of bed. He squeezes Satoru’s ankle and mumbles something that sounds like stay there as he heads toward the bathroom.

Satoru stares at his ceiling in a total stupor, shaking occasionally from orgasm aftershocks, pussy pulsing between his thighs.

He stands up on shaky legs after a few minutes, feeling like a newborn horse. He wipes himself down a little perfunctorily with his newly ruined sheets– Suguru makes Satoru unfathomably wet, it’s wild, frankly– and heads to his kitchen to make Suguru coffee. Suguru comes out of the bathroom still looking so sleepy, holding a warm washcloth. He cleans Satoru up a bit as Satoru pokes around in his fridge and finds Suguru something that approximates a proper breakfast.

“Thank you.” Suguru mumbles, clearly still half asleep. He wraps Satoru in one of those back hugs that make Satoru’s heart pound funny. “You didn’t have to, could have stayed in bed, ‘toru.”

Satoru hums in response as he finishes putting together a rice bowl for Suguru. It’s not Satoru’s best work in the breakfast department– microwave rice, furikake, and a pickled plum– but definitely not his worst either. Also, Satoru’ll be damned if he sends Suguru away after all that without a meal. Suguru makes a sort of leering face at him and said he already had a meal but he’s interested in seconds. Satoru makes a face at him, even though he’s actually sort of mad he didn’t see that coming, and tells Suguru he had seconds and thirds and also fourths so to eat his damn rice.

Things devolve into their normal back and forth after that. Satoru makes himself a much milkier and sweeter coffee to nurse while he chatters and Suguru wakes up, and then he slaps Suguru’s ass in goodbye when Suguru heads off to the train station.

Satoru waits for a wave of confusing emotions or something once Suguru leaves but they don’t come. He drinks his coffee and attempts to look at some emails before he finds himself distracted by a text from Suguru about the temple cat that lives near Satoru’s house looking extra cute today, picture included. Satoru sends some appropriate memes in response and makes sure he has a Churu in his bag to give the cat on his way to TA. He showers and cleans up and gets dressed and actually responds to some emails and his pussy throbs gently between his thighs and like–

That’s sort of all?

The temple cat is super cute, today as always. Satoru sends Suguru a picture of said cat enjoying its treat and then takes the train to the university, like he always does.

A lot of things, actually, are like they always are. It’s a bizarrely normal day considering the fact that, in the past 24 hours, Satoru came more times than he has in his entire life or expected to come over the course of the next, like, decade– and all on the fingers and tongue of his best friend.

He meets up with everyone at an izakaya for dinner and drinks, Satoru fights with Utahime, Suguru gives him the best bits of the food they get— it’s incredibly normal. Suguru heads home because he has an early morning, but not before he and Satoru engage in a brief scuffle by the station because Satoru says Suguru’s lame for not going to the arcade with him and Suguru says Satoru’s lame for still playing arcade games just to piss him off.

That’s sort of it. Which makes sense, of course. That was clearly a one-off thing. Twice off, if you count the morning, Satoru supposes. Although, if the morning was a continuation of the night before, which it was from a logistics standpoint, then one off.

Either way.

Not that Satoru doesn’t keep thinking about it, but things are still the same between him and Suguru. Satoru sees no reason to disturb a balance that has always treated him well. They don’t talk about what happened but not in a weird way. They just don’t particularly talk about it. Things are busy over the next few days and most of their hanging out is typical them hanging out.

It’s like— Satoru wouldn’t say no if it came up again, but that was a weird fever-dream of a situation where all the freaky ducks aligned or whatever. He understands that was an outlier, not their new reality. Which is fine. Satoru got to have some of the best sex he thinks he will ever have, conclusively proved to himself (had it proven to him, really) that he can have mind-shattering orgasms, multiple ones even, and got to experience all of that with the person he trusts most in the entire world. Not a bad deal at all. Best possible outcome maybe, except that now Satoru wants Suguru all the time. Although that’s not, like, new-new, it just has a whole new layer added to it.

Although there is the thing where, after that, Satoru can’t come again.

And it’s not that he’s not been trying, riding on the high of that night and Suguru’s hands and fucking mouth on him. He’s been so horny. So fucking horny he doesn’t know what to do. When he tries to touch himself his fingers feel wrong and he misses Suguru’s tongue and he wants to see Suguru come, like actually come. He wants to make him come, wants to kiss him, wants Suguru to give him more hickies.

He has bruises from Suguru’s mouth on his inner thigh and the only time he orgasms, not nearly as hard, after about thirty minutes of work, is when he presses hard on the biggest one and remembers the way Suguru’s face was dripping with him, how even his eyelashes were wet with Satoru.

Satoru pants at the ceiling after, whole body a live wire, and then rolls over and screams briefly into his pillow.

“Fuck.” He mumbles when he lifts his head for air, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 

 

 

“So, we have a problem.” Satoru announces, throwing himself into Suguru’s apartment the next day. He figures why not just— go all in. Fuck around and find out, if you will. Hopefully positively. Suguru is either gonna be like great, let me eat you out again or he’s going to be like I thought that was a one time thing, I wasn’t planning to become your friend with benefits. Either way, at least Satoru will know and they can, you know, go from there. He knows that he’s probably being a bit ‘all cards on the table’ or what have you but— it’s Suguru. Satoru could say whatever he wants, however he wants, and Suguru would listen to him. Hear him out fully. Talk it through with him.

“A problem?” Suguru asks, jolting Satoru out of his thoughts.

“I haven’t been able to come.” Satoru says bluntly.

Suguru blinks at him. Satoru blinks back.

“Do you want to come?” Suguru asks after a moment.

“Yes.” Satoru says. “Obviously.” He adds with a frown.

“Right.” Suguru says and then, like he’s being careful. “To clarify, are you saying you want to come now or just conceptually you want to be able to?”

“Yes.” Satoru agrees.

Suguru blinks at him.

“Both.” Satoru says, exasperated.

“Are you asking for my help?” Suguru asks. “I’m not sure what the—”

“Please.” Satoru very much does not beg, but it might be a close thing. “Is it— am I asking too much? You can say no, you can tell me to stop, I just—”

“Like one time?” Suguru says.

“Or like— continuously. For the foreseeable future.” Satoru says cautiously. “If perhaps, you would be into that.”

Suguru puts his bookmark into the book he is reading with exaggerated care and closes it very carefully, and then holds out a hand. Satoru walks over to take it and Suguru gets a leg behind his knee, knocks him onto his back.

“I would be into that.” Suguru says. He looks like he sorta wants to kiss Satoru. Satoru wants him to. He thinks about lifting up, taking what he wants, but he doesn’t know where the line is. He clears his throat.

Suguru laughs a little, winks at him, and then reaches between them and gets Satoru’s jeans unbuttoned. He lifts up and off Satoru entirely, helping Satoru wiggle out of his pants and boxers, leaving him just in the sweater he came over in. Satoru pulls the ends of the sleeves over his hands as Suguru spreads Satoru’s thighs, stroking over his pussy softly with a thumb.

“Ah–” Satoru gasps at the contact, arching up into the touch he was somehow unprepared for.

“You’re already wet.” Suguru says wonderingly, rubbing a little harder with his thumb, up and down, up and down. He looks like he’s entranced. Satoru chews on his lip and sighs softly at the touch, shifting to get comfortable. The muscles in his ass and thighs contract and release without him meaning for them to.

“Come on.” Satoru whispers, when Suguru doesn’t do anything else. He’s shaking with anticipation. “Suguru, I want you to make me come. Well, if you even can make me come again, I guess.” He adds, being as much of a brat as he can manage. He’s aching.

“Oh, I can.” Suguru says, like he’s not paying Satoru much mind.

“Sure, bud.” Satoru says, wriggling against Suguru’s fingers. All evidence says Suguru can and absolutely will but like. Satoru’s gotta have— pride. Or something.

Suguru slides off the side of the bed and drags Satoru with him, kneels so he’s even with Satoru’s pussy. He presses his face to Satoru’s cunt like he wants to breathe him in, nose bumping Satoru’s clit and making him whimper, bite his tongue. Suguru settles between Satoru’s thighs like he belongs there, like it’s his favorite place to be and presses teasing kisses everywhere but where Satoru wants him to. Although Satoru sorta wants kisses from Suguru everywhere, if he’s being honest with himself.

“Sugu—” Satoru starts to say, and then Suguru licks him all the way up his cunt, pressing on his clit with the flat of his tongue. Satoru moans and Suguru makes a low sound in response, repeats the motion. Satoru presses his hands over his mouth to try to muffle himself, knows he’s being too loud. Suguru pulls him even closer by the ass, strong hands massaging him, one reaching up to tug at Satoru’s arm, get his hands off his face.

Satoru blinks down at him, gasping for air.

Suguru smirks in a way that makes Satoru’s gut swirl in anticipation.

“Say when.” Suguru tells him and then presses his hot open mouth to Satoru’s pussy.

Suguru’s always been an overachiever, Satoru thinks wildly, when he starts to lose count of how many times he’s come or if he’s even coming anymore as singular events. It’s this constant overstimulated mess of feelings and pleasure and emotions, Suguru’s hair under his hands, Suguru’s mouth, his tongue lapping at the underside of Satoru’s clit, his fucking fingers.

Satoru’s crying, drooling a little, and can’t seem to care, can’t stop the sounds falling out of his mouth, pride be damned.

“Suguru,” Satoru manages, “ah, Sug— S’guru—” he tugs at Suguru’s hair, whining loudly as Suguru licks around his clit. Suguru travels up his body easily at Satoru’s urging, pausing to suck at his nipple, bite lightly, mouth at his chest. Satoru arches off the bed but doesn’t get far, Suguru’s broad body holding him down. Suguru noses into Satoru’s neck and kisses his collarbones, finger still rubbing the lightest circle on Satoru’s oversensitive and swollen clit. “When,” Satoru begs, trying to find words, “S’guru, I— when—”

“One more,” Suguru breathes, sucking at his jawline, “one more, ‘toru, for me?”

Satoru nods without realizing he’s going to, wanting to make Suguru pleased in a marrow-deep way, wanting Suguru to be proud of him, think he’s good.

“Good boy.” Suguru breathes, mouth so close, like he’s going to kiss Satoru– and then his fingers are inside Satoru again and Satoru loses his train of thought, head tilting back in a loud gasp.

Satoru didn’t even know three fingers could fit inside him, but Suguru makes it happen, makes it feel easy, makes Satoru feel like he can take anything, if it’s Suguru giving it to him. Suguru spreads his fingers inside Satoru, his hard dick poking into Satoru’s hip and Satoru’s eyes roll back in his head as he comes.

“Good boy.” He vaguely hears Suguru whisper through the blood thrumming in his ears and then the slick sounds of Suguru jerking himself off. “God, you’re so perfect, Satoru.”

Satoru’s so oversensitive he can’t even put on pajamas to sleep and hisses when he pees the next morning. His pussy is still a little puffy, aches to the touch. It’s a good ache, like he can still feel Suguru’s thick fingers inside him. The only bad thing about it is how it makes him feel empty in a way he’s never felt before. He glares at Suguru who seems entirely unrepentant, lounging on the bed shirtless.

“My pussy.” Satoru says accusingly.

“Want me to kiss it better?” Suguru asks, making a very annoying kissy face at him.

“No.” Satoru says, smacking Suguru with a t-shirt hard across the chest. Suguru covers his nipples and rolls off the bed with a laugh, dancing out of the way when Satoru snaps the shirt at him again. “Yes.” Satoru says without thinking.

They both freeze. Satoru’s not sure who blinks first, he just knows he blinks and then he’s on his back again, Suguru’s ceiling a familiar sight as Suguru crawls between his legs, pressing his thighs open.

Suguru eats him out so slowly that Satoru thinks he’s going to go crazy, and manages to make his touch so gentle that, despite how raw Satoru’s cunt feels, there’s only pleasure.

“This could take awhile—” Satoru gasps when he feels the tight feeling in his stomach loosen a little, orgasm receding. Satoru’s honestly not entirely sure he’s going to be able to come again, despite how fucking good this feels, like that part of him might be a little depleted at the moment, but Suguru doesn’t seem to care.

“Mmm,” Suguru says, pressing a biting kiss to his inner thigh, “that’s fine.” His hair is wrecked from Satoru’s hands and his pupils are blown wide. He licks his lips, thumb stroking Satoru’s folds. “That’s very fine, ‘toru.”

Satoru doesn’t even get to ask what the hell that means before Suguru is back in his pussy, tonguing lightly at his clit, thumbing at his perineum.

The orgasm that Suguru coaxes out of him is a gentle tide, feels endless as it rolls over his body. Suguru doesn’t stop, keeps tonguing and sucking at Satoru’s swollen clit, rubbing his pussy and massaging his entrance. Every part of Satoru is so overstimulated that he ends up squirting, body shaking. He can’t stop saying Suguru’s name the entire time. He’s not sure if it’s a prayer or a plea.

He’s, like, very late for his TA hours.

 

 

 

After that— event— well.

After that Satoru is not sure what the fuck is going on.

He and Suguru do exactly everything they always do, but also Suguru eats him out or fingers him every chance he gets, like Satoru’s pussy is directly connected to his life force or something. It’s like he’s some sort of pussy vampire that drinks Satoru’s cum, that thrives when Satoru squirts. Suguru is in between Satoru’s thighs, nose pressed to his clit, tongue-fucking him like his life depends on it, at a moment’s notice. Sometimes less than a moment’s notice. It’s like he’s obsessed. He says he’s obsessed, looks so long and intently at Satoru’s pussy that Satoru wants to pinch his thighs together. He blushes all the way down his chest as Suguru calls him cute and pretty and so fucking gorgeous, tells him his cunt’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Except for my face—” Satoru says, voice breaking into a moan as Suguru works a second finger inside him and sucks on his clit. “Too much— it’s too mu—”

“Except for your face.” Suguru agrees and that’s actually too much, for some reason, and Satoru shakes as he comes, leaking all over Suguru’s hand and wrist.

Satoru’s just as obsessed, if he’s being honest.

Suguru really likes when Satoru sits on his face, which has been embarrassing the first time, Satoru not sure what he should do and concerned he would hurt Suguru. Suguru had licked at him and blown air softly over his clit and hole until Satoru had sat down unsteadily, half without meaning to. Suguru groaned like a man dying and held him steady by the hips, encouraging him with gentle fingers, moaning into Satoru’s pussy like he’s never experienced anything better than having his air flow cut the fuck off by Satoru’s cunt. Satoru thought maybe Suguru was exaggerating his sounds of enjoyment or something, but Suguru ended up coming in his pants from it, rubbing his dick with one hand through his sweats, the other pressing against the small of Satoru’s back and guiding him through the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

Satoru’s pretty into it now too, likes grinding down on Suguru’s face, holding himself steady on the wall or the bookcase or memorably one time the kitchen cabinets, while Suguru groans underneath him. He likes the way Suguru plays with his clit and sucks and licks at him, lets Satoru fuck himself on Suguru’s tongue. He likes how Suguru’s hands spread Satoru’s ass, rub slowly at his hole like he wants to fingerfuck him there while his tongue fucks him in the front. Satoru thinks he’d like that. He thinks he’d like a lot of things, if they were with Suguru.

Although what’s wild, and really starting to piss Satoru off, is the fact that at this point it’s been nearly two weeks and it’s not reciprocal. Suguru gets Satoru off and jerks himself off or humps the bed while he eats Satoru out and makes Satoru come so hard he sees stars– but Satoru still hasn’t touched Suguru. Like, he has not gotten his hands on Suguru’s cock even a little bit, not even just the tip or anything. Satoru wants to. He wants to so bad.

They still haven’t kissed either, which is making Satoru a little crazy. He got hot and bothered thinking about making out with Suguru the other night, got so wet he almost touched himself. He called Suguru and had Suguru talk him through it on the phone, came with two fingers inside himself and Suguru’s voice in his ear.

It was life changing.

Satoru sucks on his fingers while Suguru eats him out and pretends he’s sucking Suguru’s cock.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, kissing up Satoru’s stomach, pushing his shirt out of the way to get to Satoru’s chest. His fingers are rubbing slowly at Satoru’s cunt and Satoru whimpers, tangling his wet fingers in Suguru’s hair.

Suguru lifts his head to Satoru’s neck, kisses the thin skin above where his pulse is thudding, kisses up under his jaw, sucks lightly.

“Yeah,” Satoru breathes, “yeah— yeah, that’s—” The combination of Suguru sucking a hickey into his neck, one hand moving on his clit, rubbing and pinching at the hood, nearly tips Satoru over the edge. He moans brokenly, clutching at Suguru.

Suguru lifts up to look at him, pupils blown like he’s the one who has come three times already, face wet with Satoru, mouth red and swollen.

“Suguru,” Satoru pants, clutching at his face, bringing their mouths nearly together. Suguru’s eyes flick to Satoru’s mouth. Satoru wants to kiss him. He wants it to be okay. He wants to ask but can’t gather the words, mind a fuzzy beautiful blank of pleasure. Suguru’s fingertip circles his clit and Satoru’s body jumps with stimulation, his eyes closing as their noses knock. He blinks open teary eyes to lock gazes with Suguru. “Suguru.” He repeats.

“Can I kiss you?” Suguru asks like he’s begging.

Satoru nods, maybe moans, please. He’s not sure.

Suguru surges forward, kisses him with a sound like a whimper, like he was waiting, like he wanted it, fingers losing their rhythm on Satoru’s clit.

Satoru’s not very experienced with kissing. He can’t quite keep up, doesn’t know what he’s doing. He feels his mouth go lax as Suguru licks into it. He tries to keep his shaking hands on Suguru’s face to steady himself. He whines when the kiss breaks, Suguru pulling back slightly, eyes scanning Satoru’s face like he’s making sure he’s okay.

“God,” Suguru breathes, nosing at Satoru’s cheek. Satoru wants to ask if he’s doing okay, tell Suguru he’s sorry if he’s a bad kisser he just doesn’t know how, but Suguru brings their mouths back together and licks back into Satoru’s almost instantly, like Satoru’s good at it, like Satoru’s making him feel good. He keeps murmuring Satoru’s name against his lips and that’s enough for Satoru, especially when Suguru’s teeth scrape over his tongue.

He grinds up against Suguru and is so overstimulated that he bites Suguru accidentally, teeth digging into Suguru’s lip when Suguru pinches his clit.

“Fuck.” Suguru whispers, pulling back a little, the way he does whenever Satoru is about to come, eyes locked on Satoru’s face. Satoru’s fingers scramble as he tips over the edge, legs clenching together and fingers digging into Suguru’s back and shoulders, drawing a hiss from him.

“You’re so pretty when you come,” Suguru murmurs, as Satoru slowly re-enters reality, “here too,” Suguru says, sitting up and pushing Satoru’s legs open. He strokes Satoru’s quivering cunt, his throbbing clit.

“Kiss me again.” Satoru whispers.

Suguru glances at him and Satoru has a horrible half-second where he thinks he’s somehow overstepped, misread everything, and then Suguru is kissing him again, like it’s as important as breathing, cupping Satoru’s pussy and letting him shake, kick up against his hand for the pressure as aftershocks tremble through his body.

Suguru is so hard, against Satoru’s side.

“Am I good at it?” Satoru gasps, when Suguru breaks the kiss, kissing the side of his mouth, the corner of his eye, his nose, “I don’t— I don’t know how to kiss, I don’t— teach me.” He begs, hand sliding to cup Suguru in his pants. Suguru jerks. “Teach me this too.” Satoru whispers. “Please? If you want?” He thumbs at where he thinks the head of Suguru’s cock is, presses in on it, the damp spot on Suguru’s sweats.

“What—” Suguru groans and his hips kick forward like he doesn’t mean them to, “what do you want to learn, ‘toru?”

“Everything.” Satoru gasps, fumbling with the waistband of Suguru’s pants, “anything, with you, just show me what to— show me what to do—”

“Do you— you don’t have to.” Suguru manages, his nails biting into Satoru’s wrist and stilling his hand. “I like making you come, making you feel good, I don’t—”

“Do you not want me to?” Satoru whispers, feeling small. The pleasure in his body is fading fast, like he’s been drenched in cold water. He feels chilled suddenly, a sliver of ice traveling down his spine. He shivers, twisting his legs closed, Suguru’s hand falling away from his cunt. It throbs and he can’t tell if it’s a good feeling. It’s not one, if Suguru is just doing this to make Satoru feel nice but doesn’t– doesn’t want Satoru.

“No. Fuck.” Suguru says. “I mean, yes, fuck, I want you to touch— I didn’t mean it like that, don’t– hey, don’t make that face.”

“I’m not making a face.” Satoru argues, clenching his thighs together and definitely not pouting.

“I just meant, like, trust me, if this is all you want to do– let me touch you, make out, God—” Suguru thumbs Satoru’s lower lip gently, like he wants to kiss him again. Satoru lifts up and kisses Suguru. Suguru makes a soft little surprised sound before sinking into the kiss easily, opening his mouth, letting Satoru experiment, run the tip of his tongue over the roof of Suguru’s mouth like Suguru had done to him earlier, suck on Suguru’s tongue. “God.” Suguru repeats, when Satoru breaks the kiss with a gasp. “I’m getting off plenty just touching you.” Suguru whispers. “If you don’t want to— if touching me isn’t what you— you’re not obligated—”

“Suguru—” Satoru complains, trying to get Suguru to kiss him again. “I don’t just want you touching me. It’s not obligation making me say that. I want more.”

“More.” Suguru repeats.

“You.” Satoru says. “I want you.”

“You do?” Suguru says, looking so soft and small it makes Satoru’s heart hurt. He wants to make a joke, yeah, you know how hot you are, man but what comes out is painfully honest.

“Yes,” he whispers, “I always want you.”

Suguru blinks and then surges forward, kissing Satoru like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, hands shaking against Satoru’s face.

“Let me,” Satoru whispers, in between kisses, “please? I said I wanted to.” He adds, pushing Suguru onto his back. He hooks his fingers into Suguru’s waistband, tugs. “Just— tell me what to— tell me how to— tell me if it’s not good.” He decides on.

“Okay.” Suguru breathes, looking at him wide-eyed.

Satoru sits up, t-shirt falling over his hips, bare cunt brushing against the sheets and making him shiver. He starts to pull Suguru’s sweats down, eyes locked on Suguru’s face as Suguru lifts his hips to help. Satoru looks down when the sweats are around Suguru’s thighs. He stares as Suguru’s hard cock slaps against his stomach and jerks, leaks a little. Satoru bites back a groan and a rising panic mixed with intense arousal as Suguru shuffles his sweats the rest of the way off.

Satoru doesn’t have much experience with dicks beyond the gym locker room and a slim dick shaped dildo he bought and never actually used but— Suguru has a big dick. Like. Large. Which does makes sense, given his general height and stature, and Satoru has seen Suguru’s dick soft and thought it was big even then, heavy and thick looking, but when he’s hard it’s– it’s–

Satoru’s pussy clenches. He simultaneously wants Suguru’s cock inside him and is also absolutely certain it will not fit. He shifts. Suguru would make it fit, a voice on the back of his brain that he’s come to think of as his horny self says, he’d make it so fucking good.

“Satoru?” Suguru whispers. “You don’t have to—”

“Just— let me try something.” Satoru says, clambering over Suguru’s thighs so he’s in between them, pushing them a little bit wider so he fits. “Let me know if I’m doing something wrong.”

Suguru watches him wide-eyed with his hands clenched tight in the sheets like he’s nervous or something.

Suguru’s dick jerks again when Satoru reaches for it, Suguru groaning in a way that makes Satoru’s spine tingle when he finally gets his hand on Suguru’s cock. It’s thick. Not so thick that Satoru can’t touch his fingers around it or anything obviously, but thick and throbbing, hard and soft all at the same time, the skin warm and yielding. Satoru strokes once, twice, realizes it might be dry and goes to remove his hand.

“Satoru— ” Suguru gasps when Satoru spits in his palm and then strokes him. Satoru wraps his other hand around Suguru’s dick too, one snug against the base, the other stacked on it, intrigued by how he can’t cover the whole thing. He bends his head and rubs Suguru’s leaking cockhead on his cheek, can feel his precum smear. “Oh fuck,” Suguru pants, “‘toru, Satoru—”

Satoru smiles as he removes his top hand, likes the way Suguru seems like he’s losing control. He’s biting his lower lip, eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils are. Satoru feels a stinging pride all up and down his spine, in his gut, in his pussy. He did that. He made Suguru look like that. He licks the pad of his thumb the way Suguru does before he touches Satoru’s clit and then slowly rubs the slit of Suguru’s dick with it.

“Oh God—” Suguru moans, leaking over Satoru’s thumb. Satoru circles Suguru’s dick with his fingers again, rubbing at his foreskin. The way it slides up and covers part of the head, slides down to reveal it, is doing something for him, especially with the sounds Suguru makes when Satoru plays with it. Satoru glances up, thumbing at the ridge below the head, dragging his fingernail down a thick vein, to see Suguru’s eyes pinched tight. He’s panting, licking at his lips, and Satoru can see the way his hips twitch.

“You’re so hard.” Satoru murmurs as he strokes Suguru’s cock with a loose fist. “I didn’t know it could get this hard, doesn’t it hurt?”

Suguru just groans in response and his dick leaks a little again and Satoru— he wants to taste.

He bends forward right with his tongue stuck out right as Suguru opens his eyes. Satoru holds his gaze, feeling brave and nervous and dirty, as he laps at the slit slowly, drawing Suguru’s foreskin up. Suguru’s precum leaks onto his tongue, salty and a little bitter, and it makes Satoru moan.

“Oh fuck— fuck—” Suguru gasps and comes all over Satoru’s face.

Enough gets in Satoru’s mouth that he chokes a little in surprise, swallowing some, and his body thrums because Suguru inside him. Suguru keeps coming, cock jerking in Satoru’s hand as Satoru tries to stroke him through it. Hot cum hits Satoru’s mouth, his cheeks, his squinted eyes. He can feel it in his lashes. Can feel it on his lips. Can feel it dripping off his chin. He runs his tongue over his teeth, his lower lip, tastes Suguru, Suguru, Suguru.

“Fuck,” Suguru moans, hips jerking, “sorry, shit, sorry— ‘toru—”

“No,” Satoru slurs. He slides his legs open wider, rubs his pussy on the soft of Suguru’s sheets, whines a little, “Suguru—” He manages, Suguru’s dick still throbbing in his messy hand, cum running weakly over Satoru’s knuckles. Satoru whines at the feel of it, licking at his lips, lifting a hand to push Suguru’s cum into his mouth, suck on his fingers. He rubs his cunt against the messed up sheets on the bed, hips moving compulsively. He can’t speak, can find the words, just bends down and nuzzles Suguru’s sticky dick, rubbing the head over his cheeks and his forehead, pressing a kiss to the base, the shaft. He knows he’s getting cum in his hair but he doesn’t care, continues to press kisses to Suguru’s cock as it twitches.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” Suguru is saying, maybe has been saying, sitting up and dragging Satoru’s mouth off his dick, cupping Satoru’s face, wiping off his eyes as best he can. “‘toru, Satoru— baby—”

Satoru feels like he’s floating.

“Baby.” He repeats dreamily. “Call me baby.” He tilts into a kiss, Suguru’s mouth insistent against his, biting at his lips. Each time they part Suguru’s whispering, saying Satoru’s name, calling him baby, cursing softly in a way that sends shivers down Satoru’s spine. “S’good,” Satoru manages to slur, “feels good, S’guru.”

Suguru’s dick jerks weakly in Satoru’s hand.

“Yeah?” Suguru knocks Satoru’s hand away from his dick gently and shifts, slides his hand between the bed and Satoru’s aching cunt to give him something to rub against. “You liked it, liked me coming on you?”

Satoru thinks his heart’s giving out. He nods around a whimper. He’s crying maybe, his face a mess. He works his hips desperately, holding onto Suguru’s forearm, panting, trying to tilt into another kiss.

Suguru hums approvingly. “There you go, baby. Take what you need.” He kisses Satoru’s stained cheek. “God, you look good covered in my cum.”

Satoru pretty much blacks out, he comes so hard.

 

 

 

Over the next week Satoru learns that he really likes sucking cock. Well. Suguru’s cock.

He also kinda likes choking on it, like this weird thing he wouldn’t expect where Suguru fucks his throat and it turns Satoru on so much, sweet kind Suguru wiping away Satoru’s tears and looking at him so, like, lovingly or something while he uses Satoru’s mouth like it’s a toy for him, like Satoru’s just a toy for him to get off with. There’s always this endless stream of praise spilling out of Suguru’s mouth when they fuck and then, in the same breath, he’ll call Satoru my little cockslut and Satoru realizes pretty quickly it’s the my that’s doing it for him.

He can be Suguru’s. Suguru’s little slut or Suguru’s personal cocksleeve or Suguru’s best boy. Good boy, Suguru will say, soothing Satoru’s hair back and pulling him off his cock, coming all over his lips, rubbing it into his skin. Sweet boy, he’ll say, as Satoru swallows, my favorite boy, he’ll whisper, pressing Satoru back onto the bed and crawling between Satoru’s thighs, licking at his clit like it’s candy. God Satoru, he’ll say, you’re everything.

And Satoru, like, believes him.

Satoru, like, thinks Suguru’s his everything. In fact he knows it. Suguru’s definitely his everything. Gentle Suguru who brushes Satoru’s hair back and lets Satoru give him the laziest most teasing blowjobs ever, sloppy and messy. Who eats Satoru out and fingers him until he’s incoherent with pleasure, and then cuddles Satoru to his chest in the bath, makes sure they eat a proper dinner. Suguru who is smart and funny and keeps up with Satoru and never lets his frustration at the world spill over into cruelty. Suguru, who wakes up slow in the mornings with birds nest hair. Who rubs Satoru’s temples when he gets a migraine.

Suguru, who cares for Satoru, in every single way.

Satoru moans, runs his fingers through Suguru’s hair. Suguru kisses his clit sweetly.

“Come for me, baby?” He asks, like it’s even a question. Satoru nods frantically and then clenches down, a shout caught in his throat, as Suguru curls his fingers deep inside him, mouth hot and open around Satoru’s clit.

Suguru really is everything to him, Satoru thinks to himself that night in bed, curled up and facing a sleeping Suguru. He tucks a lock of Suguru’s hair behind his ear.

His stomach feels a little funny.

He closes his eyes, curls into Suguru’s familiar scent, and sleeps.

 

 

 

Suguru’s hands are gentle, tilting Satoru’s head and Satoru sighs, resists the urge to jump up off the stool he’s sitting on, the buzz of the trimmer making him antsy.

“Suguru,” he whines.

“Your undercut was growing out.” Suguru says severely. “Stop whining. Last time you told me you didn’t care and then got upset, threatened to shave your head, and kept refusing to look in the mirror until I fixed it.”

“It was wrong.” Satoru says, throwing his head back for emphasis, mostly because Suguru has the trimmer off and to the side as he manhandles Satoru’s head gently, checking to make sure everything is even.

“Satoru.” Suguru chides as Satoru grins up at him. “Done.” Suguru says, so Satoru tilts forward and lifts his hand up to run over the freshly buzzed part of his head, enjoying the shiver he always gets at the feeling of the short hair against his hand.

Suguru was the one who helped him cut his hair the first time, came in and took the scissors from Satoru’s shaking hand, Satoru half blind with tears. Suguru cut off the blond locks without a word, shaved the rest best he could with an intent focus in his eyes, running his hand over Satoru’s head after and brushing away stray strands. Dressed Satoru in his clothes. Took him out to dinner. Held him until sleep took Satoru down. It was the safest Satoru has ever felt.

Satoru shivers at the memory and then as Suguru’s hand brushes at his shoulders and over his collarbones to get rid of the freshly shorn hair.

“Gonna shower to get the rest of it off?” Suguru asks, hand sweeping over Satoru’s bare chest and shoulders.

Satoru frowns, wrinkling his nose.

“Dessert.” He demands, because he can, because it makes Suguru roll his eyes.

“In this house, we eat ice cream after our baths.” Suguru says, like Satoru’s a child who needs to be enticed into a shower. It sort of works.

“Fine.” Satoru says miserably. “Ugh, leave me to shower, you fiend.”

Suguru snorts, rests his head on top of Satoru’s and holds up a hand mirror.

“Wait, make sure it looks okay.” He says. Satoru tilts a little, checking out what he can see. “Want to see the back?” Suguru asks.

“I trust you.” Satoru says, meeting Suguru’s eyes in the mirror and, suddenly, it’s too intimate, almost too much. The mirror clatters in the sink as Satoru pushes himself to his feet, spinning around to kiss Suguru.

Suguru slows him down almost instantly, the way he always does, with this barely restrained tremor like he wants to kiss just as desperately but likes it better when Satoru’s near shaking with it. His hand is tight on Satoru’s jaw, coaxing his mouth open for Suguru to lick into. Satoru whines softly and Suguru’s hand slides to run over his freshly cut hair, his bare chest, his nipples, scar tissue, his ribs.

“Please.” Satoru says without knowing what he’s asking for. He wants to be closer. He doesn’t know how to be closer, has Suguru backed against the bathroom wall, pressed together all up and down. He’s barely moving his head back when the kisses break. “Please.” He repeats against Suguru’s lips. He pushes at Suguru, tugging and pulling until they’re walking toward the bed. It doesn’t take much to get Suguru’s shirt off, his shorts, and Satoru wriggles out of his sleep shorts, pushing Suguru onto his back, straddling his hips.

He takes Suguru’s nearly fully hard cock in hand, foreskin already pulling back and revealing the wet head. He makes a loose fist and strokes Suguru’s dick, marveling that Suguru is hard because of him, because of kissing him. Suguru leaks over Satoru’s fingers, reaches up to tug Satoru forward into a bruising kiss. Suguru reaches his other hand between Satoru’s legs as he does, knuckles brushing against the short hairs there. Satoru’s hips kick and he can’t stop the sound he makes.

Satoru wants— he wants—

He grabs at Suguru’s wrist before he starts fingering Satoru in earnest, Suguru groaning as Satoru releases his dick and grabs Suguru’s other wrist as well, pins him to the bed.

“Satoru?” Suguru gasps, Satoru’s name ending in a moan as Satoru widens his knees so his wet cunt slides against Suguru’s cock. Satoru moans in answer, starts grinding against Suguru’s hard cock, everything wet and sticky as he fucks his hips forward, Suguru’s fat cockhead bumping against his clit.

Satoru aches. He feels so empty, rolls his hips so Suguru’s cockhead slides between the lips of his pussy, over his entrance, before shifting his hips so it bumps against his clit again. He whimpers, bending into Suguru’s neck.

He keeps thinking about Suguru inside him. He wants Suguru inside him. He wants the stretch of it, wants Suguru to fill him up, mold him to the shape of his cock. He wants Suguru to fuck him. He wants Suguru to ruin him. Satoru aches for it, to be Suguru’s. To be Suguru’s in that way too. And Suguru wants to fuck him, Satoru thinks, wants to be inside him. Suguru stretches him out with his fingers and practically coos at him, so tight, ‘toru, how would you ever take my cock?, in a voice that makes Satoru shudder, bite his lip so hard he almost bleeds.

“Satoru,” Suguru sounds like he’s begging. Satoru releases Suguru’s wrists and threads his hands into Suguru’s messy hair, tugging and pulling at it. Suguru’s hands fall to Satoru’s hip and he helps Satoru move, grind against him, one hand sliding to the small of Satoru’s back. He bites Satoru’s shoulder, the side of his neck, slides a hand down from his back to spread his ass, finger dipping down to gather slick before lifting up, pushing gently at his hole like he’s about to fuck Satoru’s ass before he’s ever even fucked his pussy.

God, you feel good,” Suguru breathes, “show me your face, baby, can you show me your face?”

“Gonna—” Satoru pants, feeling like he might cry. He wants to come on Suguru’s cock. He wants to, he needs to– but he’s going to come. He grinds down harshly, whimpers.

“Yeah, come for me, please, want to see it.” Suguru says and Satoru comes with a soft cry, pussy clenching, trying to lift up so Suguru can see his face. He blinks away tears as he shakes.

“S’guru,” he gasps as he finds himself flipped onto the bed, Suguru’s hand cushioning his head even though there are pillows. Suguru’s hand slides between his legs and Satoru clenches around his fingertip, whines as Suguru kisses the corners of his eyes.

“What do you want?” Suguru breathes, stroking over his thighs, his pussy, cupping him, fingers gentle. “What do you want, ‘toru, tell me, I’ll give it to you.”

Satoru can’t think of how to say what he wants.

“You.” He begs.

“You have me,” Suguru breathes, “Satoru, I promise, you have me.”

Satoru whines in displeasure that Suguru doesn’t just get it. He feels like Suguru always just gets it. He manhandles Suguru onto his back again, grinds against him, overstimulation like lit matches on his skin. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat at the feel of it, guides his hips so he’s rubbing his wet pussy on Suguru’s cockhead, watching Suguru’s eyes roll back a little, try to focus on Satoru. Suguru’s hands find his hips and grip him hard, digging into his skin in a way that feels almost proprietary, in a way that will leave bruises if he doesn’t let go soon. He eases his grip, as though he’s just realizing the same thing. Satoru’s hands fly to Suguru’s wrists, hold his hands there.

“I want to come on your cock.” Satoru whispers. Suguru closes his eyes, takes a little breath that seems difficult. “Please.” Satoru begs, lifting up on his knees. He reaches for Suguru’s dick, holding it steady.

“Satoru.” Suguru says. “Baby–”

“Love when you call me that.” Satoru mumbles as he angles his hips so the tip of Suguru’s dick pushes against his entrance. It’s big, forcing its way in already, stretching Satoru even though it’s just the tip.

“Fuck–” He breathes at the same time Suguru exhales a curse sharply, his hands tight on Satoru’s hips, stopping him from pushing down more.

“I don’t– have a condom.” Suguru manages. “‘toru, I don’t have one here because I haven’t—it’s been a long time—”

“Do we need one?” Satoru asks, “Why do we need one, you won’t get me pregnant, swear, I have birth control. I don’t want one. I want— I want you inside me, I want it, S’guru, please–”

“But we should,” Suguru sort of slurs, blinking up at him. He looks almost pained. Satoru can see his abs clenching, can feel his thighs clenching. “Shouldn’t we?”

“I—” Satoru says, “S’guru, I’ve never done this. I just want it, with you, so bad. Please. I don’t have anything. Are you— do we need one—?”

Satoru finds himself on his back again, the world spinning, Suguru hovering over him, hair hanging down in his face.

“I’m clean.” Suguru says softly. “Got tested a while ago. It’s been a long time for me since I– I can find the— I can find the results to show you, okay–”

“Later,” Satoru gasps, “I trust you.”

Suguru does his pinched face thing and is definitely about to go off on a lecture about how Satoru shouldn’t trust people so easily, especially not with something that could impact his body, and men will lie to Satoru, and blah blah blah.

“I trust you because it’s you.” Satoru says calmly, holding Suguru’s face with his sticky hands. “Not anyone else. You. I trust you, Suguru.”

Suguru makes a strange aborted sound and then bends down and kisses Satoru, deep, filthy, sucking on his tongue and leaving Satoru gasping, spit dripping out the side of his mouth. When Suguru pulls back a strand of saliva connects them, snaps. Satoru’s so turned on he feels dizzy with it.

“You sure?” Suguru asks. “You want me to fuck you?”

Satoru licks his lips, nods. “I want you inside me.”

There’s a little pause and then Suguru leans down again, pressing their bodies together, kissing Satoru slowly, deeply. Like they’re in love. If people could for real get heart eyes, Satoru would have them right now, getting kissed like this. He groans into Suguru’s mouth, tracing his hands over the muscles and bones in Suguru’s back, each bump of his spine. It’s intimate. Tender. Everything Satoru doesn’t even let himself daydream about. He feels himself flushing, wants to turn away, hide his face. He doesn’t get it because he was relatively chill with spreading his legs to show Suguru his whole naked pussy, but somehow this is so much more.

“Fuck me already.” He whines when he can’t take it anymore.

Suguru rolls his eyes, kisses Satoru’s cheek, the corner of his mouth.

“Mmm.” He says, like he’s not actually going to right away, his fingers sliding between Satoru’s thighs. He bends his head down, licks at the tendons in Satoru’s neck. Satoru tilts to give him access and sighs as Suguru’s teeth press against his skin at the same time he slips two fingers inside Satoru. They go in easily and Suguru spreads them, scrapes them against Satoru’s walls pleasantly as he fucks them in and out. Satoru moves his hips restlessly as Suguru presses three fingers in next. It makes Satoru feel a little full, but he’s relaxed from his orgasm, wet. He wants more.

“More.” He breathes and wriggles against Suguru’s hand. He wants Suguru to do more, faster. He wants Suguru to make him take him. Suguru pulls his fingers out and reaches over Satoru to pull lube out of the nightstand drawer. “I’m so wet we don’t even need that.” Satoru declares, feeling giddy and nervous and so so turned on. Suguru gives Satoru a look as he squirts some lube into his hand. When strokes his dick to coat it, Satoru watches Suguru’s hand move, tries to imagine Suguru’s dick pushing into him. He spreads his legs a little wider so that Suguru can rub his fingers over Satoru’s entrance, pet softly inside him with lube covered fingers.

“You want to be on top?” Suguru asks. “So you can tell me if it hurts? Stop it when you need to.”

Satoru shakes his head rapidly, bangs brushing and sticking against his sweaty forehead. Suguru nods after a second, positions himself between Satoru’s thighs, hiking one up over his shoulder, pressing the other open and out. He considers, holding his dick tightly at the base as he slides it up and down Satoru’s slippery cunt.

“You sure?” He asks, tilting his head and kissing somewhere near Satoru’s ankle. “It might be easier, I don’t want to hurt you, ‘toru.”

Satoru sighs.

“You think I won’t tell you if it hurts?” He asks. Suguru, still watching his cock slide over Satoru’s folds, glances up at his face.

“Promise me.” Suguru says.

“If you don’t fuck me already,” Satoru threatens, “I’m gonna roll you over and take you in one go.” He mouths promise after he finishes speaking. Suguru is too caring. It’s silly, how much he cares for Satoru. Not like he thinks Satoru’s fragile, but like he likes it. Like nothing brings him greater joy than when Satoru is whiny and petulant and bratty and needy with Suguru and Suguru gets to answer all of that for him. When Satoru is that way only with Suguru. Suguru is indulgent to a fault, when it comes to Satoru. Satoru makes sure not to abuse the privilege of having Suguru care for him, only does sometimes maybe, like to get Suguru to feed him cotton candy or, apparently, fuck him. “Come on,” Satoru says and stretches his arms above his head, wriggles a little for added effect, “stick your giant throbbing manhood in my virgin hole. Ravish and explore the cavern of my body, the sweet–”

“If you don’t stop talking,” Suguru says with that pinched look he gets, “I genuinely think I’m gonna lose my hard-on.”

Satoru pouts at him. Suguru holds the severe look for about half a second before he starts to laugh. Satoru preens. Making Suguru laugh can be hardwon sometimes, especially when he gets caught up in his head like this. Satoru smiles happily and then his brain goes all muddled as Suguru leans down and kisses him, Satoru’s leg slipping from his shoulder to his elbow. The kiss is soft, gentle, at odds with the situation and exactly right for the situation. It makes Satoru shiver, especially as he feels the blunt head of Suguru’s cock press against his entrance. Suguru pulls back from the kiss, glancing down, and Satoru gasps in air, feeling light-headed. Suguru strokes Satoru’s thigh soothingly and then, holding his cock steady, he tilts his hips forward and the tip of his dick presses into Satoru.

“Oh my God,” Satoru slurs, hips jumping– which forces Suguru’s cock a little deeper and draws a startled yelp out of Satoru. His hands fumble for the sheets above his head, the pillow, the wall, anything to grasp at for some sort of stability. He manages a whine as Suguru pauses, looks up at him. “S’good.” Satoru manages but Suguru pulls out, rubs his cock over Satoru’s weeping pussy, his swollen clit.

“Hold your legs back, baby.” Suguru says, pressing them both back, guiding Satoru’s hands to his thighs. “Like that, there you go.” He presses into Satoru again and then pulls out, fucks his tip in and out with a groan, like he can’t believe how good it feels.

Satoru can’t believe how good it feels.

“More.” He manages to gasp, “S’guru, more, please–”

“Fuck.” Suguru whispers, presses in a little more, gentle as he can, slowly forcing Satoru open. It’s so much. Satoru clenches down and Suguru swears. “Fuck, ‘toru–”

“‘s’alot—” Satoru manages. He knows Suguru is barely inside him, but Satoru thinks he can feel Suguru in his stomach already.

“Need me to stop?” Suguru pants, rocking his hips slowly, keeping his movements shallow. “Want me to pull out, ‘toru?”

Satoru has never wanted anything less. He lets his legs fall back and open as he slides his trembling hands down between them, finds where they’re joined, where Suguru’s cock is pressing into him, runs a finger around the stretch of himself, slippery with lube and Satoru’s slick and Suguru’s precum. Satoru spreads his folds like that will help, like he can open himself more.

“No.” He whispers, voice cracking. “Please. Want more. So full. Feels— you feel so— good—never felt like—S’guru, please.”

“God, you don’t know what you do to me—” Suguru groans, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly like he’s trying to get control of himself. He squeezes Satoru’s wrist before he pushes in more with a harsh exhale.

Satoru can’t process. People just do this, just have sex, feel this full, this good, on the regular, like it’s no big deal? Like it’s not the most fucking amazing feeling Satoru has ever had, being so full of Suguru he can’t think about anything else. There’s nothing but Suguru. Suguru, who is leaning forward and bringing their faces together as he keeps pushing inside Satoru? Whose biceps are trembling because he’s being so careful, so good and slow, trying to make sure Satoru has time to adjust? It’s unbelievable. Satoru literally can’t believe it. He lifts his shaking hands to cup Suguru’s face.

“More.” He begs, around a gasp. “I want to take all of you.”

“You always have all of me.” Suguru half-slurs, nonsensical, nosing at Satoru’s cheek. Satoru nods around a moan, hips kicking up a little. “You’re so tight.” Suguru says into Satoru’s ear like he’s begging, pressing a kiss to his skin, pushing himself up to look down at where he’s pushing into Satoru. “Relax, baby.” He says, sounding the least relaxed Satoru has ever heard him, his voice tight and wanting.

“Is it all in– is it– are you–” Satoru pants, words broken up by moans, trying to unclench his cunt, trying to understand how full he feels. It’s like Suguru is everywhere– in his stomach, in his chest, in his fucking fingertips. It’s a weird mix of pleasure-pain, how stretched and full he feels. He doesn’t know how to describe it. He reaches down to feel Suguru inside him, stroking his clit as Suguru answers.

“Not yet, ‘toru.”

“Is it gonna fit?” Satoru asks wildly as Suguru presses in a bit more, “you’re so big, you’re— thick—” He almost laughs. He feels hysterical. He thumbs at the part of Suguru’s cock that’s still outside of his body, makes a strangled sound when Suguru starts to pull out. “No, make me take it.” Satoru sobs. “S’guru, please, I need it— I want it—”

Suguru pauses, panting. He presses a soft kiss to Satoru’s lips.

“I can stop.” He says gently.

“I’ll murder you.” Satoru moans, back arching off the bed. “Fuck me, please, please, it feels good, it feels so good—” It does. He doesn’t understand how good it feels, doesn’t have words for it. “Oh God, you feel so good in me–”

“Taking me so well.” Suguru whispers, which makes Satoru moan again, louder than he means to. The praise makes his blood feel like it’s champagne, sparkling in his veins, and he feels so full, so overwhelmed, so good.

“Say it again.” He demands, sliding his hands to the small of Suguru’s back, digging his blunt nails in.

“Take me so well.” Suguru says. “So perfect, baby. Just like that.” He pushes in more, fucks his hips out a little. “Take it all, baby.” He whispers and then Suguru rocks their hips together, sliding fully in.

“Oh my God–” Satoru slurs. Suguru kisses the corners of his mouth, cock deep inside Satoru, touching spots Satoru didn’t know existed, much less knew would feel good. He’s so full. So stretched. Suguru is so thick and hot inside him and everything is wet and Suguru’s body is all up down his, pressure against his clit from the inside out. Satoru’s shaking like he’s gonna come. He thinks he’s gonna come. “I’m gonna come.” Satoru manages and feels Suguru’s dick kick inside him, feels Suguru’s hand in his hair, tighten. Suguru’s hips fuck forward at Satoru’s words and he can’t have gotten any deeper but it feels like he does. It’s so good that Satoru comes, body shaking, a loud whine spilling out of his mouth. He clenches down without meaning to, forcing Suguru cock out of his body a little and he whines at that too, at the loss of him even though he’s still inside. He shakes, hands trying to find Suguru’s face to cup again, fingers tangling in Suguru’s hair.

“Fucking–” Suguru says, the rest of the sentence lost to Satoru who is so overstimulated he can’t think. He pants, trying to catch his breath. “Can I move, baby, can I—?” Suguru asks after a minute or an hour, Satoru really doesn’t know.

Satoru only barely manages not to say I think I’m in love with you. He nods, trying to bite back a sob, especially as Suguru starts to move. He goes slow at first, circling his hips, pulling out just the smallest amount and fucking back in. Satoru catches his breath for a second, tears slipping out of his eyes. Suguru pulls out nearly all the way, fucks back in hard in one single thrust that makes Satoru shout, back arching off the bed, or trying to, Suguru on top of him, pressing him into the mattress, kissing his neck, his chin, his cheek.

“There you go.” Suguru soothes, like Satoru is doing something amazing, is something precious, “there you go.”

And then Suguru sets up a rhythm, careful and measured, so fucking good it has Satoru seeing stars, his legs locking tight around Suguru as Suguru forces himself inside sweetly with each thrust, his cock making room for itself inside Satoru, like Satoru is getting made to fit the shape of it for always. Satoru likes that so much. He likes it so so much.

He whines, hips kicking up as best he can to meet Suguru’s thrusts, clenching down around Suguru when Suguru enters him at a particularly good angle. It must do something for Suguru because he swears under his breath and his careful rhythm is lost for a second. Then he starts fucking Satoru and if Satoru thought he was getting fucked before he was wrong because holy fuck.

“Suguru,” he gets out, stuttered and broken into syllables around a loud moan. Suguru’s neighbors can probably hear. Probably know that Satoru is in here getting railed within an inch of his life. Satoru doesn’t care. They should know. Everyone should know how fucking good this is, how good Suguru’s making Satoru feel. “Suguru,” he pants, “Suguru, fuck—” He winds his arms tight around Suguru’s neck, holding him close, biting at his skin uselessly, nails digging into his shoulderblades, scraping a path down his spine to his ass as it flexes, hammers into Satoru. “Ah–” He manages.

He clings to Suguru as the force of his thrusts work them up the bed, the squelching sound as he fucks in and out of Satoru’s cunt both arousing and embarassing. Or it would be, if Satoru was able to have any thoughts in his head, but it’s like each time he tries Suguru’s dick is wiping them from his brain, pushing them out. All Satoru can do is let out these sort of helpless pleasured sounds as Suguru rams into him. He hears them like someone else is making them, feels incoherent even though Suguru’s still talking somehow, whispering full sentences under his breath, fucking Satoru hard at a steady pace and managing to tell him he’s so perfect, or so fucking tight, jesus, toru, you feel amazing and Satoru is basically–

Useless. It feels so fucking good. His eyelids flutter as his eyes roll back a little. He lets out another sort of pathetic sound as Suguru fucks in deep, lifting Satoru’s hips a little to change the angle.

“Oh my God,” Satoru whimpers, hands scraping at Suguru’s ribcage as Suguru fucks him into the bed, leaving Satoru feeling like he might be broken in the best way possible. Like something in his brain has been flipped irrevocably. He never wants this to stop. He’s going to come. He’s going to– his whole body clenches and he sobs, tries to get out Suguru’s name, to tell him, warn him, something. Suguru must see it in his face.

“There you go, I got you,” Suguru says and pulls out. Satoru goes to protest but Suguru slaps his cock against Satoru’s pussy, his clit, and it feels so good Satoru cries out. Suguru replaces his dick with his hand, rubbing Satoru’s swollen clit punishingly until Satoru’s coming, squirting, getting Suguru’s hand and wrist and, fuck, his arm wet with it, Satoru’s eyes rolling back in his head. “Fuck, look at you, look at you,” Suguru says, slaps his cunt, his clit, draws a strangled wail out of Satoru. And then Suguru’s pushing his legs up, bending him in half and fucking back into him, hips erratic and fast, and Satoru’s still shaking from the orgasm and rolling into another one or maybe it’s the same one. He can’t think.

“I’m gonna come–” Suguru groans, “fuck, you feel so good, ‘toru, I’m gonna–”

“Inside me,” Satoru slurs, “come inside me, want to feel– need to feel–”

Suguru’s hips jerk hard and his mouth opens like he’s gonna say something and Satoru grabs for him, with wet— fuck, everything is so wet— hands, drags Suguru’s face to his, tries to kiss him, mostly bites his lip.

“Don’t tell me no.” He says, holding Suguru’s gaze. “Please.”

Suguru’s face twists like he’s in pain. His hips jerk forward bruisingly and his body shakes as he comes, burying his face in the crook of Satoru’s neck, little whimpers falling from his open mouth. It’s a completely foreign sensation for Satoru, feeling himself get filled with Suguru’s hot cum. Suguru’s hips continue to thrust brokenly as he works himself through it before he shudders a final time, grinding deep and exhaling Satoru’s name.

Satoru strokes his back and tries to gather himself, his own body still trembling and shaking.

“Don’t pull out.” Satoru whispers, when Suguru starts to shift. “Just– wait.”

Suguru nods but moves his arms so that Satoru’s legs can fall back to the bed, his hips protesting the movement after being pressed up for so long. Satoru shivers as he reaches down, stroking at his stretched entrance, the base of Suguru’s dick, the cum that’s leaking out. He noses at Suguru’s neck, tilts his head back so Suguru can press soft kisses to his throat, kiss his tear-stained cheeks, drag his mouth to Satoru’s to kiss him deep and slow while their heart rates steady.

When Suguru does pull out, it’s another new feeling. Suguru’s cum leaks out of him slowly and it makes Satoru feel good-dirty and turned on and like he’s Suguru’s, in some weird primal lizard part of his brain. Clearly Suguru is feeling some sort of way about it as well, given the look on his face as he watches his cum drip out of Satoru. He thumbs at Satoru’s pussy gently.

“Suguru.” Satoru whispers, throat raw, trying to find words to explain how he feels and unable to. Suguru looks at him, pupils blown, lips kiss-bitten, hair a mess, everything Satoru has always wanted and then some. His most perfect best person. “Come here.” Satoru begs, opening his arms.

Suguru does. Instantly. Holding onto Satoru who is arching up off the bed into him, Suguru’s arm sliding under his lower back and holding him close. Satoru wants to be closer. Winds his arms tight around Suguru’s neck, his legs around his waist, Suguru falling to his forearm with a grunt, holding Satoru tight.

“Are you okay?” Suguru breathes, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Yes.” Satoru says firmly, “yes, a thousand times yes. Just hold me.”

Suguru holds him.

“I want you.” Suguru whispers. “Always.”

Satoru doesn’t understand.

“You have me.” He says. “You have me, Suguru. I want you always too.”

“Do you mean it?” Suguru says, sounding like he’s begging. “Do you?”

Satoru pets across Suguru’s back, his neck.

“Yes,” he soothes, “yes, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

 

 

 

“Here.” Suguru says, looking uncharacteristically serious as he stands in Satoru’s doorway. He’s holding out a piece of paper and Satoru takes it, confused. It’s an STI screening. He blinks. “I was caught up in the moment,” Suguru says, “and I shouldn’t have— I know you trust me and I am so grateful for your trust and would do anything to keep it. I shouldn’t have—”

Satoru squints at the paper.

“So you have nothing,” he says, cutting Suguru off, “exactly like you said.”

“Well, yeah,” Suguru says, “but still I felt that it was appropriate you saw it on paper and not just went with whatever I was saying. I could have been lying.” He adds, emphasizing the word probably because of the face Satoru is making at him. “Satoru, I could have been.” Suguru repeats.

“You wouldn’t lie to me.” Satoru scoffs.

“Other guys might.” Suguru says after a second, a sour look crossing his face.

“I’m not fucking other guys,” Satoru frowns. “I don’t want to be fucking other guys– only you. I mean, thank you. I appreciate this. It’s very you.” He kicks at Suguru’s shin lightly. “Surprised you don’t have an expensive fruit or something as an apology gift.”

Suguru sort of winces and stares determinedly off to the side of Satoru’s face.

“Oh my God.” Satoru says. “Gimmie, gimmie.” Suguru very gingerly pulls a pack of white strawberries out of his bag. Satoru accepts them with both hands. “God, you’re so ridiculous.” He says fondly. “Come in my house, big man.”

“Shut up.” Suguru says, kicking off his shoes in the entryway and pushing past Satoru, snatching the strawberries out of his hands. He stalks into the kitchen and opens them, cleaning one off as he places the others in the fridge. After he’s grabbed a knife to cut the stem off, Satoru wraps his arms around Suguru’s waist. Suguru doesn’t even startle but Satoru can still see him open his mouth to admonish Satoru, tell him to be more careful. Satoru kisses the side of Suguru’s neck before he can speak.

Suguru stills.

“So,” Satoru says, pressing his body against Suguru’s and sliding his hands to Suguru’s stomach, “does this mean we can keep doing it raw?”

Suguru clears his throat and scoffs, like his ears aren’t turning red. “Hmm.” He says, like he has to consider it. He cuts the top off the strawberry carefully. Cuts it in half. “Why, did you like it?” He asks finally, like he doesn’t know.

Satoru slides his hands lower to cup Suguru, squeeze his half-hard dick through his pants. The question is an opportunity for Satoru to be bratty. He knows, as is characteristic of him, he should sniff and say it was passable or something equally dismissive. He should needle at Suguru until Suguru tosses him on the bed and fucks him hard, just how Satoru wants. Problem is, Satoru doesn’t want to. Honesty slips out before he fully realizes it’s going to.

“I liked it.” Satoru says, letting go of Suguru’s dick. “I liked it a lot.” He nuzzles into Suguru’s neck. “Liked feeling you inside of me. Liked feeling you leak out of me when you pulled out. Made me feel good. Ruined. Pretty.” He pauses and then says it before he overthinks it. “Made me feel like I was yours.”

“Jesus.” Suguru says.

“Did you not like it?” Satoru asks innocently, as he loosens his grip around Suguru’s waist and lifts Suguru’s hand by the wrist. He brings a strawberry piece to his mouth, sucks the juice off Suguru’s fingertips after.

Suguru inhales shakily and shifts, turning in Satoru’s arms. He watches Satoru swallow.

“Is it good?” He asks. Satoru nods, opens his mouth so that Suguru can feed him the rest of the strawberry. Suguru presses his fingertips against Satoru’s lips after, rubbing at the lower one, dragging it down. “I liked it too.” Suguru whispers. “I really fucking liked it, Satoru. The way you look dripping with my cum, all red, twitching, used by my cock.” His voice drops so low it makes Satoru shiver. “You don’t know what you look like when I fuck you. Not just your pussy– your fucking face, ‘toru, the sounds you make, fuck.”

Satoru feels genuinely, like, weak in the knees.

“Fuck me.” He whispers.

“Mmm.” Suguru slides a hand to the back of Satoru’s neck, sticky with strawberry juice and Satoru’s spit. “And why should I?” He asks softly. It makes Satoru want to fall to his knees. It makes him want to beg. He doesn’t know how to feel like this. “Ask nicely?” Suguru asks, rubbing his thumb over Satoru’s undercut. “Can you do that for me?”

The thought to put up a fight flits across Satoru’s mind and disappears just as quick.

“Please.” Satoru says, nearly instantly. He wants Suguru to touch him. He wants it so bad. “I want you to touch me.” He whispers.

“Good boy.” Suguru says and Satoru’s mind flashes with heat. Suguru’s face creases slightly and Satoru zeros in on the microexpression. He tilts his head, makes a questioning sound. “Exclusive, right?” Suguru says. “We’re exclusive?”

Satoru almost laughs. There’s no one else he wants to fuck, probably ever, and not just because of how good it feels when Suguru touches him but because it’s Suguru. There’s a whole big tangled up ball of feelings about Suguru inside Satoru’s chest that he’s pretty sure ends with a little note in his own handwriting that says hey bud ur in big love with suguru and always will be but like. That’s for future-Satoru to deal with, surely? Now-Satoru doesn’t have the dexterity to untangle all that.

“Exclusive as fuck.” Satoru agrees with a nod.

The way Suguru smiles at Satoru’s words, his real smile, slow and spreading across his features, makes Satoru’s heart hurt. He wants to say actually forget exclusive friends with benefits can we be, like, exclusive husbands but that would be crazy.

He drops to his knees instead, looks up at Suguru through his lashes as he reaches for the button of Suguru’s jeans.

“Fuck.” Suguru says, sounding like it’s the first time and not like it’s a well established fact how much Satoru likes to suck his cock, “‘toru, you don’t have to—”

“Want to,” Satoru breathes as he gets Suguru’s jeans and boxers down around his thighs, gets a hand on his stiffening cock, “please let me. Please.”

Suguru takes a shaky breath above him and slowly threads a hand into Satoru’s hair, fingers scratching against his scalp in a way that makes Satoru want to whine. He doesn’t because he’s being cool and chill and alluring and stuff, but he really wants to. Suguru tilts Satoru’s face up by the chin and looks down at him so tenderly that Satoru, all of the above be damned, whines.

“God.” Suguru says softly. “Look at you.”

Satoru decides to waste no further time with petty conversation about how gorgeous he is— of course he’s gorgeous— even though Suguru being the one to say it is making his toes curl in his socks. He strokes Suguru a few times, tight up over the head the way Suguru likes, reaching his other hand up to cup Suguru’s heavy balls.

Satoru watches, entranced as Suguru’s cock gets harder and harder, throbbing in Satoru’s hand. He plays with Suguru’s foreskin, sliding it up over the head, pinching it a little, before rubbing Suguru’s slit. Suguru groans. He likes when Satoru plays with his foreskin, likes it especially when Satoru does it with his tongue, licking around it, under it. Satoru sucks the tip of Suguru’s cock, stroking the rest with a tight fist.

“That feels good, ‘toru, just like that.” Suguru breathes, the words dissolving into a moan as Satoru drips spit all over Suguru’s cock. Suguru leans back more against the counter, hand tightening in Satoru’s hair. “Oh fuck, just like that.”

Satoru’s still messy with blowjobs, spit leaking out of the corners of his mouth and he chokes a little when he takes down too much too fast, tears gathering in his eyes. He likes giving Suguru head, and something about how sloppy he is with it really does it for Suguru, apparently. It’s not long before Suguru’s hips start jerking forward, forcing his cock down Satoru’s throat, Suguru’s hand tight on the back of Satoru’s head, the nape of his neck, to hold him steady. It’s possessive. The whole thing makes Satoru’s pussy clench with want. Sucking Suguru off always gets him so wet. He presses his thighs together tight like it will offer some sort of relief, hips jerking whenever he takes Suguru’s cock particularly deep or Suguru tells him how good he’s doing, how good he’s making Suguru feel.

“Touch yourself, baby.” Suguru says with another groan, pulling Satoru off his cock gently by the hair. Satoru gasps, whines, spit dripping down his chin as he chases Suguru’s dick with an open mouth. “Wanna see it, come on.” Suguru says, tapping his cockhead on Satoru’s lower lip.

Satoru whines again, licking at the precum beading at Suguru’s slit. He’s not good at splitting his attention like that and Suguru knows it. If Satoru tries to touch himself with Suguru watching him and Suguru’s cock in his mouth, it feels so good that his minimal blowjob skills go even more haywire and he can’t suck Suguru off properly. But then he can’t not focus on Suguru’s dick, on feeling it press against the back of his throat, on the taste of Suguru, heavy and salty and thick on his tongue, on how much he loves it all— and then he forget he’s even supposed to be touching himself, so overwhelmed by Suguru in his senses.

“Come on, baby.” Suguru whispers, stroking Satoru’s cheekbone as he feeds his dick into Satoru’s open mouth, pressing deep enough Satoru gags a little. He relaxes his jaw more as Suguru’s hand slides to Satoru’s throat like he can feel his cock buried there. Maybe he can. The thought makes Satoru groan and Suguru swears in response. He pulls Satoru off of him with a gasp. “Touch yourself.” He repeats in a shaky voice.

Satoru blinks teary eyes up at Suguru and gets his shaking fingers on his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper, pushing material out of the way. He slides a hand under his waistband, between his legs. He’s so wet his boxers are soaked. The touch of his finger on his clit is electric and he gasps loudly, body twitching.

“Fuck, yeah, there you go, show me baby. Show me how you touch yourself, okay?” Suguru asks, like he doesn’t know, like he hasn’t seen. He presses his cockhead against Satoru’s mouth, rubbing it over his lips, pressing the tip inside for Satoru to suck on. Satoru circles his clit with a finger then shifts so that can get a finger almost inside himself. The movement makes Suguru’s cock slip more into his mouth and he moans.

“Relax your mouth for me.” Suguru tells him, rubbing at his jaw. Satoru does, sticking his tongue out a little. Suguru swears softly. “You don’t know how hot you fucking look right now.” He mumbles as he fucks his dick in and—

Satoru’s gone.

His eyes flutter shut. He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, touching himself as best he can while he chokes on Suguru’s cock. It’s amazing. He never wants it to end. He sobs when Suguru pulls out of his mouth, reaching down to tug at his arms, tug him up, pulling Satoru’s hand out of his pants.

Suguru makes a low pleased sound at how wet Satoru’s fingers are, guiding them to his mouth, licking the slick of them, tongue curling around them, cleaning them off. Satoru’s knees hurt a bit from being on the ground and he feels shaky, on the edge from the teasing touches, cunt twitching.

Suguru slides his hand into Satoru’s pants, lifting up a little and shoving at Satoru’s jeans down so he can get one thick finger inside Satoru, the heel of his hand grinding against Satoru’s clit. There’s a steady pleasure blooming out over Satoru’s skin, the dull not-pain of the unrelenting pressure against his clit and Suguru’s thick finger inside him, tilting him into something endlessly good. Suguru curls his fingers as he bites at Satoru’s lower lip.

“Suguru—” Satoru gasps, “gonna, gonna—”

“Yeah, come for me—” Suguru breathes, “just like that—”

“Wait,” Satoru gasps, grabbing at Suguru’s wrist, choking on a sob as he tries to twist away, “want to come— on your cock— please—”

“Fuck.” Suguru says, pulling his hand out of Satoru’s pants. Satoru clings to him and Suguru kisses him, deep and possessive and like his restraint is about to break. It’s enough to almost make Satoru want to take it back, enough to almost make want to come now with Suguru kissing him like this. “Bed.” Suguru says and it’s half a growl.

Satoru stumbles toward his bed like the word was a command, blindly stripping himself of his clothes, falling onto his back and reaching out. Suguru’s not far behind him, muscled pecs, his washboard abs, his stupid-thick hard cock, his tight ass that Satoru grips at, digging his nails into as he spreads his legs and Suguru slides between them, catching Satoru’s mouth in a kiss.

Satoru whines when Suguru pulls away, but Suguru doesn’t go far, just travels down Satoru’s body, pressing biting kisses over his collarbone and chest and down his stomach, pressing his thighs up and open, bending his head to Satoru’s pussy.

“No,” Satoru whines, pulling Suguru’s hair, “no, just fuck me, please, please just put your cock in me—”

Suguru groans, lifting up on his knees. He strokes his dick with a tight fist, eyes locked on Satoru’s twitching pussy. Satoru feels wetness bead up out of him, can feel himself clench at the heat in Suguru’s eyes. Suguru runs a thumb over him, slides his index and middle fingers to Satoru’s entrance. They making a squelching sound that has Satoru flushing as they slip inside.

“Still so fucking tight.” Suguru says, voice all clipped, as Satoru squeezes around him, rocking his hips into the stretch. “Gotta get you loose enough to take me, okay?”

“With your cock.” Satoru groans, “Fuck me open with your cock.”

Suguru smiles, leans forward and drips spit on Satoru’s clit. Satoru jerks, whimpers.

“Don’t worry.” Suguru whispers, licking over Satoru’s twitching clit and then down, around the fingers hooked inside Satoru, pressing against his walls. “You’ll get what you want. Let me take care of you, baby.”

Satoru whines at the pet name, can’t help it, feels like he goes a little crazy each time Suguru says it, like his pussy is clenching but it’s his heart actually. He fucks himself on Suguru’s fingers, Suguru lifting up to kiss him again.

“You’ll come on my cock, I promise.” Suguru breathes into Satoru’s mouth, pulling his fingers out of Satoru. “But first you’re gonna come like this for me.” He nudges another finger inside Satoru, fucking him with three fingers, spreading and curling them. “For me.” He breathes as he kisses Satoru. He slides back down the bed, nuzzling at Satoru’s pussy, sucking on his clit until Satoru is practically crying from the combination of Suguru’s fingers inside him and Suguru’s tongue and mouth on him.

“I’m gonna come,” Satoru manages, “oh please, oh please, oh please—”

Suguru makes an approving sound against his clit, doesn’t stop sucking on it, fucks his fingers deep. Satoru comes, clenching around him, whole body shaking. Suguru pulls his hand out of Satoru’s quivering pussy after a moment and licks them like he can’t bear to let Satoru’s taste go to waste.

“Gonna fuck you now,” Suguru pants, “look at you, fuck, can’t believe you’re letting me do this, want me to do this.” It seems like he’s talking to himself really, stroking himself with Satoru’s slick and lube he magicked out of nowhere while Satoru was busy begging for his dick. Suguru lines the tip of his cock up with Satoru’s entrance, rubbing it against Satoru’s wet cunt, making sure to bump against his clit. Satoru hikes his legs up a little, reaching for Suguru who lifts up to him, brings their mouths together as his cockhead presses inside.

Satoru moans helplessly into the kiss as Suguru fucks into him with an achingly slow press of his hips.

“So much,” Satoru pants, gasping, pulling his mouth away with a moan, arching off the bed.

“Too much?” Suguru asks as he pauses, cock stretching Satoru open.

Satoru shakes his head wildly, grabbing at Suguru who’s lifting up and away, almost like he might pull out. Satoru goes to whine, complain, beg– whatever it takes, but Suguru just gets up on his knees, hauling Satoru up with him, and shifts slightly, fucks back in at a different angle, his eyes on Satoru’s face.

Satoru almost feels like he’s going to tear except he’s not, not with the careful intent look on Suguru’s face, the way he pulls out except for the tip, pours lube over his cock and Satoru’s stretched entrance, before he starts pushing in slowly again. Satoru’s not going to tear, not going to get hurt at all, because Suguru is taking care of him, just like he said he would.

Suguru pushes forward steadily, filling Satoru up all the way to his lungs, his throat, Suguru’s cock pushing inside of him until it’s the only thing he knows. Satoru feels like his heart is going to pop out of his mouth and he’s going to tell Suguru all the things he keeps secret. He slaps a hand over his face to stifle a particularly loud moan as Suguru bottoms out. Suguru tugs Satoru’s hand off his mouth and kisses the corners of Satoru’s eyes, the tears that are gathered there.

“Please let me hear you.” Suguru murmurs, pupils blown. “Please.”

Satoru nods frantically as Suguru licks at his open mouth, his teeth, Satoru panting, trying to get the coordination to kiss back. He lets himself moan unabashedly when Suguru pulls out a little, fucks back in. Suguru swears, shifts slightly, rolling his hips, as Satoru’s body works to accommodate him.

It’s so much. It’s so good.

“Move.” Satoru pants, shifting his hips, lifting them up into Suguru’s. “You can move.”

Suguru does, slow at first, careful. Satoru breathes into it, the way it feels to be filled by Suguru over and over again. He digs nails into Suguru’s shoulder blades.

“I said move.” He tells Suguru, catching his mouth for a messy kiss.

Suguru pants out a laugh, a little wild-sounding, broken up around the edges.

He pulls out enough Satoru wants to whine at the loss, then snaps his hips forward harshly so he’s buried in Satoru again. Satoru cries out, back arching. Suguru begins picking up the pace steadily, until Satoru is whimpering with each thrust, the bed shaking.

“You’re gonna make me come again,” Satoru sobs, the words broken up. He digs his nails into Suguru’s back and moans loudly. “S’guru, please, I’m so close, I’m so close–”

“Here.” Suguru gasps, pulling out. Satoru sobs loudly, empty and wanting, reaching for Suguru, but Suguru rolls him over, grabbing for a pillow to push under Satoru’s stomach, and hikes Satoru’s hips up like he weighs nothing, sliding his dick against Satoru’s pussy before he presses inside him again, snaps his hips forward so he’s buried in one movement.

The angle is all different and it’s deeper, feels deeper, Suguru’s thick cock splitting him open and Satoru’s clit is rubbing against the material of the pillowcase, rough slide of wet silk, and he’s coming before he realizes what’s happening, coming so hard he bites his tongue. Suguru grinds deep, teeth digging into Satoru’s shoulder, as Satoru shakes through his orgasm, whimpering softly and trying to get his words back. He’s nearly able to have coherent thoughts again when Suguru starts to move, shallow thrusts at first and then deeper, harder, almost brutal, ruining any chance Satoru had of forming a complete sentence or even a full word, besides for please and yes and Suguru.

Satoru can’t do anything, his limbs won’t respond right. He wants to push himself up, or thrust back against Suguru but he can’t— he can’t— all he can do is just lie there and take it, take the way Suguru’s cock splits him open every time, overstimulation up and down his body, over and over again. His brain feels scrambled. He pushes his hips up as much as he can, arching his back, knows Suguru sees because he hears Suguru swear, loud and forceful. It almost makes Satoru laugh, how happy it makes him to hear Suguru sound like that, like he’s losing control. Satoru’s gut clenches to know that Suguru thinks he’s hot, that he’s making Suguru feel good, that Suguru’s gonna come because of him.

“Gonna come—” Suguru grunts, “is inside you okay, ‘toru, is it okay—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Satoru slurs, half a chant, “yes, inside me, need it, want it, S’guru—”

Suguru groans, pushing him down into the bed, thrusting into him jerkily, whole body shuddering. Satoru likes how it feels, when Suguru comes inside him. Likes how Suguru’s cum fills him up a whole different way, a heat he can’t explain. Suguru himself is a heavy comforting weight as he pants into the back of Satoru’s neck, breathing heavily, his hips still jerking a little erratically.

Suguru pulls out after a moment with a groan. Satoru groans too, biting at his fingers, feeling a little lost without the heat of Suguru all over him, inside him. Suguru rolls Satoru over with a gentle hand on his hips, hikes his thighs up and spreads them so that Satoru’s pussy is on display for him.

Satoru lifts his head, pushing up on his with shaky arms, to see his pussy flushed and puffy, his clit swollen and red. Suguru’s cum is starting to leak out of him. His pussy twitches. He flops back against the pillows and throws an arm over his eyes to block out the light, block out the way even seeing his pussy like that made his gut clench, made him want Suguru to get hard and fuck him again, really use him, make it so Satoru can’t move without thinking about Suguru, feeling Suguru on, in, his body.

He peeks out from under his arm when Suguru’s finger brushes against his pussy. Suguru’s eyes are locked between Satoru’s legs, spreading and stretching his entrance with a thumb before he slowly presses the cum that’s dripping out back into Satoru. The touch, the press of Suguru’s thumb, the look on Suguru’s face— it all makes Satoru moan loud and broken.

Suguru’s eyes instantly snap up, pupils blown.

“You like it?” Satoru gasps. Suguru nods, like he’s been struck dumb, mouth moving around words he’s not saying. “Me too.” Satoru pants.

“You look so— I—” Suguru stops, starts. Stares at Satoru’s pussy, thumbing at it again. “Fuck.” He says softly. “So pretty, ‘toru.” His voice sounds almost reverent. “I can’t believe you let me— want me—” He trails off.

“Take a picture.” Satoru breathes, feeling Suguru’s cum start to drip out of him again. He clenches, whines when he realizes that makes more leak out. Suguru’s gaze snaps back to Satoru's face and he stops moving, thumb about to press inside Satoru again. “I want you to take a picture.” Satoru can barely breathe. “So when I’m not here you miss me so much you can’t stand it.”

Suguru stares at him, unblinking, looking like he’s not even breathing.

“Or don’t.” Satoru huffs, pussy twitching.

Suguru fumbles for his phone, nearly falling off the bed trying to grab it.

It’s so good, so perfectly embarrassing, when Suguru takes a picture, that Satoru’s toes fucking curl. Suguru puts his fingers possessively on Satoru’s wet pussy to spread him open, tug at him so more cum trickles out as he snaps the picture, maybe more than one. He tosses his phone aside after without looking. Satoru hears it clatter onto the floor and, God, what if someone sees that picture, what if Suguru jerks off to it and sends Satoru a picture– what if Suguru accidentally airdropped it to someone when he threw his phone aside?

That shouldn’t be a thought that makes Satoru’s gut clench hot but it sort of does.

He flushes and tries to bite back a moan, twisting on the bed, as Suguru flops between Satoru’s legs and licks from his perineum to his clit, gathering up his own cum on his tongue. Suguru lifts up to kiss Satoru, messy and dripping, grabbing at Satoru’s tongue after with wet fingers so he can’t swallow right. Spit and cum leak out the corner of Satoru’s mouth and he’s so turned on he could cry.

“You don’t fucking know what you do to me.” Suguru whispers and then he spits, right on Satoru’s tongue. Satoru didn’t even know he was into that, but something about it makes his eyes roll back, pussy clench. “I always miss you when you’re not with me.” Suguru mumbles, as he works his fingers back into Satoru. Satoru would ask what that means, but Suguru doesn’t even give him a second to process, starts rubbing at Satoru’s abused clit, pushing his legs open when they clamp shut. He drags Satoru right to another orgasm, dizzy with it, cunt pulsing and body shaking as he squirts.

Suguru won’t even let Satoru pass out right after, holds him and kisses him, steals his breath. When Satoru’s pulse has calmed a little, Suguru drags him into the tub, kissing at the bruises in his neck, cupping his pussy protectively, fingers stroking over him like he might start touching Satoru again.

Satoru twists against his chest, whining that he can’t come again, he can’t. He barely has a voice left, throat scratchy with pleasure, body still tingling.

“Okay,” Suguru whispers, kissing Satoru’s ear. He goes to remove his hand. Satoru grabs him, water splashing over the side of the tub.

“I didn’t say to stop.” He manages to admonish, sighing in contentment as Suguru laughs and his hand returns to between Satoru’s thighs, playing with his folds.

Not much later, Suguru’s hard against Satoru’s back while he twists Satoru’s nipples and strokes over his pussy with his palm. Satoru’s bone tired, but he never wants this intimacy with Suguru to stop, never wants the way Suguru looks at him, touches him, to stop.

“What are you smiling about?” Suguru asks, kissing his ear, finger dipping inside Satoru and making his back arch.

“Bet you can’t make me come again?” Satoru pants, knowing Suguru will take it as a challenge and wanting him to.

Unsurprisingly, Suguru can, in fact, make Satoru come again. It almost hurts, everything is so sensitive. Satoru rolls his hips against Suguru’s hand and moans without filter, body trembling. He jerks Suguru off with a shaky hand after while they make out and, when Suguru is about to come, Satoru slides down in the warm soapy water so he can suck the tip of Suguru’s dick into his mouth, feel Suguru burst on his tongue. He swallows as Suguru pets through his hair and calls him perfect and good boy and Satoru, all elongated syllables, like Satoru’s name is a prayer.

Suguru makes Satoru feel like a prayer. Or maybe a prayer answered. Suguru makes Satoru feel like something holy, like his body and his mind and everything about him are to be treasured. It’s a dangerous feeling to get used to, Satoru knows that, but he’s already used to it. He’s been used to it. Suguru has always treated him like that.

Their mouths meet for a kiss and Satoru almost cries. He doesn’t think he knows how to live without this anymore. All of this, every last bit. He makes a strangled sound. Suguru asks if he's okay, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, repeating Satoru’s name over and over. He doesn’t push when Satoru can’t really answer, can only say it’s not you, I just feel so good. He wraps Satoru up in his arms and talks and talks and talks, gentle pretty words that make Satoru want to cry even more. He presses his face into Suguru’s chest, body shaking.

Suguru holds him, until he falls asleep.

 

 

 

Satoru and Suguru spend the next week or so after the exclusive FWB talk doing what they always do. Satrou spends his time hanging all over Suguru, letting Suguru take him to fancy new crepe shops and bakeries he’s discovered, paying for Suguru’s disgusting Americanos, studying furiously, texting the worst memes he can find to the group chat, and so on. The only real difference is they have sex– well, they’ve been having sex, just now also penetrative sex– almost every day. Almost every day becomes every day and then every day quickly becomes more than once a day.

Satoru’s pussy is, like, raw. And wet. All the time. Not that Satoru’s complaining. All he has to do is pout and give Suguru half a look and then Suguru is in between his legs and Satoru is having a mind blowing orgasm the likes of which he never thought possible.

Also, Satoru supposes, a slight difference is they never sleep alone anymore and Suguru kisses him goodnight and stuff but, aside from that, not much changes.

 

 

 

“As I’ve said before,” Nanami says around a long sigh, “I don’t want to know about your genitals, Gojo.”

“I know.” Satoru says patiently. “And you’re so accepting and I love that about you, but right now I’m trying to tell you something important—”

“No genital talk at the table.” Nanami says firmly.

“You’re going to make a great dad one day.” Satoru tells him, reaching across the table so he can pat Nanami on the shoulder. “So anyway, I really didn’t think my pussy could get wet but—”

“No.” Nanami says.

“This is so rude.” Satoru says seriously. “I want to share with you, as my friend.”

“Friends don’t share this kind of information.” Nanami returns dryly.

“I’m talking to Yuu about this.” Satoru says when he sees Haibara enter the izakaya. He waves frantically until Haibara sees them, comes over. Haibara reaches out and squeezes Nanami’s hand as he lines up his shoes, sits down on the tatami mat next to Nanami. “I need to talk to you.” Satoru tells him seriously.

“Talk to me about what?” Haibara asks, accepting the oshibori Nanami offers with a smile.

“Genitalia.” Satoru say.

Nanami sighs.

“The cloaca is interesting.” Haibara offers. This is why Satoru likes him.

“This is why I like you.” He tells Haibara.

“Thank you.” Haibara says, all big open eyes.

There was actually a brief period of time where Satoru thought he didn’t like Haibara, simply because Haibara sort of hero-worshiped Suguru and Suguru was, like, so kind to him and Satoru thought maybe they had something going on– until he realized they really really didn’t and remembered Suguru is just really very kind point blank.

Anyway, Satoru hadn’t been jealous, obviously, even though Utahime had spent a whole month calling him incredibly jealous. He was just you know– he thought that his best friend was being stolen. He had been suspicious of Haibara. Totally normal stuff.

(He’d been a little jealous.)

“Cloaca.” Satoru repeats. “Fascinating. Elaborate, please, if you would.” He grabs Haibara’s hands across the table and peers at him. “Would you prefer if Nanami had a cloaca?”

“Um, no.” Haibara says, squeezing his hands gently. “I would really rather Kento didn’t have a cloaca. I like his genitalia the way they are. Not to say I wouldn’t like him if his genitals were different, of course. Or if Kento wanted to–”

“Please.” Nanami says. “I am begging you, sweetheart.”

“Aw,” Satoru says, “you don’t have to call me sweetheart.”

“However–” Haibara says brightly, nudging Nanami with his shoulder and smiling apologetically at him. He tilts his head to get a soft kiss to his temple.

“However!” Satoru says, instantly intrigued.

“Tentacles.” Habaira says. “Now, not strictly genitalia–”

“Not at all genitalia.” Satoru agrees.

“–but an intriguing consideration.” Haibara says.

“Huh.” Satoru says and considers. He brings Haibara’s hands up to cup his face as he considers.

“What are you talking about and why does it have Nanami looking so distressed?” Shoko asks, tossing herself on one side of Satoru. Utahime sits next to Nanami across the table from Shoko. She and Nanami exchange cheek kisses and some sort of words in French because they’re weird and cultured and shit. It’s shocking every time. Satoru hates it.

“Cloaca.” Haibara says.

“Tentacle porn.” Satoru says.

Suguru snorts from where he was finishing taking off his docs and settles himself onto the tatami next to Satoru, wedging his feet under the table. Satoru releases his hold on Haibara so that he can cuddle against Suguru with a happy hum. Suguru touches the small of his back, and then gently kisses his cheekbone. It’s bold. It’s stealing Nanami and Utahime’s we studied abroad in Paris thing. Satoru loves it. He loves Suguru. He beams at him.

“You into tentacle porn now, ‘toru?” Suguru asks.

Satoru brushes Suguru’s bangs back and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He says.

“Gojo does seem like he could have a secret stash of tentacle porn.” Utahime says. “Among a secret stash of other things.”

“So I seem like a pervert.” Satoru says, not even remotely offended.

“Geto seems like the kinkier one to me.” Shoko says, pointing an unlit cigarette at Suguru. “He’s too polite. It’s hiding something. He probably has a million kinks. Intense and intriguing ones. Tell us, Gojo. Is Geto really a freak in bed?”

Satoru didn’t know they all knew about him and Suguru being, like, friends with benefits and stuff but whatever. That’s chill. He was trying to tell Nanami about it, he just started in a place that got him instantly shut down. He readjusts himself against Suguru’s side, letting Suguru’s arm drape over his shoulders.

“The biggest.” He assures Shoko.

“Hah.” Shoko says. “I knew it.”

“Satoru is way–” Suguru starts.

“Unlikely.” Shoko says.

“Yeah,” Satoru says, cutting off general commentary and heated debate coming from the others. “I’m so innocent.”

“Oh please.” Utahime scoffs.

“No one said that.” Shoko adds, rolling her eyes.

“I’m being corrupted.” Satoru continues, undeterred. “My poor virgin body and min–”

Suguru snorts.

“Satoru, you made me take a picture of your pussy covered in my cu–” He starts and does not finish.

“No.” Utahime shouts, cutting him off, as if the general clamor from Nanami and Shoko wasn’t enough to drown out the end of the sentence. She fake gags. “No. No sharing. Bad.”

“Inside thought.” Shoko groans, “Geto, man, fucking–”

“I never wanted to know that.” Nanami says as Haibara pats his shoulder. “I never wanted—”

“I did do that.” Satoru says with a shrug. “It was hot. Sorry for loving my body, I guess? And Suguru’s cu–”

Utahime flicks water at his face.

“No.” She repeats. “No sharing. No more sharing. We will be communing in silence this evening.”

“I’m glad you guys are exploring things healthily.” Haibara says. “Relationships are about trust and sharing new things.”

Suguru doesn’t correct that they’re not in a relationship so Satoru doesn’t either.

“I’m ordering a lot of alcohol for the table now.” Nanami says. “Please, if you could hand me the menu screen–”

Satoru holds his hands back out to Haibara who takes them easily.

“Word association.” Satoru says. “Tentacles.”

“Oviposition.” Haibara says calmly.

“Tell me more.” Satoru says immediately.

“Don’t.” Utahime says as Shoko cackles. Nanami sighs and adds more beers to the order.

Suguru squeezes Satoru’s side and laughs into his temple as Haibara, in fact, tells Satoru more.

The night devolves from there.

 

 

 

Satoru doesn’t drink much and Suguru doesn’t either, holds his liquor better anyways. The chaos of their friends makes Satoru’s skin buzz happily, Suguru’s calming hand on the small of Satoru’s back or the nape of his neck, stroking his undercut and then his earlobes, a gentle relief.

Satoru kisses the back of Suguru’s neck as they wait for the elevator to take them back down to street level, curls against him.

“You good?” Suguru asks lightly, checking train times on his phone, reaching a hand down to squeeze Satoru’s wrist.

“Mm-hm.” Satoru nods, disentangling himself as the elevator beeps and they all pile on.

They’re barely inside Suguru’s apartment before Satoru is kissing him. Suguru laughs lightly, hanging his keys up, meeting Satoru’s kisses with his own. Their shoes are a mess, and then their clothes on the floor, before they tumble into bed in their boxers.

“We should shower now.” Suguru says with a cheeky grin, ducking out of the way of Satoru’s next kiss.

“No,” Satoru complains, dragging out the vowels. “Wanna make out.” He grabs at Suguru’s face to drag it back to his.

“You tipsy?” Suguru asks.

Satoru considers, falling forward onto Suguru with a shrug. He kisses him once, twice.

“Not really.” He says. “Just wanna make out.”

Suguru smiles.

They do, syrup slow and sweet. The way Suguru kisses Satoru makes all his bones feel too big for his skin, like he’s going to spill out over all of his edges.

Satoru moans softly, as Suguru slides down his body, pressing kisses every inch. He lifts his hips as Suguru takes his boxers off, tucking himself neatly between Satoru’s thighs, pushing them up, open. Satoru lifts up on his elbows, half out of breath, and looks between his legs at his pussy, his clit standing out between the folds, wetness leaking out of him.

“So pretty.” Suguru says softly, a hungry look in his eyes. He bends his head and laps at the underside of Satoru’s clit with spit pooled on his tongue. Satoru makes a soft sound, hips twitching. “So gorgeous, baby.” Suguru says, all raspy, pressing a sweet kiss to Satoru’s clit. Satoru moans again and lifts his hips up to meet Suguru’s mouth, hands sliding to the back of Suguru’s head, combing through his hair, tangling in his makeshift bun.

Suguru laps at his pussy and shifts slightly, sucks at his clit, licks over his entrance and the wetness leaking out of Satoru, making a sound like Satoru tastes so good he’s going to break. Satoru groans, presses down on Suguru’s head, grinding up against his face. Suguru hums in approval and it vibrates through Satoru’s pussy, making his body shake. Satoru kicks his hips up as Suguru’s tongue presses into him. Suguru’s fingers are leaving bruising marks on Satoru’s thighs, pulling him closer, Satoru’s hands pushing Suguru’s head down as he grinds against his face.

Satoru’s thighs start to tremble and he knows he’s going to come, a familiar burn in his stomach.

“Suguru,” he moans, grinding up against his face, “Oh fuck, oh fuck—” He works himself harder, Suguru’s encouraging hands helping him, sliding one hand free so he can work his fingers into Satoru’s pussy while he sucks hard on his clit. “Oh my God.” Satoru slurs, as Suguru pulls his head back and spits right on Satoru puffy cunt. He works it inside Satoru with his tongue while he’s rubbing his clit, mouthing at him and moaning and it’s all—

So much.

Satoru comes messily all over Suguru’s face, legs shaking and clamping around Suguru’s head, stuttering out helpless sobs as he does.

“Kiss me.” Satoru manages, his body shaking violently. He pulls Suguru’s hair hard enough Suguru hisses, still nosing at his cunt, licking over Satoru. “Get up here, fuck, please.”

Suguru kisses over his entrance and then his clit and then his belly button and his scars and his nipple and his collarbones. Satoru’s trembling with want and need, on the verge of begging again. He reaches down to stroke Suguru’s hard cock.

“Inside me.” He tells Suguru, biting at his lips, licking at his teeth. “Fuck me, want you inside me.”

“Lube.” Suguru bites out, fumbling with his nightstand drawer while he tries to keep kissing Satoru. He drops the lube on the bed as Satoru draws his hand up his cock, rubbing at the slit. Suguru’s head falls to Satoru’s shoulder with a groan. He bites down harshly before he lifts up to bring their mouths together.

Satoru moans into the kiss. It’s hard to focus on kissing and getting the lube open with one hand. He tilts his head back and lets Suguru work a hickey onto his neck as Satoru pours maybe too much lube into his hand. He reaches down to stroke Suguru. Suguru presses his mouth to a new spot and Satoru jolts, a stuttered ah falling from his mouth. He likes Suguru marking him up too much for him to be effective at jerking Suguru off really, but Suguru doesn’t seem to mind, no matter how much Satoru’s hand stutters or stops.

“Please,” Satoru says, shifting his legs, lifting them up even as he guides Suguru’s cock to his cunt, rubbing it against himself, eyelids fluttering, Suguru’s mouth falling open in a quiet groan.

“Yeah,” Suguru says, “fuck, you feel so good—” he whispers as he starts to push inside.

God, it feels like the first time every time, Satoru manages to think, as Suguru enters him. It’s so much, so good. Suguru’s cock bullies its way inside Satoru, pushing against him, spreading him, stretching him open.

“You feel so good,” Suguru says, catching Satoru’s mouth in a kiss, biting at his jaw when Satoru’s back arches. “So tight.” Suguru breathes as his cock sinks in another inch. Satoru moans, his nails digging into the small of Suguru’s back, his ass.

“So much,” Satoru slurs, “so good, so full, S’guru—”

Suguru presses forward more and it’s a slow slow stretch, all this pressure. Time feels malleable. Satoru feels like he’s melting. He feels like his brain is scrambled– Suguru’s thick cock stretching him open and Suguru’s soft bergamot scent all around him, the strong muscles of Suguru’s back under his hands as Suguru sinks that much more into him.

He whines pathetically when Suguru starts to pull out, but Suguru shushes him softly, fucks back in all the way in one smooth movement that has Satoru’s eyes flying open and his back arching off the bed.

“Breathe,” Suguru whispers into his ear, but Satoru can’t, hands scrambling at Suguru’s back, body trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion. It’s so good. He’s so full. He chokes on his own spit a little, trying to force out words, tell Suguru how good it feels. Suguru smiles at him, kisses the corner of his mouth, then starts to thrust. Satoru’s vision goes a little blurry. All he can do is lay there and take it.

Suguru moans, fucking into Satoru deep, pausing there and panting, kissing the side of his neck. Satoru clings to him, hindering Suguru’s movements he realizes, as Suguru keeps grinding deep inside him, hand stroking Satoru’s side.

“You okay?” Suguru whispers. Satoru nods, loosening his grip on Suguru, letting his arms fall by his head, his legs loosen. Suguru pulls out, slaps his cock on Satoru’s fat clit, rubbing against it in a way that has them both moaning. “You make this fucking face,” Suguru breathes, as he fucks back in, “every time, baby. You make this face like you can’t believe how good it feels, how good my cock feels.”

“Can’t.” Satoru chokes out. “Can’t– never liked– never liked things inside me until– not until– you–” he manages, “only you.”

“Fuck,” Suguru pants, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” and then he’s pounding into Satoru again, picking up the pace quickly, hiking Satoru’s hips up, forcing his back to arch. “Touch yourself.” He pants.

Satoru’s fingers find his overstimulated swollen clit and he rubs it the best he can but it’s so much, too much.

“Can’t.” He sobs.

“You can, let me, it’s okay, baby.” Suguru groans, pushing Satoru’s hand out of the way to do it for him. His other hand grips Satoru’s hip to hold him steady as possible as he fucks him hard and desperate.

He smacks Satoru’s clit and Satoru shudders.

“S’guru—” he manages, maybe a warning, and then he’s coming, hot and wet all over Suguru and– “Oh God,” Satoru manages, “fuck, S’guru, please, fuck.” He’s arching off the bed, sliding off the side as he clenches down, shaking so hard he’s forcing Suguru out of him.

Suguru pulls him back onto the bed, manhandling Satoru so that he can slide back in before Satoru’s even finished coming. His cock makes an obscene wet sound in Satoru’s cunt and then Suguru’s pounding into Satoru with hard, heavy thrusts.

Satoru’s so overwhelmed he can’t form a coherent thought, word, anything. His vision is narrowed down, to Suguru above him, looking at him. That’s all there is. There’s just Suguru and his thick cock splitting Satoru apart and remaking him. Satoru can feel spit leaking out of the corner of his mouth, can taste his tears, salty against his tongue. He must look a mess. Suguru’s looking at him like he’s never seen anything better. Satoru loves him so much.

“You’re my favorite person, S’guru.” He manages to slur out, the words mangled. “I love you.”

Suguru shudders and comes with a choked sound, hot and pulsing inside Satoru. It makes Satoru moan. Suguru coming inside him is such a good feeling, dirty in the best way possible. Satoru loves it, Suguru hot cum inside him, leaking out as Suguru keeps moving, working himself through his orgasm. Suguru shudders, falling forward, kissing him with shaking lips. Satoru thinks Suguru’s saying I love you too but he’s not really sure, his ears are ringing from his orgasm and Suguru’s voice is raspy and he’s kissing Satoru as he speaks. Suguru’s hand is between Satoru’s legs as he pulls out, rubbing at his clit, stroking cum over his pussy, a gentle finger rubbing at his entrance.

“Let me make you come again.” Suguru says. “Please, let me make you come again, baby.”

Satoru’s floating. He’s gonna pass out. He licks at Suguru’s mouth, nods into a kiss. Suguru works him quick, pinching at his clit, telling him he’s beautiful and his pussy looks so pretty after Suguru uses it, that his body is so perfect, that Suguru loves every freckle, every scar, Suguru loves his mind, him, that Satoru is his favorite person, his best person, the only one he’s ever wanted—

Satoru comes with a broken cry, can’t even scream properly, his throat scratchy and raw and the room spinning as he squirts, making a mess of the bed, of Suguru.

Suguru kisses him when he’s still coming weakly, hand cupping his pussy possessively, and steals any words Satoru would try to say, keeps kissing him after.

Satoru drowns in the touch.

In Suguru.

“I love you.” Suguru murmurs into Satoru’s neck when they’re cuddled in bed later, the lights off, soft music playing. Suguru sounds barely awake. His fingers are twitching against Satoru’s waist, his eyelashes brushing against Satoru’s pulse point.

Satoru’s heart does something really really funny in his chest.

“Love you too, bud.” He manages.

Suguru pinches him on the side, soft and barely there. His lips move against Satoru’s neck, but Satoru can’t hear what he says.

“I love you too.” Satoru whispers, when he thinks Suguru is asleep.

He does. He really does.

The knot of confusing feelings in Satoru’s chest about Suguru was never really that confusing, or that much of a knot.

Just four words Satoru doesn’t know what to do with.

I really love him.

He wakes up the next morning to Suguru kissing him softly on the cheek and then on the mouth when Satoru wakes properly, a deep kiss, morning breath and all. It’s late, must be later than Satoru thought because Suguru is dressed for work and sunlight is creeping in through the blinds.

“Rest, baby.” Suguru says, pressing another soft kiss to Satoru’s lips. “I’ll see you later, okay? We can make dinner at yours.”

Satoru nods dumbly and kisses Suguru goodbye and then stares at the ceiling, telling himself if he doesn’t blink the tears won’t fall. They do anyway.

He rolls over on his side and squeezes his eyes shut tight.

 

 

 

“No way,” Satoru simpers, trying to stifle the laugh, “that’s so fascinating.”

“Yeah,” the guy says. He has a name but Satoru literally does not remember it. He only knows the guy has a name because the guy said it, right after he bought Satoru a drink. Well, actually he bought Suguru a drink because Satoru was buying a drink for Suguru not for himself, but that’s none of the guy’s business. Satoru intended to pay for Suguru’s beer when he came up here honestly. Suguru and Shoko were deep in a conversation, Suguru was out of beer, and Satoru is a helpful guy like that. A helpful guy like that for Suguru specifically. But this guy wouldn’t let up. Satoru turned him down twice and the guy still insisted so, you know what? Sure. Buy the overpriced IPA Suguru loves for him.

Of course, now the guy’s really not letting up. Asking what sort of IPAs Satoru drinks, talking about how he brews beer at home and something something something blah blah blah. Satoru’s not listening. Disrespectfully.

“I’m thinking I’ll name it king or something,” the guy says, “like that’s a nickname for me some of my friends use for me.”

“That’s so so fascinating.” Satoru says even though it’s not even remotely fascinating and he’s actually literally so bored. He takes a sip of Suguru’s beer and frowns at it. He left his nice umeshu soda at the table because he didn’t expect to be gone for more than a minute. This guy is such a douche. Satoru can’t wait to tell Suguru all about this idiot. He’s mainly engaged in the conversation for the terrible story, but he’s over it. He misses his drink. He misses Suguru’s face. He misses Suguru’s arm around him, thumb stroking under his shirt at the waistband of his boxers just barely rising above his jeans.

Satoru pushes himself off the barstool.

“Well, bye forever.” He says cheerily.

“Hey, wait, what— come on, where are you going? Let me buy you another drink.” The guy says, like Satoru’s not holding a full beer.

“No.” Satoru says.

“Come on, man.” Douche says and Satoru rolls his eyes. He’s going to have to add to his story that this guy really can’t take a fucking hint and it’s not cool.

Satoru turns to leave and the guy grabs his wrist.

Now, Satoru’s a pretty chill guy, but you don’t touch someone without permission. Satoru turns back with narrowed eyes, making sure not to spill any of Suguru’s beer. Douchebag here gets one chance. One polite let go now or he gets, like, a beer glass to the head. At the very least a sprained wrist. Satoru doesn’t fuck around about stuff like that. If the guy can’t listen, Satoru’ll make him listen.

He opens his mouth to say let me go now when suddenly Suguru is there, his arms around Satoru’s waist, chest pressed to Satoru’s back, chin hooked on his shoulder.

“Hi.” Suguru says and looks very pointedly at where the guy is holding onto Satoru’s wrist. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy returns. The scoffing sound he makes after he speaks morphs into a small pained sound as Suguru reaches out and takes hold of his wrist. Satoru could draw from memory the aggressively polite smile Suguru probably has on his face. He loves when Suguru uses aggressive politeness to fuck people up. It’s so sexy. The asshole huffs, rolls his eyes, and makes a show of releasing Satoru’s wrist. Suguru releases said guy’s wrist too, wipes his hand off on the guy’s jacket, and then carefully inspect Satoru’s wrist like it will be damaged or stained or some shit. It’s so cute. Probably Satoru shouldn’t think it’s cute but what can he do? He thinks Suguru being overly protective of him even though he knows Satoru can handle himself is cute. And sexy.

“Got your drink.” Satoru says happily, handing it to Suguru. “That guy bought it for you.” He adds, gesturing. He leans back against Suguru’s broad chest with a sigh of contentment. Satoru’s a little too tall so he’s always gotta slouch to lean against Suguru like this, but it’s so worth it for the way Suguru will tighten his arm around Satoru’s waist, pull him closer. Suguru does that now and Satoru preens.

“Thanks, baby.” Suguru says, taking a sip, looking right at the guy.

“No problem, babe.” Satoru says because he’s not one to be left behind.

“What the fuck ever.” The guy spits, rolling his eyes, muttering something that sounds like bastard under his breath. He pushes himself up off the bar and stalks into the crowd.

Suguru watches him go before he slides his hand to Satoru’s stomach and pulls away a little to look at him, frowning slightly. Satoru lowkey wants to pinch Suguru’s cheeks but he refrains.

“Who was that, ‘toru?” Suguru asks.

“Huh?” Satoru says and pokes at Suguru’s cheek.

“Who was that?” Suguru repeats, pulling his head away.

Satoru rolls his eyes.

“I don’t fucking know. Just some douche. He brews beer or something, total snob. I want to share the ridiculousness with you so I let him blabber for a little bit, got bored because he was incredibly boring.”

“Mm.” Suguru says after a second.

“Also I missed you.” Satoru adds, batting his eyelashes.

Suguru rolls his eyes but his smile is fond.

“Why you asking?” Satoro asks, glancing at Suguru properly. “Oh?” He says when he sees the look in Suguru’s eyes. He twists himself out of Suguru’s grip, settles onto a barstool. The look in Suguru’s eyes is a good one. A really good one. It’s the one that means Satoru is going to get fucked five ways to Sunday. Satoru really really likes that look. He spreads his legs wide as Suguru steps between them. Satoru slides to the edge of the stool, hooks his fingers through Suguru’s belt loops. He looks up at Suguru through his lashes innocently. “Were you jealous?”

“No.” Suguru says unconvincingly. “It’s just, I mean, come on— who would want to see their boyfriend talking to another guy like that?”

Satoru jolts so hard he nearly falls off the damn stool.

“Huh?” He says, blinks up at Suguru who’s holding him partially up, beer sloshing.

He looks so concerned.

“You okay?” Suguru asks. “What happened, do you need water?” He’s waving down the bartender before Satoru can even respond, putting his beer on the bar, brushing Satoru’s hair back so he can peer into his eyes. “You feel dizzy? You didn’t drink much at the table. He didn’t give you a drink or something, did he, baby?” His hand is on Satoru’s cheek but his eyes drift, hardening, scanning the room like he’s looking for the guy.

“Boyfriend?” Satoru croaks.

“Huh?” Suguru says, thumb stilling where it was stroking Satoru’s cheekbone.

“It’s— I— we’re dating?” Satoru manages, his voice going embarrassingly high pitched at the end of the sentence.

Suguru stares at him a beat then his shoulders relax and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh haha.” He says. “So funny, ‘toru.”

They stare at each other for a beat.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Suguru asks at the same time Satoru manages to say,

“Since when?”

Suguru drops his hand and stares at Satoru for a second.

“You’re not joking.” He says slowly.

“Neither are you!” Satoru splutters. “What are? What? We? What?” His stomach is clenching and unclenching like he’s gonna be sick but in a good way, like a gay rainbow and sparkles way. He’s dating Suguru? Suguru’s dating him? They’re boyfriends?

“Satoru.” Suguru says slowly. “I told you I love you. You told me you loved me.”

“We’ve said that before.” Satoru argues, even though it’s not something they just toss around a lot but– like. They have said that before. Suguru said it like last week even when Satoru beasted a whole three parfaits by himself in, like, seven minutes flat and had whipped cream on his nose and was telling Suguru about the Ikemen Prince game he was playing. Sorry that he’s, like, into Chevalier for the drama of it and gesticulates when he talks. Unless they were dating last week. Were they? Were they boyfriends last week?

“Were we boyfriends last week?” He asks.

“I’ve never said that I love you after I’ve come inside you.” Suguru hisses, ignoring his question.

Satoru raises his hands to concede the point and doesn’t point out the coming inside him is a relatively new thing so that’s not, like, a great reference. Honestly, that probably proves Suguru’s point more than his.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, “are you– we spend every minute together, we fuck without condoms, we fuck every night—”

“And then some.” Satoru leers. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He quickly adds at Suguru’s face which is somewhere between exasperated, loving, and completely wrecked with confusion.

“We went on a date yesterday,” Suguru says like he’s pleading, “I took you to that cafe in Shibuya and you ate an entire French toast loaf thing with ice cream that was in the shape of Hachiko. Then we went shopping, then we ate soba, then we fucked in your kitchen— are you kidding right now.”

“I— is it crazy if I didn’t realize that was a date?” Satoru asks. “Maybe yes, it is, but also I didn’t—”

“How could it have not been a date?” Suguru cuts him off. “We held hands.”

“Sometimes I wander off.” Satoru shrugs. “We’ve– no, listen, all of that, yes, I– but– since when have we been—” He stares blankly at Suguru. “Suguru.” He says frantically. “We’re dating? Since when?”

Suguru throws his hands up frustrated, rubs at his forehead.

“Since the strawberry thing? I mean, before then really, when— I said I wanted you, you said I was yours, that you meant it— but that was when we said we were exclusive?”

Satoru stares.

“That was, like, over a month ago.” He hisses, poking Suguru in the chest.

“Yeah.” Suguru says, sounding pained.

“You didn’t— you didn’t say anything.” Satoru sputters. “I didn’t— I didn’t—”

“I didn’t think I had to!” Suguru says, throwing his hands up again. He grabs at his beer and takes a huge gulp like it will steady him. “Exclusive.” He hisses at Satoru. “I said I wanted you and you said you wanted me and then we agreed we were exclusive.”

Satoru snatches the beer and takes a gulp for himself.

“This is gross.” He says, gagging a little as he swallows. “Suguru, ew, why?”

“You’re such a fucking idiot.” Suguru snaps.

“I am not.” Satoru returns automatically. “I’m in a double PhD program—”

“Do you think—” Suguru snaps loudly, looks around, lowers his voice, leans in, “do you think I go around fucking guys without protection? Telling them I love them? Calling them baby?”

“I thought you were a really affectionate sex friend because it was me.” Satoru says. “I didn’t—”

“Yeah.” Suguru says. “Because it’s you. Satoru.” He looks pained. Hurt. Satoru feels sick. “Satoru,” Suguru says, blinking hard, “‘toru, I’ve been in love with you for years. I— do you not feel the same? Is all this was– we were– to you—” He stops, blinks hard, and his voice is very quiet when he speaks next. “Was it, just, like, that I’m a good fuck? Did you not– do you not– fuck. Fuck.” He winces, rubs at his eyes.

Satoru has to fix this. He has to.

He grabs Suguru by the face and kisses him.

Suguru sputters, pulls back, relaxes into it, makes a strange sound into Satoru’s mouth. Satoru pulls back barely, kisses him softly again, knocks their foreheads together.

“I’m an idiot.” He says. “Suguru. I’ve been experiencing emotional turmoil because all I want is to be with you, but I thought you didn’t want a relationship with me, just really liked to eat me out.”

“I do like to do that.”

“You really do.” Satoru agrees, nodding. “And you’re very good at it.” He wriggles a little. “Kinda getting wet just thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” Suguru breathes.

Satoru shakes his head, clears his throat.

“Focus.” He admonishes Suguru but mostly himself. “Suguru, I honestly didn’t— I didn’t know. You didn’t say anything specific or, like, ask to be my boyfriend or— you know I’m bad at, like, social cues. I swear I didn’t know. Please trust me that I’m very, very into you. Like, so into you.”

“I’m an idiot.” Suguru says softly.

“Yeah.” Satoru agrees. “But you’re my idiot, apparently?”

“You’re so— fuck. Fuck. Oh my God.” Suguru blinks hard. “Fucking—”

“Are we still dating because I would really like to be and like to be dating while I know we’re dating.” Satoru says, as succinctly as he can manage, hoping to get to the main point.

“I— yes, if you want to be.” Suguru says, sounding confused and hopeful.

“Fantastic.” Satoru says. “I want to be. I’m in love with you. I have been in love with you, lowkey since I met you.”

“Highkey.” Shoko says. Satoru starts, turning to look at her. Suguru steps forward and pulls him into a tight hug. “This is wild. Just so you know that immediate sickening love was mutual, Gojo. Geto’s always been the most obsessed with you.”

“Stop talking.” Suguru says, all muffled. Satoru pats his head.

“Aw.” He says. “Suguru, really?”

“No.” Suguru says.

“Christ, I’ve got to tell Utahime about this. She’s going to be so mad she missed you being a fucking idiot.” Shoko says, probably to Satoru but possibly to Suguru– who is Satoru’s boyfriend. He can’t believe it. How did he get so lucky?

Satoru scowls at Shoko.

“Don’t be rude to my boyfriend.” He says.

“I’m talking about you.” Shoko sighs. “Although him too. He started tipsy crying the other night because he, quote, just loves you so much and was trying so hard to not say he loved you too often too soon and stress you out. He was so excited when you started dating. He texted to ask me if it was too soon to propose, like, the next day I think.”

“I never said any of that.” Suguru says as Satoru struggles to disentangle them so he can see Suguru’s face. His ears are turning red. “I didn’t text that either.” Suguru adds, tightening his grip on Satoru. The back of his neck is flushed too. He definitely did say that and text that.

Satoru’s heart does the clenching thing.

“That’s a shame.” Satoru tells Suguru, petting through his hair, “because I love you so much too and wanted to ask you to be exclusive husbands during the strawberry thing but stopped myself from saying it.”

“Shut up.” Suguru says. He lifts his head up. “Really?”

Satoru nods emphatically. “Please marry me.” He says. “I think I have a ring pop in my bag, would you accept that as a–”

“I want to take you home and fuck you so bad right now.” Suguru whispers, his lips brushing Satoru’s in a totally cruel mockery of a kiss. Satoru pushes forward a little for a real kiss and gets denied.

Fuck yeah, he thinks.

“Fuck yeah.” He says. Shoko snorts. “Shut up, Shoko.” Satoru manages to say before Suguru practically drags him out of the bar. Shoko tosses him his bag as he goes. He doesn’t have a ring pop actually but Suguru accepts his pocky stick and then kisses him, right on the fucking streets of Shimokitazawa, in front of a very confused Lawson’s employee and three foreign exchange students who cheer.

 

 

 

Satoru’s apartment is closer so that’s where they go. Suguru pushes him through the door and, well, Satoru’s really not sure how it happens. One second they’re in the entryway and Satoru’s going are we really boyfriends and Suguru going yes and then Satoru is fully naked in his bed and Suguru is buried between his thighs and Satoru barely even remembers blinking.

“You act like you want to live between my thighs,” Satoru manages to gasp, teetering on the edge of his second orgasm.

“I do.” Suguru says simply, licking up his cunt. “I want to drown in your pussy, baby.”

“Suguru,” Satoru begs, as Suguru licks over his clit with the flat of his tongue, sliding his fingers back inside him. “Suguru—”

“That fucking guy,” Suguru says nonsensically, letting Satoru drag him up into a kiss that tastes like Satoru, “he was touching you—” Suguru kisses Satoru’s wrist, licks at it, teeth pressing against the skin in a bruising bite.

“I had it,” Satoru says, breathless, confused, his mind spinning. He groans as Suguru finally strips himself of his clothes, grinding against Satoru as he sucks on his tongue, presses a kiss to his chin, moving back down his body. “S’guru—”

Suguru makes a nonsensical sound, looking up at Satoru when Satoru tugs his hair.

“I know you had it.” Suguru says, still so composed despite the fact Satoru’s having trouble stringing more than three words together. He rests his cheek against Satoru’s hipbone. “I know.” He repeats.

Satoru strokes through Suguru’s hair, watches Suguru nuzzle into his skin.

“Were you really jealous?” Satoru breathes, incredulous, amazed that Suguru— the only person he’s ever wanted— wants him back. It astounds him each time he thinks about it. “Suguru, were you worried?”

“No.” Suguru says petulantly, hooking his finger inside Satoru, rubbing against that spot that makes Satoru’s vision go blurry. “Forget it.”

“Suguru,” Satoru groans, grabbing at his wrist, pulling Suguru’s fingers out of his cunt. God he’s so empty. He needs Suguru inside him, keeping him steady and full, making him feel good. Always making him feel good, even before they started fucking around, even before Satoru knew what Suguru’s tongue felt like on his clit, mouth felt like on his pussy, cock felt like hard and thick and splitting him open. Suguru blow-drying Satoru’s hair for him, curling up with him when he was sad, bringing him proper food when Satoru kept forgetting to eat, organizing a workout routine for them so that Satoru felt like a person, felt like the body he was creating was the one he wanted every since he was little.

Suguru, who always treated Satoru so special and good that Satoru didn’t even realize anything had changed.

Suguru, who Satoru loves more than anyone.

Suguru.

Always Suguru.

“Baby,” Satoru whispers. Suguru stops, frozen, hand cupping Satoru’s pussy. Satoru pushes at his shoulders and Suguru goes easy, always does for Satoru, rolling onto his back, hand sliding to hold Satoru by the hip, the other stroking his thigh.

“‘toru?” He whispers.

“Baby,” Satoru repeats, “Suguru, baby,” he rolls his hips, wet cunt slippery against Suguru’s hard dick, watching as Suguru groans, eyes fluttering shut then opening quickly like he can’t bear to not be looking at Satoru’s face. “You were worried?” Satoru strokes Suguru’s dick as he lifts up on his knees. He rubs the tip against his cunt, on his clit, then down so it catches on his entrance. He presses the head of Suguru’s cock inside him, groaning at the stretch. He lets Suguru’s cock pop out so he can press it inside himself again. “You think he could fuck me like this?” Satoru asks, letting Suguru’s cock sink into him. “Think I wanted him to? Baby. Baby.” He pants softly, tries to gather his words around a groan. “I’m your baby, S’guru.” He pleads. “Only ever your baby. You’ve ruined me, you get that?” He sinks down an inch, squeezing Suguru’s hand on his waist, other hand on Suguru’s abs to hold himself steady. “Think I want anyone but you for anything?” He keeps his eyes on Suguru’s face as he speaks. Suguru, who’s looking at him almost worshipfully, so tenderly, with so much love. How could Satoru have ever thought he was anything but loved by Suguru? How could he have known the difference, when Suguru has always looked at him like this, just like this?

“Satoru,” Suguru gasps, his fingers frantic on Satoru’s skin.

Satoru whimpers as his thighs tremble. It’s so much, it’s always so much. He’s so full and he knows Suguru’s barely halfway in.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Satoru pants rapidly, the words mixed with punched out little sounds. “You’re all I’ll ever want. You were taking care of me so good, always take care of me so good— I didn’t— I was so in love with you–” he groans, pausing. “Talking is hard.” He manages and then forces Suguru’s cock inside him all of the way, sitting down heavily on Suguru.

“Shit–” Suguru says, hands clenching at Satoru’s hips. “Oh fuck, ‘toru–”

Satoru can feel him in his lungs. His throat. He whines, falling forward with hips twitching erratically as his body struggles to adjust. Suguru strokes his back, hips kicking up slightly, as he kisses Satoru’s neck, his ear, his hair, anywhere he can reach.

“Satoru–” He gasps.

“How could I ever ask for more?” Satoru manages when he catches his breath. He rolls his hips experimentally, then does it again, pushing himself up again, hand on Suguru’s chest to steady himself. Suguru’s heart beats rapidly under his palm. “I didn’t say anything about how I felt because– it didn’t have to be– we don’t have to do this for me to love you. I just knew I couldn’t survive if you took your love away from me, I—”

Suguru surges up and catches Satoru’s mouth in a kiss, the angle changing and making Satoru moan when Suguru slips that much deeper into him. Suguru’s arm slides around Satoru’s waist and he lifts his other hand to Satoru’s jaw, holds him steady with their lips brushing as he directs Satoru’s hips in a slow rocking motion, pressing against a spot inside Satoru that makes little fireworks burst behind his eyelids.

“You’re mine.” Suguru whispers into the kiss. “‘toru, are you saying that you’re mine?”

“You just figured that out?” Satoru pants. “You thought we were— God, fuck, so much— dating and you only just— always been your’s—I’ve only ever been– fuck me, please, fuck me, need you to–”

“Fuck yourself for me.” Suguru whispers, falling back against the bed. “Come on.” His hands are tight on Satoru’s hips, tensed, like he’s holding himself back from fucking up, from pushing Satoru onto his back and pounding into him.

Satoru whines, leaning forward so he can press their foreheads together. He’s going to beg but Suguru whispers—

“You can do it. For me. Show me you’re mine, ‘toru, come on, baby.”

Satoru whines again but sits up so he can lift up on his knees, sink back down. He starts slow, loves the way it feels when he takes Suguru’s cock, like his pussy, his body, has to shape itself to accommodate Suguru’s dick. His head tilts back, moan caught in his throat, as Suguru rubs his clit with a thumb and Satoru keens, lifts up, fucks back down. Everything is wet and messy and Satoru starts to move his hips faster, lift up a little higher. He’s so full he can’t breathe.

“There you go, baby.” Suguru whispers. His fingers digging in so tight that Satoru knows they’ll leave bruises. He wants them to. “My baby.” Suguru breathes, as Satoru picks up the pace. “My ‘toru.” Satoru makes a desperate sound in response. He feels like he’s gonna come. He tilts his head back down, blinking open teary eyes to try to see Suguru. He’s staring up at Satoru in wonder, one hand tight on his thigh, his other petting over Satoru, his scars, his chest, his cunt, his thighs. “Fuck, look at you.” Suguru breathes.

“Yours,” Satoru manages, “all for you. It’s—”

Suguru lifts up and kisses him again. He must put his hand on the bed or something to stabilize himself because he fucks up into Satoru and Satoru sobs, chokes on his own spit, cradles Suguru’s face in his hands to try to ground himself. He can’t breathe, is dizzy with it, with the force of the kiss, the force of Suguru, Suguru throbbing inside him, Satoru’s cunt clenching and he’s coming— he’s going to come.

“I’m gonna—” He tries to say.

“I’m all yours too.” Suguru says, hands hot on Satoru’s body as he pushes him back on the bed, hikes a leg up, fucks in so deep Satoru feels him in his throat. “I’m all yours, baby, ‘toru—”

Satoru comes in a rush, hot and sticky all over himself, all over Suguru who grunts, fucks out a little, fucks back in, hand working on Satoru’s wet and messy clit, hips jerking into Satoru with sharp thrusts.

Satoru twitches as Suguru keeps working him, keeps fucking him, pressing kisses to his skin already littered with bite marks and bruises from Suguru’s mouth.

“Love you,” Satoru slurs shakily, “love you, love you, Suguru, love you.”

“I love you,” Suguru groans, “fuck, you have no fucking clue how much, Satoru, no fucking clue.”

Suguru’s thrusts get more erratic, his hair falling across Satoru’s face, his eyes pinned on Satoru’s, his mouth open in a breathless moan.

“Come for me, please come for me.” Satoru begs. “Need it, need it, fill me up–”

And Suguru does, with a groan so low and feral that Satoru aches. He clenches down around Suguru, makes him stay inside until he gets soft, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him.

“Love you.” Suguru breathes.

“I think I’m starting to get that.” Satoru manages. “I love you too.”

It’s cheesy, but Satoru thinks Suguru’s laugh tastes sweet when he brings their mouths together again.

 

 

 

“We’re dating, right?” Suguru says. “Like, you’re my boyfriend?”

Satoru looks up at him from where he’s playing his switch, face pillowed on Suguru’s abs, Suguru’s cum still sticky on his inner thighs because he refused to let Suguru clean him up.

“Duh.” He says. “You’re stuck with me forever. Eternal boyfriends. Don’t get scared now, bud. I’ll find you in the next life too. Threat and promise.”

“Nice.” Suguru says, picking up his book again. “Likewise.”

There’s a soft moment of quiet.

“Can I sit on your face?” Satoru asks.

“Oh God, yes please.” Suguru says, tossing his book aside.

 

 

 

“So, anyway,” Satoru says, “it turns out I can orgasm.”

“Fascinating.” Nanami says dryly.

“I know you were worried.” Satoru assures him, patting his hand. His phone buzzes and he glances at it. “My fiance should be here in a second.” He lets his friends know.

“Yeah, you can just say Geto.” Shoko says.

“You mean my fiance.” Satoru says. “We’re together. It’s a new thing.”

Shoko rolls her eyes.

“I’m very happy for you.” Nanami says patiently, like he’s talking to a child. “Although I am still unclear if you and Geto are actually engaged.”

Satoru beams at him.

“Thank you so much.” He says. “Suguru and I are definitely getting married.” He adds and lifts a hand, waves as Suguru pushes through the door of the cafe, eyes softening and smile breaking across his features when he sees Satoru. He greets Satoru with a soft kiss, the newest Shounen Jump that Satoru hadn’t gotten to buy yet, and melon soda candies. He doesn’t even protest when Satoru flops his whole body weight into Suguru and demands tonkatsu for dinner. He just says sounds good, baby and kisses him softly.

“I’m gonna marry you.” Satoru tells Suguru.

“You fucking better.” Suguru says.

Satoru beams at Nanami and Shoko.

“See?” He says.

“Fantastic.” Nanami says dryly. “Just fantastic.”

“It is.” Satoru says as Suguru squeezes his hand tight. It really fucking is. “Thank you for noticing.”

 

 

 

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Notes:

thank you for reading!!! ♡♡♡

(also my wife didn't get to beta this one bc of real life being busy so if this sucks im sorry)

🌙twt: persimmonandcat🌙
🌙tumblr: persimmonsandcats🌙