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Satoru’s not getting super far here; he’s tugging at the waistband of his pants, keeps looking inside, then glancing back up like Suguru’s supposed to have all the answers to what’s happening between his legs right now.
Maybe Suguru does have the answers, though — he wonders if he’d be allowed to solve this for Satoru, wonders if that’s what Satoru’s asking of him every time he glances up like that. Pretty, real pretty. Suguru wonders if Satoru knows how dangerous that look is.
The one where he has his bottom lip wet with the tugging of his teeth, bitten a little swollen, too, and a pink in his cheeks. Satoru blushes blotchy, uneven. Suguru wonders if he knows that about himself. Darker red where his cheeks go in, rosy pink at the corners of his eyes.
Satoru lets go of his waistband, and he stretches his fingers a little, staring down at them.
Suguru doesn’t say anything, but he wonders loudly. He stares at Satoru and waits for him to feel his gaze burning into the side of his head. Thinks it works when Satoru glances up at him, lips twisting and cheeks poking out.
“Suguruuu,” Satoru whines, voice deep but upset. “I can’t do it.”
Suguru’s head falls to the side, fingers tangle in his own strands as he hums.
“No? Not ready?”
“Not — like,” Satoru huffs and sighs.
Pouty as ever and pushes his face into his shoulder like a cat. Habit when he’s upset, a cute one. He pulls his face out of his shoulder and instead sits on his legs. Places his hands on his thighs, where his fingers curl over his soft cotton pants.
“Can’t be — ugh, it’s. Weird if it’s me, Suguru.”
“Mmm.” Suguru raises his chin now, stares at the patterned ceiling and only has to look at it for a second. He’s back to Satoru’s eyes. “Not following. It’s supposed to come naturally. We’re creatures of habit, we’re supposed to do what feels right, what feels good to us. Do what feels good to feel good.”
“Do what feels good to feel good,” Satoru repeats and Suguru nods because it is pretty simple.
That’s how most things with pleasure are supposed to be approached. Do what feels good to feel good. Satoru ponders this expression. His fingers curl even tighter around his pants, he’s lifting up the fabric of them now as he shifts.
Suguru wonders, with a spike somewhere in his core, if Satoru will start rocking his hips in place in response. He finds his eyes locked to them now, Satoru’s hips. Thin, but hidden beneath the large shirt he’s wearing. Suguru could be nice and lift it for him, just to get it out of the way.
Satoru crawls forward and Suguru’s curious. His eyes slide over to Satoru, watches him shift closer, traces his gaze up to Satoru’s. Satoru isn’t looking at him, though. Suguru somehow feels like Satoru is looking through him, carving into his soul with those eyes of his. It makes his heart race, nothing crazy. He’s just aware of it in his chest now, becomes hyperaware of it when Satoru grabs Suguru’s wrist.
That’s it. All it is for maybe two seconds. Then Satoru goes through with it, goes through with whatever action he’d already committed to by grabbing Suguru. Suguru lets himself be led to, for some reason, a different area of Satoru’s dorm room floor, lets Satoru tug his hand over to where Satoru is slightly spreading his legs now.
Suguru blinks.
Satoru closes his thighs around Suguru’s hand, and looks up at him. His eyes look wet, and he thinks Satoru’s lips will definitely be swollen after he’s done tugging at them in nerves. He’s right when Satoru finally releases his bottom lip. It’s flushed, a little puffy from the chewing, kind of dark red where his teeth were biting into them.
“Suguru,” Satoru mumbles, staring up at him. Pretty, pouty. “Could …. I just … Do — do you think.” Satoru huffs, frustrated, and forces out, “Can you do it for me?”
Oh, so. Suguru blinks. Thinks he even jumps, just a little. Oh.
“You want me to touch you.”
Satoru nods.
Somehow meek in a way that doesn’t suit him, small which is strange, too. Satoru’s the kind of person who takes up space. Takes up a lot of space. But he’s also the kind of person you want taking up space. Suguru always wants Satoru in his space, he doesn’t want to be able to breathe when it comes to Satoru most times, likes when he’s all over him. When he’s on top of him, like he owns the weight Suguru feels over him.
“That … bad?” Satoru asks, then. And Suguru realizes he got lost.
Does that, sometimes. (Satoru’s really easy to get lost in, he’s tempting to lose yourself in, too. It’s dangerous.)
Satoru sounds distressed, voice a little frayed at the edges. Like he worries that he’s bad because of this. And Suguru wants to say of course not, never. Satoru’s never been bad in his life, not once. The world’s been bad to Satoru.
But he’s a little stuck. Stuck on how hot Satoru already is where he’s touching. How he can feel the moisture of his pussy through the fabric already. How he’s losing his mind because of it, slowly, too. Like it’s chipping at the swirls in his brain, smoothing out all the wrinkles and making him dumb every second he spends with his hand against Satoru’s pussy.
Suguru feels himself twitch in his pants. Feels it get warmer as it hardens, just a little against his thigh. He wants to touch it, but that’s such a minuscule, fleeting thought, no more desire than it is a vague suggestion when it comes to the waves inside of him that long to touch Satoru instead – wants to touch him so badly, it hurts. Somewhere. The kind of hurt he can’t place from wanting something that’s already yours, but keeping it at arm's length ‘cause it feels too good to have.
He feels like if he were to take this, if he were to indulge and give Satoru what he wants - something that is too strongly aligned with what Suguru wants, then he’ll get it taken from him somehow.
And that wouldn’t be so bad if his wants weren’t synced with Satoru’s wants. He wouldn't be able to watch the look on Satoru’s face if Suguru were to take this away from him right now. He wouldn’t – not him. But that deep and ugly voice inside of him that tells him he is undeserving of all things good kind of tells him something might take it. Steal it.
“Just feels good when it’s you,” Satoru admits, suddenly, breathing heavily. “Not me, I dunno.”
And Suguru is reminded that he is still here and it’s just him and Satoru and nobody is taking Satoru away from him. And that’s good. Because that means nobody is taking what Satoru wants - and that’s what matters.
Suguru finds himself now. Right here. Because he owes it to Satoru to be found for this.
“Not your hands? It doesn’t feel good when you do it yourself?”
Satoru shakes his head. “No. Yours feel good, Suguru.”
He likes that. Likes that a lot, really.
“That’s fine,” Suguru says, because it really is. Wonders if he should say more, because it’s way more than fine. “If it feels good when it’s me, then it can be me. I think it’s cute.”
Satoru’s breath hitches.
Suguru looks up, tries to catch Satoru’s gaze and Satoru is nervously peering at him through his white strands of hair. His cheeks are flushed dark, probably both from the arousal and Suguru’s compliment, and his hips stutter against Suguru’s hand that isn’t even really moving yet.
Satoru breathes shallowly out his mouth, just at the weight of Suguru’s large hand between his thighs. His head falls forward a little, white strands brushing past his pale face, hanging pretty when another breath punches out of him once Suguru rotates his hand to properly cup his mound.
It’s cute, ahh. Suguru is giddy. He feels his lips tugging up at the corners, his eyes want to close in contentment at the feeling of Satoru’s trimmed bush beneath his fingers. He hasn’t even done anything yet, only touches Satoru in light cupping, slightly firm presses from his fingertips, and watches as Satoru’s shoulders shake.
Suguru gets on his knees to bring himself closer to Satoru. Uses his free hand to tap at one of Satoru’s thighs.
Says, “Open them for me?”
Satoru does. Spreads his thighs open and tilts his head back to keep his eyes on Suguru when Suguru is hovering over him, still shifting on his knees. He drops back down in front of Satoru and smiles at him. Leans forward so his dark hair brushes past his shoulders when he goes to slip his hand beneath Satoru’s boxers now.
Satoru’s hand is on Suguru’s wrist again, as Suguru touches him. It’s not doing anything, not actually. The hold his fingers have on Suguru’s thick wrist is careful, almost like he doesn’t want to intrude on how Suguru is using his hand to touch Satoru. But he’s watching intensely, eyes fixated and stuck on the way Suguru’s large hand looks beneath the fabric of his boxers.
It’s warm in them, damp, and Suguru wants to smell it. He can only imagine how good it smells, something purely Satoru left behind on his fingers — he wants it bad.
Suguru uses two fingers. He presses down against Satoru’s clit, rubbing in slow circles as Satoru immediately twitches against him. His fingers get tighter around Suguru’s wrist, thighs fall shut, locking Suguru’s hand and arm in place immediately, shaking his head like it’s too much. It might be.
“Satoru,” Suguru hums. He moves his fingers an inch, pressing down on Satoru’s clit again, and watches the way Satoru’s expression twitches. “Are you sensitive? Is that it?”
Satoru’s panting. He nods his head, doesn’t use his words, though.
“Mmn. Don’t like it?”
“No—I, I do,” Satoru gets out, barely. He’s already breathless.
“Feels good?”
Satoru nods his head fervently. He licks his lip, like he’s working up the courage, and uses his grip on Suguru’s wrist to urge him down, trying to tug it back down against his pussy.
“Good,” Suguru whispers. “That’s good, Satoru.”
“Y-yeah?” Satoru asks, whispers.
His eyes fall shut when Suguru presses into him harder. Finds the little nub beneath the hood of his clit and rubs quick circles as he strokes his middle finger down his clit, feeling it pulse against his finger.
“Really, Suguru? ‘M good? You think so?”
Satoru’s never been bad. Not once, not ever.
“Yeah. It’s good that you’re feeling good. Cute.”
“Cute,” Satoru repeats, ducking his head as he starts rocking his hips hard into Suguru’s touches. “That’s, ha — Suguru, that’s crazy.”
Satoru breathes out a laugh, a quiet little thing, that gets drawn into a moan when Suguru changes the way he touches him. His entire heavy hand cups Satoru’s entire pussy, and he digs the heel of his palm against it as Satoru ruts down on his hand.
Satoru falls forward, fucking his hips faster in cute little rabbit thrusts, falls until he’s falling into Suguru.
”Ohh, my god,” Satoru whispers, hot beneath his breath. “Crazy, it’s—crazy how, how good that - feels, Suguru, hahh.”
He knocks his head against the man’s shoulder, uses one hand to squeeze Suguru’s wrist and makes it so Suguru’s rubbing him off at the same pace Satoru’s fucking his hips. His other hand is gripping Suguru’s thigh. It’s a strange position, a little awkward, but Suguru loves it.
Satoru’s breathing against him as his pussy makes wet, sloppy little noises against his hand, drenched in Satoru’s slick and juices. Little noises of “Nngh, ah - ah, un,”s that make Suguru want to fuck him, a few times, really, because it’s hard holding back in this position.
With Satoru so needy against him, his weight, the sound of his voice in his moans, he feels how hard Satoru is hanging onto him, clutching him like he needs him to stay solid and real and on the ground as Satoru chases the clouds with his coming orgasm. It’s really hot, and Suguru is far more aware of his straining dick in his sweats when Satoru keeps accidentally bumping against it with his hips.
Satoru’s hips get impossibly fast. Starts whispering shallowly, “Wait, please. Hahh, please.”
Does this thing where he starts lifting himself up, like he wants to get away from Suguru’s hand, but not too much. Just enough so the touch becomes feather light as Satoru slows his hips into deep rolls.
His fingers are trembling, and Satoru moves his face so he’s pressing into Suguru’s neck instead now. Suguru swallows. Satoru’s distracted right now, but—even if he weren’t, Suguru’s sure he wouldn’t mind. Positive.
Suguru uses his free hand to fumble past the waistband of his sweats. He tugs the band down, not too much, just enough to get himself out. Squeezes his leaking cock that sits heavy between his legs, bloated with how hard it is from just watching Satoru.
He curls into him too, now, groans quietly as he strokes himself, feeling how Satoru is rutting and moving, and fucking against him, using that to spur him on. He’s hot, drenched in sweat. His hair’s wet, clothes stick to his body, and he realizes Satoru must be hot, too.
Suguru pulls back to see, just as Satoru takes Suguru’s hand again, the one he was already fucking against.
Satoru says, “Wait, wait, wait,” and places it down on the wooden floor of the room. Just palm facedown, flat.
It makes Suguru slow his stroking around himself as he watches Satoru curiously.
Watches Satoru scoot over with a trembling body, lower himself onto Suguru’s hand, and fuck his hips over his knuckles. His head falls all the forward as he grinds need, thighs quaking.
”Holy shit,” Satoru whines. “Suguruuu, ugh…s’it okay like this?”
It’s okay, more than okay, but Suguru’s eyes are as stuck his voice in this throat, entranced with the way Satoru’s decided to get himself off. He rocks his hips shallowly now.
Once, twice.
Satoru shudders hard when he cums.
His limbs go weak, all of them, because he falls against Suguru, boneless as his hips shake and tremble, uncontrollably as he breathes through it with hazy eyes.
He’s very quiet, much quieter than Suguru expected him to be, and that makes him so cute. Satoru grinds his hips against Suguru’s thigh now, from how he fell against him to ride out the long waves of his orgasm that are still rushing through him.
Fuck. Fuck.
Suguru uses this time, the time it takes for Satoru to come down from experiencing his first orgasm ever — to grip himself tighter, squeeze around his base, and fuck up into his fist. With Satoru’s weight on him, his natural scent mixed with the smell of his sweat and juices and cum starting to fill the air between them, it isn’t hard to finish. It’s fast.
He presses the rough pad of his thumb into the slit of his head and shudders as he spurts his seed into his palm, shuddering only slightly and keeping his legs somewhat stable with only a quick twitch of his thighs before relaxing tremendously, becoming almost boneless himself.
He’s gross, and watches himself wipe his palm over his sweats to get rid of the cum on it, before his attention is focused back on the man still shuddering against him as he pulls his waistband back over his dick.
“Ohhh, my god,” Satoru whispers, voice heavy against Suguru’s shoulder as they begin to slur, “It’s — hahh. Mn. Felt good, Suguru… was – tha’ w’s sooo good.”
Suguru smiles, soft and close-eyed as he runs his fingers through Satoru’s hair. It’s soft and pretty, if not a little damp with his sweat. Still soft and pretty, though.
He hums. “Wasn’t it?”
Suguru presses forward, gently resting his chin on top of Satoru’s head, from where the man is still curled into his body. He feels how Satoru’s labored breathing is finally starting to slow down, how warm his puffs of breath are against his neck.
Suguru says, “Doesn’t it feel nice to do what makes you feel good, Satoru? Isn’t that so easy?”
“Mmn,” Satoru mumbles. “So nice. So good.” He twists, lowering himself just an inch to push his head further into Suguru’s broad chest. “Suguru…”
“So easy. You could do it again, Satoru.” Satoru gently shifts against him, pushing himself further like he wants to bury his face inside of him. “Just like this…”
Suguru squeezes Satoru’s small waist slightly and uses the grip to drag Satoru forward, just once. He nuzzles his face into Satoru’s temple and feels the way Satoru’s hips jump with sensitivity. Feels the way Satoru’s grip bunches and tugs into the gray shirt Suguru’s got on as he shudders against him when he rocks his hips over his thighs again.
Suguru palms the back of Satoru’s head, cups it and uses his hand to curl his fingers in his white tresses and gently pull his head back.
Satoru’s head tilts back, he looks up at Suguru with wide, teary eyes from where he is pressed against him, curled into his body. Blinks pretty with a question in those watery blue eyes, and Suguru smiles at him again, warm and sincere.
“See?” he says, voice light and easy. “Doesn’t it make you feel good, Satoru? You can keep going, if you’d like. I’ll hold you,” he says, the last thing like a promise, because it is.
He’ll hold Satoru against his chest and make sure he’s safe when he’s feeling good like this, when he’s feeling all the pleasure in the world. Suguru hopes he takes all the goodness for himself. It’s what he deserves.
When Satoru seems to be assured that it’s fine, that Suguru will hold him while he melts and falls apart against him as he takes what he needs, Satoru shifts his hips over Suguru’s thigh again. Breathes hard through his nose against Suguru’s shoulder, then out his mouth when he tugs his hips back to start rocking against him again.
He makes these cute little noises from his throat as he does this, fumbling with Suguru’s shirt to squeeze between his thin fingers tightly as he speeds up his pace. Suguru breathes through the arousal that makes his cock stir again, watching Satoru feel good against him — watching Satoru use his leg to feel good. He presses his thigh up, adding friction to Satoru’s clothed pussy and watching how it makes Satoru jolt, how it pulls a subdued little whine from him.
Satoru’s panting again, he turns his face so his cheek is smushed against Suguru’s check as he humps his thigh almost automatically, chasing his pleasure, pink lips parted, and eyes open but heavy lidded as he gazes blankly at a random spot in the dorm. Suguru keeps his own gaze down on the man rutting against him and reaches out to brush his fingers through his hair again.
“God, you’re pretty,” he mumbles.
Can’t help how taken he is by how ethereal Satoru looks when he’s feeling this good. He then places his large hands on Satoru’s tiny waist and drags him down even harder against his thigh. Satoru’s eyes squeeze shut with the newfound pressure. He places his hands on the floor on either side of Suguru to steady himself as his hips are rocked, fast and hard. He’s soaking through the boxers he already came in, through his sweatpants, and now enough to wet the pants Suguru has on. Cute.
“Nngh, Sugu—Suguru,” Satoru pants.
He blinks up at Suguru with actual tears in his eyes this time, and he has the hem of his shirt in his grip, tugged up to expose his toned stomach, slick with sweat, flushed rosy from the heat of his body.
“Want—can, can we - hahh. Take, my pants, my pants Suguru.”
“Take them off?” Suguru tries.
Satoru nods frantically. His sweaty fingers clumsily fumble and paw at the fabric, trying to drag them down, and Suguru blooms as he leans forward to do it for him, happily.
Satoru’s pussy is dripping and wet, and it’s sticky from his previous orgasm when Suguru touches it to rub at his clit. His eyes are trained on the white hairs of his bush, so pretty and cute. He takes Satoru by the waist again and drags him closer, close enough to seat him back on his thigh so Satoru can continue riding it.
Satoru humps it more desperately than he was before. Leaning forward, resting his weight on his hands on either side of where Suguru sits, huffing against Suguru’s neck. His breath is heating Suguru’s skin, lips wetly bumping against it, the more frantically he thrusts, mouth hung open in his pleasure for little moans and whines to escape through. Cute, cute, cute. Suguru only rests his hand on Satoru’s lower back, otherwise admiring him with his eyes as he watches Satoru increase the pace of his hips. Watch as they get jerky and his movements get uneven and sloppily and frantic.
Satoru cums harder than he did the first time. He jerks forward, and his open mouth breathes hard against Suguru’s neck. It’s not even a full minute before, trembling, Satoru carefully pulls himself back, wet hair sticking damp to his pink forehead.
“Again,” Satoru mumbles. “I-I want more, Suguru. Can I have it?”
Suguru raises his brows, lips parting.
When Satoru raises himself from Suguru’s thigh, his pussy is dripping. There’s a long, clear string of his arousal that makes the fabric of Suguru’s sweats wet. Suguru throbs at the sound Satoru’s pussy makes when Satoru presses his hand to his clit, rubbing quick circles as he bucks into his own touch, using his other hand to keep his shirt raised so he can stare down at his own ministrations.
“I wanna cum again, wanna cum again, please,” Satoru slurs, dazed. “Feels so good, ‘ve never — never felt anythin’...” he trails his sentence, eyes sliding over to Suguru, still panting. “Can … can you—”
“Don’t hurt yourself, Satoru,” Suguru says quickly, shifting to get closer to Satoru by his knees. He gently grabs Satoru’s wrist, the one that belongs to the hand Satoru is using to touch himself, and pulls it away, just a little. “Are you sensitive?”
Satoru’s cheeks are pink. He cutely sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and shakes his head. Suguru raises an eyebrow.
“Satoru,” he scolds lightly. He tilts his head, squints to inspect him. “Are you lying?”
“Ugh, Suguru,” Satoru whines, using his other hand to steal one of Suguru’s for himself.
Before Suguru can process what’s happening, Satoru throws himself back on the floor, shoves Suguru’s hand between his thighs, and arches his body as he starts rocking his hips against it, his wet pussy making Suguru’s wrist shiny, abused clit pulsing and throbbing against his skin — Suguru stares at him with wide eyes. His hand limp and motionless. Stuck between wet thighs to be used to make Satoru feel good. Satoru is using him to feel good, and Suguru loves it.
He hates to admit how much he wants Satoru to keep going, even if he’s sensitive and swollen and his pussy is bloated with how much he’s playing with himself. He wants Satoru to keep moving his hips, and humping against him, and twitching with his orgasms, and shuddering as he makes himself all sticky with his juices – wants Satoru to do that over and over, until he is satisfied. Until he feels good. He just looks so pretty, so happy doing it.
“Feels good, feels good, it feels good, Suguru,” Satoru pants.
He arches his back off the floor as he moans, breathing hard, hips rocking desperately, frantically – it all makes Suguru throb, cock stirring in his pants again at the simple fact that Satoru feels good – because good. He deserves it. He should feel this good all the time. Satoru’s chin tilting up, eyes glazed over, almost blank, mouth hung open as another breathless moan punches out of him, hardly any sound, when he cums for a third time, toes curling as he drags his feet across the floor.
His thighs twitch violently around Suguru’s wet hand, hips convulse with harsh aftershocks of overstimulation as his orgasm rocks through him. He still has that blank look on his face, looks like his mind is muddled and filled with nothing except pure, all-consuming pleasure, so intense it hurts. Satoru pants hot breaths into the heated room, jaw trembling as his hips jump again with a harsh twitch, another convulse that makes his brows furrow again cutely as he rides this one out. He’s so damn pretty.
Satoru’s fingers squeeze the skin of Suguru’s wrist hard, like he’s using it to ground himself as he starts to come back down from his high, still breathing deeply. Suguru can see the way his pale stomach is rising and falling with his breath from where his shirt is left bunched up to his chest.
Tears squeeze out the corners of Satoru’s eyes. Race down his temple and pool at his ears. So cute. Satoru sniffles, more tears from the intensity, probably, leaking from his eyes. His hips are still twitching, like he’s feeling his rounds over and over again.
“Mm. Suguruuu … ” Satoru mumbles, still breathing hard through his words. “Suguru, think I wanna cum again.” He rolls his head over so he can look at the man, tugging nervously on his bottom lip. “Is that bad? Cuz you didn’t cum after your first one, but I still wanna do it.”
His face is shiny with sweat, white hair sticking to his pink cheeks, and his glossy blue eyes blink at Suguru unsteadily, worry still held in them.
“Jus’ feels so good,” Satoru says, and Suguru realizes how ruined he sounds the more he speaks. “I like feeling good. Nothing…. Suguru, nothing’s bad here. Nothing’s bad when I touch m’self. It’s just good, so I wanna keep doing it. Is that bad?”
Suguru’s chest aches.
Satoru just wants to feel good. That’s all. He isn’t asking for much.
It almost makes his own knees buckle, how much he feels for Satoru, how much he wants him to feel nothing bad in his life, ever.
Suguru swallows, throat burning.
“No,” he decides, finally, voice coming out as a rasp.
He clears it and blinks away the burning in his eyes. Nothing is sad right now. Satoru feels good. He’s only feeling good right now, and that’s good.
He shifts closer to Satoru and smiles at him, feeling very content like this. Watching Satoru play with his pussy, watching him find out exactly what touches, where, will make him cum, over and over again. Suguru gently pushes Satoru’s thighs open again. He reaches over for Satoru’s hand and places it between his thighs, long, thin fingers pressing into his pussy.
“No, it isn’t bad. Not at all. It feels good. Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it feel amazing?”
Satoru shivers, hips twitching up into his hand. He nods, panting, starting up again as his shaking hand rubs at his swollen clit that twitches under his touch.
“Feels good,” he mumbles. “Cumming, I mean. Feels r’lly good, Suguru.”
Satoru looks gone, and a little corrupted now. Very corrupted, now. Covered in sweat and his thighs messy with his own cum and juices. Ahh. So, co cute. Distantly, Suguru wonders if maybe he’s done something bad. If it’s bad to be so content with watching Satoru enjoy himself like this.
But the look of pure bliss and calmness that washes over Satoru’s expression when he shudders as he makes himself cum again tells him otherwise.
Satoru’s only ever been good, and he only ever deserves to feel good.
He rubs circles into Satoru’s twitching, sticky thigh. Suguru beams as he watches Satoru start rubbing his clit again with shaking, trembling fingers, twitching through it. He’s overstimulating himself with his own fingers, a quiet, pitiful sob falling out of his chest as he convulses so hard it jostles Suguru, and — Suguru is so happy for him. Satoru is the cutest thing ever. He deserves this.
“You should keep feeling good, Satoru. You deserve to feel good.”