Chapter Text
Satoru has this problem right now.
He’s supposed to be listening to something about seismic waves and their interactions with different environments but honestly, the guest lecturer is so boring and he’s, like, hard. That’s actually not the problem though, cause it’s lowkey, he’s not like fully fuck off hard listening to earthquake physics, he’s chubby. He’ll probably just hold his portfolio case over his front when he leaves and pretend he’s searching for something and that’s fine. So whatever.
The problem is he absolutely can not be sitting here thinking about why he’s hard or he’s gonna get harder, like, very quickly, and then maybe people will think he has an earthquake kink or something but that is also not really the big big problem, just like a notable minor current kind of crisis.
Satoru has this thing with touch. Always has. He didn’t even know it was a thing until he got to high school after kneeling-begging his parents to let him have a life—it didn’t quite go like that, but it was embarrassing enough to feel like it—and suddenly he was at school and everyone was touching each other. All of the time. Backslaps, arms on shoulders, hands in hair, once this senior gripped him by the face and shouted at him for missing a pass, and Satoru had like a massive highkey freak out about it, he couldn’t figure out if it was hot or if he fucking hated it. He decided it was probably both.
It’s not like his parents are unaffectionate, per se, they were just never tactile with him, or each other really. The touching was new, he didn’t know how to deal with it.
Then he met Suguru, whom he snapped at, saying, Why the fuck are you touching me? And he got this whole offended look like he wasn’t the one presently offending Satoru and went, You got a problem with me too? Long story; they had a fist fight and got ramen after.
So Satoru gets overwhelmed easily, and lately he’s had this thing where he’s jerking off and then he can’t focus on that because the texture of his wall or bed or bathroom or shower or goddamn couch, whatever, makes him feel that gross anxious feeling and then the spiders crawl and he can’t get the end right and even if he does he’s just freaking out so much it doesn’t matter—which is a problem, but it’s like a continuous problem, not a now problem—the problem right now—shit, he has a lot of issues—the problem now, in this old ass lecture hall, is that Satoru is thinking about how he was (trying) to beat it and Suguru showed up at his place and he was so, like, outside his own body he didn’t even notice for way too long, and somewhere in his incredibly stupid touch fucked brain he thought it’d be a good idea to crack a joke like, Give a guy a hand?
And Suguru did.
He sat in front of Satoru with those kind adoring eyes and held his face while he talked and asked if he was okay, if it was the touch thing, if he’d eaten properly, because Satoru always gets anxious if he doesn’t get enough protein—apparently nutrition is important for your psyche or something—and then Suguru jerked him off.
Like his—Suguru’s—hand on his—Satoru’s—cock, oscillating vertically, tightly but also just as gently as Satoru would’ve expected—not that he thinks about how Suguru masturbates, that was a one time accidental thought—he held Satoru’s hand and did that thing where he taps it so he has something to focus on and Satoru came. Hard. He came really fucking hard and Suguru saw it, Suguru watched it, Suguru, like, moaned.
Then when Satoru was like, Can I return that favour, my man, y’know, cause, like, manners, and Suguru said, Fuck yeah, okay, but as soon as Satoru’s fingers found his waistband he stopped, so Satoru stopped, and he got all weird and said, Actually, I should go—which is chill and completely not part of the problem—and Satoru said, No, wait man, then it’s weird, so he had a shower, Suguru washed his hands, they played splatoon and went to the juice bar afterwards.
That was two days ago.
Satoru has to leave his lecture early.
Suguru’s doorman lets him up without question and he gives the tiniest meekest bow because Suguru told him if he wants to blend into society he has to act like he’s part of it.
He has a key, but it’s funnier if he makes Suguru walk to the door, so he knocks, then holds the doorbell long enough that Suguru definitely already knows who it is.
“G’Morning, Sunshine.” He leans on the wall as seductively as he can and wiggles his brows.
“Hello, Satoru.” He mocks the eyebrows and stares. Satoru stares back. It’s awkward.
“May I enter your humble abode, my guy?”
He swings the door open and turns back into the apartment. Satoru intentionally doesn’t put his shoes on the rack when he kicks them off.
“So, Hoss, you, sir, missed our gym sesh yesterday.” He spins around on the bar stool until he can splay himself over the island, “What’s with it?”
“Sorry, Satoru.” He’s got his face in the fridge, temple smushed into the seal on the door, probably looking for something that Satoru will eat since he can’t really cook for himself. “Bad day.”
“What the literal fuck, Suguru? Why didn’t you call me?” He probably shouldn’t snap, but he’s undoubtedly offended, because, really, what the fuck? Suguru calls him, he calls Suguru, like, any hour of the whole ass year, it’s their thing.
Suguru spins around and glares, then goes back to the fridge, then shuts it, then opens it.
“Is it cause you touched my dick?” Cause that feels like a conversation to have.
“What?” He turns to face Satoru, he’s very red, which is mad funny.
“You,” he gestures, “touched my,” he gestures, “dick,” he waves vaguely at his crotch, “and I came, like, so hard.” He rests his chin in his hand, “Just wanted to make sure that didn’t bother you, if not, go on, tell me your issues.”
“You what?” And he looks like his eyes have glazed over.
“Y’know?” He teases, “That thing that men-” And then he considers the trans women and enbys and the intersex folk in the world who also have cocks, “That penis-havers,” Wouldn’t that be such a power move though? “Do sometimes,” Picking up a woman and she’s all like, Sorry babe, we got a lot in common actually, get your ass ready. “When,” Like, what a fucking plot twist. “Hang on, I’m having thoughts.” Then he thinks that’s a conversation Haibara would love to dissect and Nanamin would loathe bearing wittiness too, so now he has plans for tomorrow. He doesn’t remember where he was going with the idea of cocks and the relative parabolas of ejactulation but it was probably relevant.
“That doesn’t happen often clearly.” Suguru falls into their banter easily, which is progress.
“You look like shit by the way.”
“Fuck you?” He squints.
“Lovingly,” Satoru squints back, “Go the hell to sleep.”
“Well, I wish that occurred to me.” He snaps back, slamming the fridge and leaning on the counter.
“Did the dick thing actually freak you out?” Satoru feels, like, shrivelled up inside, Suguru is his safe space—he kind of, not expected exactly, but he thought, like.. Satoru doesn’t know what he thought—but he doesn’t really know what to do with the information that his cock is outside of the safe space, y’know? Like, it’s attached to him, known it a long time, Suguru once said he loved every part of Satoru—insanely emotional drunk conversation at the high school graduation party—and Satoru said the same.
Then again when Satoru got a scholarship for university in America and Suguru proceeded to have the worst year of his life, so Satoru just dropped out and came straight back.
He can live without a fancy fuck off MBA, he cannot live without Suguru.
They hung out every day for months, Satoru woke him up every morning saying, I love you, and he made Suguru say it in the mirror until he believed it.
They both re-enrolled at Tokyo University, Suguru convinced him to study something he was passionate about, and that’s all she wrote.
He has a scar on his chin from fighting his parents about it, but that was at least fifty per cent an accident, he even got an apology. Sometimes he can even get a pity pass from his mom if he flaunts it.
It’s nothing dire or life-changing. That’s not the way his mom treated it when he was bleeding—she seemed more upset about his face than his psyche, really—and it’s certainly not the way Suguru treated it when he left their house in a rage and showed up to his tiny dorm all pathetic and smeared in red, like, Hey, yo, Hoss, it went, like, so well.
“It didn’t freak me out.”
“Then why are you stressed?” Because Satoru has a selfish need to know these things now.
Suguru’s next question taps him with the gentle force of a whole ass bullet train. He feels fully liquified, flying through the air and splattering in a puddle of bone fragments.
“Do you usually cum that hard?” Suguru holds eye contact and Satoru might just die.
“I- well, look, I was, like, pent up.” He stutters and stares down at the counter like it’s suddenly something incredibly interesting, “I guess, so, no.” He presses his palms flat into the cold faux marble, focusing on all the points of contact. “Have you been thinking about that?”
“Yeah.” Suguru admits quietly, “Like, I mean, it was a notable detail. Crossed my mind.” His voice sounds tight when he speaks.
“Don’t be so shy, Hoss.” Satoru leans back on the stool, gripping the counter-edge for support, “Had a dream I fingered you once.”
“I’m fucking sorry?” He chokes. “You what?”
“Yup. Dunno what that was all about.” He continues, because Suguru definitely heard him, “I’m hungry, feed me.”
“Okay,” He says, like that was a completely normal thing to say. “I don’t have any food.”
“Cool. Pizza?”
“Sick.” He just slides his phone over so Satoru can order. “That’s- you.. Okay.”
“Man, imma cuddle you until you sleep.” Satoru taps his usual order in, then Suguru’s, “You’re acting all, like,” he waves his hand out, “Jittery and shit. Stop drinking coffee so late.”
So they eat pizza and Satoru puts the Bob Ross twitch channel on and says, Let him caress your happy little struggles away. Suguru threw his crust at him so they rewatched Saw instead, which objectively, Satoru thinks is so much worse when you know the plot. It’s, like, a billion times more dreadful.
Suguru lies back on the couch and teases Satoru, reminding him they have to cuddle until he falls asleep, so Satoru flops down and immediately gets back up like, Actually, no, I’m not feeling chill about that right now, and sits on the floor holding Suguru’s hand instead. And it’s okay, because it’s always okay with Suguru.
“Say what?” Shoko glares over her laptop.
“I think I wanna lowkey fuck Suguru.” Satoru repeats, tapping the tip of his pencil on the rim of his cup, “Also your formula there is wrong, idiot.”
“Are you stupid?”
“No?” He guesses. “Your byproduct has too many carbon-”
“I’m talking about Suguru.”
“Oh, nah. We already, like, did a thing, which was great, by the way. Came so hard it got on my chin.” He throws his rubber at her. “It was kinda one-sided, not so great, gotta get even and all that.” He sips his juice. “What? I said lowkey.”
She glares, like, really hard, this cold look she gets when he’s said something obscenely wrong or missed an important social cue.
“Is that bad?”
“Have you talked to Suguru about this?”
“Vaguely, I was gonna tomorrow, or maybe tonight, he’s working, so yeah.” He underlines a word that could possibly be important. “Oh look, Haibara’s back, my man, Haibara—” He drags his name out and Haibara sits beside him, “Bossman, I have an important question, is it gay to jerk off your homies or am I in the clear?”
“Satoru,” He claps his hands together, “You are so deep in the closet you’re in fucking Narnia, please repeat that slowly to yourself.”
“I am so deep in the closet, I am in Narnia.”
“Yes.”
“So I’m super not in the clear?”
“‘Fraid not.”
“Oh, so I’m like super not straight for doing that?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“This is why I like you Haibara, very helpful. Thank you.”
“You’re so welcome, congratulations on your sexuality.” He pushes a cake in front of Satoru and moves the wedges to the middle of the table, “I have a cis question for you,” he flips his own book open, “The hunger.” He opens his eyes comically wide, “How do I stop the hunger?” He stresses the word with an exaggerated gesture.
“The hunger lives in you now.” He returns with the same enthusiasm, “You’ll never escape it. Fast food is forever your best friend.” He drops his head, “I tell you, Bossman, T’s gonna have you doing shit like cooking a frozen pizza in a frying pan,” he leans in closer, “It’s gonna be the worst meal you ever eat,” He stresses the direness, “Soggy. Undercooked. You’ll do it several times. Trust.”
“Men are terrible.” Shoko snarls, flicking her fingers after eating a wedge. “We need more women here. I swear the smell of testosterone is starting to follow me.”
“Nanamin!”
“Don’t call me that.” He sits beside her and slaps his portfolio down.
“Nanamin, you needa sprout some tits, it’s for Shoko’s sake.”
“I volunteer mine.” Haibara immediately swipes out that keychain that he keeps the cremated remains of his top surgery in, saying there was too much comedic opportunity in owning literal titty ashes to waste.
“Woah, Bossman, flashing everyone at the table?” Satoru feigns covering his eyes and grits out, “We’re in public,” Haibara laughs when Shoko hisses, Scandalous! And he does that thing where he offers Satoru a fist bump instead of swinging an arm around him or something.
His friends are all safe like that, Shoko doesn’t really care about touch at all but Satoru doesn’t think she’s ever seen her reach for it, Haibara hugged him the first time they met and Satoru very nearly instinctively decked him, but they worked that out, and Nanami seems to be physically repulsed by his very existence, which is brilliant actually, preferred. He never has to be worried about it with them, though truthfully it’s annoying. Satoru’s had to cut off entire friendships with people he really genuinely liked because they'd ‘forget’ or whatever and his stupid unprepared haphephobic brain will associate their faces with the bad touch itch, so Shoko explained it. Like he can deal with it in small doses, but perpetually it gets hard, he feels like he can never relax.
Suguru is a different kind of safe. The thing is, Satoru loathes being touched without warning, which happens to be the social norm—even though Satoru thinks it should absolutely fucking not be—but because god has personal beef with him apparently, he also craves it. Suguru is the kind of safe he can reach for.
“Nanamin, is it gay if I fuck another man, but in a friendly way?”
He never gets an answer, only a long hard glare from both sets of eyes across the table and a couple of comforting pats on his book from Haibara.
Suguru kicks his ass in the gym.
Cardio day. They set their treadmills up the same and it was easy, a warm-up. A warm-up is supposed to be easy.
“Man, I’m not feeling it, up the incline.” Suguru jams his own button and Satoru’s competitive so he clicks his twice with a look, so Suguru clicks his twice and Satoru matches him. So he runs five inches inclined at Suguru’s pace for like forty minutes and lowkey feels like he’s gonna pass out, and Suguru—the bragging motherfucker—goes, “Good warm up.”
“Fuck you.” He gasps around his water bottle. “I hate you and your stupid abs, die.”
“This is the importance of proper-”
“Do not!” He starts, stretching his poor knees out, “-talk to me about nutrition, I will bite you.”
“Shit, man, are you actually okay?” Suguru passes him his own bottle.
“I’m fine,” He shakes his legs out, “I slept through breakfast.” He uncaps it, “Again.”
“You shouldn’t do that before the gym.” He chastises.
“You don’t say?” Satoru glares, “I’m, like, so done, won’t lie, but I’ll spot you if you want.”
“Nah, it’s hot today, we can come back tomorrow.” He flips his duffle over his shoulder, “Come back to mine, I’ll get us iced tea on the way.”
“It is so unfair how easy you made that look.”
“It’s not unfair, shitwit.” He flicks Satoru’s hand, “I ate like four eggs this morning.”
Satoru sticks his tongue out with a disgusted noise, the entire concept of eggs just grosses him out. He grips Suguru’s jacket sleeve, loudly whinging as they walk for the door.
Satoru called dibs on the first shower and about halfway through that post-workout adrenaline hits and he feels kind of fucking incredible.
He smells his cooking before he sees it, Suguru’s already changed out of his clothes and Satoru just slides straight into his back, wrapping his arms around his middle. Suguru sucks in this shaky breath, which is, like, new.
“Satoru, are you okay?”
“Mm.” He shoves his nose into Suguru’s shoulder, “Feel good. What’re you making?”
“Chicken salad.” Suguru rocks back into him, and Satoru pulls him closer. “Next time tell me if you haven’t eaten.” He says sharply.
“Don’t be weird about it, I forget sometimes, big deal.” He breathes in the smell of Suguru. He always smells good after the gym, which might be really fucking weird to think but whatever. “Hoss, I’d literally eat canned chicken, you don’t have to do all this seasoning shit for me.” He yawns, “Also Haibara told me I’m way gay, like, at least fifty per cent, so that’s cool.”
Suguru pauses, presses his shoulder into Satoru so he can turn and look at him, “Did you not know that?”
“Nah,” Satoru rests his chin on the edge of Suguru’s collarbone, they’re actually very close like this, he feels warm.
“And you’re okay about it?” His eyes flicker between Satoru’s.
“Yeah, like, all my friends are queer, it’s not that surprising. Kinda just had an, Oh, well fuck, moment like way too many years late, I guess.”
“You had a dream you fingered me.” Suguru gives him a dead stare.
“Yeah, I’m, like, just figuring out that’s not a very straight thing to do.” He gives him that sarcastic, No shit, look that always pisses him off, “You should be flattered, honestly, like, it’s the least I could do after you won me that limited edition Digimon thing last week.” He rolls his cheek into his shoulder and adds, “You also touched my dick, don’t forget that very not straight detail.” Satoru laughs, and Suguru suddenly steps away, he feels like he’s fucked up somehow.
“I- yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He reaches for the pan again, Satoru wraps his fingers around his thumb to stop him. “Really, I shouldn’t ha-”
“Suguru, my guy, if I haven’t already made it so clear, I liked it.” The confession comes easily until it doesn’t, he feels floaty. “Did you.. did you not?”
“Wasn’t I taking advantage of you?” Suguru twists his hand to hold onto Satoru’s fingertips.
“No.” Satoru’s face pinches, “Not at all. Man, say so and I will, like, never bring it up again, I just thought it was a funny comparison.” He rushes out, he thinks maybe he might be starting to panic, “I will forget it if you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to.” He challenges, but there’s something gentler underneath, something protected.
“Then I won’t.” He breathes, “You did like it?”
Suguru flicks his eyes to their hands, then to meet Satoru’s, right as he remembers the hand linking their fingers together was also the one he fucked himself into and it makes his stomach clench.
“It was-” he breathes hard, “You’re really fucking gorgeous when.. you’re gorgeous.”
Suguru does not say things like that. Satoru has just found out he really likes it when Suguru says things like that.
“You um,” Suguru looks back at his pan, using his free hand to turn the stove off. “You were pent up?” He asks tightly.
“Well,” Satoru follows his gaze to the stove, but he’s focusing on the slow circles being drawn on his knuckles by Suguru’s thumb. “Yeah. You were right, touch thing.”
“Touch thing.” He repeats it in this real spacey tone.
“Yeah.” Satoru chews his lip, “I get distracted, or overwhelmed, and I can’t..” he rolls his head, “I can’t get the end good.” Suguru looks at him when Satoru squeezes his hand, “You- when- I mean, like.. It was good with you.” He rushes the words out.
“If you, y’know, want a hand with that-” he verbally cringes, “Want help, like, with- never mind.” He lets Satoru go, “Fuck, never mind.”
“Suguru.” He links his finger through his belt loop, “Suguru,” he pulls until Suguru meets his eyes, “Finish the sentence.”
“If you want help,” Suguru gnaws his lip, “If you can’t focus,” he flicks his eyes away, then back, then down, trained on what could only be Satoru’s lips, “I’m so okay to help.”
“I’m so okay with you helping,” he returns, he feels like his skin has caught fire, he feels like maybe he’s drowning, “But,” he starts, tugging on Suguru’s jeans, “I want you to get off too, I don’t want a one-way thing.” Satoru wonders where he got all this audacity from.
Suguru breathes, but there’s a low volume in it that makes Satoru want.
“What would you want?” He breathes, “From me?”
“I- um, yeah.” Isn’t an answer.
“Satoru.” He tips his head as he does before he starts lecturing.
“Anything.” He feebly supplies, “Everything. I don’t know.”
“You want me to what?” He tries again, “Want me to make you cum then get myself off? Do you want to do that part? Want me to only do the end for you? What, Satoru? Do you want foreplay? Want me to kiss you? Help you after?”
Satoru thinks his brain might, like, melt out of his ears or something. “Yeah.” He tugs the loop of Suguru’s jeans, “Okay.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t know, Hoss, I just want you to do it.” He snaps, looking down, surprising himself with the realisation, “I.. really like your hands.”
He’s expecting Suguru to laugh at him for saying something undeniably, ridiculously laughable. Instead, he watches as Suguru’s palm slides onto his hip, squeezing, holding onto the jut of the bone there. He can’t help but notice Suguru’s slightly—only a little bit—but noticeably hard. He feels hot under his collar as he does in his boxers.
“I want you to do whatever you want.” His gaze locks onto Suguru’s again, the intensity Satoru feels is enunciated nicely in the words, “I trust you.”
“Would you want that now?”
“Right now?” Satoru lets his eyes linger on Suguru’s lips, he has very kissable lips, how has he not noticed that incredibly important detail before? He’s, like, pretty turned on. “Now would be pretty sick, Hoss.”
“Okay, now’s good.” And he steps forward, Satoru steps back, Suguru walks around him and watches as Satoru pulls himself along by the loop. “You sure?” Suguru’s knees fold on the end of the bed and Satoru steps between them.
“Suguru, I could get my cock out and change my mind, you’d make me a stupid balanced meal and make fun of my movie choices like it’s not even remotely a big deal.” He tugs on Suguru’s bangs lightly, “The same for you, tell me no and I’m so okay with anything. I can leave, I can stay and we do something else, I could kick your butt in any and all video games, we could just never talk about it again, it’s okay. This,” he waves a finger between them, “This is safe. I feel safe, do you?”
“Very.” And Suguru flops back, “Can I kiss you? Is that-?”
“Hell yeah, Hoss, kiss me.”
Satoru crawls over him, they both shuffle higher up the bed, clumsily clicking their limbs together, and when Satoru settles he has a moment like, Oh fuck, I’m about to kiss Suguru, I’m about to kiss a man, a man with a cock, I’m about to kiss a cock-haver and we’re probably gonna have sex after, and he hesitates. Suguru just gently pulls him down like it’s the most normal thing ever.
It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, it is the first time they’ve kissed like this. Suguru’s slow, so Satoru matches it. It’s nice—kissing—he doesn’t do it often. It’s especially nice with Suguru, he holds Satoru’s jaw pressing him into the rhythm he wants, he’s not really used to being demanded like that, he’s really not used to enjoying it.
“‘Toru.” He breaks for the word and dives back in, “Can I?” A feather light touch on his sides, “Touch?”
Satoru drops down into his hands and shivers, breaking their lips to breathe the shake out, a hand swipes fast up his spine and he itches, the spiders crawl.
“Stop.” Suguru’s hands fly away and Satoru presses his lips apart with his own to really let him know he’s okay, “Slower, please.”
Slower is worse, or maybe it’s so much better, maybe it’s both. The rhythmic rubbing over the base of his spine, the shirt crumpling under the motions, he can’t focus on his mouth, he feels like maybe he’s shaking.
“Satoru?” There’s a kiss on his jaw, “Too much?”
“I don’t know,” He says honestly, “Not bad.” It’s not the unexpected touch that makes him panic, that hurts in his chest, this is tingly and it’s everywhere, it’s everywhere and it’s radiating straight from the curve of his spine, from his sternum where Suguru his holding him up, “It’s lots, good though, let me get used to it.”
“Touch me.” Suguru tips his head back, guiding Satoru to sit against his hips properly, “I can-” he pauses against a hard breath, “Should I take this off?” He tugs at the hem of his shirt.
Satoru sometimes forgets that some people, maybe most people, and especially Suguru, enjoy feeling overwhelmed like this, so he spreads his fingers out on Suguru’s hips and drives his hands up his shirt, pressing into skin and dragging the fabric up with his wrists. Suguru actually arches into his palms, Satoru feels fucking feral about that.
Suguru sits up and all but tears his shirt over his head, flopping right back down with a hard breath, hair flying out, a piece getting caught in the edge of his mouth as he pants lightly. Satoru takes his time, tracing his hands up Suguru’s skin when something occurs to him, “Is this okay, or is that, like, too intimate?”
They’re supposed to be jerking each other off for convenience, or something, that is not what this feels like, not that Satoru’s complaining.
“Satoru, I’ve literally watched you piss and then fall so hard on your ass you got winded, cock out. I don’t think it gets more intimate.” He laughs.
“Shut up, I was wasted, man.” He flicks Suguru on the nipple, he thought maybe it would’ve hurt, Suguru, like, whined or something. “Oh, woah.” He gently rubs his thumb over it, fascinated by the way Suguru’s breath rattles him, the way he twists, in and away, like he can’t decide, he keeps the noises locked in his throat. “You like that?” Satoru’s never even considered his own nipples. Is there, like, potential there he’s yet to discover? He’s learning so much right now. He rubs a little faster and Suguru lets out another strangled sound, “Oh, you like that, Hoss.”
“Don’t call me that right now,” he snaps, he always tells Satoru how stupid the name is, mocking him whenever he puts a ridiculous Manhattan accent on it, then got all cut up about it when Satoru didn’t use it for a week. “Careful, or you lose titty privileges.” He winces, “Like this, watch me.”
Satoru watches, you bet the fuck Satoru watches as Suguru licks his fingers for a little give and rolls the other side under his forefinger and thumb, presses down, deep circles, like he’s squashing whatever sensitive thing there is in there against his muscle. He copies, absolutely fucking enthralled by the way Suguru’s hips rock up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean- I was, shit, Satoru-” he breaks off with a fractured breath as Satoru rolls down, it’s a new feeling, having a cock-bulge press into his balls like this.
He feels fucking electric, like there’s so much beneath his skin trying to get out, vibrations wracking around underneath it. The hands Suguru has on his hips hold him steady as Satoru tries again.
“Can I?” He tugs Satoru’s shirt, he holds his arms up so Suguru can pull it up and off. “You smell like me, Christ.”
Which makes perfect fucking sense since Satoru’s just taken a shower in Suguru’s bathroom and commandeered Suguru’s clothes and is hard in Suguru’s bed on Suguru’s lap. Fuck, he’s hard in Suguru’s lap. He can feel Suguru’s cock against his ass, he can feel him hard beneath him, Suguru’s beneath him, hard, Suguru’s under him and he very much likes it.
“Can you,” Satoru stops to breathe, once, twice, “Do that thing.” He gestures at his nipples, “I’ve never done that, I haven’t even—oh!” He lurches forward, slapping his hands into Suguru’s shoulders to hold himself up. “Oh, what the fuck, what the fuck.” He’s, like, trembling, but not physically, he feels like his brain is being used like a shake weight, “Stop, stop, what- wait.”
“Satoru.” Suguru breathes at him like it’s the only word he knows.
“What did you do? It was- holy shit.” Suguru’s hands stay planted on his ribs and Satoru brings his hand up, lightly flicking the tip. It feels good, it doesn’t feel like whatever Suguru just did. “Show me.” He slaps the back of Suguru’s hand, “Do it again.”
Satoru watches with careful fascination as Suguru’s hand drags loud colours into his sensitive skin on the way to his chest, he pinches at his nipple and a noise Satoru has never fucking made falls out, something caught halfway between a whine and a choke.
“Oh, Satoru.” He says with wonder, not even that, it’s more like carnal obsession. “Satoru, is it good?”
“It’s—oh my god—I, yeah, I don’t know what to-” Satoru rocks down with a small noise, hips jerking on their own, friction rubbing him in places he’s never felt before. “Oh, Su- hah.”
“Can I kiss them?”
And fuck, that wasn’t even a possibility Satoru even considered, he’s so into it.
“Yeah,” it catches on his breath, “Fuck yeah.”
“I’m gonna put you on your back,” Suguru tells him because he knows Satoru likes to know what people are doing before they reach him, because he knows Satoru, Suguru knows him better than anyone. “Okay?” And Satoru’s wriggling to get comfy on his back.
“Wait.” He feels way too vulnerable, and it’s not a problem, because it’s Suguru, but he wants to change something, “Straddle me, I don’t want you between my legs.” And Suguru just does it so easily, it makes Satoru feel brave so he tacks on, “Yet.”
“God, you’re adorable.” In that soft sweet tone, it’s got a rougher edge now, Satoru thinks he’s maybe learning what the beginnings of Suguru’s bedroom voice sounds like and that idea is doing things to him, “Ready?” He blinks up at Satoru, breathing heavily on the newfound hot spots on his chest, it makes Satoru want to writhe. He nods, pulling Suguru’s half-up hair out.
Satoru nearly falls the fuck to pieces when Suguru holds eye contact licking a long stripe over the pink patch, sucking the sensitive bud into his lips and Satoru lets out a broken whine, cracking against his voice as he tries to keep the sound low.
“Oh, Satoru.” He coos, “Oh, fuck, that was, that- I’m, like, so turned on right now,” Suguru whispers out like it’s not already abundantly clear. He rubs his bottom teeth up the skin and-
“Fuck! Suguru, oh, oh, wait- ah—” Satoru jolts everywhere, every part of him feels like a live wire and he fucking loves it, “Again, Sugu, shit,” he heaves, “Please, again.”
“Like it?” He teases into the skin and he’s moving to the other, blowing cold air harshly on it, lapping at it, rolling the other in his fingers, “Oh, baby.”
Satoru throws his head back, the word baby just floating around in the back of his mind. “Baby,” he repeats it, “Oh, fuck, Suguru, Sugu— Wait!” He wrings himself in the sheets looking for something, anything he can hold onto, he finds Suguru’s hair, he pulls harder than he means to.
“Satoru, ‘Toru, are you okay? Is it okay?”
“Jesus Christ, and I thought I was gonna be able to fuck you.” He says mostly to himself, really what the hell was he thinking? He can barely handle a hug on a bad day. “Kiss me, please, I just- I need a break.”
“You were going to fuck me?” He smiles, all lopsided and teasing, “You thinking about that? How long?” Suguru flicks the tip of his tongue over his nipple, Satoru breathes, like, really fucking loud.
“Since, ah, since you—you jerked me off, I, fuck,” He can’t breathe, it feels incredible, he’s never felt so wound up in a good way before. “Shit, Suguru. I had to leave my fucking lecture cause I got hard.”
“Oh, Sat.”
And Suguru—unrelentless—kisses up his chest, nibbling small shocks into Satoru’s skin, pulling at his panting lips with smiling teeth before surging down.
“Touch me, Satoru, my hair, my skin.” He pulls Satoru into his rhythm, pressing his jaw to run his lips hard against Satoru’s, sucking up on them, breaking to blow cold breath on the swollen skin, making all these fucking noises, tiny things of appreciation. Satoru struggles to find a grip, he wants to touch everywhere, he wants Suguru to feel him everywhere that Satoru’s feeling him. He doesn’t quite know how he can reach right inside him to caress his soul. “Slow down, ‘Toru, touch like this,” he runs his hands up Satoru’s sides, “I like it like this.”
All slow and careful, pressing down on the dips of his muscles and it’s like Satoru can still feel every place he’s touched, surely every gentle press of his fingers is leaving dark swelling bruises, that has to be it. Satoru runs his fingers into the dips of his back, drinking in the way Suguru arches into him, he still smells like sweat, it’s sort of doing it for Satoru.
“Suguru.” He doesn’t know what else to say, how to ask. “Sug’ru.” Somehow he must get it because Suguru’s lips are on his neck and it’s hot. His breath, his mouth, it’s all so hot and wet and the rougher texture of his tongue as it laps, fat against his skin, like he wants to taste as much of Satoru as he can. Suguru’s hands are drawing lines so deep they must be on his bones. He feels floaty, he doesn’t even know where the edges of his body are anymore and—fuck—he really wants Suguru to feel this too. “Shit, Sugu—ru—ah,” he lolls his head so Suguru can get to more of his neck, “Ah—fuck.”
Fingertips find their place in the sensual tips on his chest and Satoru grinds up into him, it’s like the sun is inside him, hot and bright and everywhere, burning in his writhing knees the same way it burns in his head. Suguru ruts down. Once. Suguru grinds against him only once because Satoru throws out a desperate fractured sound, one he didn’t even know he could make and cums in his pants.
“Fuck! Fuck, Suguru, oh my god.” He wants to crawl into a ditch and die somewhere, there’s absolutely no fucking way he just came from making out. “Hah—ah! Oh my god.” He wipes spit off his chin, his hand is shaking with aftershocks.
Suguru laughs. He fucking laughs so hard he shakes and Satoru burns bright red.
“Oh, ‘Toru.” He giggles into Satoru’s neck, “Oh, oh, baby, I’m sorry, are you-” his voice catches on itself and he pushes himself up to look down at Satoru, “Okay?” He smiles that squinty smile and Satoru starts laughing too.
“I can’t fucking believe this shit, Hoss, you better not tell Shoko, I swear to god.” He shoves his hands into his face and tries his damn hardest to catch his breath, Suguru pulls them back by the wrists. “That has never happened before, what the fuck.” He throws his head back, “Shut up man. Fuck. It usually takes me ages, the hell?”
Suguru snorts and pushes himself off, Satoru grips him hard.
“No, Suguru.” He whines at him, “I wanna get you off too,” His tone sounds weaker than he meant it to and Suguru’s eyes lock onto his, “Please, I want to, I really want to.”
“You- yeah, shit, yeah you can.” Suguru comes right back to him, “I want you to.”
“On your back?” Satoru chases Suguru’s hands when he pulls away, rolling onto his back, pulling Satoru over with him, resting between his legs, and, like, he is so hard, seriously, holy shit. “Holy shit.”
He stares down at Suguru, watching him with want. He runs his hand over the bulge, pressing down on the top, Suguru’s hips kick into it, he lets out a low moan that shoots that bright feeling through Satoru’s stomach. He rubs again, this time it’s like Suguru means it when he grinds into Satoru’s palm, slow circles with his hips, wide hands pressing into the sheets for leverage as he rolls.
“Satoru, please,” His hand comes down to hold Satoru’s where it rests on Suguru’s hip, “Get ‘em off.”
Satoru’s hands are still shaking, they’re shaking because he came in his fucking pants which is something he should absolutely be more embarrassed about, especially when he can feel cum hot on his thighs. He can’t get the fucking button open.
“Suguru—I can’t, like, you do it.” He tugs hard on his waistband, Suguru groans, he probably feels real tight under it, denim’s not particularly notorious for its flexibility.
“I want to watch you.” Suguru’s fingers brush against his cheek and Satoru doesn’t even know what to do about it, he leans into them. “Shit.”
He makes Satoru struggle with it, he very nearly just tears the button off. He’s never yanked a fly open so fast in his life. Suguru lifts his hip and helps Satoru slide them off, taking his boxers with them, Satoru can barely focus when he’s trying to get Suguru’s jeans off of his ankles because he can look up and his dick is right fucking there, bright pink and wet, Satoru wants it.
“Damn, y’know, Haibara was so right about the Narnia thing.” He crawls back up. “We’re learning so much today.”
“What does that even—oh, Satoru, Sat—that’s good.” Suguru gently throws his head back and Satoru rubs circles into the sensitive slit.
“Fuck, Hoss, you really got nothing to be shy about, huh?” He takes Suguru’s cock under his fingers, and really, Satoru already knew how big he was. Back in their last year of High School Satoru made him measure it so they could compare, then he called bullshit cause, I’m taller, there’s no way that’s true, and Suguru went, I’ll fucking prove it, asshole, so they compared dicks and Satoru shamefully lost—only by exactly twelve millimetres—which is probably the gayest thing Satoru’s done until like five minutes ago when he came in his pants, but those are thoughts for later-Satoru. Now-Satoru is learning the size of Suguru’s cock when he’s hard in his hands and rubbing a thumb slowly up the underside, preening when Suguru tries to fuck himself into his palm. “Can I blow you?”
That’s probably a stupid idea, Satoru’s never fucking done that, obviously. He’s only experienced it once, and honestly, he was too out of it to even remember how most of it went—his one and only other real sexual encounter—but with Suguru hot in his hand like this? Satoru wants him deep.
“Fuck, really? You want to?” Suguru shoves his elbow beneath him, “I’m so-” his breath hitches, “I’m so okay with that, like, fucking please.”
“I gottchu, Hoss.” Satoru gives him finger guns like his lips aren’t an entirely fuckable distance from Suguru’s cockhead. “I don’t know, like, what the shit I’m doing though, coach me.” He gives an obscene wink and Suguru throws his head back with a laugh.
“You’re unbelievable, Satoru, Christ.” He twists to grab at his pillow, shoving it under his back, when Satoru realises that’s so he can watch better he lets out an airy breath, “Start slow, baby.”
Clearly, Satoru misunderstood the assignment. To be fair, it was slow, but he just slid down Suguru cock until it hit his tonsils and he gagged back up, shook out a breath and tried to go straight back in.
“Fuck, ‘Toru, careful, wait, wait.” Suguru lifts him by the jaw, “Start shallow, shit.” A notable detail that has Satoru rutting into the bed with a moan, jaw loose in Suguru’s palm: That was Suguru’s bedroom voice and his bedroom voice is obscenely attractive.
“You sound pretty,” Satoru tells him, licking a long stripe up his dick, drinking in the way Suguru’s moan comes out rough with sex. He works out pretty quickly that he has to hold Suguru steady or it just flicks out, messy and slick, though Suguru seems to be pretty into it when Satoru chases, tracing him with half-lidded eyes and licking his lips while he pants. He tries again, sinking down shallowly, pressing his tongue experimentally on the bottom, licking flat over the tip, sucking him tight with his lips. Satoru likes it when he has something to fuck up against, a palm or whatever, so he presses the tip down with the flat of his tongue, and, shit, Suguru fucking likes that.
“Oh, oh, Satoru, you’re- that’s fucking-” His thighs tremble against his sides like he’s trying so hard not to kick up. “Again, that’s good, you’re doing good, please baby.”
Satoru moans into his cock, rocking his face down, keeping his tongue there for pressure, lips catching on the ridge under his head. He goes deeper, bringing his fingers up to wrap around the base. Satoru loosens the flat of his tongue, lapping at the underside, ready to try a little deeper when Suguru fucks into his mouth.
“Shit, shit, Satoru, did I hurt- oh, oh—fuck!”
Satoru sinks hard, back up before he has time to gag, then again, almost desperate to make Suguru do that again. He does, thighs clenching, moaning a fractured, Oh god, and fucking straight into the back of Satoru’s throat.
Satoru chokes, pulls off, “Fuck,” and, like, “Holy hell.” Is that his voice? It’s rough at the edges, like he’s just been throat fucked, “That’s hot, fuck.”
“Satoru, shit,” Suguru curls his fingers under Satoru’s chin, having him look up, like he’s making sure he’s not hurt, Satoru rubs his cheek into his hand.
“You worry ‘bout me too much, Hoss.”
“Use my name.” And the command has Satoru shivering, he’s starting to feel tight in his pants again, hooking a leg over Suguru’s so he can press against his shin, desperate for friction. Suguru jerks his leg into his crotch. “Oh, baby, hard again already?” It sounds condescending, Satoru loves it so much more than he ever thought he would. He rocks into it, grinding a broken whimper out of himself, and Suguru pulls his leg away, “No, Satoru, get me off first, then I’ll make you cum so hard it gets in your mouth. Promise, baby.” Satoru believes him. “Use my name.”
“Suguru.” He wraps his hands around his cock again, it’s slick with saliva, Satoru spreads his legs more, pressing into the mattress, it’s not enough, it’s not even close. “Suguru, I’m like-” he strokes him fast, then slowing down, rolling the head in his palm, he can’t focus, everything feels tingly, too much, not nearly enough. “Touch thing, I feel-”
“Satoru, is it okay?” He’s sitting up and Satoru just slaps a hand into him, shoving him back into the sheets.
“I’m gonna get this right,” He glares, determined, he can feel his body slipping away from him. “Feelin’ spacey.”
He drops down to Suguru’s hips again, taking his balls in his hands, licking slowly from the soft skin above them, over the baby hairs there, tracing a vein right to the top.
“Oh, god, ‘Toru.” Suguru winds his hands into Satoru’s hair, “Fuck, that’s- you look good like this.” He tugs noises out of Satoru’s scalp, “You feel good?”
“I feel, like, wildly turned the fuck on, Hoss.” He cants his hips into the bed and takes Suguru in again, deeper, not as deep as he wants, letting his voice vibrate into the tender head, moaning out a sound that could’ve been a name if his mouth wasn’t full of cock. Satoru slides up, “Pull my hair,” and fucks himself down hard, then again, faster, he’s sure his soft palate is going to be bruised, if that’s even possible. He’ll make it possible.
“Oh, oh, Satoru—” Suguru's thighs squeeze him again, writhing around, he flicks his eyes to the side so he can watch Suguru hitch one of his legs up, digging his heel deep into the mattress, arching loudly, “Look at me—oh!” He tacks on the end of a moan. “Baby, look at me, I like it—ah—like when, fuck, Satoru slow down.” He yanks roughly on Satoru’s hair.
Satoru takes him as far as he can—nearly halfway—swallowing him tight, sucking all the air out of his mouth. It’s actually really fucking hard to do this with a hand in his hair.
“Ah—‘Toru!” His thighs shake as he curls a little, Satoru pulls off again.
“I like it when you fuck my mouth.” Is probably the most obscene thing he’s ever said, and that bar is really fucking high. “C’mon Sugu, fuck me with feeling.” He teases, he might need a fucking mortgage for all the goddamn audacity he’s claiming.
Suguru does, he grips Satoru’s hair with a look and Satoru nods, staring up through his lashes tugging himself against Suguru’s grip to try and get a taste, desperate to go down on him already. Suguru slowly presses the back of his head down, guiding him deep and Satoru hums, choking when Suguru’s hips kick again, fighting the hand that tries to pull him up by the hair, he groans and grinds his face into him, gripping Suguru’s hips and encouraging him to rock into it. He pulls off for air, gasping in a breath and meeting Suguru’s eyes and he fucks his throat back down. His chest is heaving faster than Satoru’s heart is thumping, honestly he’s lowkey worried Suguru’s gonna hyperventilate at this rate.
Suguru fucks him slow, always gentle, grinding up and gripping his hair, he guides Satoru to where he wants—never really going deep enough to trigger his gag reflex—still giving in the minute Satoru tries to tip his head back for air. It’s getting annoying, that he can’t just live off Suguru’s cock and the flavour of slick.
“Sah—Sat- pull off.” Suguru yanks at his hair but that only makes him moan which makes Suguru moan. “I’m—fuck—I’m close, I’m really,” he throws his head back and hikes his thighs hard up, “Satoru! I’m gonna cum, ah—hah! Sat-toru,” With heels grinding into the bed like he’s trying to brace himself, he shoves his hands hard into Satoru’s shoulders, this loose fucked out look on his gorgeous face, “‘Toru! You’re gonna make me cum! Get off, I’m—oh!”
Satoru tries to take him deep, pressing down until he squints with effort, moaning hard into his cock and nearly chokes when Suguru cums. It’s fucking incredible, he can’t believe Suguru can look like this, fucking unreal. Twisting up into him, wringing sheets and hair in his hands, throwing his head like he doesn’t have the assets to cry out as loud as he wants.
He lays there heaving, whispering profanities into the air as he comes back to himself, shaking and twitching as Satoru strokes him soft, he doesn’t really know what to do, he doesn’t know the etiquette for letting your best buddy of eight years cum in your mouth, he just swallows and lays there, cum stringing from Suguru’s dick to his chin, dripping off his lips.
“Oh, fuck, Satoru.” He rolls his neck to look at him, petting his hair where he yanked it, “That’s- are you fucking sure you’ve never done that!?”
“Prodigy even at head, what can I say?” His voice comes out harsh—fucked—that alone is really doing Satoru in. A string of cum snaps wet against his chin when it breaks on his words and Suguru swipes it up on his thumb.
“You’re so annoying.” Suguru swipes his own hair out of his mouth, “I literally hate you.”
“Suguru—, that’s not very good post-irrumatio manners.” He teases, licking his lips clean, “No wonder you can’t keep a boyfriend.”
Suguru gapes at him, then scowls, then squints, “Fuck you?” But Satoru can see the moment he melts when he takes Suguru’s head on his tongue again, rubbing a sloppy smiling kiss into it.
“I could probably use practice.” He licks his cockhead and runs his thumb up Suguru as he starts going limp, rubbing the wet tip, “If you’re up for that.”
“Hell yeah, but also you fucking prick, that was so uncalled for.” He runs his fingers through Satoru’s hair, tugging harshly then petting it down, “Let me touch you, baby, I can see you grinding into the bed.”
“Shit, yeah, please.” Satoru’s never ripped off his sweats so fast in his life, he lets out a frustrated noise when they get caught on his ankles and Suguru laughs at him. Shuddering as he pumps his already cum slick cock a few times, “Suguru.” It sounds more like begging than he intended.
“On my lap, come here.”
He slides straight down Suguru’s thighs, revelling in the way they’re still trembling. He did that, he made Suguru shake, he did it with his mouth. He feels like he didn’t even do that great of a job, but here Suguru is, blown-out pupils and flushed all the way to his chest.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” And the fact that Suguru is talking directly at his cock is doing things to him. He takes it in his hand, Suguru's hands are bigger than his, wider, full of thick tendons and veins, he has hot hands, and they’re especially hot when he’s running the backs of his fingers up Satoru’s dick, tracing veins and stretching out cooling cum between his fingers. “Must’ve been some kiss, huh?” He grins up at him.
Satoru leans in real close and whispers “Shut the fuck up.” Right into his lips before making Suguru taste himself, which Suguru is apparently really into if the way he jerks Satoru tight and licks into his mouth is anything to go by.
He had this whole plan, right? He was gonna be all dominant and kiss Suguru good, real good, figure out how he likes it and make him choke on his own breath. He can’t do that because Suguru’s hands are, like, cock-whisperers or some shit. Just when he gets used to the frantic feeling of Suguru’s thumb in the slit he rubs under the foreskin and that’s a whole new thing, Satoru can’t even believe he’s been jerking himself off in such a boring way, Suguru’s here actually touching him, caressing at all the dips, then stroking hard and every time it feels fucking incredible. He does this thing where he wraps his other hand real tight around the base, a loop of his index and thumb and Satoru doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s doing but somehow he feels harder, throbbing so much he can feel it in his lungs. He can’t even keep his mouth closed long enough to kiss.
“Suguru— how are- wh- fuck. Fuck!” His head is lolling back before he even thinks about it, jerking with the sensation in his crotch and Suguru’s mouth is suddenly on his neck. It’s unfair. It’s so fucking unfair that Suguru can suck his skin so good and rub his dick like this at the same time flawlessly. “Sug—ah—stop, wait, too much.” He grips Suguru’s shoulders, dragging a hand to his nape when he rocks his neck into his mouth, Suguru starts pumping him with rhythm, it’s a little faster than what Satoru can get, he tries to make a joke about how he’s been practising too much, but all that comes out is a moan. He gets to the edge embarrassingly fast, builds up tight and hot. “It’s, it, oh my god, Suguru, oh my god.”
“Okay, ‘Toru?” Suguru’s breath burns through him, hot and fast, sinking scalding marks into his skin. “Want me to slow down?”
“Fuck!” Satoru fucks himself hard into Suguru’s abs, “No, no, get me there, I’m, I feel—shit—Sugu, a lot, good.” He tries desperately to grind himself into the hand on his base, it doesn’t budge, the fingers teasing at his taint, he rocks himself harshly, gripping bruises into Suguru’s skin while he chases the pleasure. He loves this, this safe feeling he only gets with Suguru. “Suguru! I can’t- wh-” he feels hot, caught right between everything and not enough, bright in his core, right at the edge of floating, he throws his head back, bouncing into Suguru’s palm, he wants to cum, he’s almost there, he’s there, he’s been there, everything everywhere is tingling, he’s tense in his thighs, why the fuck is he not coming?
“You wanna cum, baby?” And Suguru’s got this look, like he knows something Satoru doesn’t, it’s pissing him off, he’s unbelievably aroused.
“I can’t- I don’t know-” he groans a frustrated sound, rough on his cock-worn voice, “What the fuck?”
“Say please, Satoru.”
His fucked voice cracks on every single syllable when he begs. “Fucking please! I want—what are you- how are—Suguru, oh, let me!”
And Suguru releases his grip on Satoru’s dick and it’s like the sun is inside him, everywhere, ripping hot waves right through his skin, there’s so much flooding his body it must be splitting his skin apart, white hot light making his vision blur with parhelia. He cums so hard it makes every other climax he’s ever fucking hit seem pathetic.
“Oh, oh, Sug—ah—!” Satoru can’t find the edges of his skin, it’s all just Suguru, “Suguru!” Everything, Suguru, “Oh fuck, oh fu—S’gru, hah, ah!” He can’t see, he feels like maybe he’s still fucking coming. He’s floating so fucking far he can barely keep his head up straight, lolling in every direction gravity pleases. “Sug’gu. Bab-” Satoru just gargles with what little left he has of his voice.
“Shit, oh Satoru, Sat, baby,” his hands are on his sides and Satoru can feel himself trembling in his grip, not even trembling, violently shaking. “Satoru, that was- oh my- holy fuck.”
“What-” He heaves, “How the fuck did you-” He moans loudly into Suguru’s shoulder as he collapses.
“Hell, Satoru, that was- you were incredible, baby.” He rubs a hand up Satoru’s bare spine and he shivers. It feels so good. “Circulation thing, I’ve never seen anyone- like, sweet fuck, no one’s ever done that for me.”
Satoru rolls off him, flopping back against the bed and Suguru lies next to him while they heave until they just breathe. He licks sweat off his lips and finds the taste of cum, he doesn’t know if it’s Suguru’s or his own, his dick twitches.
“You called me baby.” He comments, his body still feels distant, voice so raw he’s probably going to have to find a reason to skip Utahimes karaoke night tomorrow.
“Sorr-”
“I liked it.” He says, spacey. “I can still feel you.” Suguru doesn’t reply but Satoru can hear him turn his head, he copies, gesturing vaguely at his body, “I can still feel everywhere your hands have been, like you’re still touching me.”
“Yeah, I like that part.” He sinks back, wiping the sweat on his forehead, “Stays in your skin for the night, still feel it in the morning sometimes.” He stares off at the wall for a moment, then back at Satoru, “Do you like that?”
“I think yeah, a lot.” He sighs, “But, if anyone else touches me for the rest of the week I’m absolutely not responsible for the person I become.” Suguru snorts, “I feel like my skin is, like, I don’t even know. Alive.”
“You’re so sensitive, holy shit.”
“You already knew that,” Satoru squints at him.
“Yeah, but Satoru, you’re, like, fuck.” The word gets lost somewhere. “Your voice is hot like this.”
“I guess you’ll have to fuck it more often then.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Suguru laughs.
“That was like,” he rolls his head to stare hard at the ceiling, “Probably top three blowjobs I’ve ever had.”
“The fuck, Hoss? Who’s beating me?” Satoru feigns offence, “Don’t even worry, man, one of these days I’m gonna suck you off so good you can’t walk.”
“You swallowed.” Suguru sounds distant, like he’s lost all concept of his brain-to-mouth filter.
“I did.” He licks over his teeth, the taste lingers.
“You like that?”
“Your cum is, like, in me.” Satoru rolls to look at the band posters on the wall. “Hot. I’m into that. You into that?”
“Yeah.” He breathes. “Fuck, man.”
“Fuck.”
“You looked good.” Satoru looks at him and Suguru looks away, “Fuck, my cum on your- you-” and he just tapers off and whispers, Pretty.
They breathe into the quiet room, Satoru sort of wants to grab his hand. He doesn’t.
Suguru rolls his body to face him, eyeing up his work, “Told you you’d get cum in your mouth.” He swipes his thumb over Satoru’s chin and licks the stringing cum off. The action makes Satoru’s gut clench and breath shake, he feels like he could go again. “You still haven’t eaten.”
“Oh, I ate ple—nty.” He smiles up at him, “You got macros for semen?”
“My life would be so much nicer if you never spoke.” And Suguru’s rolling his eyes and getting up. “Come on, man, I’ll clean you up.”
“Satoru, I don’t need that.”
“Yes you do, su casa e mi casa.” He throws way too many chocolate chips into the cart.
“Isn’t it supposed to be-”
“I said what I said.”
“I’m literally never going to use all that.” Suguru leans over to throw them back.
“You will when you make me pancakes, Hoss.” Satoru smacks them out of the air and back in.
“Those aren’t even the right ones, dipshit. Get those, one of those.” He gives him those serious eyebrows.
Satoru gets two and mocks his expression, and when someone bumps into him and he whips around, a packet of shredded coconut slaps him in the face.
“Don’t scare the children, Satoru.”
“Sometimes they deserve to be sworn at.” He makes a point of glaring at the girl, she barely reaches his waist and the aisles of this supermarket are actually really small so maybe it feels a bit pathetic.
“We need to get you a service dog or something.” Suguru shakes his head at him.
“What’s that gonna do? Bark at people till they leave?” He snaps but that’s a thought he should consider, even his mom made him look into it once. “I don’t need a dog, I get plenty of exposure therapy from you.” He winks.
“Shut up, we’re in public,” Suguru hisses at him, “And give me that coconut back.”
He sticks his tongue out and chucks it back, then someone—like a grown ass sentient adult, who should absolutely be aware of what personal space is—fully puts their hand on his back while they pass, fucking presses into him and drags it over his shoulder. It feels like one of those theme park rides, but not a very pleasant one, and it’s full of spiders. Satoru does not watch his tone and shoves them away.
“Satoru,” Suguru hisses, stretching an arm in between them as the guy turns around with a look and Suguru steps in like, Sorry man, he just sounds like that, he’s just got an asshole voice, in that calm fuck off way he always does when he’s stroking his saviour complex, “‘Toru. Stop, it was an accident.” It was not an accident, but Satoru gets that the baking aisle is probably a shit place to cuss someone out and possibly start a fight.
“Fuck you,” he hisses back, “I feel gross, don’t play this shit down.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“So why is he touching me!”
“Get in the cart.” He deadpans.
“..What?”
“Satoru,” he glares, “Get your butt in the cart.” He leans to shove their things to one end, “It’s too busy, you’re gonna bite someone.”
“I’m not getting-” Suguru rams it into his thighs. “Hoss, what the hell?”
“In. Get in.”
“I’m 6’3, I’m not getting into a fucki-”
“Gojo.” He stares and Satoru is, like, unreasonably offended.
“I’ll fight you, Getou.”
Suguru sighs, looking through his fingers when he drags his hand down his face, “If you get in the cart I’ll suck you off.”
Satoru gets the fuck in the cart. Like so fast. Vaults it.
“Easy.”
“I’m not easy,” Satoru flips him off, “This is actually so embarrassing.”
“Then maybe you should’ve gone to therapy about this, y’know, like I said.” He glowers, pushing Satoru into the next aisle.
“Therapy’s dumb.”
“I’m in therapy.”
“You’re in therapy for emotions and shit, that doesn’t count.” He smacks taco shells onto his knees.
“Satoru, you have anxiety, that is emotions and shit.” He throws salt at him probably harder than necessary, “Mental illness is in your head the same way prostate cancer is in your ass.”
Satoru scoffs, “What are they gonna do? Magic me tactile?” He mocks with wide eyes.
“Probably not, but they’ll make you comfortable.” Suguru turns a bottle over, “You’re way better than you used to be, I’ve seen you reach for people lately.” He puts it back, “Plus, I’m always touching you, you don’t freak out about it.” He looks down to press his point, “You should still go to therapy.”
“Those are my safe people.” He argues, “I like them, everyone else should drop dead.” Satoru tucks his knees into his chest, “And you’re way different, that doesn’t count.”
“Are you stressed?”
“Why?” He snaps, because maybe he is.
“Because, Satoru, you get anxious in public, you don’t smack people and swear at them.” Suguru throws some spices to him. “Are you actually okay about your sexuality?” He tips his head down. “That’s a big thing, Satoru.”
“Yeah, I’m so okay with you, why shouldn’t I be okay with me?” He rolls his cheek into his knee, “Seriously,” he counts on his fingers, “Sho’s pan, Bossman’s trans, Nanamin’s emo, and Utahimes got some kinda gay shit going on for sure, and you’re, like, the biggest boy-kisser out there.” He concludes, “I’ve been collecting queers like Digimon cards for years, Hoss.”
Suguru gives him this look like he’s about to give him a lecture, probably about avoiding questions head-on or some shit. Therapy made him so serious about all that, not that that’s bad.
“I think I knew, it’s the touching—all the fucken,” He flicks his fingers to try and explain the sticky feeling he gets, Suguru seems to understand with a sigh, “-that freaks me out, Hoss, not, like, men.” Satoru knocks his forehead into the hard bone where his tibia ends.
“Then is it- was it.. me? Like,” Suguru gestures vaguely between them like he really doesn’t want this entire supermarket to know they kind of have a thing going on. “Was it too much?”
“I keep thinking about you.” Satoru slumps so he can rest his neck on the edge of the cart and prop his feet up against the back, tipping his head back and looking down through his lashes, “Won’t lie, Hoss, I think you’re on to something there.” Suguru doesn’t like that answer, “It’s like it’s on repeat in my head, I can’t focus, man. Got cock-whisperer hands, my guy.”
Suguru breathes, like, so loud, Satoru snorts at him and he scowls.
“This is only the second time I’ve done something like this, by the way.”
Suguru stops walking, “Really?”
“With someone, I mean. The other time it kinda sucked though, locked myself in a bathroom and had a proper panic attack after, su—per embarrassing.” He drawls like he’s talking about the weather.
“What? Satoru, why didn’t you call? I thou-”
“I did.” Satoru tips his head and Suguru shuts up. “It was while I was at NYU so, like, I didn’t wanna get into all the deets while I couldn’t actually see you, but I did call. You talked me through it.” He smiles, Suguru does not smile back, “What?”
“I thought you said.. but that senior in high school—fuck, what was her name—the swimmer?”
“Lied,” He plucks some of the nice olive oil Suguru likes from the shelf, lowkey impressed with himself that Suguru never knew that was a lie, “Guess I just wanted to be like the great Suguru Getou.”
“Satoru, you were basically a fucking-” Suguru whips his head around and lowers his voice, “A virgin when I-” he discreetly pumps his hand to finish the sentence.
“So?” Satoru plucks a bottle of sauce off the shelf, holding it up like a question, “Was that an important detail?”
Suguru stares at him like he’s stupid, “I, yeah, kinda. Like, I didn’t even..” he tips his neck back to look at the ceiling, then drops his head hard. “I should’ve made it better for you, I was going to leave before you stopped me.” He rubs at his eyes in frustration.
“..so?” He repeats, “Hoss, I am lost on this sexiquette you think you’re not meeting.”
“Satoru, you don’t—y’know—someone and leave, that’s, like, kinda fucked up.” Then he hisses at Satoru to keep his voice down.
“I know that.” Satoru feels the need to glare at him, plucking the expensive soba off the shelf. “But it’s not like you were sprinting for the door, my man. I don’t care, it was good, I don’t even care why you wanted to stop. Cut all the guilty shit, huge turn off, Hoss.”
“I can’t believe I gave you a quickie for your borderline-virginity. Satoru, that’s like lowkey fucked.” And those serious pinched brows are back. “Shouldn’t we be talking more?”
“I feel like we do a lot of talking. You’ve already explained the importance of carbs to me twice today.” He teases and scratches at the bare skin of his ankle where his slacks have ridden up, petting the hairs flat so they don’t catch painfully on his socks.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” It’s like Suguru doesn’t even think about it when he wraps his hand around it, rubbing slow circles around his ankle bone and Satoru’s mind goes blank. He thinks he’s forgetting to breathe and Suguru definitely notices. “Sorry.”
“Do it again.” Satoru watches as Suguru moves back to it, if he squeezed the tendon hard enough his fingers would probably touch.
Suguru runs his thumb into his sock, running it along the subtle dip where his leg bones meet his carpals, squeezes, and curls his fingers underneath, caressing the dips on either side of his achilles tendon, tracing it up his pant leg to where it disappears under his calf muscle. He shivers, Suguru gets this look in his eye and Satoru shoves his chin into his palm and looks away.
“We need breadcrumbs.”
“Yeah.. and eggs.” Suguru doesn’t let his ankle go.
“We can later, if you want.” Satoru picks at his fingernails, “Talk. I didn’t think it mattered, but I guess you have way more experience with all this.” Then it feels like he’s just gotten way too serious in the middle of a goddamn supermarket so he tacks on, “Whore.” And Suguru snorts.
Suguru squeezes his ankle again, “Okay.” He throws a packet of breadcrumbs at Satoru’s hands to make him stop.
The third time was kind of completely an accident. In a way.
“So hypothetically,” Satoru swears as Suguru overtakes him again, he’s losing like so bad, but Suguru’s had EA’s new formula one game for a week and Satoru is kind of salty that he practiced without him, so really he’s basically saying he didn’t think he could beat him straight off, so it’s actually Suguru who’s the loser. “Say I got the number of that therapist my parents keep talking about.” He shakes his controller with a grunt like it’ll make his car go any faster.
“Mhm.” A bare minimum answer, how open and caring, what a great friend.
“But I highkey would rather rip my face off than actually talk to her,” He snaps as he tries to divide his attention, “You fucker.” He hits the wall on the same corner for the third time. “What do I do about that one, Hoss?”
“Write it down.” He lurches forward when Satoru almost passes him, elbows on his knees, in metaphorical sport mode. “Like, before—actually, fuck you—before you go n’ just read it.”
Satoru loses his lead and slaps Suguru’s controller out of his hand, Suguru steals his and spins his car around, Satoru proceeds to eat his dust.
Suguru calls him a sore loser when he wins and Satoru tugs his bangs, like, way harder than necessary
“I’m going to tackle you,” A question framed like a comment—the sentiment alone makes Satoru feel warm, he could be like, No, I’m not feeling that right now, and Suguru just wouldn’t.
Satoru didn’t do that. He said, Come at me, Hoss.
So Suguru tackles him.
Satoru chokes out a laugh and twists around grabbing his knee, pulling it back so Suguru has to let him go, bracing against the floor and he retaliates by slamming his thigh into Satoru’s chest. He snaps against the edge of the couch, which, like, rude. Shit hurt.
Satoru throws his legs around Suguru’s middle, squeezing him as he struggles against his kicking feet, ignoring Suguru’s begging about how tickling is so against the rules. Still, Satoru yanks his socks off, gripping an ankle with one hand, tickling it with his other while letting out unremorseful cackles.
Suguru’s arms wrap him round his middle and yanks him flush into his chest and several elbows later he flips Satoru onto his front, a leg across the back of Satoru’s thighs, a hand pressed deep into the curve of his spine and Satoru short-circuits or something. Somehow, he thinks that should also be against the rules.
He doesn’t know what kind of noise it was, he must’ve done something, it might’ve passed as one of pain, because Suguru rolled him over—still sitting hard across his hips so he couldn’t move—and brushed Satoru's hair back with concern.
Suguru does not do that, because, really, when have either of them ever got even mildly hurt while play fighting?
So here he is, under Suguru while they have a breath-heavy staring contest, daring the other to break for lips with lidded eyes and loose smiles.
Suguru lightly rocks his hips, a minuscule movement, like he’s testing that they’re both thinking it, Satoru is absolutely thinking it—probably way more than he should be.
“Wanna make out?”
“Fuck, when did we start fighting like this?” And he’s leaning it, starting soft on Satoru’s lips just as Satoru starts crass on his hips, looping his fingers under his belt and rocking him hard down into his crotch. “Needy.”
Suguru’s hands find his jaw, pressing on the crook of his chin to slow him down, he relates with his tongue, pressing deeper, fighting his hold. Suguru bites on the plush muscle like a warning and sparks fly through every part of his body, ending like a tingle low in his gut.
Suguru presses him down, kissing him gentle and slow, lips locking in between every breath, parting just so he gets to kiss Satoru again. Hands slowly trace up his middle where they’re braced, rubbing his shoulders.
Just rubbing, but Suguru’s fingers are dipping inside his collar, touching skin, Satoru thinks he might be starting to tremble, he’s getting a little overwhelmed.
“Suguru,” Because he doesn’t exactly know what he wants, because Suguru will just know, and he does.
He holds Satoru’s nape, giving him little kitten licks over his lips before rocking back, burying his face in Satoru’s neck, rubbing his nose into skin, nibbling at the tendon before he sucks on it.
“Marks, baby?”
“Mhm.” Satoru grinds into him and suddenly Suguru’s hands are on his hips, encouraging him. He lets out a small sound.
“Oh, sounds already- I like that. Okay?”
“So okay.” He catches his lips, dragging the delicious bottom one through his teeth as he lets his head fall back onto the floor. “Kiss me until I can’t talk.”
Suguru does exactly that. With his hands rubbing gentle things into Satoru’s skin, up his shirt, swiping under his back, on collars and ribs and every muscle Satoru has to offer, the sensation on his skin echoes into his bones. Suguru’s lips never leave Satoru’s.
He tries to touch back, but Suguru is just being too careful and soft and he’s honestly kissing Satoru like he loves him, it makes his skin tingle where made-up constellations are drawn into it. He whimpers, Suguru sucks the sound right out of him, rocking down every time Satoru’s thighs involuntarily clench around him. He just uselessly holds onto his shirt, grinding his jaw in Suguru’s favourite rhythm.
“Satoru,” The rougher texture of tongue on plush, “Satoru,” And breathes panted from his nose when his mouth is too busy, “I want you.”
“Up,” he mumbles when Suguru breaks for air, coming straight back with Satoru’s fervour, hands grabbing at his sides, up his chest, his nape, pressing and pulling, “S’gu,” Satoru drinks in the new pace as Suguru presses him into the floor with his lips, “We can’t,” He tips his jaw into it, “On th’ floor.” Satoru’s hands slide up his sides, catching his shirt, squeezing, swiping down, “Suga.” He slurs against Suguru’s tongue licking over his lips.
Suguru breaks, breath shaking, demands, “Bedroom.” and Satoru is so into that, he thinks he sighed or whined or something because Suguru’s face breaks into this cat-like grin.
Slipping his hands under Suguru’s ass as he sits, he squeezes, how could he not, Suguru has fucking fantastic ass. He wraps Suguru’s legs around his hips, standing while he dives into lips again. Satoru’s honestly quite impressed with himself when he makes it to Suguru’s room without breaking from their hungry kiss, like he’s trying to taste every flavour he has to offer. Suguru’s hair flies out like a halo when he drops him on the sheets.
“Shit, Suguru.” Satoru breathes and follows Suguru’s impatient hands, crawling over his thigh and hooking the other over his hip, beelining for Suguru’s neck. “What was that ‘bout being needy?” He burns when his head lolls back for him.
“Shut up, man.” His hands dig into Satoru’s hair, soft from his shower, tugging and petting with every press on his skin, “I was- earlier, I was..” his voice gets lost in a sigh as Satoru nibbles on the tendon, runs his hand up the bottom of Suguru’s thigh and Suguru grabs at his skin like Satoru doesn’t have enough to sate his hands.
“Slow, baby, please.” Muttered into the soft spot under his apple. He licks over the notch sinking in when Suguru swallows and it drives up his tongue, rubbing into his lip on the way back. “What were you doing?” Satoru can barely focus on enunciating his words properly when Suguru’s hands strike bright things up his spine and pull sounds into his throat. “Earlier?”
Suguru doesn’t answer him, only rocks his neck against Satoru’s mouth and tugs a loud, Sweet fuck, out of his hair.
“Suguru,” Satoru presses his knee into his crotch, tugging his neckline down and biting at his collar, he relishes in the way Suguru jolts.
“I was just horny, man,” He kicks himself down, chasing the meek pressure Satoru grants him, clipped and impatient, “Whatever.”
“What’d you think about?” He lets a curse fall from his lips as Suguru grips roughly at the skin of his shoulder like he’s really desperate for more than kissing, it’s intriguing, “Suguru— did you not take care of yourself?”
“I did.” Mumbled into Satoru’s hairline, “I—hah—I kept thinking about you, fuck, sorry.” Satoru sucks a loud, oh, out of his throat and Suguru pulls on his ass, “I can’t- is that weird? I’m always thinking about you now.”
“What was I doing?” The crook of his thumb sits in the curve where his ass meets his thigh, massaging teases into it. A hard breath forces itself out when Suguru tries to rock into his fingers. “Sugu, can I leave a mark?” He sucks on Suguru’s jaw, he’d be surprised if there isn’t already one, there’s already little dental indentations littering his skin, soft red fading fast.
“Fuck. Satoru, you wanna?” He stares down through his lashes, over cheeks burning bright. “Yeah, baby.”
He hums a hot sound into his neck, sucking until his lips sting, and really, Satoru has never given anyone a hickey—except maybe this one girl in high school but he doesn’t actually know how he did it, it was just, like, there—but as he sits up and pants and watches as Suguru’s neck fades from red to purple he feels his dick twitch.
“What were you thinking about, Suguru?” He runs his hand up to his knee, presses down, hiking his leg up higher, sliding to his calf, tugging it down over his hip, Suguru’s other thigh presses up into him and Satoru moans, revelling in the way Suguru’s watching him while he grinds fast circles down on it, his eyes run shivers through his skin.
“I was thinkin’,” he swallows hard, “About you watching me.” Satoru's free hand slips up his shirt, rubbing slowly on his stomach. “Talking to me.”
“Want me to watch?” He leans in and tips his head back, preening up at Suguru through his mussed fringe. “Show me how you touch yourself, baby.”
Suguru lolls his head, breathing a fast desperation. It does things to Satoru.
“Since when were you all..” he gestures vaguely, “Shit, maybe you could top me, like—oh!” Satoru’s palm sits over the tent in his jeans, he grinds into it, rocking hard and desperate, Satoru wraps his hand over his head through the fabric. “Please, Sat, watch me.” Suguru hooks his thumbs through his belt, flicking it open, waiting for Satoru’s move.
“Fuck,” Feels like the only thing he knows how to say, Suguru lay out for him, hard and panting under his hands, he should lose video games more often. “Show me.”
He sits back on his heels, letting Suguru shuffle back against the wall, kicking off his pants in the process, he slumps down, leaking, delicious bright pink, Satoru wants. He moans airily.
“Closer baby.” Suguru’s voice has that soft wine-toned edge to it, it’s such a stark contrast from his light purring daytime voice, it has Satoru completely entranced when he just obeys.
Sitting on his knees between Suguru’s legs, pulling them to sit over his thighs. He wants to touch, he doesn’t know whether to look at Suguru’s eyes or his cock when he brings his own fingers to spread his precum.
His fingers wrap around it and Suguru’s breath catches hard when he rubs over the slit, rougher than when he’d done it to Satoru. He watches closely as Suguru slowly touches his head, running a thumb under his foreskin, slipping back up, like he’s teasing himself. Satoru grips onto his bare thighs, rubbing circles into them, pressing his fingers into the dips where his muscles overlap, flicking his gaze to Suguru’s, he’s already watching him with a lazy smile.
Then Suguru does something and he makes a quiet noise and his lashes flutter, Satoru snaps back to his cock, he can’t believe he fucking missed it. He wants to know, he wants to make Suguru do that too.
Satoru grips bruises above his knees when Suguru brings his other hand to roll circles between his balls, warm and heavy, Satoru wants. He’s pretty sure he whines because Suguru starts laughing, cooing, Needy Satoru, rich on his bedroom voice.
“Suguru,” He spreads his knees, pressing his balls down between the bed and his dick, roughly grabbing himself through his sweats. “Fuck, pretty.” He moves his other hand up Suguru’s hip, riding up his shirt flicking his nipple gently as he passes, Suguru rocks forward into his hand, apple clenching in an attempt to silence himself. “Make noise,” he snaps with arousal, “I like your noises.”
Suguru gently knocks his hand away, shirt cascading back down, covering everything Satoru wants to see, “Watch me, no touching yet, baby.”
“Suguru—” He whines in that annoying way, heavy on the last syllable, but he supposes Suguru’s somewhat immune to his whining after all these years. He huffs and rolls his eyes, grinding into his palm, gripping Suguru’s hip, holding onto the warning in his violet eyes when he runs a thumb down his V-line, brushes the backs of his fingers over his happy trail, back up, presses into the soft cavity of his hip bone. “Make yourself cum for me.”
“Oh, ‘Toru,” Suguru pumps himself hard once, he’s definitely not wet enough to be doing it with that kind of force. He drops his head with something caught halfway between a moan and a wince.
“Lube, baby.” Satoru almost leans in to kiss his clothed shoulder as he reaches for the nightstand, but that somehow feels more intimate than letting Suguru fuck his throat, so he doesn’t. “Busy aren’t we?” He shakes the bottle to get it all to the bottom.
“Slut shaming me again?” Suguru tries to tease but he rubs into his hand and bites his lip, eyebrows pinched into this beautiful fucked look as he gasps. “Sat—baby, c’mon—oh.”
Satoru shushes him and moves to squeeze lube into his palm before Suguru swipes it away with a look.
“Oh, you’re not getting away with it that easy,” he grins as he squirts it out, “Nice try.” He drops it into the sheets and Satoru runs his hands up Suguru’s forearms and he slicks up his dick, almost testing how close Suguru will let him get his hands.
“Is that enough?” He breathes hard so he doesn’t make some other embarrassing sound. Efforts for naught, because Suguru starts roughly jerking himself before Satoru can think up any more words and just moans quietly, their voices mixing together in a messy harmony. “Oh fuck, Hoss, holy shit.”
He thinks the wet sounds of Suguru’s hand are going to ring in his head for the rest of his life.
“Ah—Satoru.” He thumps his forehead into Satoru, breathing fast into his cheeks, “Sat, oh, fuck.” He hikes his legs up like he can’t help it, like he needs a better angle, ankles crossing behind Satoru’s ass.
Satoru doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he wants. He braces himself high on Suguru’s hips and cants himself into his palm, he can’t keep up, not with Suguru’s thighs over his, tense and shaking just a little. “Sugu, shit, slow down baby.”
Little ah and oh sounds litter Suguru’s voice as he does not slow down, releasing his palm making a loop of his fingers and fucking himself up hard, a hand curled around Satoru’s nape as he leans forward, bouncing a punishing pace into his hand.
All Satoru can think about is, Is that the way he would fuck me? Hard and fast and press me straight through the mattress? Hike my legs over his shoulders and bend ‘till the stretch in my thighs burns? Fuck me up the bed until I have to grip the headboard?
“Hah! Fuck, Satoru.” He’s moaning right into his ear, right into the crook of his neck, “Oh, oh baby, I- ah!” He bites down on Satoru’s collar, with a wet filthy noise.
Satoru flicks the waistband of his sweats under his dick, pumping the leaking tip to give him some slick to play with as he fucks himself with his hand, trying to match Suguru’s bouncing on his thighs and imagines.
“God, fuck, Suguru, you get so loud.” He groans hot into his neck, “Baby, I want to fuck you, let me?” And Suguru laughs a fractured sound at him.
“Ah—fuck, Sat, you think-” He breaks off for a moan and Satoru watches as Suguru folds his legs back, propped up on his knees so he can fuck his hand with more rhythm, “You think imma—ah, Shit, imma let someone with no experi—oh—perience top me?” It comes out all broken up and half-ruined.
“Teach me.” He fucks into his hand and imagines it’s Suguru, squeezes and imagines how tight he’d be, the other clawing at Suguru’s shirt until he breaks from his dick to yank it off. “Fuck, please Suguru.”
“S’not very fair that I’m the—ah!” He rocks his head back, “I’m the only one—fuck—naked.”
“Suguru, Sugu! Shit.” Satoru jerks himself fast, too fast, it hurts a little, but fuck, Satoru wants. Suguru’s fingers curl around his wrist. “Oh, mn! Baby.”
“Go slow for me, Sat.” He kisses hard into his cheek.
“Please! I want you on my cock.” Satoru loudly begs. “Show me—oh! Oh, I want to see it.”
“Not today baby, you think I walk around with my ass ready for fucking?” He teases, breaking off into a moan, “Next time, fuck, next time Satoru, oh, you don’t know what you do to me. The shit you say, man.”
His hips start jerking like he can’t keep them steady and he lets out a long moan. He stops bouncing and plays with himself gently, teasing, edging himself, then rutting down hard, slick flicking onto Satoru’s thighs as Suguru moans under his own hands.
“Shit, Suguru, you like that? Want me to finish you? Fuck. Please, I want, oh!” Satoru harshly fucks into his palm, letting the vice on his throat fall away, “Oh, I want to, Sugu! Ah—”
“Sat, oh Satoru, finish me.” He rocks into the flat of his palm and throws his head against the wall with a broken sound, panting mnh, oh—shi- ah.
Satoru doesn’t waste a second before letting go of his dick, slumping straight into the sheets, rolling his hips, still desperate for friction as he licks up Suguru’s length and Suguru cums like it surprises him, jolting and choking on his words, moaning profanities, throwing his head, gripping Satoru’s hair hard in a way only accidental, wringing his whole body, from his curling toes to his fluttering lashes, spurts again and cums all over Satoru’s face.
“Ah! Oh—hah—ha, Fuck, Sat, shit. Shit, ‘Toru baby. Oh my god.” It cracks like he might cry. “Shit, sorry, Sat, are yo—mnph, I’m sorry, you okay?”
Satoru didn’t even know he was into that, he’s so turned on he can’t even think, moaning loudly into Suguru’s dick, licking up everything he can, leaning into the hand wiping cum off his eyelid, keeping the other open so he can watch Suguru heave, flushed and blooming deep colours. He kisses the top of his balls, nuzzling his face into Suguru’s cock, smearing cum and slick all up his face, probably into his hair, Satoru doesn’t even care.
“Satoru, Satoru, oh, I’m sorry, you- when you,” Then Suguru fucking whines this fractured sounds and Satoru feels hot all the way in his godforsaken soul, “Fucking gorgeous on my cock, ‘Toru baby.”
Then Suguru pulls him up and licks cum off Satoru’s face and—holy hell—that’s a new sensation, holy fuck, he’s so into it. It feels possessive, he feels claimed somehow. He kisses Satoru hard, tasting him, drinking up the favour, and Satoru fucks himself into Suguru’s abs and begs like he doesn’t know what else to do, he just wants Suguru to hear him. He ends up coming all over Suguru’s chest, on his chin, spurting enough to make it drip. He wipes his fingers through it like he just wants to be sure it’s all real, and Suguru worships with his hands over every inch of Satoru’s body until he’s hard and begging again.
“I owe you a blowjob baby, you feeling okay for that?” He slides Satoru's sweats off his ankles, his shirt already hiked up as far as he could without taking his hands off Suguru’s skin.
“So okay.” He breathes, “Shit, fuck Suguru, I like- ah! Oh, oh, I want you.” He fucks his hard dick into Suguru’s cum slick hand, this is probably the most desperate he’s ever felt.
“Shh, be patient, baby.” He presses Satoru down into his pillows and Satoru lowkey wants to cuss him out for even suggesting patience at a time like this, “Relax for me, Sat.” He slides his hands down Satoru’s body and he rests above his cock, it twitches at the sight.
Satoru does not fucking relax, because Suguru takes his whole cock like his throat was made for it, “Sug’ru! What—ah—the fuck? How-” he writhes against the twitching in his cock, “Fuck, oh, Suguru,” overstimulation starts taking his vision as he moans straight from his dick.
“Mm.” Suguru licks hard up Satoru’s dick as he pulls off, “All those times you called bullshit on my gag reflex.” He pinches Satoru’s side.
“Jesus fuck, okay, yeah, you were right, you were so right.” He presses his heels into the sheets, desperate for something to hold him down as his core floats away. “Suguru—” He takes Satoru in again, sliding down slow, humming sensation into him. “Oh, oh, shit, wait.” He shoves his hands against Suguru’s shoulders and he pulls off fast.
“Satoru, you okay? Is it good?” As if it could be anything short of incredible.
“Shit, I feel-” he throws his head back to break the air with an unholy sound, “Lots,” he gestures vaguely, he knows Suguru will get it, “Fuck, can you, like, hold me down?” And Suguru lowly moans.
“Hold you down.” He repeats, placing kitten licks over Satoru’s tip.
“Ah—I need, shit, pressure, weight, like, hah—uh, to, t’focus.” Satoru’s legs writhe up against his will, arching into Suguru’s gentle tongue, keeping the pleasure going while he tries to speak, “Oh my god, Sugu.”
“So sensitive, baby.” The name still strikes hot light through Satoru’s veins like it’s the first time he’s heard it, “So sensitive for me, letting me do this, good boy, you’re doing so good.”
Satoru can’t even cry out the sounds building in his core, his voice isn’t loud enough to enunciate everything inside.
Suguru shuffles back and hikes Satoru’s legs up, gripping his thighs hard against his shoulders, pressing his hips down into the bed and the sight of it alone might just get him there. Suguru’s head between his thighs, mused hair sitting tangled against his skin as he presses his cheek into Satoru cock.
“Is this good, baby?” It’s so fucking good, his hot tongue on the tip of his dick, the weight on his thighs, Satoru tries to rock his hips and just doesn’t fucking go anywhere, “‘Toru, oh.”
“Suguru, please.” Satoru brushes his bangs away from his face the best he can, and lips drag up his cock with a smile, Satoru fully fucking understands how Suguru could’ve cum from this, “Fuck, man, c’mon already.”
“Brat.” He sinks down Satoru cock until his eyes squint, pressing hard into his soft palate until it springs into his throat, and then Suguru fucking presses deeper, it’s fucking annoying how easy he’s making it look, it’s unbelievably attractive, Satoru can feel his heart thumping in his head and he lowkey feels like he’s gonna pass out if it keeps up that way.
“Oh, oh Sugu—” he fights the kick in his neck so he can keep watching as Suguru pulls up and fucks down with a rock, bottom teeth grazing his base and Suguru grinds into Satoru’s cock. He’s grinding his face into Satoru’s cock. “Oh my god.” A curse and a prayer in one, he twists his fingers into the sheets above his head, the other reaching down, “Oh my god, Suguru.”
“Like it, ‘Toru?” He smiles sloppily as he licks under his foreskin.
Satoru’s hand moves on its own, pressing back Suguru’s bottom lip, running a thumb over his teeth, they’re slightly crooked, Satoru’s never been close enough to know that before.
“Fuck, Suguru, I can’t believe you can look like this for me.” And because something divine out there takes pity on Satoru, Suguru tips his head down, bouncing Satoru’s dick up his cheek, smearing precum up his skin, making it shine in the low light from the window. He chases and sucks down on Satoru’s thumb instead, moaning a wet sound, biting just enough to leave little dents, and Satoru might just fucking die. “Holy shit.”
A high sound falls out of him and Satoru doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed about it before Suguru licked his balls into his mouth, letting go of his bruising grip to jerk Satoru.
Watching Suguru’s eyes glaze over with his mouth stuffed with Satoru and the wet sounds from his hand gets Satoru to the edge so fast it’s criminal.
“Ah—oh, Suguru. Wait, wait, I’m- slower, I wanna, fuck, wanna watch this.” He’s not ready to give up the sight of Suguru all dark and delicious and licking at his taint like it’s made of something delectable. “Hah—ah, Christ, fuck, it is fucking unbelievable that—oh, ngh—tha- that anyone would ever break up with you, holy shit, man.”
Suguru actually bites his cock, gently, like a tease that pretends to be a threat, right over a vein on the side, licking it right after, “Will you please shut the hell up about my exes while we fuck?” He chides and Satoru tries to grin.
“S’a—ah!—complement-” He breaks off when Suguru fucking does something with his tongue and he jolts against the hand pressing down on his core, “Suguru, Suguru!” He arches into his mouth, trying to grip at something, anything to ground the floaty feeling in his chest, he moans and grapples at the sheets, in Suguru’s hair.
“God, so pretty, Satoru.” He fucks himself down again, so deep he can drag his bottom lip over Satoru’s ballsack.
Satoru bites hard on his tongue when Suguru swallows around him, pressing in hard on every side, humping the bed like he’s hard again, maybe he is. Satoru can’t help but preen at the idea of Suguru getting off by shoving Satoru’s cock down his throat, fucking his own face with far more poise than Satoru did to him. He barely holds Satoru steady and, still, he never flies out of Suguru’s lips.
Satoru thinks about that whole thing, Why the fuck would anyone break up with a visage like this, what the literal fuck? For a moment, because even if Suguru is hot as shit and apparently a throat goat to boot, he’s also the kindest person Satoru has ever—and probably will ever—meet. A walking myriad of flashing neon signs, like an orchestra of, Green Flag, with a comical amount of arrows and shit, loony tunes bullshit. He shuts his eyes and imagines it’s not Suguru for a second, if it was, like, Inoue Waka and then he thinks about how Shoko would call him a contributor to the misogynistic stigma, so he tries to think up some imaginary man and it doesn’t really work but suddenly he’s, like, not nearly as into it? Then he looks down through his lashes and almost cums on the spot.
So that’s, like, possibly related to Suguru’s face, because, y’know, he’s lowkey—actually, no, highkey—he’s highkey really fucking gorgeous, from his sharp mono-lids to the butterfly shapes his gauges create in his ears. That is just, like, a fact. Suguru is hot. Suguru is also bouncing his head on Satoru’s cock and that is also obscenely attractive.
Oh fuck, is he like so in love with him? Cause, like, Suguru is safe, Suguru is so safe and gentle, even when—especially when—he’s mad, and good lord, nobody can make Suguru angry like Satoru.
Satoru can make Suguru laugh when he’s mad; that’s the kind of thing that makes him proud.
We should all be a little bit in love with our friends—honestly, platonic love is just as important, if not more, than romantic and people overlook that way too much—he also thinks maybe he’s a little (a lot, extravagantly, awfully, deeply) in love with Suguru.
It has Satoru biting into his own hand as he tries to adjust to that idea while said idea has his cock down his throat.
He’s in love with Suguru, and not just cock-sucking, lip-licking, hickey-giving Suguru. He’s also—maybe mostly—in love with Suguru who was his first kiss, because they didn’t want to accidentally have their first kisses with shitty people; Suguru who came out to him on the floor of a public bathroom and Satoru’s sheltered ass thought he was coming out as a misogynist when he said, I don’t like girls, Suguru called him a moron and they both laughed until they choked; he loves Suguru who shotgunned a joint at their graduation and held Satoru down when he said he didn’t like the way it made him float; Suguru who laughed at him when he bought designer glasses for the first time; Suguru who quietly cried when he dropped him off at the airport after their last summer break; Suguru who loudly fell apart when he picked him up only five months after; Suguru who has never once tried to change Satoru and all of his crassness, all of his awkward social misunderstandings; Suguru who’s seen every ugly anxious part of him and who lets Satoru hold him whenever it gets bad; Suguru who trusts him, Suguru who loves him.
But Suguru doesn’t love Satoru that little bit extra, that’s a secret Satoru will keep. It’s a secret that’s making white noise burn under his skin as Suguru sucks him off.
“Sugu, I’m getting close.” Satoru swallows a sharp sound. His skin is starting to tingle and he can feel himself leaking into Suguru’s mouth as he bobs his head, holding Satoru in punishing eye contact. He pulls up, Satoru doesn’t know if it’s saliva or slick creating the string between Suguru’s lips and his cockhead. He muffles himself with a whine and tries to fight off his finish.
“What are you hiding your noises for?” He snaps. Suguru snaps and it’s unreasonably hot. “Let me hear you.” He licks over Satoru’s slit, grabbing greedily at his foreskin with his lips.
“Oh,” he breathes, the noises suddenly just felt too intimate, like something lovers do, not one-sided romantics with semi-fuck-buddies, but Suguru deep throats him again and Satoru is only mortal, “Su—shit—Sug’ru, ba—ah—baby.” Satoru’s hips kick, still held down hard, he can’t fuck himself into Suguru like he wants, “Plea—ease, I’m gonna—ah, Suguru! I’m gonna cum. I’m gon’ cum, you’re gon’ make me cum!” His tongue feels too heavy and he can hardly keep his mouth shut long enough to even gargle his words, “Fuck, S-ah—S’ru, I’m gon—”
He throws his head, he doesn’t even have time to wince at the way it clicks against the wall because Suguru trills out an absolutely awful sentence like, Good boy, let me hear you whimper, so good for me, and Satoru’s cums in his loose mouth, it spurts out the side and collects behind his teeth.
Suguru fucking sits up, drags boneless moaning Satoru up by his nape and makes him admire the cum stringing from his teeth to his tongue with a proud smile. Satoru can’t even think he just swipes his forefinger over the smear on Suguru’s cheek and Suguru licks it off, sucking Satoru’s finger into his mouth while he swallows.
“Oh my god—Sug’ru—oh, oh.” His voice cracks and he doesn’t know what to do with the butterflies in his chest, he just whines out something that might be Suguru’s name.
“You’re so good, Satoru.” He praises, and Satoru doesn’t even fucking know where that came from but Satoru is so into it. “Gorgeous, my baby, did so well.”
“I think you just gave me a fucking praise kink, Hoss.” Satoru breathes with the volume of his heart as it slows its pounding in his temples, “A’so that head,” he falls into Suguru’s mouth for a sloppy kiss, “Aces.” He licks cum off his own lips when they part. It’s salty, he’s half expecting Suguru to tell him he needs to drink more water.
“Satoru,” and he sounds far too serious as he rides his hands up Satoru’s shirt, the only piece of clothing left between them, “Are we..” his nails catch on a nipple and Satoru shivers, “Are we- like, what the fuck are we? Fuck-buddies? Friends, fucken- like, do you- would you, maybe, if it’s not- I want us to-”
“We’re friends,” Satoru concludes for him with shaking lungs when he stutters over his words.
“This feels pretty gay for a couple of buddies, Satoru.” Suguru chides and rolls Satoru’s softening dick under his fingers, it’s fucking electric with sensitivity, it almost hurts.
“Then we’re—fuck—we, oh, we’re best friends.” He moans out with that teasing smile and Suguru looks like he’s melting a little.
“Satoru,” He whispers his name like there’s a secret attached to it, “Best friends don’t usually cum on each other's faces.”
“When have we ever been the norm?” He says so he doesn’t spit out something dreadful like, Yeah Hoss, you’re probably right, I lowkey wanna be your boyfriend and I’m also, like, emotionally turned on because I’ve watched you every time you stretched your piercings and that’s something only I get to have.
Suguru grunts as Satoru takes his half-hard dick under his fingers and the conversation is lost as Suguru pulls him into his lap and they heave.
“Jesus,” Suguru tips his head back, “That was-”
“Hot.”
“Messy.” He laughs, “And hot.” And Suguru’s right, Satoru’s pretty sure there’s cum in his hair.
“Fuck, I can feel-” Satoru slaps his own body into Suguru’s, his skin still carries the traces of Suguru’s hands, the places they gripped still tingling all over, “It feels so good.” He groans and rocks into Suguru, flops right into his chest.
“Baby, you’re getting cum all over you.” He presses back on Satoru’s stomach and he just whinges a sound into Suguru’s neck. “Come on, shower.”
And Satoru’s being pulled away, his mind dragging somewhere on the floor after him, led to Suguru’s tiny cubicle shower. He lets the water run until it’s warm and pulls Satoru in after him. Satoru feels like he’s having a fucking religious experience when Suguru washes him. Preening at him, kissing praise into his forehead like they’re still having sex and not just sharing a shower head—it’s not the first time, but it is the first time they’ve done this ass-naked and fucked—Satoru could get used to it, maybe when he stands and kisses the ends of Suguru’s hair after Satoru rinses it out for him, he could let his hands linger on Suguru’s hips as he rubs soap into his skin, he could pretend that the feelings in his hands—in his head—are mutual. It’s a little cruel really, but as Suguru kisses over the eye he came on, checks it’s not irritated and apologises in his cock-whether voice, Satoru thinks he’s okay with being a little cruel for something this sweet.
“So, you were saying something about that therapist?” Suguru runs his hand up his spine, blinking droplets from his eyelashes.
Satoru groans and thunks his sopping head into Suguru’s shoulder.
They had an argument about it. Proper screaming match.
Satoru cancelled his appointments twice and then when Suguru confronted him—in that kind fuck off way he does, so Satoru shouldn’t have even been mad at all—he didn’t know what to do with the tacky itching in his skin so he just shouted at him.
Suguru screamed back because, You’re wasting your life being afraid all the time, and, I want you to be comfortable, and, You’re fucking miserable half the time, Satoru, and blah blah blah. In a last-ditch attempt at winning Satoru just shoved him against the wall and kissed him so hard their teeth clicked.
Suguru pulled a dirty fucking move; slammed him into the stupid pristine white walls of his own fucking house and purred his goddamn name, enunciated the three pathetic syllables he’s dragged around his whole life as if they were the most precious characters in the world, and said an entirely devastating, Satoru, only good boys get fucked, hm? Are you going to be good? But he said it with anger, which was so much hotter.
It’s cruel, because thats is a new realisation that Satoru is still figuring out and Suguru should be more, like, understanding. It’s ridiculous and cheesy and should not have done things to him, but—fuck—it did.
Then Satoru highkey had a panic attack, so Suguru, in fact, didn’t fuck him into behaving or whatever, he gave him water and calmed him down with only his voice—something he only really trusts Suguru to be able to do—and sat across from him while he wrote down everything he wouldn’t say in his session.
“This is dumb.” He thunks his forehead on the bench, eyes still sticky and throat still sore. “If I beg would you let me fuck you into forgetting about this?”
“Tempting.” Suguru leans into the hand he’s leaning his chin on, “But, no.”
“I can’t.” He groans, he’s seriously exhausted, “You do it.” And he’s absolutely expecting Suguru to shove the pages back and boss him around in the same tone he uses to coax Satoru into eating his vegetables.
Suguru just clicks the pen and writes.
He writes this long ass letter about stuff Satoru didn’t even realise he did, to the horribly intimate moments on bathroom floors and kitchen tiles, to the bone deep exhaustion that catches up to him every couple of weeks. He says he can cross out whatever parts he wants and when Satoru sits in the passenger seat outside the office and practically begs Suguru that he doesn’t need it Suguru makes him read the letter again.
Knowing that Suguru was sitting out in the hallway made the whole thing a lot less horrible than he’d been dreading all these years. Even after, when Satoru curls himself into the front seat of the shitty pick up he’s had since he was seventeen—the one they road-tripped up the east coast the summer they graduated in—he doesn’t ask anything that will make the quiet overflowing feelings crack through Satoru’s efforts to smother them, he doesn’t even chastise when Satoru puts his feet on the dashboard so he can hide in his legs.
“I do not feel better by the way.” He pissily slaps his bedroom door into Suguru as he follows, flopping hard into his too-big bed. “Actually, I feel a shit ton worse.”
“You will feel better.” He taps the sole of Satoru’s foot, “Give me your shoes.”
“I hate you.” He kicks them off.
“Good.” Suguru rolls into the other side of the bed, enough distance that they won’t touch unless Satoru reaches for it. He just stares at Satoru, bangs splayed out on his cheek, that crease in his eyebrow, like he’s thinking real hard about something and doesn’t quite know how to say it. Probably running through a twelve-step whatever in his head, and it’ll probably fucking work, and that pisses Satoru off. “You shou..” Suguru half scowls at the duvet, looks back up, staring at Satoru with an intensity that makes him want to writhe, “I’m very proud of you.”
Satoru feels like maybe all his insides have expanded, pressurised against his skin like suddenly he doesn’t have enough of it to contain everything inside himself.
“Give me your hand.” Suguru obeys, giving it over and shuffling closer so Satoru doesn’t have to. He doesn’t even know what he wants it for, he just curls all his fingers around it and brings the back of Suguru’s knuckles to his cheek, the cold backs off his fingers press lines into the hot distress remaining on Satoru’s face. “I love you.”
And Suguru won’t think twice about the secret he’s hiding under four unassuming letters.
“I love you too, ‘Toru.”
He wants to kiss him, he almost draws his knuckles to his lips, he shoves his forehead into them instead, he’s so drained he can barely keep himself together when Suguru coos adoration at him, rubbing at Satoru’s bridge with the backs of his fingers, tracing up and down his nose, around his brow arch, over his cheekbones, Satoru chases it.
“I mean it.” He repeats, whether it’s from bravery or idiocy or just plain madness, “I really love you.” He just wants to see how far he can push it.
“Go to sleep, Satoru.” Suguru presses his thumb into the hollow of his cheek, “I’ll stay until you wake up.”
So that’s how far; that’s as far as he can go before Suguru doesn’t want to return it, but Satoru is selfish.
“Say it back.” He softly digs his nails into Suguru’s hand, “Say you love me.”
“Satoru,” Like he doesn’t want to, Suguru swipes his thumb over his chin, over the scar he got for giving up his scholarship, “You do so much for me.” He pulls his hand away and Satoru clings on, not ready to accept that Suguru doesn’t really love him as much as he does, “I love you.” He kisses the words into Satoru’s fingers, “I love you.” Satoru melts a little, there’s still a hard knot in his chest that knows it’s not really what he wants to hear, but it’s enough for right now, “Go to sleep, ‘Toru.”
Satoru can barely hold eye contact before lethargy catches him.
For the first time in fucking forever Satoru doesn’t have a single lecture, TA hour, essay, whatever, for the week—so far anyway—which is entirely unheard of and it’s incredible but also now he doesn’t remember how he spent his time before university was there to bite him in the ass twenty-five hours a day.
yo
hoss
r u busy my guy
He gets left on read, which is undoubtedly rude and entirely unforgivable.
tf suguru
answer me bitch
Then he thinks about how Shoko would call him misogynistic, and he can’t really vow to kick the shit out of misogynists if he is one.
ans me u cranberry fucknut*
hell does that mean
He clicks his tongue at Suguru’s distinct lack of question answering.
means ur a pissbaby
hangout?
And he gets left on read again. Satoru throws his phone onto his bed and flops back, he lies there—very patiently—for nearly a minute before checking Suguru’s non-existent answer.
bby is it over
ur cheating on me
found a new man alrdy
not even a phone call
so shallow suguru
im hurt
gonna kms
stfu 2 min
Satoru gives him exactly a hundred and ten seconds before he calls, Suguru groans into the line when he picks up.
“What- is your deal?” A door slams and Suguru sounds properly out of breath, like he’s just seriously sprinted 10K.
“Woah, were you beating it or something?” He teases mostly, he wonders only a little.
“No,” He snaps, “Someone fucking-” Keys clatter onto Suguru’s bench, “Had a seizure or some shit in—fuck—in the elevator. Stairs, man.”
“You live on the tenth floor.” He points out that it isn’t obvious.
“Really?” Suguru sounds distant, like he’s just thrown his phone onto his bed or something, “You don’t say? Fuck, coulda fooled me.”
“Okay, dickhead, chill out.” Satoru rolls over so he can stretch out his back with a sigh, “You feel like walking down all those stairs again?”
Suguru hangs up.
rude
fuckface
shitwit
ill cry
u dont even care?
call me back
Suguru does not call him back.
fr can i come over
hoss
hoss
im showering f u
without me?
His phone rings so suddenly he drops it onto his collar, that will definitely bruise.
“Hoss! Long time no call?”
“If I entertain you will you leave me alone?”
“Nope.” He chirps into the line and rolls to sit against his headboard.
“What are you even doing?”
“Talking to my best buddy? The fuck else am I supposed to do? Might have a milkshake for dinner, maybe annoying Utahime so Shoko has more problems, maybe wank if I’m feeling adventurous.” He sucks on his lips in thought when Suguru doesn’t say anything, “What are you wearing?”
“Man, I’m ass naked in the middle of my bathroom, my cock is cold and my shower is waiting.” Suguru snaps.
“Hot.” He says, even if it’s everything but.
“What about you?” Suguru mumbles like he’s focusing on something else.
“Boxers and that ratty Evanescence shirt you left here.” He tugs on it, it’s lowkey massive on Satoru.
“I don’t own an Evanescence shirt,” Suguru pauses for a moment, “Is that Nanami’s shirt?”
“Oh damn, maybe.” The sound of slapping feet on tiles probably means Suguru’s resigned to pulling his boxers back on, “D’you think he’ll want it back if I tell him you sucked me off while I was wearing it?”
Suguru snorts, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He gets closer to the speaker again, maybe he’s sat down, “You shouldn’t have a milkshake for dinner.”
“Come and stop me then.” He challenges.
“If I go there we’ll end up fucking and I won’t finish my prints tonight.”
And he’s so right, because that’s a thing they do now, like, all the time.
Suguru will come over, make him eat a scientifically balanced meal or some shit, lose miserably at whatever game they play and sometimes they don’t even make it to the end of the round before Satoru’s kissing him, or Suguru’s pulling at his hips, or that time Satoru beat him so bad and wouldn’t shut up about it and Suguru fucking slapped his knees together, held his hips up, pressed down rough on his nape and fucked his thigh gap. He came just from the sensation against his balls, the slapping sound of their hips, and a little imagination embarrassingly fast. Twice.
He had so many hickies on his back he could barely think and the bruises on his hips had him feeling like a live wire for several days. Had to get his couch fucking dry cleaned, which was highkey super embarrassing and he passive aggressively sent Suguru the bill, which Suguru rudely did not pay.
Or when they were waiting for a game to install and it took longer than one (1) minute, longer than sixty (60) goddamn seconds, and Satoru said, Can I jerk you off while we wait? And then they never loaded the game up at all.
Or when Suguru got a noise complaint and his neighbour called him Satoru’s name so he rimmed him within an inch of his life against the door and told Satoru if he made any noise at all he’d get nothing from him for a week, which turned out to be a lie when he fell the fuck to pieces.
There’s also that prominent time that Satoru forgot to shave and accidentally gave him stubble rash on his balls and Suguru fucking, like, punished him by making him shave while he watched Suguru get himself off right in front of him. He threw his head back so hard he cracked Satoru’s shower glass, came all over his hand and proceeded to not let Satoru touch him for the rest of the night. Cruel.
Satoru jerked off until he couldn’t feel his skin after he left, he doesn’t even know if he finished the last time, he just passed the fuck out imagining Suguru’s fucked out moans and his stupid gorgeous face.
“Then I hope you think about me sucking you off and don’t finish your school shit while I stay in my lonely little house all by myself.” He coos like he’s not lowkey losing his shit. “You already, like, borderline topped me, it’s my turn next time.”
“What?”
“What, what?” Satoru crinkles his nose because that seems like an event Suguru should remember.
“I don’t know, that was just a random thing to say.”
“Okay, well, I am currently adamantly thinking about us, and sex, and those two things happening together, and about how next time I want to be in charge.”
The line’s quiet for a long moment.
“Yeah?” Suguru’s voice shakes, only slightly, a minuscule tremor, it sets off kill bill sirens in his head and his dick simultaneously. “What’re you gonna do?”
“I..” Don’t even know where the fuck to begin with that, I was not fucking prepared for this conversation, my man. “I’d have you on your back.” He says instead.
Suguru laughs through the phone, suddenly he feels unreasonably offended.
“Satoru—” he does that thing where he purrs the end of it, “I don’t think you know how hard it is to fuck a guy like that.”
“I’m going to fuck you?”
“I don’t know, are you?”
“S’that a challenge?” Satoru sits up a little, “I’d make it so good, I’d be the best.” Satoru feels like maybe there’s a little misplaced confidence in that statement, obviously virgin intercourse is never going to be fucking incredible, it’s going to be awkward and probably weird and Satoru will definitely fuck it up a little bit, but he can dream. “I like watching your face when you cum.”
“Tell me,” he breathes, voice dropping into something a little smoother, richer, “Tell me what you like about it?”
“You-” Satoru feels those first little tingles of arousal swim in his gut, “You get so loud, Hoss.”
“Don’t call me Hoss right now.” Satoru feels the incessant need to just obey, “And take off your shirt.”
“Fast, much?”
“Forgive me if I don’t want you wearing our friend's shirt while we have phone sex.”
“I wore it while we had real live naked cock sex.” He points out but tears it over his head anyway, “S’gone.”
“Good boy.” Satoru feels sparks.
“Don’t.” He snaps and glares at where his dick twitches in his boxers. “That’s not fair.”
“Turned on already?” He coos and the line doesn’t carry that warm sweet sparks as well as the air does. “Baby?”
“I like it when you writhe.” He bites back, “Dig your heels into the bed like you can’t believe how good it is, I like that.” Satoru hovers his hand shamefully over the growing bulge but refuses to be the first to cave, “Are you like that for everyone?”
“I usually-” A breathy shudder wracks the microphone, “People don’t usually do the shit that you do.”
Satoru doesn’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean exactly, but it did not sound bad at all, more like a hella compliment.
“What do I do?” He rubs the flats of his fingers onto his boxers, getting only a tiny bit of pleasure. “Am I good?” He wants to hear it, “Am I good, Suguru?” He hopes it doesn’t sound so much like begging on the other end of the line.
“You’re always so good for me, incredible ‘Toru. I, shit, I guess I-” and Suguru cuts himself off with this little sound, it drives bright light up Satoru’s veins, “I look—fucken’, I don’t know—intimidating, I’m not used to it- to the way you talk to me.”
Satoru drives the ball of his palm into his dick, biting the sounds out of his throat.
“Fuck, ‘Toru, please tell- are you touching yourself too?”
“Mm,” So he doesn’t do something embarrassing like moan or whine or whatever, “Yeah, Sugu. Got my boxers on- can I-” he breathes hard into the microphone because he thinks Suguru will probably like that, “Can I take ‘em off?”
“Shit, ‘Toru, how you gonna top me if you’re all pliant like this on the phone, hm?”
“Fine, go to your goddamn room and get on your knees for me.” He snaps, holding his phone with his shoulder as he drives his fingers into his waistband, “Shit, how hard are you, baby?”
There’s a click and the vague sounds of slamming and swearing as Suguru probably trips on something, “Like, almost all the way.” He mumbles. “Fuck, what the fuck, this is kinda pathetic, man.”
“I like when you’re pathetic, it’s hot.” Satoru’s voice grates on his throat, he feels liquid gold slosh under his skin, burns in his cheeks when Suguru makes a small sound into the phone and hits the sheets with a fwump. “Suguru—” He clicks his tongue, “You’re not allowed to cum until I do.”
“Wh- no.” His frown carries on his voice, “Satoru-”
“What happened to being too pliant?” he mocks, “You better not cum first, or no more head.” Making sure the lilt can be heard when he teases.
“You are so annoying. I’m not doing that.”
Satoru laughs and dramatises his moan when he rubs his palm into his head. “Put me on speaker.” He drops his phone onto the bed beside him. “On your knees, but-” he grins into the words and whispers, “No bouncing, I’ll hear you.”
“‘Toru.” It’s bordering on a whine.
“Fuck, I wish I could see that.” Satoru rubs his finger through the precum he’s starting to leak, rubbing fast into the slit with a loud huff, “Hard, baby?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Fast airy breaths spin through the line, breaking apart with their distance. “Satoru.”
“Slow down, I’m not even touching myself properly.” He teases, suddenly feeling like the most patient man in the world when he hears Suguru’s laboured breath, he tries to imagine what he’d look like, “Show me, wanna see you, your face.”
“Ah,” barely makes it through the line it’s so quiet, “Satoru, fuck, I just climbed twenty flights of stairs, I look like shit.”
“You look hot after the gym.” Satoru strokes himself hard once, trying to mimic the way Suguru had played with him. “Fuck. You smell good too.”
“You’re into a lot of weird shit.” Suguru’s smiling into the words, it’s not that weird really, Satoru pouts, “Oh, fuck, Sat, how fast are you going?”
“Slow, I’m gonna take my time with you.” His hips betray his words when he fucks into his hand, “What ‘bout—shit—you? What’re you into?”
“Oh, oh,” The fast sounds of Suguru fucking himself crackle through the line. “I, ah, I really liked it when you—fuck—you were, I liked it when you—ha—arrogant.” He moans loud and Satoru mirrors the sound straight from his gut, “Like it when you’re a little mean.”
Satoru bites his lip and pumps his hand a little harder, breath starting to get away from him, “Oh, I can be so mean for you.” He hikes his legs up higher, his dick is stinging, he doesn’t want to break from it to get lube, “Shit, slow down, baby, I can hear your breathing.”
He crawls and tries his best to keep his hand steady, cursing the size of his bed.
“Sat—toru—,” Half moaned, half grumbled. “Fucking, hurry up!”
Satoru laughs at him, flicking the cap open and flopping onto his back by Suguru’s voice, and snips, “No.”
“‘Toru,” Snapped, like he’s getting really frustrated.
“It’s only been, like, five minutes, slow the fuck down.” He makes sure Suguru can hear it when he breaks the bubble and slicks up his hand, “You leaking enough?” Because, sure, this is hot as shit, it’s always hot if it’s Suguru, but it’s obviously going to take a little more to get him slick than a couple of noises, no matter how desperate he’s acting.
“Fuck, ‘Toru, I’m, I don’t think I have ah— any-” there’s a thump and Suguru lets out a filthy sound. “I’m wet enough.”
“Liar.” Satoru shakes out a breath as he starts stroking himself properly, “Guess you’ll have to go slow. Guess you’ll just have to listen to me.”
Satoru shivers hard, chill racing from his spine to his toes as Suguru’s whine passes right into his ear.
“Show me, Suguru.” Hips kick into his hand, “Prove it—oh—prove it then.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck me yourself, coward.” Satoru’s laugh gets caught in a moan as he loudly pumps himself, tempting Suguru with his fast pace, “Slow—ah—slow, baby. If I find out you hurt yourself I’ll finger you right to the edge and leave you there.”
“No the fuck you wouldn’t.” Another thump, “Sat, mnph, let me hear you.” He sounds louder, like maybe he’s lying right by the speaker like Satoru.
Satoru slows his hand, playing with his foreskin, “Stop stroking, tease yourself for—Fuck!—for me.” His voice cracks and he tries his best to mix Suguru’s name into his moan.
“Is that what you’d do?” His voice catches rich edge on whatever sensual thing he just rubbed into his dick. “Tease? Fuck, ‘Toru, you’ve always been like that.”
“Like- that?” Satoru has to breathe between the words. “Oh—shi- Sugu.” His neck lolls against his sheets, hot and tight starts pulling his thighs taut and he lets his hand fall away for a moment, breathing a rough, Hah—fuck, from his cock.
“Y’always—ah! Riling people up, fuck, first time we met you made me fucking fi—Sat, god—fight you.” The sheets crumple and Satoru wants to imagine Suguru wringing himself in them.
“You started it.” His breath catches hard when he rubs his palm over his head, fucking himself into it, it’s almost so sensitive it hurts, bringing his other hand to tease his nipples, he can’t get it right like Suguru does it and hisses a frustrated noise. “Fuck, Su—oh, Suguru.”
“Like hell I started it.” The bite of his tone makes Satoru shiver, “I thought you were, ha—, you- were homophobic,” he huffs something that might be a laugh, “Or something.”
“Or something.” Laughter gets lost in the way he shoves his face into the duvet, he rolls over to lie with his knees propped up, “You weren’t wrong,” he grips the sheets when he fucks himself down, “Definitely something.” He moans a loud, Sweet hell, into his forearm.
“What are you doing, baby?”
“Ah—” Satoru starts canting his hips down, trying to imagine Suguru’s heavy breath beneath him, trying his best to hold his hand tight and steady as he fucks it, “Wanna—hah—ah, wanna fuck you, baby.” His hips lose rhythm and he’s pretty sure he whines, “Fuck, no,” His thighs are tight all the way to his ass, he slips and frustration grips him as his orgasm recedes, “Sug’ru, m’on my knees, what are yo—ah, shit—you?”
“I, fuck, Satoru, I’ve been close this whole time, shit.” Suguru writhes again, the quiet rocking echoing from the phone right into his goddamn cock, he can hear him trying to hide the sound of bouncing, the subtle slap of thighs against calves, “Satoru, I can’t-” he mumbles, like he’s hiding in his hand, “I, please, I’ve been going slow—ah, oh—please, I wanna..” He trails off, like he thinks that’s enough begging, like he thinks that’s adequate.
“Suguru—” He makes sure to moan it, “Me first.” Satoru finds his rhythm again, fucking slick sounds into the line as his voice cracks over a particularly rough jerk, “Noises,” he demands, “All those noises, Sugu, let me hear them. Beg.”
Suguru’s fucked whine cracking on the line has Satoru groaning into his duvet, he’s starting to shift on it with the force of his hips.
“Satoru, baby—hah!” The sloppy sounds of Suguru jerking himself faster than he should be without lube mix with the heavy sex in his voice, “Sat, please, I’m there! I’m almost fucking—ah! I don’t- ‘Toru, baby, my boy.”
My boy, my boy. Oh my god, what the fuck, what the fuck. Satoru wants.
“Almost, fuck,” He moans roughly into his hand, “Suguru, Sug- I, my hands, oh, oh—fuck, shaking, talk to me.”
“God, Satoru, gorgeous, you’re voice—ah—shi-Sat.” Suguru’s moan gets caught in his throat, another thump, he must be hitting his head on the wall. “You’re doing so well, baby. Fuck, I want to see this, I want to see you above me like—oh!—like- li- Satoru, please, please, are you close?”
Satoru can’t control his mouth enough to say anything at all, his voice shatters when he tries Suguru’s name.
“Oh, I’m gonna- Satoru! So good, keep going, focus, just a little bit longer for me, baby, let me hear you.” There’s an obscene clatter, a shatter, and a curse but Suguru’s desperate heavy breaths are still building volume. “Good boy, for me, my boy.”
“S’gru, oh, oh go—dng!” The edges of his skin are starting to float away from him as his orgasm threatens his cock, “I’m gon— Suguru, coming! Mnh, anh—ha, oh!” Satoru collapses onto his side and cums over his hand, spurting over his stomach, thighs locking up when Suguru’s moans ring in his head as they cum together, his breaths are branded with involuntary sounds and Satoru can’t even fucking remember the colours of his curtains.
He tests out that new five-sense grounding whatever he learnt in therapy and promptly finds out it doesn’t work for orgasm fog, like, at all.
“Oh my god, Suguru,” Voice catching on fracturing breath, “I—hah, good, so fucking, can’t feel, I thought about—oh, baby—‘bout you, m’bout your legs over m’shoulders, your so flexible, fuck, I wanna see that, like, under me, baby, can I?”
“God, Satoru, please, I’ll teach you, I want—fuck.”
“I wanna see, le’mme come ov-”
“No.” Suguru laughs, “I hav—shit, I have prints.” He sighs hard, “Wait, wait, ‘Toru.” He shuffles around for hours that are probably just seconds.
Satoru’s phone chimes and he’s never opened a message so fast in his life, a picture of Suguru, cum slick chest, sweat shining on the light of his beside lamp that he got as a hand me down—unbelievably ugly, but Suguru says it’s charming—his head lolled back against the wall, he can’t see his face, but the way soft orange light reflects on his apple, highlights the way the slick on his collar tracks to his happy trail, the way his hair is loose and tangled, probably a little sticky from climbing the stairs, it absolutely makes up for it. Before Satoru even gets a chance to recover his airy moan gets caught in his throat when a second one comes through, Suguru’s hand, hot fucking hand, thicker than Satoru’s, a hand he’s fucked himself into, a hand he’s had in his mouth, a hand that has cum stringing between the fingers, it’s gathering around the ring on his middle finger. Satoru really shouldn’t find that so hot, he really should not be imagining if he’d keep a wedding band on while jerking Satoru.
“Fuck, Suguru, you’re- you’re so gorgeous.”
“You better fuck me good.” He challenges and Satoru’s dick twitches like he’d be ready to go again if his refractory period was quite that excellent. “High expectations for the prodigal whore.”
Satoru smothers his laughter, “You don’t even know.” Definitely misplaced confidence in that one. “Fuck, let me- I want you to see.”
His hands shake furiously as he takes a photo, opening his mouth—‘cause he fucking knows how much Suguru loves his mouth—rubs his cum slick fingers together to make it string when he stretches it on his bottom lip, catching the thick string on his tongue, snapping a picture of bright red flush and liquid eyes.
He makes sure to fucking triple check the name he sends it to and then has a moment-long freak out ‘cause what if he accidentally changed his TA group chat name to Sugoob Gaytoe and then, like, forgot about it, as if that is ever a thing he would fucking do.
“Oh my god,” Suguru’s breath shudders, “Oh my god, ‘Toru.”
“Make it your wallpaper,” he jokes with his sex-textured voice, “So you don’t miss me while you print shit or whatever.”
“I’m not- I’m, like, carving boards- Sweet fuck, Satoru.” Suguru sounds like maybe he’s struggling to breathe, “Shit, it’s insane that you can look like that.” A noise catches in his throat, and Satoru doesn’t dare hide the ones in his own. “Fucking carnal.”
“Sure I can’t come over? Promise I’ll be good.” He makes his pout as verbal as he can.
“I absolutely don’t believe you.” He huffs, “Go shower, baby. I’ll call you later, ‘Toru. That was, like- I needed that.”
Satoru hums into the line and swipes up a spot of cum on his duvet, he hates washing duvets.
“Suguru—” He rolls his cheek against his knuckles where they rest, taking a deep breath before whining Suguru's name again, “Su—guru— le’mme come over.”
“Satoru,” He can hear that annoying eyebrow crinkle through the phone.
“I’m so bored, I wanna hang out, promise I won’t suck you off ‘till your done working,” Satoru’s lowkey lying, but Suguru already knows that, “For real, no cum will be cummed out of any cumable organs.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Suguru sighs as he gives in, and Satoru’s never pulled his shoes on so fast in his life, wiping himself down and chucking everything on his bathroom floor instead of his laundry. Suguru would definitely have annoying shit to say about that.
To be fair—when the apartment door swung open—Satoru is not the one who started it; he might still be equally as guilty.
“You gave yourself sex hair.”
And Satoru dragged his eyes all over Suguru, trying to imagine the visuals to his desperate voice from barely twenty minutes ago. Maybe that was all the teasing he needed.
It’s been ending like this a little too often. At the door—a dangerous place really—Suguru will walk him to the exit after they’ve hung out, not-studied, truly studied, gymed, fought, after he’s made Satoru a proper meal and Satoru’s complained about his broccoli, after they’ve pretended like they won’t have their cocks out by the end of the night; selfish Satoru will give him a look, quirk his brow; Suguru will shift his weight on his hips and blink a slow intense kind of blink; tips his head like he’s got some secret trick in his eyes that makes Satoru writhe a little. It works every damn time.
Then he’s against the wall, held down by Suguru’s hands on his shoulders, on his hips, pressing, gripping, rocking them, squeezing with the same cadence as his lips on Satoru’s neck, biting until the dips of his teeth leave indentations for a few minutes.
“So much for your prints,” Satoru speaks around his teeth as he chews on his own lip and Suguru grinds hard into his thigh.
“Not even a hello?” And Satoru’s lifted right off the ground, grabbling at shoulders and wrapping legs over hips, barely getting steady on the hands locked under his thighs before he’s slapped hard into Suguru’s couch cushions, “You’re not being very good for me.”
“You knew I was full of shit.” He roughly tugs Suguru’s shirt off as Suguru hikes his legs up, “Oh,” He’s a little taken off guard, it’s striking that rich molten feeling through him, “Suguru, what-”
“Okay?” He’s a little tired so the soft tone comes out with eyes equally as dewy.
“You smell amazing.” He bites, lapping at his skin, rubbing his nose into Suguru’s collarbone before sinking his teeth into it, practically chewing; he wants it bruised.
“I haven’t even showered.” The vibrations of the words pass right into Satoru’s temple where he’s nuzzled into his neck.
“Hell yeah.” He’s bites, Suguru breathes, all shaky and a little ruined, just how Satoru likes him, “Exactly. You smell warm, like—fuck, I can’t even—like summer.” A sweaty Suguru always smells slightly like laundry dried in midsummer sun, that addictive, unreplicable smell off sun-warmed concrete, the slightly salty undertone of sweat, of that expensive bergamot shampoo, fruity and citrus, a little spicy.
Or maybe none of that’s actually true and Satoru is just really, really gay.
“Fuck, ‘Toru.”
Satoru just grips his skin, wanting to feel every corner, running his hands flat and hard like Suguru’s taught him to. Loose strands of Suguru’s hair fall around them, caging their faces where they lock onto each other again, barely a proper kiss as Suguru holds Satoru’s thighs up, canting against him like he’s fucking him, like they don’t have cotton in between them, it really shouldn’t be doing it for Satoru as much as it does.
Satoru’s ankles twist over Suguru’s ass, keeping himself wide—desperate, more like—panting so hard he’s starting to get dizzy. Satoru thinks he might’ve scratched Suguru or something and before he can work out the words for some half assed apology or maybe a tease, Suguru has his hands above his head, he doesn’t know what to do about that, but goddamn he likes it.
“Suguru— get it-, fuck, the, hah! Why the fuck are my clothes still on?” Satoru arches filthy into him as he dry humps him like it’s real—hard and fast and honestly hot as fuck—Satoru grinds as much sensation into his cock as he can. It’s not enough.
“Pretty sure you said—oh—some, shit, something about no cumable organ functions?”
He tries to wriggle out of Suguru’s hands, his grip’s too good, his hips fucking down against Satoru’s is too distracting.
“Fuck, Satoru.” He throws his head with that gorgeous crease in his brow, like he’s focusing real hard, and Satoru knows he must be starting to get properly riled up.
“Already? Cute.” But as Suguru lets go of one of his wrists, Satoru’s newly freed one races Suguru to his waistband, he slips right down the back, cupping his ass and pulling him out of his rhythm—Satoru is not about to cum in his pants again and give Suguru that kind of ammo—Suguru eagerly slips over his hips, rutting down into Satoru’s hard on instead. “Let me, fuck, please, le’mme.”
Somehow Suguru just knows what he’s asking because he gestures at his crotch like, Go on, baby, all yours, and Satoru does. Flips his sweats under his ball and he’s already so wet, leaking a little when he hits the air, precum dripping all down his length. Usually, Satoru might’ve teased, tasted even. Today Satoru is fucking impatient and horny, so he grips Suguru tight and jerks him hard and fast, careful around his foreskin in that way he likes, pumping him until he arches, gripping Satoru’s shirt and tossing his hair, trembling and moaning as he tries to warn Satoru before he spurts onto his stomach and leaks over slender knuckles.
Then he sits back—not in Satoru’s lap—into the couch, wipes himself off with a tissue—hands shaking—and doesn’t move for heaving panting Satoru; Satoru who’s moaning from watching him; Satoru who’s lowkey confused when Suguru brushes his hair out of his mouth and reaches for his laptop; Satoru who is, like, bordering between hurt and pissed off.
“Su.. what?” He squints, “Sugu?” He snaps his thighs together, rubbing harshly on the bulge in his pants with his clean hand.
“Weren’t you going to behave for me?” And he fucking smiles, loads up his fuckass documents or whatever the fuck—still panting—and smiles condescension at him like his lip isn’t fucking trembling.
“Are you..?” Satoru can’t help the sound that falls out, strangled and pitiful, but when Suguru breathes a little faster he lets the vice on his throat go a little, he pouts, “You’re not gonna?” He sucks the fingers coated in Suguru’s cum into his mouth, watching the way Suguru watches him, he doesn’t know what this is, but it’s a challenge, a competition, and he’s going to win. “S’good, Suguru.”
Satoru feels maybe ambivalent about being submissive at best, but if it's going to get him what he wants, if it’s going to crack Suguru’s bullshit power play, so be a little shamelessness.
He shucks off his slacks, rubbing himself through his boxers a few times as he drops right into Suguru’s keyboard—honestly, this laptop is one beefy email and a bad planet alignment away from killing itself anyway—it clatters onto the floor and Suguru doesn’t even chastise him, doesn’t even scowl. Satoru feels fucking feral about the way his mouth hangs open, eyes lidded as he watches Satoru suck cum off the side of his first knuckle.
“You really not gonna?” His pout reeks of dishonesty, Suguru knows it, “Baby?” He pouts with those big pathetic eyes that always get him what he wants with Suguru, licks the slightly salty flavour out of the crook of his thumb, then smiles wide when Suguru’s fingers dig into his ass, slide right up the bottom of the fabric to grip skin, “You’re still so turned on, aren’t you?”
Before Suguru can get a word out Satoru presses his fingers against his lips, coaxing them open, they take him in like it’s an instinct, licking right up the bottom as he lurches his head forward onto them.
“Fuck.” Satoru keeps his fingers deep, focusing on the way Suguru’s tongue sucks them into the roof of his mouth, the dental indents he’s collecting on his knuckles. Satoru presses the ball of his hand into his chin until his head’s held against the couch, he smiles around Satoru’s fingers, sticky with his own cum, “God, you’re hot.”
Suguru, like, makes this sound, all high and whiny. Satoru’s stomach might just fall out through his dick or something. He must be seriously fucking tired if he’s whining about Satoru’s fingers.
“You wanna leave me here?” Satoru rocks his boner into Suguru’s abs, “Then you better be quiet about it.”
He slips a knee right into Suguru’s crotch, rolling down into his thigh, running his hands up his body, tracing the arch of his pecs, squeezing, leaning in for a taste of skin as he rocks himself down.
“Satoru.” Suguru tugs on his ass, “Satoru,” those wide hands hiking up his shirt, rubbing up his spine, dipping into his boxers, over his hole like he’d bend Satoru over on the couch if he asked for it. “Sat.”
“Shut up,” He tugs Suguru’s hand out of his pants, snapping it against the back of the couch as he starts dry humping his thigh, fucking his hips forward so hard his knee grinds into Suguru’s dick with every thrust. “I came all the way out here, and you’re gonna get me off, baby.”
“Holy hell,” Suguru’s fingers twitch where his wrist is restrained, the other holding onto his hip. “You- oh.”
Satoru leans hard into his hand, rolling down fast enough he’s going to have friction burn or some shit on his balls. He can barely focus on his own dick with the way Suguru’s watching him, pupils all blown out and raw lips clamped under teeth. He’s starting to feel like his shirt and the couch and the fucking air is closing in on him.
“Ah, Suguru—” He bites, shoves his nose into Suguru neck, breathes in his safe smell, lets his hand guide him, squeezes as his bones start feeling like dandelion fluff, “Suguru, s’oh, it’s-” He waves his hand in front of himself like it’s supposed to explain what his skin feels like, so sensitive it hurts. Like he’s worked all the way up but he feels it in the way his spine tingles and not in his dick, which sounds mental when he thinks it.
He drags his teeth and sucking hard, colouring Suguru’s skin. Suguru might’ve said something like, Not too high, and Satoru doesn’t think he even knows what those words mean as he bruises Suguru right to his jawline.
“Sat,” The hand in his grip slips out and slides right around his thigh, “Touch?”
He just helplessly moans into his collar, tugging his own shirt and throwing his head in frustration when he can’t get it off. “Off, get it off.” He keeps his hips grinding hard, sliding his hand right down Suguru’s front until he reaches his cock, rubbing slowly over him, he’s already hard, “Jesus, what’s with you today?”
“Fuck off, how could I not be horny with you like this?” And he runs his hands hard up Satoru’s sides as he pulls his shirt up, “‘Toru?”
“There’s—fuck—there’s too much, oh, Sugu. Bed.” He pulls on his shoulders, shuddering the broken word into his cheek. “Bedroom.”
He wraps his legs hard around Suguru’s hips, biting him from his collar to his lips until he’s softly laid down on Suguru’s sheets—the duvet and all of its harsh threads shoved onto the floor—Suguru rocks himself into Satoru’s cock, pressing him into soft flannelette.
“Off?” He whispers sliding his hands down Satoru’s boxers again.
It doesn’t take long until Satoru’s arching hard into Suguru, his hands, his mouth, fucking everything and anything he can touch, gripping onto the sheets above his head as his legs are hiked over Suguru’s shoulders and Satoru’s cock is down his throat.
“Suguru! S’rugu, mngah!” His legs kick without him, clenching and writhing because Suguru is on his cock and it’s always fucking incredible, “Oh, oh my god.” He does that thing with his tongue, grazes his teeth on the hard head the same way his nails tease his nipples, “Fuck, Suguru, I never, oh, nev’r thought I was,” His voice drowns itself in a moan as his cock slide right the fuck down Suguru’s throat and he grinds into the way Satoru’s hips kick, “Oh—, Su, I never, i thought I jus- fuck, wouldn’t like sex, touch, and all tha—ah! Fuck, good, so good, you-”
Suguru pulls off him, kisses his dick like out he kisses his mouth, “You’re so fucking- oh sweetheart, I love-” He chokes on his words and takes his cock in shallow, popping off with an obscenely wet sound, “I love doing this.”
“I’m- fuck, feel so safe with you.” He can barely control his mouth as Suguru sucks until his cheeks hollow, pumping everything that’s not in his mouth. “You a’ways make it so good.” Really, Satoru doesn’t stand a chance in hell when Suguru starts bobbing his head in time with Satoru’s uselessly jerking hips. “S’gru, I’m close.” Tears start gathering in Suguru’s eyes as he fucks Satoru into his throat again.
There’s already precum and spit dripping down his chin, pulling off like a tease and taking Satoru’s balls into his mouth, rolling them with his tongue like he’s fucking making out with them.
“Fucking hell.” Satoru gently winds his fingers into Suguru’s already fuck-worn hair, “Oh, Sat.”
Suguru rubs his thumb hard into the hickey he leaves, right in the dead centre of Satoru’s ballsack, like some kind of possessive mark.
“Wanna cum in my mouth?”
Satoru might just cum from that fucking question. He nods with a helpless sound, tugging at his hair.
“Gorgeous, baby.” Voice all fucked and jagged, “Good boy, tell me if it’s too much, sweetheart.”
And Satoru nearly falls apart at the seems, he swears all the fascia in his body as gone slack and he’s just a useless puddle as Suguru takes him deep, then fucks him into his soft palate, looking utterly ruined between the slick on his cheek smearing into the slow effortful tears, to the moans he’s licking right into Satoru’s cock, to the way his hips stutter as he watches whatever Satoru’s doing with his face.
“God yes, Sugu, deeper, ah—fuck.”
“Christ, I love watching you arch like that.” And he immediately goes back down on him, rubbing his hands up Satoru’s ribs, rubbing and pulling at his muscles as he moans into his cock, grinding his jaw deep. Everything is just so fucking wet.
“S’gru, I’m—ah—fuck, I’m there, I- oh!” The corners of the room seem to melt away and Satoru doesn’t even know which way’s up as he cums, the sound of Suguru choking as he catches it mid-moan. “Oh, Susu, oh fuck.”
Maybe his head has forgone all use of his brain, it’s all fluff the same colour as a static screen, wet and messy parhelia coating the inside of his skull, it all just slops together in a big incoherent puddle as Suguru straddles his chest, spitting Satoru’s cum into his hand and using it to jerk himself off as Satoru tries to gently—uselessly—help him while post-orgasm haze clouds his mind. Suguru cums arching again, loose mouth, tensing so hard his thighs shake, he’s always so fucking gorgeous when he does that, the way the bottom of his ribcage pressing his abs out, stretching them into Satoru’s favourite shape to trace, the way his delicious serratus anterior muscles create their little dimples in his sides—and fuck—all that hair, the long inky rivers in makes, the way it sweeps when he lolls his head. His hair has so much personality in it.
Satoru will never get sick of watching Suguru like this.
Suguru cums all over himself, collapsing straight into Satoru's side, panting, clinging on as if Satoru was the one who just made him cum, as if Satoru isn’t a heaving mess who’s still tingling in his thighs as he does in his heart.
“I fucking- told you—shit—that we’d end up having sex.” He wipes cum off his cheek, licking his slick lips and swallowing as much as he can.
“Fuck, your neck.” Satoru isn’t even that sorry, if anything he’s proud as fuck that Suguru didn’t just slap him away, “I like it.” Suguru leans hard into his hand when it presses against the dental indentations and all the burst blood vessels, “Mine.” Suguru looks like his.
“I’m gonna have to wear fucking turtle necks for a week.” Somehow he doesn’t sound that upset about it, “You asshole.”
Satoru retaliates by biting his collar, and Suguru shoves him into the bed, kissing him up and down and does not do a single one of his prints, far too busy slowly painting Satoru in love bites.
He made Satoru change the sheets after they showered, he even made him put them inside the washing machine, which Satoru bitched about but he did it anyway.
Then Suguru shoved him into fresh sheets and kissed praise into every part of his skin until he felt like he’d rip at the seams. He’d fallen asleep kissing Suguru’s eyebrow and running his finger right to the ends of his hair, which might be beyond the boundaries of friends with benefits, but Satoru probably did that, like, before they had sex so he assumes it’s an exception in the how-to-fuck-buddy handbook.
The whole thing is fucken kickass.
Satoru’s lowkey bored, it’s Sunday night. It’s, like, kind of irresponsible to get plastered on Sunday night, so Suguru does that annoying thing where he makes sure Satoru drinks water and eats food and doesn’t throw back every shot that meets his hands.
“Let’s go to the pokies.” He taps Shoko on the cheek, because there’s no way Suguru would let him near them with the way he treats his wallet, but Suguru is not here at this very minute. They have about thirty seconds to escape the table.
“Only if you give me a five to start.” She drains her drink and he slaps five thousand yen on the table.
“Go, go, go! Fun police, three o’clock.” Satoru nearly trips on the corner of the booth and Shoko giggles as she chases him. “Ha! Okay, we have, like, maybe five minutes before Nanami rats us out.”
“For real though, fifty thousand limit Satoru, we don’t need a Sky-Cas re-run.” She slips into a chair, slipping her five into the slot machine.
“Fifty is a starter, my dear Sho, watch and learn.” He doesn’t hesitate to slip two tens into his own.
Shoko won back thirty thousand and said the next round was her shout, Satoru lost everything in record time because, You never know when to cash out, Satoru, Suguru’s voice echoes in his head. He scoffs at imaginary Suguru and flips his wallet open again. It’s ripped right out of his hands and he’s about to go full fight mode, whipping around to be nose to nose with the man himself.
“Satoru.” He squints that condescending sardonic smile, it’s highkey really hot.
“You’re really hot,” He says and then mocks his tone, “Suguru.” Makes a grab for it and Suguru leans in to smack the cash out button, tipping his head to make Satoru pick up the single meek hundred yen coin. “You’re annoying.” And he basically speaks it into his neck with how close they are. He leaves the coin, swiping for his wallet again.
Suguru just turns and leaves, moving it out of his reach with every attempt, Satoru even started just grabbing at his jacket, yanking the collar back, grappling at his hands as they hide it in his pockets.
“Suguru, I’m a responsible adult, let me waste my money!” He shoves him as they get out of the pokie hall, and Suguru slaps him straight into the wall. “Gimme.” He steps forward.
“Satoru.” Suguru chides, sliding a hand onto Satoru’s stomach—the bare skin of it, slips right up his shirt—pressing until his back clicks against wood. Everything from his throat to his gut twists around itself, his stomach flips when Suguru leans in close—real close—like he’s going to kiss him, he wants Suguru to kiss him. Satoru grips his nape and tugs, he doesn’t budge. He smiles, biting at his lip, looking up just slightly, shorter only in height, Satoru might be melting, “Satoru?”
His breath escapes him, “Fuck off, this is low, even for you.” He whispers. Maybe it’s the vodka, maybe it’s whatever that last shot Shoko handed him was, maybe it’s Suguru’s intoxicating smell, “I’m, like, unreasonably turned on.” And he relishes in the way Suguru’s eyelids dip, watches as his tongue darts out, enticing and red and probably tastes like whiskey and crisscross chips, “Jerk me in the bathroom?”
“No.” He scoffs, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Drunk and horny.” He shrugs, tugging on his hair. “What’s your excuse?” Suguru’s head tips back and his body tips forward, their knees click and there’s teasing pressure where their hips meet. “Oh.” He breathes.
“‘Toru.” His eyes flick down, Satoru makes a show of dragging his lip under his teeth, licking it slick, he wants to bottle up Suguru’s shallow breath, print a record off it on the inside of his skull, carve the spiral groove into the bone, one that sings the sounds of Suguru’s bedroom voice, of his pretty little noises and breathy moans. “We’re in public.”
“You started it.” He leans in, getting only a single unsatisfactory tug on his lips when they catch on Suguru’s. He pulls back, pressing hard into Satoru’s core. “Let me kiss you.”
“Later, Satoru, we can’t fuck here.” Suguru glares and straightens up, brushing his bangs back, breathing hard through his nose and darting his eyes like he can’t decide if he wants to look at Satoru’s eyes or his mouth.
“I know, I want to kiss you.” He feels like every drink he’s ever had—from his first disgusting sip of beer, to the cosmo he just smashed back—is flooding his head all at once, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. “Fuck.” That’s not what they are. He shoves Suguru hard on the shoulders, he stumbles back. “Fuck, forget that, Hoss.” He laughs, staring intently at the floor, cutting off Suguru’s attempt at saying his name, “Shit, maybe I’m, like, hammered, man.” He suddenly feels incredibly sober.
“Sa-”
“C’mon, Haibara said he was up for pool. I’ll kick your ass.” He walks the hall and shakes Suguru’s hand off his wrist, he kind of wants to throw up.
“Satoru,” He smacks Suguru’s hand away when it comes straight back, he grabs at his waistband, at his shirt, Satoru feels itchy, spiders crawl up his spine, “Stop fucking fighting me for a second.”
“Stop touching me!” He whips around, and Suguru just lets him go, it’s worse. He wants him back, he doesn’t know how to reach for it. “Forget it.”
Suguru’s nose crinkles, he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something and instead he yanks Satoru by the collar and kisses him. It’s over before Satoru can gasp into it, a single open-mouthed slide, their jaws grind against each other almost on instinct, and Suguru lets him go.
“There’s your stupid kiss.” His face rages red as he hides in his hand. “Ten thousand I win pool.”
He struts past and leaves Satoru in the hallway, and, like, holy fuck? Why was that so hot? Where did his anxiety just go? Did Suguru just fucking suck it out of him with his fucking face?
Shoko snorts as she passes him, “Gay.”
“You wish you were me.” He snaps back.
Satoru loses pool, but it’s entirely unfair. Afterwards, Satoru had to pace the balcony while Shoko smoked. Hip flaunting should be an illegal move, because seriously, he has never lost so sadly in his life at, like, anything.
“I’m, like, not crazy right?” He spins and Shoko stares vaguely out at the street, “Did he always play like that?”
“M’not seeing whatever you are Satoru.” She flicks ash over the edge.
“No,” his heel clicks against the glass barrier, “There is no fucking way-” He claps his hands together pointedly and the words get lost on him. The way Suguru had broke, tipped his head back, long eyes cast over his shoulder, like he knew Satoru was watching. Rocked his hips as he stood, leaned in so close when he handed the cue over Satoru felt his own breath bounce off his face and his heart tried to, like, squeeze itself out of his throat and ass at the same time. He thought he was seriously going to stroke and he lost his first sink.
The only thing the sway of those hips was balancing is Satoru’s entire fucking soul and all the horny chips he gambled on every glance, and fuck, Satoru lost every single time.
Satoru squeezes his eyes and he swears up and down it's not humanly possible that he’d never notice the arch in Suguru’s shoulders before. He has fucking never thought about pressing down on the curve in Suguru’s spine like that before, right then and there without a care for the public eye, yet here he is, unbelieving that he could ever miss such an incredible detail. Maybe Suguru has a point about overindulgence, about treating every mile he’s offered like it’s an interstate. That fact doesn’t make Satoru want any less.
“Oh my god, Shoko.” He swings his forearms onto the rail, hiding his pathetically red face in his sleeves, “He smiled at me!” He groans, “And I- like my insides—fucking—like, contorted.”
“Damn, that is embarrassing for you.” She drawls and he can hear her grin.
“Do not laugh at me, this is a crisis.” Satoru lifts his head to glare at her, “Like, this is bad bad.”
“Why, because your best buddy smiled at you?” Shoko speaks cynicism into the filter.
“Because I want to suck his dick and hold his hand. That is bad, those two things-” He waves his finger back and forward to gesture, “Those are not supposed to happen simultaneously.”
“Pretty sure they are.” She pauses to take a drag, “You’re just going about it backwards.”
“Sho, Sho. I need you to understand me, Suguru, like, I barely fucking touched him—I don’t know what the fuck—he came on my face.” He stresses with a crass gesture, “I had to brush it off my teeth, and then he kissed my forehead in the shower and I thought I was dying. This is so bad.”
“Gross, you keep that shit to yourself.” She points with her burnt-out butt, slamming it down and flicking another out. “Sounds like you’re experiencing feelings.” She teases with wide eyes.
“He called me sweetheart.” Satoru whines out a painful sound and clicks his head on the rail. “Get me so fucked up I can’t even walk, please and thank you.”
“I can absolutely be doing that.” She strikes her lighter. They share her last cigarette and proceed to slam a shot of something fluorescent and lowkey radioactive-looking, which Shoko took like a champ and Satoru immediately felt like his skin was made of dandelion fluff, but the good kind.
“Brilliant.” He drawls into her hair, wrapping his arms over her shoulders for support, emotional support mostly, “I love you, Sho, you’re like, really super good at friending.” Comes out of his mouth nearly at the exact same time he hears Suguru say something like, What did you do? And Shoko cackles.
He’s peeled away from her by his waist, giving her what might be a thumbs up or a peace sign or a messy mix of both or neither. Whatever he did it made her laugh.
“Satoru.”
He spins and wraps his arm around Suguru’s neck, trying to press a finger into the crease of his brow and completely misses, Suguru must’ve seen that coming because he preemptively shut his eyes before Satoru could jab them.
“Hoss.” He returns the chiding tone.
“You’ve been smoking?” Suguru’s fingers are on his bottom lip.
Satoru doesn’t know why, what he’s looking at, maybe he has a burn, maybe the lipstick on Shoko’s filter rubbed off on them, maybe Suguru just wanted to touch. Satoru kisses his fingertips, and they dart back.
“Take me home?” The others were already talking about leaving, if the way Suguru has Satoru’s jacket under his arm says anything, he was ready too. “Sweetheart?” He adds out of non-existent confidence, and Suguru physically shivers. He feels like he’s won this interaction somehow.
“Come on, Sat.” He links their fingers together. “You have class at eight, you fucking idiot.”
“Imma honour student, particle waves can eat m’ass witha spoon.” He slurs the end and bumps his shoulder into Suguru’s. “Light.” He wonders vaguely, “Waves that don’ pertain to their physical rules.” Satoru thunks his head on Suguru’s as he almost eats the stairs, “Photons, man.”
“Photons.” He agrees like he doesn’t really know what that means when he guides Satoru into the back of a taxi.
He doesn’t give Suguru time to close the door and walk around, he just yanks his jacket until he falls in after, “My man, let me tell you, primary colours?”
“Shit,” he falls onto the floor, “Yeah, primary colours?” Because he always entertains Satoru’s whims.
“Complete sham. S’all ‘bout frequency.” He lies flat across the seats, “My eyes aren’t even blue.” He hears Suguru scoff as he pushes Satoru up, too distracted by his hands to properly explain reflection.
“Isn’t that the dots thing?” Satoru glances down at his seatbelt when it clicks, he unbuckles it. “Satoru.” Suguru slaps his hand away.
“Refraction, double slit, my boy Tommy.” Satoru holds up a pointed finger and gets distracted by the relative length of his index and ring fingers. “Yellow.” He says at the red traffic light. “Your eyes are yellow.” He whips around to look at Suguru.
“Nope.” Violet blinks, “Close.”
“No, yellow, are you not listening?” He blinks his own and points, “Probably very red.”
“You are so weird.”
“You’re an idiot.” He thunks his head on the seat, “An’ a’ art student. M’surprised you ever got a boyfriend to lose.”
Then he’s pretty sure he mumbles his joke about post-irrumatio manners again and cackles about that time Suguru got dumped at a comedy club as he’s pulled up his own steps.
“Why am I even friends with y-” Satoru slaps his hand over Suguru’s mouth.
“Shh, okay.” He struggles with his keys, “You, Hoss.” He drops them and swears. “You, no more boyfriends.” Satoru slips on his ass when he reaches down for them, “Like ever, mk?”
“Why?” And he doesn’t remember Suguru crouching to be level with him, he’s just suddenly there, swinging his keys around his finger.
“B’cause,” He snaps without a real answer in mind, “We’re exc’usive now.” He waves a finger between them. “Gemme up, Hoss.”
He doesn’t, he stares at Satoru like he’s supposed to be doing something, saying something, Satoru has no idea what it is. He’s pretty sure half this conversation has happened in his head and not out loud.
“We’re exclusive?”
“Duh.” He gives him what he hopes is a deadpanned look, “I’m not sucking anyone else cock, you’re not fucking any other faces.. you’re not?” He crinkles his face at the realisation that Suguru has never actually said he’s not. He could be, and it’s, like, fine, because Suguru doesn’t belong to him.
“No, I’m not.” He clarifies quickly, “Last was about six months before we started. I don’t think you know what you’re talking about, Satoru.” There’s an arm under his bicep, and he doesn’t really know what to do except follow it, “What did Shoko give you?”
“Abstinence!” He shouts confidently and Suguru snorts, leaning on the door to open it.
“Absinthe.” He corrects, laughing, “Fucking hell, no wonder you can’t think.”
“Oh, I’m thinkin’ plenty.” He starts telling Suguru all about how he’s going to give him the best head he’s ever dreamt of and promptly trips on the door frame.
Real smooth.
Suguru makes some kind of sighing noise and throws Satoru over his shoulder, which is, like, hot to know he can do that, but also what the actual shit? Satoru doesn’t know if he can do that. Suguru carries him up the stairs like a fucking sack of potatoes and Satoru can’t even generate a single thought until he’s body slammed into his bed, meekly wincing out, Harder, which earns him a tiny laugh.
He snorts and shuffles off his shoes and jeans and just stares when Suguru walks back to the door.
“Where you goin’, Hoss?” He paws at the floor for his charging cable.
“Home?” He blinks, Satoru blinks.
“Why?” He plugs his phone in, throws it at the floor and Suguru tells him he shouldn’t do that. “Cuddle me, dude.” Since when do they pointedly not sleep together at convenience? They literally fuck at convenience, like daily.
“But-” Suguru squints at him and shakes his head, “Alright, whatever man, move the fuck over.” He tosses his own jacket on the floor, shucking off his socks and flopping into bed. “If you throw up on me I’ll kill you.”
“I will, promise.” He kicks Suguru’s foot and shimmies into his space.
“Are you feeling okay for this or are you actually just really wasted?” Suguru wraps his warps around his chest from behind and shoves his face deep into Satoru’s nape, breathing him in, kissing from his undercut to the shell of his ear, “You need a haircut.”
“Alco-mi-hols makes me immune.” He slurs into the pillow, grabbing Suguru’s leg between his thighs. “Let me ride, my man.”
“If you wake up and panic don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
When Satoru wakes he does not panic, he still shoves sleeping Suguru onto the floor with a painful groan.
“Why—?” He hears muffled from the darkness, “Why would you?” Suguru drawls roughly.
“Mm. M’He—ad.” Satoru curls the pillow over the throbbing with a long moan. “Fu—huh.”
“Yeah.” Suguru must’ve flopped onto his back, “I told you absinthe would, like, fuck you all the way over.”
There’s shuffling to his side and Satoru promptly gives up on his worlds-best-blow-job plan.
“S’gru, make it not.” He slurs vaguely and throws the fuck up, then he spends nearly forty minutes trying to drown himself in the shower while Suguru lethargically washes his hair for him.
“You really need a haircut.” He yawns into the particularly tender skin in the crook of his neck. “S’gettin long, baby.” Suguru presses his chest into Satoru’s back, rinsing sopping white out for him again.
It’s horribly domestic, Satoru wants to be loved like this properly so much it hurts under his sternum, it hurts in every stray tear that sears his throat where he refuses to let them bubble out like the quiet ones he let fall in the shower. He supposes Suguru writes them off as ones of headache pains as he kisses Satoru’s temple, wiping his cheeks like the water can’t do it for him. He hopes that’s what Suguru thinks.
Satoru knocks his mug on his knees, waiting very patiently, very quietly, very respectfully. He sits and occasionally sips his lukewarm tea while Suguru paints a cityscape he’s spent nearly a week on already.
“What?” He spins and stares hard at Satoru.
“What?” He echoes.
“What are you doing?” He flicks his brush into the paint on the back of his hand again, “Well?”
“Nothing.” Satoru glares, sips, runs his eyes shamelessly up Suguru’s arms, the low-cut sleeves of his tank give Satoru an incredible amount of skin to stare at, which is seriously not his fault. He has nice fucking arms.
“No, you’re sitting here staring at my ass like you want to eat it.”
“Actually, I was thinking about chewing on your forearms, but go off I guess.” He empties his cup and slides it—coaster-less—onto Suguru’s coffee table, flopping back into the couch. Suguru turns and squints at him. “What?”
“Forearms?”
“Yeah, man, love ‘em.” He flexes his own, “Yours have got that nice- why are you looking at me like that?”
“You have a thing for masculine forearms, and you thought you were straight?” He grins. “Forearms are the gayest thing ever.”
“Shut up.” Satoru stares sharply at him, “Fuck you. What city is that?”
“Frankfurt.” Suguru snorts and turns back to it. “I have to redo Seattle next.” He can hear the scowl.
“Why?”
“Shadows or something, dead space, all that.” He gestures vaguely and goes back to his crown of clouds. “Between you and me, there are enough paintings of America out there. Least I don’t have to start from scratch.”
“That’s dumb.” Satoru dramatically flops sideways into the cushions. “You wanna go there?”
“Where?” He’s speaking all spacey, Suguru’s never really been great at multitasking. It’d be kinda cute to see what he’s like trying to focus on painting and his dick at the same time.
“Germany.” He stretches out, “I’ve never been there either.”
“I guess, it’d be nice to see some of these places.” He throws his brush at the water cup like he can’t get something right and has to wait until it dries to fix whatever it is. “Where do you wanna go?”
Satoru rolls his head to look at him, “I don’t care, I’ll take you everywhere, if you want.” Suguru blinks at him real slow.
“What, you don’t ever dream about leaving Japan?” He shuffles so he’s facing Satoru on the floor.
“Did that, it was boring.” He points out, then reconsiders, “Maybe not boring, but, like, the whole time I just kept thinking, Oh, Suguru would like this, or Suguru’d wanna do that.” Satoru rolls until he slides onto the floor, “It was fun, but it was also lonely over there, man. People didn’t get me.” He squashes his face into the carpet. “Also lowkey New Yorkers are scary as hell.”
“I missed you.” Suguru frowns at his brush, “Like, probably an unhealthy amount.”
“Good, it’d be weird if it wasn’t mutual.” He grins and rolls his spine out.
“Can I hug you? You feel chill enough for that?”
“Yeah,” Satoru reaches a hand towards him and sits up properly, crossing his legs, “I’m okay.” I’ve also lowkey been hoping you’d let me suck you off. He doesn’t say that though, the moment got a bit too sweet. He thinks maybe his sweet tooth has long since spread past everything physical.
Suguru scrunches his hands into a towel and crawls the small space between them, and at first Satoru lowkey freaks out because Suguru just fucking straddles him, but then he crosses his legs around Satoru’s waist and buries his face in his collar, forehead bumping on the couch when he slumps, and it might possibly be the closest, softest hug Satoru’s gotten from him. He shuffles and tucks his arms and legs tight around him, flopping right into his chest, trying to match the pace of their breathing. He thinks Suguru’s trying to do the same if the irregularity means anything at all, he hums a small laugh into Suguru’s neck.
“I love you.”
It’s a little rare for Suguru to be the first to say it. It’s so welcome.
“I love you too, Suguru.” It’s nearly intelligible in the way it’s muffled in his shirt and skin, but Suguru squeezes his shoulders a little tighter.
When they broke, Suguru leaned back and looked down at him with these blown-out out wanting eyes. Satoru’s eyelids dipped and it’s about all that needed to happen for Suguru to catch his lips. Satoru’s hands found their places on his sides, riding up his shirt a little and they had the softest sex on this hellsite.
With Suguru’s hands braced on his nape, petting through his hair and kissing him with far more lip than tongue, Satoru squeezed and rubbed at every corner of Suguru’s body he could reach, revelling in the way he could place all the little accents in his breath with just his fingers.
Suguru leans hard into his hand when he brushes it over his happy trail, dipping his fingers down into his boxers. Satoru licks carefully at his lips, little kitten licks as Suguru’s jaw goes slack with this adorable little, ah—hah, aha—mn, that trembles with the same cadence as his lips and Satoru doesn’t even want him to make filthy sounds anymore, just those quiet little inflections, almost whimpering like he doesn’t even mean too.
Suguru arches himself down so he can get a better angle, spread himself better, and Satoru runs a palm down the bumps of his spine, tracing each one, riding up his shirt, curving over the delicious shape of his ass when he meets it, gripping it with wide fingers, squeezing tension into it, rocking him forward a little, then working his way back up.
“Mm,” hummed right against Satoru’s mouth when Suguru kisses him gently. “Satoru.” Like he just wants the shake of his voice to be heard as Satoru rubs his thumb into his slit, cock growing hard in his hand in a way that makes his gut clench with butterflies, Satoru's breath wavers a little bit. A lot, actually.
“Suguru.” Satoru kisses his cheek, watching the way his eyes close, eyebrows pinch, jaw slacken, and he rides the high of soft touches. “Susu.” Satoru runs the flats of his fingers up his jugular notch, into the cavity above it, rubs into his apple until his voice cracks on the tiny sounds of pleasure. “Oh, you’re so pretty.”
His cockhead is sticking out of his sweats he’s that hard, Satoru collects the precum on his fingers so he gets to watch it string. He presses the waistband down as far as he can without Suguru getting out of his lap.
“Sat,” It shakes the same way the hands on his shoulders do, “Please.” As if Satoru might just get up and leave, like he’d ever voluntarily leave a helplessly heaving Suguru in his lap.
“Baby.” Whispered right into his cheek, Suguru shivers, Satoru doesn’t really know what’s got him so worked up from a few slow strokes on his dick and some touching, “Oh, Sweetheart, you okay?”
Satoru’s slender fingers tuck his bangs back, brushing at the glow high in his cheeks as Satoru pumps a little bit faster, curling his index so it catches on his foreskin, thumb sliding and pressing pleasure into his slit on every downstroke.
“M’sorry,” his hair sways when his head lolls, eyes barely open, wringing his core like he doesn’t know what to do with all the sensations. “I’m—hah—I’m really, I don’t know, tired, school, s’overwhelming right now.” He thunks his head down on Satoru’s shoulder, “It’s good, I feel-” It breaks off when Suguru honestly moans into his collar.
Satoru lets his breath hitch loudly in return, the sounds in his neck and the hands tugging at his shirt, Suguru all soft on top of him, all the small noises he’s making soak into his skin, warm right from his cheeks to his breath to the soft skin on Suguru’s hips as he rubs circles into it.
“Oh, Sat.” He almost winces and Satoru can feel his cock twitch in his palm, “Ah, ’Toru—” he bites at Satoru’s skin, making all these beautiful noises into his neck while Satoru slowly strokes him, panting out little mn, hm, hmng’s.
“I think I could get off on just the sounds you make.” Satoru feels hot everywhere Suguru’s pressing into him, he’s starting to throb in his hand and Suguru whimpers loud. “Close baby? Want me to get you there like this?” It’s rather fast really, but Satoru’s not about to rub it in his stupid—incredibly attractive—face while somethings happening inside his head, no matter what, that’s always the most important thing.
“Satoru,” he pulls at his hair, making him tip his head back into the edge of the couch cushions, Suguru bites at his apple with soft lips, more like he’s nibbling at the skin, peppering soft kisses all the way up his jaw, pressing his lips into his chin as he meets Satoru’s lidded eyes, staring up with wide ones, eyebrows pinched up as he places tiny licks over that scar he seems to care about so much more that the actual owner of it. “You do so much for me, Satoru. Give me so much of yourself.” He moans a low, Ah—oh my god, as his eyes squint and his neck tenses. “Oh, I’m so glad I met you.”
Satoru runs his fingers into the baby hairs on his nape, pulling him in for another kiss, he keeps it soft, the same speed as the rhythm on his cock as he presses closed-mouth kisses into his lips, taking them wide with a rotating jaw when Suguru offers it, his cheeks feel warm with love and that bright thing that’s been growing in his chest since he met Suguru, and also tears.
“Suguru.” He jerks back, “Shit, are you okay? Want-” he pulls his hand away and Suguru whines, sobbing and pulling his hand to cover his face.
“Keep- fuck- I’m sor- get me, please, keep going, I wa- shit, this is stupid,” he bites into his lip and harshly rubs at his eyes until Satoru pulls his wrist away, “I want you,” he whispers, “Please.”
Suguru guides Satoru’s hand back to his dick and the way he moans when his fingers wrap around it again sets all his doubt into the goddamn sunset, “Sugu,” he wipes his cheeks and Suguru jams his face into his palm, sinking into it and sobbing.
“I love you.” Suguru wrings himself like he wants to hide, “Sorry, there’s—ah—there’s, like, a—hah—a lot happening,” Suguru presses his nose into his neck, “In my head.” He pulls the hem of his shirt up so he can bite on it and grinds into Satoru’s palm, the hand on Satoru’s shoulder slips into the neckline of his shirt so he can grip his skin, “Sah—M’getting..”
Satoru pumps him slowly, with the same care he’s tracing into the side of his neck, rubbing the slick leaking out back into his swollen tip and Suguru cums like a tide, tensing up and mouth falling open, leaking out over his knuckles, gripping at Satoru’s hair and skin like it’s the only thing he can reach in free-fall.
“Satoru, Sat-toru, Sat, I’m- sorry-”
“Come here, baby.” He holds his cum covered hand away as he pulls Suguru in by the nape, kissing the shell of his ear, then his gauge, rubbing down his spine then back to the flat in between his shoulder blades. “Suguru, gorgeous.”
He lies shuddering in Satoru’s shoulder, it’s been a while since he’s seen Suguru so vulnerable like this, so beat, so sad.
Maybe sad isn’t exactly the right word for it.
Suguru follows easily when he’s led to the bathroom, Satoru cleans him up and washes his own hands, shushing Suguru every time he tries to insist he didn’t mean to get all emotional and shit, and, Was it weird? Did I ruin it? I didn’t mean to say that, and, Satoru, I didn’t even get you off.
He pulls Suguru’s hair tie and tenderly brushes the tangles out—like he used to when it was really bad—kissing up and down shoulders, talking to him in the mirror, You’re my friend first, Hoss, you’re not obligated to get me off jus’ because I did, and it seems to shut him up. Then he teased him because he got paint in Satoru’s hair and he made Suguru wipe it out.
Then Satoru pointedly turns him to face his reflection, moving his chin when he tries to avoid his own eye contact, he tells Suguru to say, I love you, to himself. He meets Satoru’s eyes when he repeats the words instead.
They crawl into bed and Satoru pets his hair, his face, kissing the crease in his brow and waits until Suguru talks about whatever deeper thing is stressing him out or just falls asleep clinging to him.
When he’s sure Suguru is out he kisses a secret, I love you, too, into his hairline.
It’s Satoru's birthday, and Satoru has never played laser tag. Satoru is twenty-two with no parents here to tell him he cannot play laser tag.
“Fuck, Hoss, you’re gonna take someone’s eye out with those things.” Satoru tugs on his vest to make him trip.
“I’m telling you, the lights in there are gonna give you a headache.” He tries to swap Satoru’s glasses out for plastic ones, “They’re gonna break, ‘Toru.”
“Material shit, they’re supposed to break eventually.” He leans away and Shoko struts past them.
“Spoken like a true nepo-baby,” She ties her hair up high before fixing Utahimes ponytail.
“Don’t act like I don’t pay for your nails.” He snaps and she clicks her acrylics together before she flips him off.
“Why do you even keep him?” Utahime snipes while she tugs a vest on, like she’s prodding at that thing about how Satoru is such high maintenance for someone who pisses people off on purpose.
“He’s funny sometimes.”
“Yuu would be sad if we killed him.”
“Imprinted on me, couldn’t ditch him if I wanted to.”
Satoru throws one of the plastic guns at Suguru’s head, “On my birthday? Motherfuckers,” he laughs, “I’m the birthday boy, no bullying the birthday boy.”
“Who’s bullying the birthday boy?” Haibara swings into the room.
“Bossman! You’re with me, our friends are all toxic.”
“I like it when you think of things to do with me it makes me feel honoured and loved and a part of your life.” He counts on his fingers.
“Very open, this is why I like you, Bossman.”
“Fuck yeah, communication.” And he meets Satoru’s fist bump with a smile. “We’re gonna kick their asses.”
They do not kick their asses. It’s joint effort between them though.
He tells Satoru how hummingbird tongues wrap around their brains and Satoru tells him how anteaters do the same thing and then they debate the relative throat-tongue length of various animalia—they absolutely drag Utahime, absolutely get dragged by Shoko—then they go on a short tangent about pumpkin toadlets and Haibara tells him about the Hegu pressure point in the thumb and when Nanami finds them huddled in a corner with their fingers in their throats he just leaves.
“Wow, he really likes you.” Satoru comments, scrunching his fingers into his slacks, “He so would’ve shot me for that alone.”
“We could probably catch him on the other side of the wall.”
“You’re a genius, Boss, you get him from behind.” He gives Haibara some finger guns and a serious look, “For real, operation assbang, beans and bacon soup.”
“Preppy chicken.” He says deep in character.
“Until the crows come home.”
Haibara gives him a quick salute and uses that freakish knee dexterity he has to vault a wall that’s almost as tall as him, which Utahime will call cheating.
Satoru, in fact, does not make it around the front of the wall because he nearly slams into Suguru on a corner, who gives him that look like he’s about to start play fighting, and Satoru goes, En garde, you slut. So he does.
Satoru drops the plastic gun when he takes Suguru’s tackle, grappling at his thighs so he can pull his knees out from under him. Satoru’s laugh gets knocked out of him as he flips Suguru onto the floor, only to get dragged down by his wrist.
Satoru reaches Suguru’s gun first, swiping it out of his reach, boasting his longer limbs as he shoves Suguru’s shoulders back with his feet.
“Checkmate, motherfucker.” He aims at the sensor on Suguru’s chest and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Cocky bastard.” And he drags Satoru by his ankles with a yelp. He grips Suguru's wrist when it reaches for the plastic in his hands.
It’s actually so unfair, Suguru excels in martial arts, which is, like, the one thing Satoru refuses to keep up in because that requires so much physical contact with borderline strangers. He has literally never won hand-to-hand with Suguru, so it’s not really that surprising when he gets held down with his face smushed into the padded floor, tapping out on Suguru’s hand.
“You look good like this.”
Which is lowkey hot but Satoru is not gonna fold that fucken easy, “You’re deadass bullying me.” He snaps and scrabbles for his gun when Suguru’s grip softens. “You heathen.”
“Cheater.” He chases Satoru, ready to jump at him again until Satoru hits the wall and Suguru puts his arms out to stop himself from crushing Satoru into it, effectively caging him around his middle.
“C’mon, you wouldn’t hurt the birthday boy?” Satoru tips his head down, just to make that little bit of height he has apparent, “Haven’t even given me a proper gift yet, so rude.” He jams the tip of his gun into Suguru’s chest plate.
Suguru, like, leans all the fuck the way in, bumping his nose against Satoru’s, making sure he can feel the shape of his words when he teases him.
“Want to know your present, Satoru?” Suguru rolls his name right into his lips, “I’m all cleaned up for you, I’ll let you fuck me any way you want, baby.”
Satoru thinks he might fucking die, he’s going to grind his teeth into dust if he clenches his jaw any harder.
While Satoru was too busy fighting off the butterflies in his stomach and the noises in his throat, Suguru stole his gun right out of his hands and shot the panel on his vest before he could even comprehend where the tips of his fingers ended.
“Cute.” He kisses Satoru and Satoru can’t even kiss back because he’s trying to fucking breathe without whining, which is super embarrassing, his plastic gun is in his hands and Suguru’s gone when he opens his eyes.
“What the fuck?” Breath heavy noises assault his voice, he can barely get any volume out, “What the fuck?”
When they get handed printouts of their score cards at the end Shoko loudly points it out like, Damn, how’d the prodigy shoot himself? Grinning as if she already knows.
Satoru burns red and stutters over an insult, because Suguru is going to let him fuck him, Suguru’s simpering down at him like he wants it. It’s annoying, Satoru is taller, a whole seven centimetres, he should not be feeling so damn small right now.
Satoru does not know how Suguru isn’t losing his shit when they claim a booth at this fancy as café that he’s never been to and rubs circles into Satoru’s inner thigh.
Fuck, if Satoru’s hand was running down that soft bit under Suguru’s knee right up to the part of his inner thigh that spits sparks into his eyes like that he’d be, like, a molten puddle of a man, dripping onto the floor and into every crack of these lowkey ugly ass tiles.
Someone says his name with a tone that suggests it’s not the first time, and a waiter is standing at the head of the table. He stares like it’s a competition, then looks at Suguru, who just sighs and rattles off an order that Satoru will no doubt like even if he gets a lecture about sugar intake as a side dish.
Suguru bumps his nose into Satoru’s cheek and he instinctively flinches away.
“Y’okay, ‘Toru?”
“Not when you use that tone.” He snaps back, eying up his lips, licking his own, glaring directly at him and his stupid gorgeous eyes, sharp and lidded. “You’re doing this on purpose.” He squeezes Suguru’s hand between his thighs, and Suguru’s hand clamps down and Satoru is definitely losing this fight.
“You’d be right.” The hand swipes higher, pressing down, pinky tracing the crease where it meets his crotch, an almost touch. “Okay?” It’s got that protective undertone, Satoru feels safe in it.
He mumbles as quietly as he can, “You’re turning me on.” Smacks his hand off, and Suguru trills out an absolutely heinous, Aw, sweetheart, and nudges his stupid nose into Satoru’s cheek.
Satoru ignores him, he burns under his skin and ignores. He sits and half-heartedly annoys Utahime, then genuinely asks her about her fashion design course is going, and eats only half his waffles because Suguru’s fingertips are drawing artworks in the curve of Satoru’s spine, riding his shirt up at the back, pressing a sparking palm flat, then finger pads, an occasional nail that makes him bite his fork hard.
He wants to dick Suguru down in the backseat of his shitbox four-wheel-drive so bad.
At one point Satoru actually went to the bathroom to—quite literally—punch himself in the dick, and gave himself a pep talk in the mirror, like, This is Suguru, Suguru is a dickhead, actual cockface, annoying ass Suguru, you will not give in to his annoying fuck off hands. He sends Suguru a long message, letting him know that he’s an annoying ass dickhead-cockface with so many typos it’s nearly illegible.
When he slips back into his seat Suguru wraps his arms around Satoru’s shoulders and knocks their temples together lightly with a quiet apology that doesn’t sound very sincere at all.
Satoru pointedly does not think about the face Suguru makes right before he cums.
Their hands link together on the table—Satoru had moved them there so Suguru wouldn’t have the assets to rub at his hipbone—and Suguru just attentively wrapped his hand over the back of Satoru’s knuckles, letting Satoru gently hold onto his fingers.
It’s ones of those awfully intimate kind of clutches, the kind that would’ve let both their rings show if they existed. It makes Satoru hurt in his heart a little.
It’s not like they’ve never held hands before—Suguru is actually a very touchy person, so whenever Satoru feels up to it he’s always showered in affection until he feels like his skin might fall off—but this is new.
It’s not the ambient, Hold me so you don’t get lost, or that tapping thing Suguru does when he’s overwhelmed and needs something small to hone in on. Actually, Suguru is doing that, but somehow it feels more intense, more intimate. There’s something deliberate about the way Suguru presses his thigh into his, but Satoru just focuses on rubbing Suguru’s knuckles in time with his tapping thumb, and says it’s Suguru’s way of making him feel loved as he gets older.
The cake the waitress puts in front of him has Nanami’s modus operandi written all over it—a hobby he picked up when his business degree started sucking his soul out through his ass—so Satoru tells him his cream is over-whipped and he says, No it’s not, shitwit. But he says it with a smile like he can hear the compliment that it’s not.
Utahime calls him spoiled and he throws one of the tiny decorative flowers at her. She eats it and flips him off good-naturedly.
Suguru kisses his fingertips for no real reason when he gets up, Shoko whistles at them, Satoru whistles back and flicks his eyes to Utahime with some very overt eyebrow gestures, apparently it’s not so funny when Shoko’s on the other end, which is, like, absolute bullshit.
He sits back in the booth and listens to Haibara continue his previous conversation about pumpkin toadlets and their appalling take on evolution, leaning hard into Suguru’s side after he returns, letting him play with his fingers. Satoru steals his fries.
“Satoru,” rings by his ear and he doesn’t know if he should hike his shoulders up to twist away from it or lean straight into the sound. He stares up at Suguru, equally pliant and pissed off. “You look tired, want me to take you home?”
He licks salt out of his cupid's bow. “Please.”
And it’s not weird, this happens sometimes, Satoru goes out, he gets overwhelmed, spaces out, his friends have all seen it, he even squeezes Utahimes hand and thanks her for coming to Tokyo, waves everyone off and crassly mimes shoving his fingers into his throat at Nanami with a wink, it clearly confuses everyone except Haibara.
Suguru rubs his hand up Satoru’s spine as he walks to the passenger side of the car, he shivers. He’s trying to rile Satoru up, it’s fucking working, it’s annoying how calm he is about it.
He slumps into his seat and before Suguru even gets his keys out Satoru grips a fist full of his shirt and pulls him over the centre console, kissing him hard. It’s probably not that good, they don’t usually kiss so fast, so tense, but Satoru’s pissed, he’s horny and it’s Suguru’s fault. He bites down on Suguru’s tongue when he pushes it in, licking right under Satoru’s, up that soft spot beneath his bottom teeth, deeper, tapping his soft palate and rubbing into the ridges on the roof as he comes back, it’s like he wants to be inside Satoru, touch every corner he can reach. His hand grips the prickly hairs of his undercut, brushing it up like they’re searching for something to tug on. Satoru pulls back with a hard breath, releasing his shirt, and Suguru chases. He rests his knee on the console, pulling Satoru back by his face, holding his jaw open with this tight grip as he grinds his lips into Satoru’s. He tastes like coffee, which is lowkey bad but he doesn’t even care. Satoru has to fucking brace himself against the door as Suguru licks over his teeth, pulling back for lips, kissing Satoru with so much intelligence, and Satoru tries his very best to return the fervour. Tugs Suguru’s shirt up until he can run his hands up his spine, tracing the bone on the way to his waistband. He curls one leg up, throwing the other over the gearstick, yanking Suguru over him by the loops of his jeans like they’re not in broad fucking daylight.
“‘Toru, oh.” He breaks, breath hot on his lips, blooming warm rose gold from his ears to his nose, “Not here, baby.” And he drags his palms all the way down Satoru’s body, tugging the waistband of his slacks like he's ready to break some public indecency laws, “C’mon, Satoru, you’re better than that.”
“No the fuck I am not.” He enunciates the words with a firm grip on Suguru’s ass, holding him tight and close, grinding up until the sweet tingling in his thighs complements the panting against his neck.
“Satoru.” It holds something dangerous and hot, like a warning. Suguru manhandles his ankle back into his side and sits back in his seat with a self-restraint Satoru simply doesn’t possess. He licks his lips, breathing as hard as Satoru, harder even, “Good waffles.”
“Actually, fuck you.” Satoru groans into his hand.
“Oh, I’m planning on it.” That same old competitive smile breaks his face as he jams his keys into the ignition.
Satoru has to shove his hands into his pockets so he doesn’t do any of the shameful shit in his head while Suguru drives the motorway.
“I’m gonna make you cry,” He snaps, determined, aroused, definitely overconfident. He pouts when Suguru laughs at him.
“You cried from a hug once.”
“Piss off? That was my first hug, like, ever, you fucker.” He pissily hikes his legs up and puts his shoes on the dashboard, Suguru tells him it’s dangerous to do that and Satoru says, Eat a bag of dicks, “That’s unbelievably different.”
Suguru rubs his hand on Satoru’s forearm. He does that now, the casual touches, he never really did before. He likes it from Suguru. Some part makes that bright thing in his chest hum, but some other part makes him tingle in his core. He wonders if he’s accidentally started to associate Suguru’s touch with sex.
He drops his legs down and shuffles through the glovebox, finding one of the emergency shots that they were convinced they’d need on standby when they were twenty, then they both proceeded to be lowkey shut-ins for two years.
“What are you doing?” Suguru laughs as he pulls into Satoru’s driveway.
“Un-anxious-ing myself.” He peels the seal back and slams it, winces, “You’re ‘bouta get dicked the fuck down and I am not gonna freak out about it.” Satoru points at him to emphasise and peels open a second one.
Suguru traces his chin as he turns the truck off, gently guiding Satoru in for an unbelievably sweet kiss, it tingles under his skin, “My expectations are getting pretty high, Satoru,” Purred like a warning. “Go to your room, I’ll get ready for you.”
Satoru slams the second and says, “You better be quick about it.”
Suguru is not fucking quick about it, in fact, he just lazed around on his couch for like fifteen minutes, animatedly talking about this idea he had for a set of paintings, and usually Satoru loves listening to him talk about his art, but he’s occasionally bumping into Satoru’s hip, touching his nape, talking while running his hands all over Satoru’s legs, his chest, rubbing the length of his collarbone, he pulled one of Satoru’s thighs over his, gripping pressure into the soft spot under his knee, tracing sparking things up his inner thigh, burying his nose in Satoru’s hair and explaining this elaborate duel light composition while Satoru’s slowly tries to crawl into his lap. Then Suguru hooks his hand under his knee, flips Satoru right into a straddle and he’s like, Fucking finally, love your voice but hurry up and ruin it for me, Hoss.
And Suguru laughs.
Laughs and keeps fucking talking, rubbing strong circles into the top of his thighs, grabbing his ankle with one hand, forcing him to shuffle closer, squeezing Satoru’s ass, resting the crook of his thumb between his cheeks over his slacks, digging his fingers into where the curve meets his thigh, pulling at the plush like Satoru’s going to let up a noise for his efforts. Suguru’s not even reacting to Satoru’s hands tugging at his hair, turning his head when he draws towards his lips, pressing his temple into Satoru’s forehead and telling him all about kinetic light, like he hasn’t listened to all of this, like, a lot of times already.
“Suguru!” He snaps, his face probably a messy visage halfway between a pout and a scowl.
“Satoru.” He kisses the tip of his nose, staring up at him like this is fucking hilarious. Satoru won’t lie, this is absolutely something he’d do too, so he can’t really be that mad about it.
“You missed.” Satoru tries to chase him and meets the flats of Suguru’s fingers and a shit eating grin. “I hate you.”
He gets up and smacks off the hand squeezing the back of his thigh, peeling off his shirt and chucking it at the floor, pissily strutting down his hallway alone.
Alone, with Suguru supposedly ready for fucking in his goddamn living room.
He shamefully cups his embarrassingly chubby dick through the fabric and flops forward onto his bed. He pulls out his switch, then doesn’t even load up a game. Suguru’s trying to piss him off, trying to work him up so he can’t fuck him as good, so he wins the unspoken competition they always seem to be in.
Satoru tosses it—he probably shouldn’t be throwing expensive shit, but whatever—and groans into his sheets, gripping the pillow to his face and wondering if it’s worth smothering Suguru to death.
Wet meets his nape and a hand slides the length of his back as Suguru crawls over him, rocking his crotch right into Satoru’s ass.
“Y’know, I really thought you’d have cracked by now.” He kisses the crook of Satoru’s shoulder, running his hands up the backs of Satoru’s forearms, slipping one under his chin, just holding him, leaning over to kiss his cheek, the corner of his eye, everything’s so warm.
“You fucker.” He tries to wiggle out from all their points of contact and Suguru collapses onto him in relation, still gently rocking into him, subtly pressing him into the bed, it’s annoying that it turns him on.
“Satoru—” Heavy on the last syllable, it raises goose flesh on his neck where Suguru whispers it.
He harshly rolls over, catching Suguru under the ribs with an elbow, “You’ve been teasing me all damn day.”
“Okay, first, ow, prick.” Suguru scowls, tugging Satoru's calf until he’s sitting over his hips, “Second, you’re cute when you’re desperate.” And he pulls Satoru right down.
Satoru shamelessly surges forward, “Dickhead.”
Suguru’s mouth yields to him easily. Satoru pins him down in the sheets of his too-big bed, sucking on his lips like he’s starving, teeth against the soft flesh—maybe harder than he meant—and Suguru flinches. He gets shoved up hard with a pissed off yell.
“Did you just fucking bite me?” He snaps through ragged breath.
“I- for real, I did not mean to do that,” He smirks down, “How does karma taste?”
He licks at the raw spot and Satoru doesn’t hesitate pressing his thumb into Suguru’s mouth, he wants to feel his tongue.
Suguru bites him back.
“What’s got you so testy today?” He pulls back and rubs at Suguru’s bright lip instead, rolling it down to get a good look at this horrific bite he’s bitching about. It’s, like, maybe a graze.
“You bit me first.” He quirks his brow.
“I’ve been horny since two, shut the fuck up.” He leans back in and- “Oh, yeah, finally.” Suguru’s hand cups the bulge in his pants, rolling his palm into it. “You’re gonna get me off before you even touch yourself, Hoss.”
Suguru, like, whines. It sort of takes Satoru off guard.
Suguru’s other hand snakes around him, squeezing at the soft bit above his hip, pressing down hard on Satoru’s lower back. Suguru encourages him to rock as he holds him against his hand, Satoru has to bite back an embarrassing noise, swallowing hard.
“You like it when I’m mean?” He remembers, “Fuck, you want me to be an ass, Suguru?”
He writhes a little, “Today is about you, baby.”
“But,” he drifts down, rolling himself hard and letting condescension pull at his smile, “You were trying to piss me off all day, hm?” He leans in for a kiss and only bites his lip, pulling, snapping it against his teeth when he rises.
“I like it—shit—I like it when you boss me around. You want my hands or my mouth, ‘Toru?” Suguru burns bright under him.
“Fuck.” Satoru’s starting to think birthday sex actually kind of rocks. “I don’t even know, suck me off.”
“On your back, baby.” Suguru slaps his ass, flicking his belt buckle as he rolls over.
Satoru rucks his slacks down to his knees and flops into the pillows, letting Suguru do the rest of the work. He relishes the way Suguru lightly drags his nails down his legs as he pulls them off, sitting back on his heels when he tosses them.
“Oh, Satoru.” A hand meets his ankle, fingers circle the bone on either side, trace up, a flat palm over his shin, rubbing the hairs the wrong way then petting them all back down when Satoru shivers about it. Maybe Suguru just somehow knows the difference between his good shivers and bad ones. Suguru’s hands press on his knees, clicking them together, watching the way Satoru’s cock bounces up, pushing them to one side like he just really wants to get a good view of his hips, of the curve where his ass meets it, then pushes them open and just admiring.
Satoru burns bright under his skin, glowing as Suguru sits between his knees and appreciates him like he’s something that belongs in le Louvre.
Wide hands run up his legs as he leans forward, eyes trained on Satoru’s dick, pressing on his inner thighs until they flop into the bed.
“So pretty,” Suguru meets his eyes, “All of you,” and Satoru’s, like, not even angry anymore, how is he supposed to be an asshole if Suguru is just so damn sweet all the time?
Kisses pepper Satoru’s cock, all the way from tip to base, fingers brushing at his happy trail, the other rubbing teases into his taint, sliding up, pressing his palm into Satoru’s balls, rolling them, fingers brushing at the small hairs at the top, all while he pointedly continues to not suck him off.
“S’wrong, Sat?”
“Fuck you,” He heaves, intently watching Suguru play with him, rubbing his bottom lip up his length, it folds back as it catches on the foreskin. “I’m not gonna beg you.”
Suguru laughs in the back of his throat, leaning up and kissing at the centre of his sternum, rubbing his hand up his side with purpose, swiping his fingers on the indent behind his collar, touching him like he’s something precious right to the scar on his chin.
“Is that a promise?”
Satoru meets him in the middle when he comes in for a kiss, it’s, like, so much softer than it should be, but Satoru doesn’t fight the pace, sometimes—while they’re in the middle of ruining each other—Suguru will lean in for something small, something chaste, and Satoru can pretend he means it like he wants him to.
He breathes deep in his stomach to press against the hand rubbing over his belly, brushing up and down over the hair at his navel.
“Beautiful Satoru.” Their lips stick together, peeling apart slowly when Suguru pulls back and sucks his neck with them instead. “So patient already, wait a bit more?”
“You want-” He swallows so his breath doesn’t consume his voice so much, “You want me to wait?”
“Please?” And with Suguru pouting up at him like that? Satoru’s already a goner. “Can I have this?”
Suguru wants him.
Suguru wants him, he wants to kiss him, just kiss. Touch and hold and kiss. That idea fucks Satoru up just a little bit. He’s, like, turned the fuck on, but emotionally, again.
“Don’t push your luck.” He curls his fingers under Suguru’s chin, tugging him up only slightly and Suguru just follows, resting in his hand like he’d rather be nowhere else than on the other end of his pathetic attempt at a power play.
Suguru runs his hands hard up Satoru’s body, he shivers. Fingers dragging white light into his skin, making his bones crackle when Suguru seems to be trying to memorise every dip Satoru has to offer.
The first kiss is placed on his palm, then he falls down onto his lips, kisses him right to the teeth, licking along the point of his cuspid.
Suguru kisses love into his skin, which is a fucking insane cheesy thing to think, but that’s honestly what it feels like.
Suguru kisses Satoru gently; he kisses everywhere. The corner of his collarbone, the freckle on his bicep, the birthmark on the side of his ribs that Satoru didn’t even know he had until Suguru poked it during a swimming lesson. Soft violet clings onto Satoru’s—so called—freakshow shade of blue the whole time, bangs brushing over his skin the same way his fingers do, rubbing up the centre of his sternum with care, watching him like he’s looking for something special, like he’s expecting a reaction that Satoru doesn’t exactly know how to give.
He touches Suguru’s eyelashes, they tickle his fingers as he blinks. Suguru smiles down at him and it’s soft enough at the edges that Satoru can pretend it means the same thing as the one he gives back.
Slender fingers tuck his hair behind his ear, sliding up and under the tie.
“‘Toru, if you want me to suck you off imma need that.” He makes a grab for it.
“I changed my mind.” He breathes, “I want you to kiss me while you do it.” I want you to kiss me with that look every damn day, maybe, like, for the rest of my life, is that cool with you, my man?
“You really like kisses, huh?” He’s teasing him about the first—technically second—time they fucked, again.
Satoru glowers and yanks his hair, Suguru lets out a sharp sound, “You’re really getting into this whole degradation thing, aren’t you?” He counters.
“I like it when you’re confident.” Suguru smiles loosely at him, like he hasn’t just said something entirely devastating. “I like that it’s because of me.” He encourages Satoru to rock his hips with his hands and he has to remind himself to breathe, “I like ‘em a little arrogant, when I can get them to shut their bratty mouths for me, moan like it’s something only I can do.” Suguru sucks one of his nipples into his mouth, licking the rough texture of his tongue on it, “You don’t do that, Sat. You get all pissy.” He bites at the delicious curve of Satoru’s pec, “You get loud, demand me, like you’re trying to fight me, you get all..” His tongue clicks against his teeth, “Competitive.” Satoru quietly moans when Suguru rocks his core against his dick, shamefully hard from just kissing. “It’s new—for me—like this, I’m liking it.”
“It’s always a competition.” Satoru grins down at him, like he did the first time they met and Suguru had punched him for it. “Bet I could make you cum untouched.” He absolutely does not fucking think he can do that, but sweet fuck, he’ll try.
“For your modesty?” His eyebrow quirks with his lips.
“I’m about to ass fuck you, you want to talk about modesty?” Satoru snaps, “Touch me properly.”
Suguru carefully pinches around his cockhead, rubbing his fingers up the ridge, spreading the leaking slick down and pumping, Satoru pointedly does not moan.
“C’mon Suguru, you can do better than that.” Drawled like it doesn’t feel fucking incredible, he swipes the lube Suguru brought with him off the nightstand, throwing at his shoulder, “Harder, be rough. Kiss me like you mean it.”
“Needy,” he whispers against Satoru’s lips before kissing him hard into the mattress, Satoru tries to arch up into him as he wraps a tight hand around his cock.
Suguru hums into his lips like he wants to say something but refuses to break, taking Satoru’s tongue, tilting so he can lick over his lips hard enough they hurt against his teeth, nibbling at them with this hungry look as he stares down his sharp cheekbones.
“Oh, you’re gorgeous like this.” Suguru reaches to lube up Satoru's dick properly, roughly rubbing his palms together to warm it up before mixing it into the sheen of slick already spread on his tip, preening at the noises Satoru makes, “‘Toru, pretty, your legs, fuck.” Suguru wipes his free hand on the sheets, hooking one of Satoru’s thighs over his hip, “Can I- do you want hickies?”
“Mnhm, take this off.” He yanks on the front of Suguru’s shirt, “I wanna see you.”
“Do it for me?” Suguru pumps him hard and fast, stopping in random intervals to grind his palm into the sensitive tip, it’s driving him fucking crazy, getting used to the fast feeling, then replaced by the tingling, drawing on the tight feeling and letting it go of it when Satoru twitches, it’s so sensitive it almost hurts, he throws his head, he doesn’t know if it’s in frustration or pleasure.
“Oh, hah, Suguru, take it- get it off!” He tugs the buttons of his stupidly chic dress shirt, “Fuck, you’re good at this.” He rolls his hips in time with Suguru’s hands, his breath is catching up on him, panting little ah’s into the small space between them, “Kiss me—oh—shut the fuck up and kiss me.” And Suguru laughs, he wasn’t really saying much in the first place. Satoru just felt the need to demand.
He grips Suguru’s collar, yanks him in hard, smiling into it as he gasps. With hands running up his shirt, under the waistband of his own designer jeans he borrowed, pulling at his ass and tracing ribs, tapping the ridges like he might be able to coax a tune out of them. Suguru’s lips slow down like he’s really enjoying it, trying to savour the way Satoru rocks up, the way he drags his fingers into the soft of Suguru’s skin. He ends up ripping the buttons off when his hands shake to much to do it properly and Suguru tries to break away, probably to chastise him about needlessly breaking shit, but Satoru uses the thigh Suguru’s gripping around his hip as leverage, shoving him over again, he can’t decide if he wants to be held down or spread himself in Suguru’s lap.
“Fuck, do that again.” Satoru shivers on his stomach, pushing his shirt open so he can touch. “Suguru.” He whines when Suguru’s hand rides higher on his thigh, squeezing into the curve at the top, fingers teasing right in the tender spot where his inner thigh meets his taint, Satoru ruts back filthy into it, “Your ha—ah—your hand, again, baby.”
“Oh, oh, Satoru, you- like this.” He slides his slick knuckles up Satoru’s length, pinching gently at his head while he holds himself up on Suguru’s chest, precum drips down into that small soft dip under his sternum where his ribs end, “You sound—fuck—you sound good.”
There’s probably a million better adjectives than good out there, but Satoru can’t think of a single one to tease him with, so he snaps his hips down and fucks into his palm hard instead.
“Oh, oh my god, Sat.” His other hand squeezes roughly on his ass, leaving burning trails of sparks—and, fuck, hopefully bruises—as it grips the meaty part of his thigh, pulling him higher, like he wants to watch Satoru fuck into his hand as close as he can. “Tell me when, I want to suck you off when you finish.”
“Suguru,” Satoru tries his best to chide, “That filthy mouth.” He fucks into his palm, leaning in until he’s braced on his forearms, “And to think—ah—people say you- oh, you’re the polite one,” He tenderly brushes Suguru’s hair away so it doesn’t tug on his hands where he braces himself on either side of his face, “Oh! Baby,” Suguru squeezes, rubbing fast into the tip again, rocking him with a hand under his ass, “Touch here.” Satoru presses one of Suguru’s nipples down, “Ah, keep- on the top, fuck, Su—g’ru.” He leans hard into Suguru's hand when it meets his chest, a little sticky with lube and slick.
“Satoru, fuck, oh, you on top of me like this,” Suguru nearly moans, he hasn’t even got his dick out, regardless of how hard he is under his jeans, “Sweet hell, what did I do to deserve this?” He keeps his fingers tight as he pumps Satoru, pressing his slit apart every time he meets it.
“You better—ah, Susu, y’better get used to it, Hoss.” He winks obscenely, they’re so close Satoru can feel it on his cheek when Suguru laughs at him, “Oh, oh, yeah, I like-” The sweet shocks wracking up Satoru’s spine cut off his words as Suguru gently plays with his nipples, catching a nail on the tip as he swipes down, wiping a little lube into it and rubbing deep, pressing it down into his pec, “Ah—Like that, Sugu, oh fuck, how are you so good at that? I tri—hah—tried to- I couldn’t- it- get it- it’s- oh my god, shit, Su, ha—” Satoru squeezes his eyes shut, chin tipping back, dragging his lips up the skin of his cheek as he moans, “Close.” He snaps his hips once before he has to curl up, digging his fingers into Suguru’s shoulder in a way he hopes doesn’t hurt, in a way that definitely does. "When,” He squeezes, “When, fuck, when!”
Suguru pushes him up by his middle so fast that Satoru has to grapple at his pretentious headboard so he doesn’t fall back down and crush him. Suguru meets his eyes, heavy with desire as Satoru thunks his forehead against it.
“Oh, fuck.” Feels about the only thing that can describe the sight of Suguru sunken deep in his pillows, licking up his cock as Satoru leaks slick against his teeth, he panics a little and grips his base with a loud choke, squeezing the feeling away so he doesn’t cum on his face without a warning or something, he doesn’t even want to imagine the shit he’d get if it got in his hair. “Su—fucken, hurry up.”
He only grins and slaps Satoru’s hand away, barely taking him on his tongue before he’s spilling over.
“Fuck! Oh, oh!” He moans high and accidentally slams his temple into the wood when he jerks, “Hah—Suguru—”
Suguru fucking smiles up at him, deep violet swimming dreamily as he widens his jaw and swallows with his mouth open. Honestly, Satoru is lowkey impressed he didn’t choke.
“Jesus fuck, man.” His arm shakes against the wall, swiping his fingers through the cum leaking down his cheek, catching the stuff on his chin with his thumb, bracing his hand on Suguru’s jaw, “You look-” fucking incredible and way too hot for how messy this is and also, like, super dateable, actually maybe we should skip that part and just get married in Vegas, tomorrow preferably, first flights out, how ‘bout it? “Hell, fuck, Suguru.” I love you. “Look at you.”
“Shit, Satoru, I could almost be there.” He licks his lips, cum still splattered over his face, a little too close to his eye for comfort.
“Ah, Suguru— oh, get your shit off.” He tugs at Suguru’s open shirt, “Now.”
“Oh, baby.” Suguru rubs his hands up Satoru’s sides and he sits back, riding out the tremors as he grinds his ass into Suguru’s bulge. “Sat- ah—”
“I said now.” He tries to glare but he’s shaking a bit too much. “Suguru.” He props himself up on his knees, yanking his belt buckle open, struggling with the button, he thinks maybe he whined or something because Suguru’s rubbing his hips like he needs encouragement.
“Here, ‘Toru.” He slips it out and barely slides his fingers in the waistband before Satoru hastily rips them off, lowkey impressed with the speed he gets them off his ankles, he crawls back up while Suguru’s wiping his face with the shirt he was so concerned about minutes ago.
“God, you’re so-” Satoru yanks him down the bed and goes straight for his dick, pumping the obscene amount of precum leaking down it. Suguru’s thighs kick, “Beautiful, baby.”
Suguru heaves, bright red all the way from his cheeks to his cock. “Sat,” breathed more than spoken.
He runs his hands hungrily over his V-line, pulling Suguru’s thighs over his shoulders, just to see how flexible he really is.
“Fuck, Suguru,” he leans forward, “Say when, tell me if it hurts.” And Suguru fucking grabs his hips and yanks until his knees hit his chest, snapping Satoru hard into his thighs, his soft dick slaps against his hole. “Oh my god, Sugu, oh my god,” He laughs, “Did you do fucking yoga before this shit or something?”
“I don’t hear you complaining.” He quirks his eyebrow, pushing Satoru back down with all of that delicious muscle in his quads. “Stop laughing, man, if you pull my hammy I’m, like, screwed.” He flicks Satoru on the forehead, and challenges, “You still gonna fuck me, or what?”
“Still?” Satoru gives him a dead stare, snatching the lube out of the sheets, “I’ve been thinking about it for, like, seven fucking weeks.” He bites a smile into Suguru’s thigh, rolling his balls, rubbing circles into the soft line in the middle. “Teach me.”
“Start slow, don’t go too deep.” Suguru pets his hair down, he has to lean into it before he can focus on opening the lube cap, “You gotta keep it real wet, okay, baby?”
“Mn, gottchu, slow and shallow and slick.” He winks up at him, Suguru rolls his eyes. Satoru has to stop focusing on his cock for a moment, resting his hand on that soft bit right below his navel instead, watching Suguru carefully as he rubs lube over his hole, he presses his index in, “Oh, that’s harder than I thought.”
Suguru breathes sharply and looks down at him, “What?”
“Like, I dunno,” he presses it in again, the tight pinkness pressing hard, “I just didn’t think it’d be so tight?” He has to take a deep breath to stop the lightheadedness his heart rate is giving him.
“Satoru,” there’s a hand on his forearm to stop him, “Have you.. Have you never fingered yourself?”
“No?” Suguru does not like that answer, “Should I have?”
“Holy fuck. Holy fuck, why am I letting you do this?” He groans and flops back, “I am so serious when I say slow, Satoru.” He glares to push his point, “If you don’t do this right you’ll, like, properly hurt me.”
“Jeez, no pressure, buddy.” He slides his finger out, rubbing it into the creases of his hole, making sure it’s slick enough, “I got it, I’m listening, really, I want to make this good.” He kisses at the soft of Suguru’s V-line, “You feel okay?” He slides his fingertip in again, a little deeper, slipping right over his knuckle and Suguru honestly shivers, “Was that a good shiver?” Because it looked like one, but he just has to be sure, these are fucking uncharted waters and Satoru has his finger in his compass’s goddamn ass.
“It’s good, I’m okay.” Suguru grabs at the pillows, propping himself up a little more, a half-sit, he runs his fingers along the sharp edge of bone under Satoru’s jaw, looking down through his lashes with this playful glint, “Good boy, I trust you.”
Satoru pulls out and slowly thrusts back in, Suguru, like, breathes, it’s not like a reaction he’d get from touching his dick, he has to wonder what anal even feels like, lowkey, sometimes it’s hard to tell what's bullshit and what’s not when people talk about sex. His brows knit together as he tries curling, tugging on the inside of his rim.
“Oh,” Suguru runs his fingers harshly through Satoru’s hair, the hand supporting him shakes like he can’t really focus on it anymore, “Getting brave?”
“I’m learning, prick.” He tugs again, pulling on Suguru’s breath as he does his ass. “It’s looser on the inside than I thought.”
“Is it?” Hands pet his fringe back, “Thought about this so much and didn’t think to just finger fuck yourself?” He teases.
“Shut up, man. Wanted to hear it from the expert.” He thrusts again, watching as he slips another knuckle in, “Maybe not, like, looser, but softer.” He feels up Suguru’s walls a little, “I thought it’d be more like a throat.”
Suguru snorts, “Probably is if you went deep enough.” He pauses when Satoru stops and stares up at him, “You are not sticking your ass fingers in my throat you freak.”
“Coward.” Suguru kicks him. “Can I-” The rim hits Satoru’s knuckles, “Should I put another in?”
“No, baby. Tug.” Suguru pushes his hand back, sticking his own finger in, sinking in far rougher than Satoru has been, right to the second knuckle and tugs it up, taking a single deep breath as he does. “Like—hah—like that.”
“That feel good?” He kisses Suguru’s knee, rubbing his cheek into it before flicking his eyes back up.
“It’s, oh, I mean it’s nothing—shit,” Satoru replaces Suguru’s finger again and tugs up on him experimentally, “It’s nothing, like, incredible, but it’s nice.” He grins down all cat-like, “I’ll have to show you sometime.” Then he mockingly pouts at him, “If you’re up for it.”
“It’s so on, motherfucker.” He tugs harder and Suguru seems to melt a little, “Not hurting?”
“Good, oh, I’d fuck you so good, god, what I can make you do with my hands.. what I’d give you show you what being fucked properly is like. Maybe I’d make you finger yourself open for me, you’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?”
Satoru feels, like, lowkey pissed off but also wound the fuck up in a very horny kind of way, “Your fingers are wider.” Which is more of an observation than an answer. “I like your hands, I’d want it to be your hands.” And Suguru fucking grabs his throat.
Like, gently, but his hand—his hand that is thicker than Satoru’s—his hand that fits pretty fucking perfectly around his neck, is around his neck. “Holy fuck,” his dick twitches, he thinks he’s hard again. “Holy fuck, Holy fuck.”
“Oh, baby, I like you looking at me like that.” He squeezes condescension into the thick jugular veins, fingers holding him just gently enough, hand tight like a parenthesis, Satoru honestly—embarrassingly loudly—moans, “You like that, huh?”
“I fucking- apparently, sweet fuck, okay.” He thrusts his finger back in, tugging up and down, and Suguru, like, does something. “Oh my god.” He feels dizzy, it kinda feels like his head does right before he cums. He can breathe and shit, it’s not like Suguru’s being rough without, like, a conversation about being rough, he’s just doing something with his fingertips, it’s making him float in his head. He can’t decide if he fucking hates it or not. “What-” His mind, like, whites out, it makes every time he’s ever used the phrase, Mind blank, seem like total bullshit, he just suddenly can’t even feel his skin, only the way Suguru’s fingers are so gently pressing devastating things into his pulse points, Satoru lowkey panics and pulls out, sitting up hard, slapping Suguru’s hands off him.
“Oh fuck, sorry, was that bad?” Suguru hesitates when he reaches for him.
“I- no-” Satoru brings his unslicked hand to his throat, he misses the touch, “It’s hard to think,” he scrunches his face while he tries to come up with some kind of intelligent sentence. “I think it’s that vulnerability bullshit,” He shivers and somehow Suguru—observant caring Suguru who he always feels so fucking safe with—already knows what that means, “It was good, just like, I can’t right now.” He grabs Suguru’s hesitating hand, “Sorry.”
“That’s okay, baby, it’s so okay, I won’t touch you there,” And he kisses Satoru’s knuckles like it’s not even a remotely big deal. “You’re safe, ‘Toru.”
Satoru absolutely believes him. “I’m so down for that another time.” He rolls his balls under his palm, squishing them up into Suguru’s dick, drinking in the way his breath hitches.
“Sat, I’m ready for two.” Suguru speaks right into his fingers, “Y’okay?”
“I’m so okay,” and then he says, “Thank you, baby,” Instead of, I fucking love you, like, marry the shit out of me.
His heart kicks in his chest when Suguru’s smile softens into something bright, biting a very unsexy, very innocently happy smile against his knucklebones. Satoru, like, panics, and thinks maybe he fucked up his thoughts and his words for a moment and Suguru’s going to tease him and Satoru’s going to have to be all like, Ha, yeah, no, man, what a wild thing to say while I’m about to fuck you in the ass, haha.
Suguru just kisses his hand, and rubs tender things into Satoru’s cheekbone, whispering calming encouraging things at him like, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out, baby, and, You’re doing so good for your first time, doing so well for me.
“Imma do two.” He kisses Suguru’s dick, “Tell me if I fuck it up and all that.” He earns a laugh for his casual tone mixed messily with his laboured breathing. He rubs his thumb around the edge of his rim and Suguru makes this low little sound, “Oh, Sugu.”
He rubs his fingers together to spread the lube, starting slow to the first knuckle, then just sliding all the way up and Suguru arches into it, trying his best to keep playing with his hair, it’s an incredible, totally filthy kind of sight.
“Oh! Oh, Satoru! Fuck, slow, oh my god.” Suguru glares down at him but Satoru gently fucks him tight and he just moans. “Shit, oh, I like that.” He pulls at Satoru’s nape and Satoru just follows, connecting at their lips like they’ve grown magnets from all their kissing.
“Suguru—” It’s barely a proper kiss, more Satoru sucking at his bottom lips, licking his tongue whenever it slips out while Suguru huffs gentle ah—fuck’s and oh’s into his mouth, panting so hard he’s starting to dry out Satoru’s lips. He licks over the plush, keeping Suguru’s from chapping, just lapping up all the sounds while he hooks Suguru’s knee over his free elbow, opening him up more. “Fuck, I could get off just watching you.”
“You—ah—wanna?” Suguru gives him this look, it does things to Satoru, “Be a good boy for me? Touch yourself.” Suguru wraps his arms around Satoru’s shoulders, rocking himself onto Satoru’s fingers.
Maybe Satoru was, like, a fucking golden retriever in his last life or some shit, there’s just a thing cooked into his brain like, Good boy? I can be a good boy, I’m the best boy! But it’s in his head as well as his cock, like it’s just another one of Suguru’s stupid fucking sex cheat codes or whatever.
“I got a better idea.” Because Satoru is determined not to cave to that bullshit every time. He kisses Suguru hard, drags his mouth down his body when he drops between his legs, “So, hear me out, I learnt a thing.”
Suguru looks at him with something akin to fear, “Do not say that with your fingers in my ass.”
Satoru gives him a dead stare, “Fine,” He fucks in hard then pulls them out, “I learnt a thing.” He repeats with a quirked brow. “I don’t know if it works though.”
“That is a horrifying sentence.” Suguru tries to squeeze his thighs together like he’s really missing Satoru’s fingers. He feels a little mental about that.
“Whatever man, just like, don’t laugh at me if it’s bullshit, ‘kay?”
“Jesus Christ.” He sighs, “Okay.”
“No, you gotta promise.” Satoru presses back in and Suguru gasps, “Promise.”
“Okay, fine, I fucking promise I won’t laugh.” His hips kick down impatiently. “Shit, c’mon.”
“Hold my hand, but like, pinch it.” He pulls out again, showing Suguru the gap between his index and thumb.
“What?” He reaches for it anyway.
“It’s the—fucken.. I can’t remember the name—it’s like-” Satoru clicks his fingers while he thinks, “Haibara told me.”
“You two shouldn’t be allowed together unsupervised.” Suguru presses down on the point, and Satoru thrusts back in fast. “Fuck, slow down a little, Sat, stretch like this.” He scissors his fingers.
“Oh, does it hurt?” He copies and Suguru heaves a little.
“No, but it doesn’t feel great like that.” He sighs into it, like he’s enjoying it better. “That’s good, keep the rim slick, baby.” His fingers pet Satoru’s hair down and his wrist is starting to tingle from Suguru’s grip. “‘Kay, show me what you wanted, ‘Toru.”
“No laughing,” he glares, and licks Suguru’s cockhead into his mouth. Satoru takes a deep breath, pulling his fingers out while they stretch, pushing in, twisting to stretch vertically too, he smiles around his dick when Suguru moans a loud curse.
Satoru squints like he’s expecting it to hurt a little when he goes down on Suguru, his cock hits the back of his soft palate, rubbing right along the roof of his throat as he slides further than before, he makes a noise of surprise at the same time Suguru curses. Turns out the magic gag reflex shit in the hand is so true. He fucks himself down and chokes, coming back up and coughing to the side while he fucks Suguru with his hand. “Shit, that, like-” he tries to go back in.
“Satoru— wait, you don’t know what you’re doing.” His chin tips up on Suguru’s fingers, Satoru glares up at him, lowkey offended as hell.
“I have literally sucked your dick, like, so many times.”
“Dee—ah,” Satoru curls his fingers the best he can as a retaliation, “Shit- oh, deep throating is differ—ha—way different.” He tugs Satoru up, “You, shit, come closer, you’re aiming for the roof of your mouth, you’ll hurt yourself, oh—Sat, slow down, I’m- fuck, I might be ready for three.”
He grabs Satoru’s hand as he tries to press his ring finger in, Satoru whines about it, focusing on the bright pink surrounding his fingers, the soft inside of him loose as he fucks in.
“Satoru, wait, you gotta, ah, shit, okay, stop fucking me for one second.” He snaps, and pushes Satoru’s hand away, “Keep your shoulders high, you gotta make sure you’re going down and not against the back, baby.”
Satoru listens to him, because one time Suguru fucked this up and ruptured his trachea or some shit—flew, like, a lot too close to the sun. Maybe just directly into the sun—which lead to his absolutely legendary coming out to his parents, which consisted of what Satoru would like to call his creative interpretation of the letter Suguru wrote—he tried to physically harm Satoru as he creatively read it—He couldn’t even fight back when his mom teased him and said, Thank god, I was beginning to think I raised a loser. He had nearly strangled Satoru when he couldn’t verbally bite back at any of his teasing for six very short weeks (for Satoru).
“Oh my god, why am I letting you do this shit to me?” Suguru chastises himself and pulls at Satoru's chin, “Higher baby, there.” Suguru quite literally just manhandles him into the position he wants, “Just, like, go slow.” Suguru tugs tightly on his fringe, “Slow.”
“Dunno, it’d be kinda hot if we had matching throat scars. Hardcore friendship bracelets.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.” And he takes Suguru down again, trying to fight the hands keeping his shoulders raised, he pulls off just to add, “And I have pretty privilege.”
“Goddamn, you do.” He smiles in that slightly wild way, “So pretty, baby.”
Satoru gives him an exaggerated wink, says, Fuck yeah I am, Hoss, and goes down on him, fighting Suguru’s hands, trying to get as much of him in his mouth as he can, straining against the grip keeping him high. It’s annoying.
Satoru fucks his fingers back in, pulling out while curling and scissoring, tugging hard and taking the opportunity when Suguru’s hands shake to shove himself forward.
Satoru quite literally face plants into his dick, nose pressed into his hair, tilting his head—making the cock in his throat slide a fast back and forth—watching the way Suguru moans at whatever he’s seeing. Satoru’s got a pretty good idea, he loves it when Suguru can take his whole cock in.
He pulls off fast, gasping. Gasping because he just took Suguru in so far he couldn’t fucking breathe at all, his vision is a little blurry.
“Not bullshit, apparently.” Satoru rasps and strokes the moaning mess in front of him while he recovers—Suguru’s voice trembles on all the gorgeous little, ahn, ha, mnh’s—and Satoru just goes straight back in before Suguru has a chance to hold him up.
Never in a million goddamn years did Satoru ever think he’d be one for sucking cock, yet here he is, pressing his fingers into his submentum so he can feel the way his throat accommodates one. He squeezes on the cartilage ridges of his throat when they bend out around Suguru, it doesn’t feel like that floaty thing Suguru did—trust this guy to know exactly how to safely asphyxiate someone—actually, it sort of hurts when he grinds his jaw in a way that makes it creak, he squints against threatening tears of effort, trying to fuck his own face harder.
“Oh—! Satoru.” He hisses, shoving down on his shoulders so hard he almost falls on his ass when he pops off. “Fuck, what are you, ah—nmh, trying to hurt yourself?”
Satoru just chokes a harsh, Hm—ack, when he tries to speak, coughing out stray tears, crawling back, reaching for Suguru’s dick again. He probably looks pathetic, crying and grabbing at Suguru like he doesn’t really know what else he should be doing. Truthfully, he doesn’t know, he just wants Suguru; in his mouth, in his bed, in his hands, in the photo albums that don’t exist yet but absolutely should. “Y’u’re hot. Like it.” He wheezes and grabs Suguru’s hand, pulling it away from his chest, curling their fingers together and into the sheets.
“Holy hell, Sat.” He flops back like Satoru’s going to give him a break or something. “You gotta be caref—oh!” He leans hard into Satoru’s tongue as it pushes his slit apart, then shoves his cock down his throat again, “Ha—Sat, Jesus fuck, give- amph, gimme a second.”
“Is that good?” Satoru nuzzles his cheek into Suguru’s head, licking everything he’s leaked off his lips.
“I- you’re trying.” Suguru teases with that squinty smile, but the way his legs are shaking against Satoru’s ribs say otherwise, “I like it, but I like it like this better,” and Satoru just obeys when Suguru tangles his hand into his hair again, guiding him nearly halfway down, “Use your tongue, you’re good at that, oh, good boy.”
Satoru rolls his tongue, kissing his cockhead like he would his mouth, slow and deep, mimicking Suguru’s favourite pace, squeezing his hand and using the other to wipe his eyes until Suguru’s thumb replaces it. Cupping his face all gentle like that, thigh kicking into Satoru’s hand when he grips the underside of it, letting all these delicious sounds out as Satoru sucks pleasure into his dick, fucking him in tandem.
“Another?” Satoru whispers, distrustful of his voice at any other volume.
“Mmhm, please, baby.” He rocks down into the knuckle Satoru is pressing against his hole.
He gently sides in his ring finger, wriggling it around in the tightness, greedily lapping up the slick that leaks from his cock when he tugs.
“Hell, Suguru,” He bends his thigh into his chest, opening him up, fucking him slow and deep, grinding himself down in time, “Oh, Sug- oh.”
“Sat, you—fuck—do this,” He sort of crooks his fingers, his other hand rubbing circles into Satoru’s jaw. He copies and Suguru writhes a little, but shakes his head, “Take one out.”
Satoru glares at him but slides his index out anyway, fucking in loosely and trying again.
“Little deeper, Satoru,” His hips kick and he suddenly yanks Satoru’s hair, “Ah! Oh fuck, Sa-ngh.” He wrings himself out, gripping at his own hair, letting it go, flailing to tug on something else, breathing out all these, mnh, hah, sounds, Satoru rubs again. There’s, like, a bump or some shit, he presses down on it as hard as he can. “Right there! Ah—again, Satoru, Sah— Oh! Baby, S’toru.”
Suguru actually arches down on his fingers, whining and twitching the sheets, yanking Satoru’s hair so hard he’s lowkey getting worried about tension alopecia and also—fucking somehow—more horny. Satoru has no idea what the fuck is happening but he likes it, he likes making it happen. He, like, thanks the fuck out of the universe or whatever that he was born with fully functional eyes and ears.
“Sweet hell, Sugu, oh my god,” He starts fucking the bump Suguru directed him to, unsure if he wants to watch the way his dick leaks or his jaw slackens, he pulls out and fucks hard into it, Suguru yanks his hair again, the vulgar sparks of it make his cock twitch. “Suguru, baby, it’s that good?”
“I- I can’t, it’s deeper for me, hmg—fuck, baby, the angle, I can’t get it—oh, Sat—as well on my oh- own.” Suguru throws his head back, “Slow down, I’m gonna- I’m getting-”
“I want you to cum.” Satoru kisses the slit of his cock, lapping at it gently while he finger fucks Suguru’s prostate. “I want to watch your face, look at me,” Suguru does not, he squeezes his eyes and shudders all the way from his cock to his breath. Satoru pulls out and he seems to breathe again. “Suguru. Look at me, show me how you cum.”
“Fuck. Fuck, Satoru,” He shoves shaky elbows beneath him, “Please, please, I’m so close, I can- oh, oh, Satoru—” His legs jerk impatiently, trying to arch into nothing, “Satoru! Don’t leave me here.” It fractures beautifully in the air.
“Teasing’s not so fun now is it?” Satoru sucks a bruise into his thigh and Suguru greedily tries to pump his cock, “Suguru— trying to take that away from me?” Satoru’s hand flies to his wrist, smearing lube up the bone.
“Satoru, I wanna cum, fuck, please baby.” His voice cracks, and he lets out a distressed sound, “Be a good boy for me, baby?” But it’s shaking too much to actually work. Maybe it works a little bit.
“How cute,” Satoru fucks in with three, hiking his thigh up high and pressing his prostate as deep as his hand will let him, the rim presses hard against the skin between his pinky and ring fingers, fighting the physical limitations of his palm as he massages it deep, and fuck, Suguru really likes that, heel kicking into Satoru back as he struggles, “Oh, oh Suguru.”
His arm slips out from under him and he arches out a broken sound like a name when he slaps back into the sheets, tugging on Satoru’s already abused scalp, gripping at the skin of his shoulders so hard Satoru’s sure he must be leaving gorgeous little marks.
“Satoru, Satoru, I’m gonna cum, let me, ah—hah! Baby,” he scrunches his face up like he’s fighting it, maybe there’s so much happening and Suguru just doesn’t know what to do, Satoru deadass has no idea what the fuck Suguru’s feeling right now. “Sah—to- nmah!” He accidentally kicks Satoru as he writhes, “Fuck, I’m gonna—oh, cum!”
“Already?” Satoru pouts at him, fucking out and in, a little harder every time.
“The fuck y’mean, mn. Oh! Already?” He grips Satoru’s shoulders, voice shaking while he tries to fight his finish, “Fuck! Sat, we’ve been having—hell—sex for thirty fucking minutes, an—nmph!—I haven’t fucking cu- Sat, Satoru, I- not, it’s, is, oh, Satoru!”
“Oh my god, Suguru, cum for me.” He presses down on the top of Suguru’s prostate until it flicks past his fingers and it’s like all the noises Suguru’s panting makes just whites out.
Suguru shudders as hard as he cums, it splatters up Satoru’s chest, all over his stomach, he keeps rubbing at the spot until Suguru stops moaning and starts breathing.
“Oh, Sugu, I barely- what- fuck, what was that? Suguru,” Satoru pumps himself, leaning hard into the hand petting his hair down. “That’s a prostate? What the literal fuck, I thought people made that shit up, like, to scare the church or whatever.”
“Sat-toru, oh my god.” He heaves, “Oh my god.” He ruts down on Satoru's hand like he’s not done yet, like Satoru could possibly get deeper, “Oh, Incredible, baby, your fucking hands, holy shit.”
Satoru just moans, he wants, he wants to watch it again, he wants it on his cock.
“Let me,” He licks cum out of his happy trail, “I wanna, Suguru.” He pulls his fingers out, scissoring them wide as he does, he presses both his thumbs in, seeing the stretch, it’s definitely enough, the creases all flatten out easily when he tugs his thumbs apart, “Suguru,” it sounds like begging, “Let me?”
“I just—one second—Jesus Christ I just fucking came.” He laughs, and Satoru follows his hands when they pull. “Let me kiss you.”
He rocks forward, teasing his cock into Suguru’s taint, grinding his dick hard into Suguru’s softening one as he leans in. The kiss is such a horrible juxtaposition to their bodies, soft and pliant as Suguru sucks on his lips like they taste incredible, they probably taste like sweat and the traces of hour-old cherry cola.
Satoru’s not entirely expecting it when Suguru swipes his hand through his mess and starts quickly jerking him, and suddenly he’s so much fucking closer than he thought.
“Oh, ah, Suguru, that was so hot.” He kisses at the day old stubble on his chin, fucking himself into Suguru’s hand, “Shit, wait, I want to fuck you- I- ah—mmph, I don’t wanna cum yet.”
“Okay, shit, okay baby.” Lips meet his hairline and Satoru leans back and watches so closely—honed all the way the fuck in—when Suguru slips two fingers into his hole, stretching and fucking himself down on them, “Shit, yeah, I’m so ready for you.”
Satoru is about to, like, lube his dick up, line himself up or some shit, maybe throw Suguru’s legs over his shoulders, maybe flip him over, he doesn’t really know, it’s like he thought he was just dabbling in puddles and suddenly he’s drowning in an inch of water.
“C’mere, Sat.” Suguru rubs at his hip and leans to the side. He yanks out some tissues and half-heartedly wipes them both off, “Do you want a condom, baby? I brought some, I just didn’t know if you-”
“You worried imma get you pregnant, Sugu?” He kisses his apple to feel him laugh against his tongue.
“Safe sex saves lives, get your cock the fuck over here.” Suguru beckons him closer with a condom, somehow it’s so ridiculous it’s hot.
“Does the life prevention balance those statistics out or what?” He kisses him softly and Suguru scoffs at him.
“I’m not concerned about life prevention, seeing how I am not hiding a uterus in my asshole.” Suguru flicks him, “You’ll be disappointed to know.”
“For real?” He tugs at Suguru’s hair, refusing to pull his lips away far enough to properly enunciate his words, “Damn, kinda banking on that.”
And Satoru’s about to hard commit to the joke and say something unhinged like, Damn, you’re hip-waist ratio is making to look hella fertile today, real breedable, my man, and then Suguru gives him this very judgmental, pinched look like-
“What, you into that?” And like, okay, guess we’ve found the edge of the safe space, Jesus.
“Nah,” He laughs, crawling over Suguru’s middle when he gestures for it, “Chill out on the kink shaming, Judgy McFuck, you tried to choke me, like, just now.” He runs a hand up Suguru’s forearms as he settles his palms wide on his thighs, “Won’t lie, Hoss, I completely forgot about this.”
“Dude, did we not sit in the same sex-ed class?”
“Oh, we absolutely did.” Satoru grins, “I still remember Big-Teach-Yaga’s face when you deep-throated the cucumber.”
“Shut the fuck up, you said bet.” Suguru flicks him in the middle of his forehead and Satoru tries to bite his finger when he pulls back.
“I’m just teasing.” Satoru grabs his wrist to kiss his knuckles, “I don’t want one, Hoss.”
“Don’t call me that.” He snips, Satoru kind of likes it when he gets bitchy like that.
“Hoss.” He exaggerates it in that way that pisses Suguru off, all like, Hawws.
“You fucking- why are you always so annoying?” Suguru actually snaps at him, Satoru can’t help but find it adorable, especially with the way his hair falls forward over his face, flushed to his ears.
“You’re so easy.” He pokes at him, running his hands hard up Suguru’s body, palm pressing him into the bed until he shivers, “I just- like, I trust you, y’know?” Suguru rolls his head to meet his eyes properly. “I want you to know.”
“Yeah, I know, baby, I trust you too,” A small kiss meets his wrist when Satoru moves to play with his hair, “But you shouldn’t just trust people because they say they’re clean.” He chides, gripping Satoru’s hand tight, moving back to his hip, rubbing down his ribs, up his sternum.
“I’m not trusting you because you’re saying that, I’m trusting you because you’re fucking anal about nutrition, and dental hygiene, and properly manicured nails and whatever, and goddamn, don’t even get me started on all the annoying shit you do about your hair.” He rolls his eyes, sneering every point on the list, but picks up the rivers of Suguru’s hair so he can kiss the tips of it. Suguru squeezes his shoulders. “As if you could score yourself an STI.”
He sighs, “I’ve been cheated on before, Satoru, you know that, saying you trust me with this is also saying you trust every shitty guy I’ve dated.” He runs his fingers up Satoru nape.
“Well- yeah, okay, I didn’t think about that, you- but-” He leans back hard into the hand brushing his undercut, “Do you want one? Do we need one?”
“No, but that’s my fucking point,” Sharp on his tongue, “You don’t know, don’t go trusting anyone with this shit so randomly, idiot.” Suguru jabs him again, “I can get my test results if you want ‘em-”
“I don’t care, I want you.”
“Hell, what am I going to do about you saying stuff like that?” Suguru sighs something deep, a smile softer than the blush in his cheeks, “Come here, ‘Toru.” He swipes at the lube and Satoru rubs his hands up his forearms as Suguru slicks up his dick.
He slips his knees under Suguru’s thighs as he shuffles back, kisses chasing over Suguru’s stomach as he goes.
“I wouldn’t have cum on your face if I had anything, Sat.” He runs his thumb along his cheekbone—Satoru blinks so he can feel his lashes brush against it—then Suguru adds, “Also I’m not letting you do this on my back.”
“Coward, I’m not gonna be able to fuck you if you don’t pull that stick out of your ass,” Satoru snaps but lets Suguru pinch affection into his chin before he rolls over, “Seriously though, you have such a shit taste in men, I was kinda expecting you to be a masochist.”
“You say some weird shit sometimes, man.” He glares over his shoulder as he flops into the pillows again, “Hurry the fuck up before you turn me off with your bullshit.”
Satoru slaps his ass, grabbing onto the cheek right after, his blessed hand span wraps around it nicely. Suguru looks like he can’t decide if it was hot or annoying, maybe it’s both.
“Like I could turn you off, you get hard so easy for me, baby.” Satoru pulls on his hips and props him up like how Suguru had him when he fucked his thighs. He rocks into Satoru’s hands, it shoots hot things through his gut, “Shit, Hoss, you’re, like, properly fucking handsome from this angle.”
“Oh, Sat.” His shoulders shake as Satoru presses a hand in the middle of them, shivering. He’s so into it, Satoru is so into seeing him into it. “I’m fucking bent over in your goddamn bed, and you come up with handsome? That’s such an unsexy—ha—metaphor.”
“Metaphor?” Satoru snorts.
He groans like he can’t even think, “Fucking- adjective, does that matter? Fuck, I’m, like, really into this.” Suguru rocks vulgarly in his hands, “Have less class, you aristocratic asshole.”
“But you really are just so handsome, Suguru.” He snaps his hips against Suguru’s, running flat palms right up his back, feeling that soft subtle roll that gathers in his lumbar when Suguru arches his chest a little deeper into the bed, legs propped up to complete the absolute filthy shape. He presses down on the back of Suguru’s ribcage until he can feel the ridges through the muscle, he earns a single glorious shudder and a pleased, Ah.
“Can you-” Suguru shoves his face into the pillow, flaying his hair out to hide. “Fuck.”
“Suguru—” He leans in until his chest meets skin, rubbing slowly over his shoulders, brushing his hair to the side, “What are you so nervous about?”
“Can you, like, be a little..” Suguru lolls his head back, red with knit brows, bright to the tips of his ears with embarrassment and arousal. “Meaner?”
“Oh, so you are a masochist.” He grinds into Suguru’s ass as he glares, “Kinky,” Enunciated with what he’s sure is a very annoying wiggle in his brows.
“I’m not a—oh, wait.” Suguru grips the back of his knee as Satoru shoves his fingers back in, “You dickhead.” He breathes, “That’s good, fuck ‘Toru.”
Satoru swears as he scissors wide, shivering a little when he sees himself lined up with Suguru’s slicked-up rim, bright pink and shining in the low window light.
“I assume I gotta do this part slow too?”
“No need to sound so disappointed,” He drawls head smushed sideways into the pillow, “But yes, I’m not actually a sucker for pain, you heathen.”
“Suguru is so boring.” He drawls, the way it shakes betrays him as he tugs on his rim, gently grinding his tip into it.
“Will you stop fucking teasing me?”
But for real? Satoru is nervous as fuck, because he’s never actually stuck his dick inside a person before. Actually, he doesn’t think he’s stuck his dick inside anything. He’s about to do that to Suguru; his best friend who’s he’s definitely in love with; Suguru who he should definitely tell that very fact before he goes through with this and, like, royally fucks up the longest, most important relationship he’ll probably ever have; Suguru who has a pulse he can see beating in the way his impatient rim is clenching.
“Satoru?” Softer, he looks up and Suguru’s panting into the pillow, cheek smushed into it, his eyes so soft for how lewd he’s waiting. “Okay? Do you- I can get-”
“Shut up.” He snaps when Suguru reaches towards the discarded box of condoms, always so fucking sweet, so easy about everything, like if Satoru suddenly just changed his mind it would be the least personal thing ever, he could stick his dick in, change his mind and Suguru would probably kiss him just for trusting him. He watches his cock as he presses it in.
Satoru is undeniably, completely fucking enthralled by the way the soft creases in Suguru’s rim smooth out over his cockhead.
“Oh fuck,” Satoru’s groan harmonises with Suguru’s, “Oh,” It’s tight, he doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be but Suguru’s shoulder blade is sticking up from where he’s gripping the underside of the pillow, voice spacey as he praises. His fingerprints run red on Suguru’s hips, he wants to see them fade purple. He tugs, watching the creases in soft pink smooth as he slides up.
“Fuck!” Suguru slaps his thigh, “Stop, oh my god, Sat,” His hair ripples as he jerks his head, “Stop, ah—”
He does, despite Suguru rolling his hips back, despite the pleading being defaced with ragged breathing and every word ending in ellipses and pleasure, Satoru stops and rubs a hand up his spine, brushing his hair away so he can touch Suguru’s cheek.
“I said slow, asshole.” Maybe he somehow feels whatever guilty thing twisted in him, because Suguru grabs his hand and tells him it doesn’t hurt, that he’s doing good, then he calls him an impatient brat.
“It’s literally my birthday, you can’t name call me,” He rocks, only a little, “Tough talk for a bottom.”
“I switch, dickhead.”
“Twinkerbell,” Satoru slaps his ass. He pulls out a little, shuddering as Suguru’s rim catches in his ridge, “Fuck, Suguru.” With tense hands and slightly shaky knees, Satoru presses in again, butterflies striking from his gut to his throat as Suguru lets out this long groan, bangs falling haphazardously over his cheek, blowing against his breath, bobbing his mouth like he doesn’t really know what to do about the tightness of his grip on the pillow, “Oh, oh, Suguru.” He slides himself out, in, slowly getting deeper as Suguru squints and muffles his moans, biting hard on his knuckles.
“Sat- oh, oh, fuck you feel good, deeper, hurry up.” Suguru starts sucking on the knuckles of his fingers, biting gorgeous little dents into them, and holy fuck, okay, suddenly all those times he’s seen Suguru ruined seem like a sham. He snaps his hips against Suguru’s ass. “Fuck!”
“Oh, oh my god, shit, stop clenching for- fuck, Sugu.” He runs his hands over Suguru’s ass, pushing him down a little harder.
“Wait, ah, ‘Toru, lean forward a little.”
Satoru obediently slides his hands over Suguru’s shoulders as he leans down, brushing his hair away, kissing at his nape, shoulders, onto the small flushed part of his cheek he can reach, sliding his hand down Suguru’s side, tracing every dip on the way. He braces on his forearm as he starts fucking Suguru with an attempt at a rhythm.
“Suguru—” He bites his shoulder, muffling the noises in his throat in Suguru’s skin, trying to go faster but his thighs are tight and the tenseness building in his core makes his hips stutter and he can’t get it right, “Shit, this is, like, harder than I thought.” He pants, frustrated.
“Mn, it’s okay, baby,” Suguru rolls his head so he can make half eye contact, and Satoru thinks maybe he hit his prostate or something because his whole body tenses and his mouth soundlessly falls open. It’s, like, really fucking hot, “Sat- Oh, take it- you can- slows good, ahn, too. Slow down, get used to it, baby.”
“Holy fuck, oh, is it- is it good?” Because Satoru’s, like, not doing anything to him, aside from shoving his dick into his ass at a perfectly controlled pace that Suguru will get used to quickly. He presses down on Suguru’s shoulder, licking over his nape before he bites it, fucking all the way in, grinding, then out, the shaky hand holding him up searches for Suguru’s dick. “Baby, you’re leaking everywhere.”
“M’not used to it, shut up.” Suguru glares sharply at him, “S’been a while, ha— since I got fucked.”
“Mn, I don’t know which one of us is enjoying this present more.”
“Don’t be so full of yourself.”
He slams in and catches himself off guard when he moans into Suguru’s skin, he shivers right from his dick.
“Don’t you want it—oh!—Like, fast? Want me to fuck you into the bed?” Satoru leans back, braced on Suguru’s hips as he fucks him a little slower, a lot harder, “Oh, oh Sugu.”
“I—fuck!—I don’t even- care,” Suguru’s hand slips on the sheets as he tries to brace himself, “It’s you, Satoru, I want whatever—mnh, ‘Toru—whatever you give me.” He gasps this low fractured breath.
Satoru watches at he fucks in, out, trusting from his head to his hilt a few times—it makes Suguru whine into his fingers—then he pulls out, rubbing his thumb into the soft above Suguru’s rim, rubbing up his back at the same time he slowly slides all the way in, pressing his fingers into his spine where his dickhead must be.
“Fuck. Holy fuck, Suguru,” Satoru actually whimpers, hips snapping hard and fast, “I’m fucken’ inside you, shit, I’m, like, oh—” And, like, obviously, no shit, but it’s the idea—he is inside Suguru’s ass, inside Suguru—that fascinating idea, it fucks him up. Satoru presses into the ridge of Suguru’s spine, his estimation of how deep he is, it’s almost in line with Suguru’s Venus dimples, maybe a little higher. That is a lot deeper than his fingers could go. “Suguru—” He grips Suguru, yanking him back onto his dick, their skin makes his gorgeous plap! sound every time it slaps together, perfectly complementing the way Suguru muffles his noises in the pillow.
“Satoru. Satoru, fuck, it’s, mnh—ah!” Suguru reaches over his shoulder, digs his hand into Satoru’s hair when he leans down again, petting it down behind his ear, “Satoru— you can- okay? If it’s, holy shit, for me?”
“Suguru,” He holds his hips steady as he starts properly pounding into him. Satoru thinks he’s starting to get the hang of this, “What? Oh— what are you asking?”
“I dunno,” And Suguru laughs, pawing uselessly at the pillow, his voice fractures into a delicious moan, “You fucken’ prodigy.”
“I want to see you.” Satoru licks over the indents of his teeth in skin. “I wanna kiss.” And he pulls out, gripping hard under Suguru’s pec—greedily squeezing, because how the hell could he not—and slaps Suguru onto his back.
“Oh! Oh my god,” Suguru draws his brows together for a moment—like he’s confused—and pulls Satoru in hard by the waist.
“What?” Lips muffled as they draw straight to the soft bit below Suguru’s jawline.
“I just, like, forget.” He shuffles, tenderly rubbing up and down Satoru’s spine, “You can throw me around like that.”
“No shit,” Satoru grins, tracing his hand down his abs, a feather light tease on his dick before he slips his hand around his own cock, blindly lining himself up, “I’m taller than you, idiot.” And he hikes one of Suguru’s thighs up as he slowly fucks back in.
“I’m heavier, idiot.” He mocks and tosses his head back. Really, Satoru can lift twice his weight, so obviously he can lift Suguru too.
“It’s all in your thighs.” Satoru squeezes all that delicious muscle in them, “Won’t lie, last week I almost got hard watching you do squats.”
Suguru laughs at him, which, like, rudeass, so he harshly slaps Suguru’s ass, once, just teasing his head against Suguru’s hole, rubbing gentle circles into his swollen slit in a way that makes him bite his lip.
“Fucking- move already.”
Satoru slaps on one of those looks that means he’s about to say something thoughtless and obscene like, You cheeked up, stupid badass bitch with that thick ass slice of heaven, le’mme get blasphemous in that assphemous, to which Suguru says, I’m breaking up with you, even though they’re not even dating—And Satoru’s about to add, Ask me to dinner first, you coward—then Suguru’s kissing his cheek and then Satoru’s kissing his mouth and suddenly kissing Suguru seems more important than pissing him off.
“I said move.”
And Satoru rolls his fingers through Suguru’s, quoted, blasphemous assphemous, hikes up his hips and slams in, knocking Suguru's breath right out of him. He nearly collapses it feels so fucking good.
“Holy hell, for real, man, can you, like, suffocate me in your thighs?”
“Ah! Shit, what, like, right now?” His eyebrows pinch up, panting into the back of his hand, tenderly rubbing Satoru’s forearm where it rolls his pec, playing with the nipple.
“Hell nah, fuck, this is, like, way too hot.”
Suguru was, like, so right when he said it was harder this way. He has to be lower to the bed, makes it difficult to get good leverage on him. Still, Suguru doesn’t seem to mind as Satoru hikes one of his legs high on his hips and the other over his shoulder, opening him up real nice while he gets his rhythm going again.
“Sat- faster.” He bites down on his lips and Satoru wants to be the one doing that so he leans in and tries to kiss him while he dutifully fucks him faster.
He can’t. Not with Suguru’s hands all over him, running through the hair on his nape, sliding down his neck, into the sensitive skin of his shoulders, collar, gripping everything from his thighs to ass to spine. He can’t fucking kiss him. He bites his frustration into his shoulder instead.
“Something wrong, ‘Toru?”
“I can’t kiss you.” He snaps, “S’too much happening.”
“Aw, Satoru.” And he effortlessly starts sucking on Satoru’s jaw, even through his panting, actually, the panting might make it hotter, like, figuratively and literally. Suguru pets his hair down, “Oh, sweetheart.”
Honestly, how dare Suguru groan out something awful like, Sweetheart, right now. Satoru thinks he straight up orgasms, but like emotionally, right then and there. It’s annoying how easy he makes it seem. Satoru wants to do it too, but every time he tries to call him fucking anything that isn’t his name—anything soft, anything a little too real—it catches in his heart like his secrets do.
Hell, he had to practice, Baby, in the mirror for, like, way too many hours before he could say it without the tremor.
“Suguru—” Whined as slender hands hold the arch in Suguru’s spine, “You’re, shit, y’not gonna make fun of me if I- mn, cum first?”
Suguru laughs, then gasps as their hips snap together, “Not today,” Small beautiful things shatter his breathing, “Tomorrow? Abso—oh! -a’msolutely.”
“Dickhead.” He fucks in hard and fast a few times, preening about the way Suguru lolls his head back, and then he nearly, like, panics or cums when he spits out, “Precious.”
“Sator- shit, baby, slow down, I’ll—fuck—le’mme show you.”
And suddenly hands are on his hips, rolling into his ass, bossing him around as Suguru changes his angle. Then just as Suguru tosses his head back all Satoru can think is, Fuck yes, because, “This is my favourite part.” Watching Suguru slowly fall to pieces.
There’s a loud plap! when Satoru snaps himself deep and Suguru’s whole body locks up, eyebrows pinching up as he chokes on whatever he tries to say.
“Holy hell,” He fucks in with earnestness, Satoru feels feral about the way Suguru arches so far he shudders, biting on his own hand as he lets out this gorgeous, shattered, Mmh-hm-mn.
“S’toru!” He cries out as Satoru braces on the bed, thrusting into his g-spot so fast he’s starting to shake in his thighs, it’s probably gonna hurt like a motherfucker tomorrow, but the addictive punched-out breaths he gets every time their hips meet are so worth it. “Fu— Fuck.”
“Suguru.” Because that is quite literally the only word he can pull out of his pathetic brain while he watches the way Suguru’s entire body seems to bounce from the way his calf slaps into his hip, to the muffled, mnh, hng, he’s hiding behind his hand, to the way he’s slowly shifting up the bed, the way Satoru’s fucking him up the bed, “Suguru,” Suguru who’s on his cock, neck lashing and eyes squinting like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. “God, you’re incredible.” Satoru moans into his neck.
“‘Toru, m’gna, I’m gon-” Fingernails dig into shoulders and it makes his core tight, hot, bright, fucking every single incandescent thing, “Fuck! Right—anh—there, ‘ight there.”
“Oh, Sugu, I’m not, m’not gonna last.”
“Please, please!” He begs, “A little more—ah, anh, ha—just a little, please, I promise, almost, a—‘most.”
Suguru throws himself as Satoru fucks into his prostate, desperate to get him there, holding him off the mattress as he thrusts at the perfect angle to make Suguru moan. Satoru almost cums from the mere sight of Suguru twisting with hair sweat slick across his forehead, the bite marks he put in his own hand look painful.
Stray tears leak from the corners of Suguru’s eyes as he damn near wails and Satoru’s face must tell all of the snarky things his tongue can’t formulate because Suguru stutters out a beautiful, Fu—Fuck off—, before his eyes roll back.
“Suguru, please, I can’t-” His hips stutter, as he chokes out a wobbly moan, “I can’t hold on.”
“Satoru!” The sounds he keeps making are not helping Satoru’s cause as Suguru claws at his shoulders, rocking his hips into Satoru’s with every punched out moan, “Fuck! Har—nmph!—s’close.”
Suguru’s eyebrows pinch and his mouth falls open and Satoru feels his own heat gathering fast.
“S’gru, Can I- inside?”
And Suguru cums, clinging onto Satoru’s shoulders as he shudders and cries out, spurting more every time Satoru’s shaky hips thrust, shattering the air around them with a long moan.
“Su— I’m-” Suguru roughly grips the flesh of his ass and holds him deep as he falls over the edge, it might be the hardest orgasm he’s ever fucking had, a violent kind of shudder that makes his toes curl. He cums so hard he gets dizzy and nearly fucking collapses.
He feebly tries to fuck them both through it, he can barely control his bones, how could he when his cock slides through hot cum, and all of it is happening inside Suguru? Suguru rocks him by his hips, grinding him deep until Satoru can comprehend the concept of colours again.
“Satoru.” Preened so quietly, so soft as he lets himself be pulled into Suguru’s arms, “S’good, god, that was amazing, Sat.”
Suguru follows easily when he links their legs together, running a hand down his back, swiping over the delicious muscle in his ass before he sticks his finger back in, pulling his knee up to get him open, listening carefully to the slick sounds of fresh cum leaking out.
“Suguru.” It lowkey feels like a good time for a pathetic love confession, even if he really should have done it an hour or maybe a month ago, but his tongue feels too heavy so instead he just kisses.
Scrunches his cum slick hand in the sheets and holds Suguru’s sides as they fall into a myriad of soft kisses, it might be the most intimate post-sex haze they’ve shared so far. Satoru thinks this might be getting pretty close to his idea of heaven.
They collapse holding each other—at the soft part of hips, on shoulders, with fingers tracing cheekbones and eyebrows—covered in scratches and gentle bites and aggressive bruises.
“Seri’sly aces,” Satoru nonsensically mumbles into his neck, and Suguru mutters back something like, S’that mean? and Satoru doesn’t even bother trying to translate his pathetic American english as he kisses his skin with closing eyes.
“Aw—” Suguru rests his chin on Satoru’s shoulder, kissing at where his muscle arches under his collar, “Satoru, did you think you were done?”
“Huh.” It sounds more like a breath than a word. Like, yeah, Satoru has incredible stamina, and lowkey his refractory period is something he could probably brag about, but Satoru’s skin is literally alive right now, he’s gonna need a whole lot more than two expired vodka shots—can alcohol even expire?—and a pep talk to fuck Suguru again, like, immediately. “Huh?”
“Satoru—” Suguru throws a leg over his waist, his soft dick dragging over Satoru’s belly, taking him in his hand, rubbing circles into his slit, “Did you think I was just gonna let the birthday boy fuck me without payback?” Suguru leans in real close, pumping him until he’s almost stiff enough to stand on his own, smiling all cat-like when Satoru’s breath catches hard in his throat, “You should know better.”
Satoru shoves his elbows beneath him, grabbing at Suguru’s hand in the sheets while the other dips between his legs, Suguru lets out a shiver and a low noise when he fingers himself open again.
“You don’t even know what being properly fucked out feels like yet, that is your birthday present, sweetheart.”
Satoru can’t even focus, not with Suguru leaning over him, hair loosely cascading from his shoulders to Satoru’s chest, sweat gathering on his forehead, breathing ragged as he stretches himself, scissoring, dick twitching, eyebrows pinching.
“Beautiful.” Satoru tucks his hair back, Suguru seems to, like, short circuit or something, choking out a noise of surprise. “So pretty.”
“Satoru,” He whispers like it’s a holy thing, like he wasn’t gargling it like a curse mere minutes ago. “Oh, baby.”
He barely gets a chance to brace himself before Suguru lines himself up, sliding down fast. The shiver runs straight into his lungs, catching in his breath and twitching in his dick.
“Oh, oh, Sat.” He grinds himself down, all the fucking way down, “I can—ha—I can feel you getting hard.” Suguru braces his hands on Satoru’s abs, the slick on his two fingers ignites something on his skin. “God, it’s good.” He stares down at him with this soft look, smiling with something warmer than sex. “How are you feeling?”
“Mmnh.” Feels like the best he can do right now, his gut is floating into his chest, he tries to tell Suguru he needs a second, but his cock is throbbing, getting hard and pressing Suguru’s rim out and that just takes all his fucking attention away as he whimpers.
“Words, baby.” Asking for it like that’s supposed to be an easy task or something, Satoru’s pretty sure he’s still riding his aftershocks. “Satoru—” He fucks hard down, “Are you okay, love?”
Love, love, like endearment, love, something sweeter than baby, something a little too intimate for fuck buddies, Satoru moans.
He watches as Suguru sits up again, sliding tight up his cock and slamming down with a hard plap! his breathing picks up and Suguru’s pace doesn’t go any faster.
“Satoru—” He coos, running his hand up to rub the crease below Satoru’s pec, the other brushing at his happy trail where it peaks out from under Suguru's dick. “You have to tell me, okay? It’s okay?”
“Suguru.” Needy hands grip waist—the delicious part above his hip dips—exploring up the indentations where Suguru’s thighs meet his pelvis, cupping his hands over the curve of the bone, up, up, he squeezes the softer part beneath his ribs, the muscle underneath flexing and Suguru unexpectedly lifts and fucks back down. Satoru arches into it with a loud fractured sound, he sounds pathetic, he feels pathetic, he was supposed to be topping. Satoru can only feel unbelievably turned on with Suguru staring down at him sweetly while he turns his breathing into cum drunk, hah—ah, noises. “Love,” I love you, “I like that.”
“Yeah? Want it like this?” Suguru gently bounces, relaxing himself, sliding down with unwarranted control, “Or do you like it rough like that?” He grins as he fucks himself down so hard his balls slap on Satoru’s stomach and his dick leaks when it bounces, Satoru moans, like, so loud. “Oh, baby.” He does it again, lifting up so high Satoru can see his own cock below Suguru’s heavy balls, sits down hard and rocks, Satoru cries out an unintelligible sound. “Ah—Sat, such a good boy, your cock like this, letting me use you.”
“Sug’ru.” He pulls at Suguru’s hips, throwing his neck, he doesn’t quite know what else to do, he feels vulnerable, it feels incredible. “I feel—ah!” Suguru picks up his pace, the plaping sound of their hips meeting, the slapping of Suguru’s balls on the soft part below his navel, it keeps distracting him, “I, shit, I can’t-” he tries to convey that thing he was told in therapy, about his struggle with vulnerability or whatever, but Suguru’s on his cock the same way he’s incandescent in his chest and maybe everything in his head his blowing away like dandelion seeds, “Trust!” He shouts and arches a filthy shape, “Ah! Oh fuck, Sugu.” His hands grip the back of Suguru’s thighs, rolling his fingers into the delicious flesh there, “Oh, oh, baby, Su—I trust you.”
“Fuck, ‘Toru, you’re adorable, all flushed like this, love you like this.”
Love you. Suguru loves having him writhe and moan beneath him, loves bouncing on Satoru’s cock at a pace Satoru couldn’t achieve on his knees when he fucked Suguru into his pillows. He fucked Suguru. He fucked Suguru and it was incredible and now Suguru is fucking himself on Satoru and he loves it.
Satoru loves it too, he loves Suguru.
He bites his tongue and whines a high breath so he doesn’t say something awful like the truth.
“Hah! Angh—” Satoru throws his head to the side, it’s about the only thing he can do with his limited range of motion. Suguru clenches around his dick and leans forward to grapple at the lube, “Oka- Susu—gu, fuck, ‘kay?”
“I’m okay, baby,” He kisses Satoru’s mouth as it bobs uselessly with every thrust. It’s fucking unfair how even his voice sounds, he must be doing something, some secret fuck off sex trick to make himself sound like he’s not losing his shit no matter how much the pulsing in his rim gives it away. “Burns a little.”
He doesn’t slow down as he squeezes more onto his fingers, pulling hard off and slicking up Satoru’s head, taking the opportunity to run his fingers under his foreskin, taking his slit under his thumb and teasing Satoru with his hole when he sits over him again, holding his head like he holds eye contact, with intention and lust.
He presses in slowly, catching Satoru’s oversensitive head—tingling with the careful touches from his fingers—it catches sparks on Suguru’s rim, he rises, slowly peeling the edge over his ridge, rubbing the foreskin up, down, using his ass to play with Satoru in the same way his hands do.
“Fuck.” Satoru tries to shove his elbows beneath him, they slip out and he roughly jerks, slapping back into the sheets, “Fuck, Suguru, please.”
“Please, what?” Hands run over his chest as he slides down slowly, loosely spreading the new slick into the cum tainted stuff already there. “What do you want, baby? Satoru?”
Satoru’s so focused on the way Suguru’s cock is leaking, dripping warm on the skin of his stomach, he doesn’t know what Suguru’s asking, he doesn’t even know what he asked for, he rubs his hands up Suguru’s thighs, feeling his eyes watching with that intense desire Satoru still isn’t used to yet. He traces the purple marks on Suguru’s hips, they match his fingers, he feels feral about it.
“Marks.” He whispers, “Leave marks.” He squeezes at the sensitive shades in his hips, Suguru’s hips kick down tightly, like he didn’t mean to, that might be hotter than the feeling of his cock getting swallowed to the base again. “Suguru, Sug’ru. Marks, I want them, I wanna be yours.”
His hips snap down again, purposely, he knows it’s purposeful because Suguru trills out Satoru’s name and rubs into his nipples.
Thighs slap into Suguru’s ass as they kick up, rubbing his heels roughly into the sheets, moaning together as the knock rocks them both.
“Fuck! Marks Suguru, come on.” Satoru wrings himself, trying to get more friction, he doesn’t know how he could possibly get more, not with Suguru like this in his lap, lube and cum and slick and probably saliva and fucking whatever else splattering over his inner thighs, over the soft of his belly and the hard corners of his hip bones. “Ah—Susu, plea—oh.”
“Satoru, oh my god, ‘Toru.” He arches, throwing his head back, dark hair reflecting the evening sun as it flies, “Ah—” he breathes out and pulls at Satoru’s middle in a bruising manner, making him curl his back, forcing him deeper as Suguru chases his own pleasure, “Sat-toru.” His hair falls around his face when he looks down, mouth hanging open, eyes dark, “You want to be mine that bad?” Lips shiny and warm like his breath. “Oh god, I want you, Sat- all the time, fuck, not jus—shit—when we- ha—”
“Su—I’m—oh.” Satoru’s eyelashes flutter as he can’t decide if he wants to close his eyes and ride the tight feeling in his cock, or keep them open as he watches Suguru arch, rutting Satoru into his prostate. “Su, I want to be—I really, fuck, I lo—Su, m’close.” Bones melt away, he reaches up to hold Suguru’s forearms where they rest low on his stomach, feeling every bounce rock them as Suguru moans loud filthy things that might be attempts at Satoru’s name. “I wanna be yours.”
“Oh, Sat—tngh,” His head lolls as he lurches forward, his voice shatters over its own volume, “Mn, I’m gonna cum, Sa—ah! Oh, bab- Satoru, hah.” Suguru scrunches his face up as his hips start kicking and he valiantly tries to keep it steady for Satoru even with his thighs locking up and his hand gripping his own dick. “Sa—I’m gonna, can I cum? Can I—ah!—cum on you? Can I, baby?”
Satoru heaves and can’t even remember what sounds make up the words for approval as Suguru cums hard, it splatters over Satoru’s chest, up his chin, he licks it off and tries to shout Suguru’s name and just moans out every vowel that exists in a made-up order as he cums arching a moment later.
Suguru almost sags forward, holding himself up on Satoru’s ribs with shaking arms as he fucks them both through it, cum slowly leaking down his ballsack, their breaths painting the air in small colours.
“Sat, Satoru, I wanna be yours too.” And Suguru kisses him hard, Satoru can barely think as he feels it in his bones.
He tries to grip Satoru’s chest and slips on his own cum, barely bracing himself on a forearm before he breaks both their noses or some shit.
“Fuck, fuck, baby, oh, Satoru, you took it so well.” He runs praise into Satoru’s skin and licks cum off Satoru’s neck, “Good? The touch- are you feeling okay?”
Satoru doesn’t know if he can speak, he just pets down Suguru’s hair, pushing it over his shoulder so it doesn’t get sticky, kissing the tips as he breathes so fast he’s getting a little dizzy.
“Oh, Sat, can you talk to me?”
Satoru honestly shakes his head, Suguru just rode him so hard he went non-verbal. Two months ago Satoru would’ve bet everything he goddamn owns that this would never happen so long as he lives. He smiles loosely, kissing at Suguru’s fingers when they run over his lips.
Suguru pushes himself off Satoru’s cock, flopping into the bed beside him, running one hand down Satoru’s spine the other down his dick, sliding his fingers up the slick on his cock as he pumps him soft.
“You see this, love?” Suguru strings his cum in front of his face, it looks like it does every other time, Satoru feels like he’s missing something, “You’re not done yet.”
That can’t possibly be true, he just came, like, three times, Satoru doesn’t even really know what he hell that means.
“One more for me, baby, can you do that?” He kisses Satoru's fingers where they play with his bangs, “Please? One more, promise.”
Satoru just nods, he’d do anything for Suguru if he asked like that.
Suguru starts kissing into his neck, sucking on every piece of skin he can find, licking up his own mess, nibbling at the bones on his collar, in his jaw, biting his apple, Satoru hums into it and Suguru hums back, making Satoru feel doughy and soft with his hands, painting a mosaic into his skin, lapping at the darker skin of his nipples, bitting and sucking until they’re swollen and wrung of their sensitivity, holding carefully onto his sides, fitting his fingers into the dips of his ribs, staring up at him with those longing eyes, hungry and sated all at once.
He gives Satoru the softest handjob he’ll probably ever get, holding him in his lap, against his chest, kissing the skin of his face, massaging the sore strained flesh of his thighs, cooing praises at him, whispering, You’re doing so well, Satoru, You’re almost there, That’s a good boy, Show me your face, Is it good? Gorgeous, My boy, Love, Baby, Let me hear you whimper, Just a little longer for me, Taking it so good, You’re doing beautifully, baby, Don’t fight it, Just a bit more.
Suguru ran his fingers up his nape, curled him down and made him watch as he came, a small spurt of cum and then something clearer, just wet, he didn’t even know that was a thing, he feels like he isn’t even attached to his skin anymore he just gargles a sound and passes the fuck out to Suguru’s satisfied smile, and the whisper of, That’s a good boy.
Satoru wakes up clean, sweat in his hair, like Suguru took care of him, wiped him down and put him to bed, he thinks maybe he vaguely remembers trying to talk to him while he did.
Satoru feels, like, fucking incredible.
He ends up just stretching in front of the mirror for like half an hour because Suguru’s hands and lips are bruised into his skin—thighs to hips to shoulders to arms—and all Satoru can do is press on all the precious lines of raised red in his back until they dully sting and Satoru nearly fucking faints because of it.
The divine feeling doesn’t wash away after he showers and follows the smell of Suguru’s cooking.
“My man, with the voluptuous cock, Hoss,” Satoru swings around the doorframe, shaking out his wet hair. “Good morning.” He tucks himself into Suguru’s back, resting his chin in the crook of his shoulder and squeezing his ass, “How’s that feeling today?” He kisses Suguru’s neck.
“Satoru.” Suguru leans his head back against his collar, catching Satoru’s lips on his when he offers them, “My back.” He parts and glares, “Fucking hell.”
“Not sorry.” Satoru rubs his hands into the curve of his spine, soothing him, “I have bruises on my thighs.” He kisses into the collar of his shirt, swiping his loose hair away from his nape so he can nibble the bone there. “You gave me scratches, baby.”
“You like it?” Suguru snakes an arm over his hips, lightly slapping his ass and asking like he already knows.
“Love ‘em.”
“Cute. I like you like this, in the morning.”
Satoru kisses thank you’s into his ear and eats the macadamia pancakes that Suguru made—with that expensive crunchy sugar instead of syrup because he got it in Suguru’s hair literally one time and he still wont accept his half assed apology—Suguru’s basically as good at cooking as he is at sex, which lowkey feels like an unfairly charismatic combination of skills.
“Man, I’m still like.” He licks cream off his fork, vaguely gestures like the word he’s looking for even exists, “Fucking A-plus sex.”
Suguru leans into his space on the living room floor and kisses along his jawline. Satoru puts his fork down for a moment so he can catch Suguru's lips, it shoots butterflies through him and he can’t help smiling into it.
“You look gorgeous,” Suguru presses him down into the small space of the floor between the coffee table and the couch, caging him in with his arms, “Satoru—”
“What’s got into you?” He grins right to his eyes, the feeling bubbles right out of his chest as he tugs the ends of Suguru’s hair so he can kiss it.
“You’re glowing.” He smiles widely into his cheek, “I did that.”
Satoru slips his legs apart when hands demand it, wrapping his arms over his shoulders so he can pull him impossibly closer. When Suguru presses his chest into Satoru’s and peppers kisses from his hairline to his fingertips, Satoru smiles at the way he glows too, bright in his eyes and the corners of his mouth.
He bites down on his lip. It’s selfish really, letting Suguru do all this unknowingly.
“You wanna go to the gym later?” He leans into Suguru’s lips, shaking out the feeling of guilt and leaning into Suguru’s afterglow instead.
“‘Toru, I will break my fucking neck if I try to gym right now.” Suguru moves to bite the shell of his ear, licking it hot and Satoru shivers.
“Arcade?” He offers, “It’s Saturday, we gotta do something, Hoss.”
Suguru looks at him confused for a moment, mouthing, Hoss, pulling back like Satoru’s just said the biggest juxtaposition on the planet or something.
“Do you.. Remember last night?”
Satoru blinks, crossing his legs over Suguru’s ass so he can’t get too far, “Yeah? I don’t think I’m gonna be forgetting that, like, ever. Why?” He remembers absolutely fucking everything, in fact, Suguru’s fucked out face, and his flailing hair is replaying at the forefront of his mind right now. Suguru shuffles to sit over his hips.
Satoru knows he shouldn’t—because something is happening in Suguru’s head and he needs to be there for it—but he can’t help but draw the parallel to Suguru fucking himself sitting like that barely six hours ago, he shivers.
“You remember what you said?” Suguru clarifies.
Well, isn’t that a horrifying sentence?
“What.. does tha- what’d I say?” He squints, “Specifically.”
Suguru looks, like, hurt. Which is so bad.
“Wait, c’mon man, don’t make that face.” Satoru grips his hand, rubbing at his knee, “What’s wrong Suguru, I thought.. You did like it right?” He suddenly feels incredibly self-conscious, and maybe sort of nauseous, which mixes weirdly with the satisfying bright feeling in his gut. “Did I- I didn’t hurt you? I seriously did not know what the fuck I was doing, so please tell me-”
“Yeah, no, no.” Suguru grabs his hands quickly, “You didn’t, I wouldn’t have let you, it was really fucking good, ‘Toru. Sex with you is probably the best sex I’ve ever had, like, since the beginning,” He kisses Satoru’s knuckles, “Really.”
He whistles lowly, “Few months and I’m top of the leaderboard already, Hoss?” Satoru hits his ankles into his ass playfully and wiggles his eyebrows.
“I swear,” Suguru crinkles his nose, “You make it sound like I sleep around way more than I do.” He huffs, and stares out at the room for a moment, “You went non-verbal.” He meets Satoru’s eyes, almost dazed, falling forward slightly, “That was really fucking hot. Like- Jesus, Satoru. I was-” He forces a breath out, Satoru can feel it on his face, “You kept trying to talk before you fell asleep, you were—holy shit, baby—it was amazing. Seeing you like that.”
“I didn’t even think that was possible, I straight up thought people just made that shit up.” Satoru knocks his temple into Suguru’s hand when it rubs up his face, “Fucking, like, seriously, any time, incredible sex.”
Suguru snorts at him, “Bet you couldn’t make me do that.” And Satoru snaps his head up.
“It’s on motherfucker, just you wait, February third, I’ll fuck you in half, put it in your goddamn calendar.” He points to drive the point and Suguru’s condescending laughter is not making him feel very confident in his fuckability, so he tells Suguru that and Suguru says he’s incredibly fuckable and kisses him on the forehead.
“Rude.” Satoru leans into it.
“It’s funny though.”
He sits up, rests an arm around Suguru’s waist and squeezes his hand, “Are you really okay?”
“Yeah, I just thou.. yeah.” He doesn’t believe him, “Tea?”
“Sure.”
Suguru squeezes his shoulders before he goes.
“Wait, I think Utahime gave me more of that fancy shit from Kyoto.” He chases after Suguru, skipping over his living room carpet.
Suguru’s not listening to him, frowning at something on his bench.
“What’s this?” He holds a letter up, he sounds almost scared.
“Dunno, what is-” Satoru slips himself onto Suguru’s tense shoulder and plucks it out of his hands, “Forget it, man.”
“Satoru.” An arm hooks around his waist and part of Satoru doesn’t want to struggle away from it. He sighs and slaps down what must be the seventh letter from NYU.
“They want to give me my scholarship back, heard ‘bout my grades, I dunno, maybe my parents did something.” He scowls at it.
“Since when?”
“A while.” He mumbles. “Can you just pretend you didn’t ask that?”
“No,” He answers quietly, honestly. “Not really.”
“I’m not taking it, man, I’m not going anywhere.” That answer does not seem to appease him at all.
“How long?” He asks again.
There’s no way he can answer that without Suguru making it a thing. He wrings his neck when he gets fixed with that hard violet stare, like he’s trying real hard to make his expression flat.
“Pretty much since I came back.” He shoves himself into Suguru’s neck, he doesn’t hug back, he can feel the lecture coming.
“Satoru,” Suguru pushes his shoulders back, “You- this is an incredible university, you don’t have to- I don’t want to stop yo-” Satoru slaps a palm over his mouth.
“If I wanted to be in New York, I would be there, the air is gross, the subways smell like piss and I’d have spent my birthday at a fraternity party—believe me, you never wanna be at one of those—I don’t want it.”
“You should want it.” His hand is torn away and Satoru can’t pinpoint the real reason Suguru snaps at him, “Satoru, some people would kill for an opportunity like this. Our friends would kill for this.”
“Well, not me.” Frustration starts to lick up his spine, curl ugly colours in his chest.
“Why?” The volume is starting to border on a shout, “Why’d you- Why are you still here?”
“For you?” Satoru has to take a step out of his space, “I came back for you, I don’t want to leave.”
“Why?” He presses sharply, like there’s some specific answer Satoru’s supposed to say.
This feels kind of like some kind of betrayal, Satoru’s shit at social cues and indirect questions, Suguru never fucking asks them because he knows this.
“You’re my best friend, you’d have done it for me.” He says it like a fact, so he doesn’t spit something like, Maybe because you kissed my fingers and it made me feel weird shit in my stomach, oh yeah, and I had you on my goddamn cock and it was fucking unbelievable.
Satoru doesn’t know what answer Suguru’s looking for but it’s not the one he said.
“Sat- fuck.” He flicks his head to the side, teeth bared when he sucks in a breath, “People don’t put friends before scholarships, Satoru.”
“I do not understand why you’re upset about this.” He tries to step forward again, Suguru steps back, “This social cue bullshit is fucking me off, I don’t care, I can’t lose you.”
Suguru glares, “You wouldn’t lose me.” Which is bullshit, Suguru knows that’s bullshit.
“I almost did!” Satoru feels hot in his eyes, “Don’t bullshit me, man! I talked to you every single day over there, fuck, when I got back I couldn’t believe how bad it was, I had no idea-” he chokes, “I missed all of it.” The confession comes out weak with shame, “I was so scared, Suguru.”
“I shouldn’t ha-”
“You should have. Don’t push me away now. If you start hiding from me now, it’s over.” Satoru grips his sleeve, tugging him closer, “It’d be the end of us.” He doesn’t know what the definition of us even is.
He feels sick when he wonders if that might be what Suguru wants, tears burn his cheeks and he scoffs at himself in embarrassment.
Satoru leans hard into the fingers that wipe his eyes, Suguru yanks him into a messy hug, their bones click together, sparking fire when they strike each other, the dampness against his neck makes him feel better about the stuff he’s spreading in Suguru’s hair.
“I’m sorry.” Said like he’s talking about more than an old argument about a letter. Suguru rubs his hand up Satoru’s undercut, the other running electricity into his spine. Satoru’s pulling on Suguru’s shirt so hard he’s worried it might rip, he wants to be deeper, he wants to hold him so close their bone marrow mixes, past flesh and bone and onto that bright spot inside Suguru that he loves.
“I love you, Suguru.” He kisses the words into his ear, presses his cheek into the warm carved stone of his gauge when he buries himself in the crook of his neck. “I love you so much.”
Maybe that was the answer Suguru was looking for, maybe it was the worst possible one he could have given, maybe it was both.
Suguru didn’t say it back, but he held Satoru’s hand at the door, promised to call, squeezed it before he let go, he was still glowing when Satoru kissed him up and down until he laughed.
Suguru didn’t say it back.
“Bossman, I got big questions.” Satoru slaps himself into the booth beside Haibara with a dramatic sigh, “For real real.”
“Are the crows back?”
“And they got batteries.” He stops and squints at Nanami, he looks slightly more unimpressed with his existence than usual, properly disgruntled, then to Shoko who’s hiding her face in her palm with a laugh. “Damn, what did you do to them?”
“Hear me out,” Haibara claps his hands together, “Monsterfucking is just an elaborate metaphor for vulnerability.”
And Satoru has to, like, think about that, gay crisis be damned. “Fuck dude. You’re like so right.”
“Right!?” He lurches forward a little, Satoru lowkey flinches then mirrors him, “Follow up, is sex with angels still monsterfucking?” Haibara slaps his palm on the table, like no one else will entertain him. “Also I ordered for you.”
“Yo, yeah, I hear you,” Satoru nods seriously, “D’you think angels would consider us beastiality?” Then tacks on, “Thank you, Boss.” And slides a few uncounted and definitely overpaying notes to him.
“Now that is a question for the masses, get me a forum.”
“Nah, wait.” And Satoru stops to thank the waitress who puts his sugar abomination on the table, “That depends on the species, because seraphs, like-”
“Please!” Nanami glares through his fingers, “We have been listening to this all day.”
“Then clearly you’re not listening well enough, Nanamin.” Satoru licks his straw into his mouth, “Now, Bossman, hear me out, Chimeras, the Greek ones, is that still monsterfucking?”
“Dude.” Haibara opens his mouth like a fish, like he doesn’t even know where to start, “Does that qualify?”
“Wait, where’s the line between monsterfucking and beastiality?”
“I think it’s both.”
Satoru laughs, “Remember that guy who got fucked to death by a stallion?”
Haibara holds a hand over his heart, “Rest in peace Kenny, founder of Washington’s most memorable felony.”
“He died doing what he loved.”
“What he loved was doing him.”
“Stop!” Nanami shouts and Shoko cackles into her laptop.
“Nanami,” Haibara holds a solemn hand on his chest, “We are respectfully remembering a harrowing time in Washington history here.”
“Yeah Nanamin, I guarantee if you can’t deal with horsefucking you’re going to hate where this conversation is going.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“So!” Satoru starts with false confidence, and quickly turns to Haibara, “We are so talking about that angel monsterfucking thing more later.” He turns back to Nanami, “Also I have your Evanescence shirt, it’s seen some unholy things,” then at the table, “Suguru is throwing a hissy fit at me.” Not quite true.
Shoko snorts at the same time Nanami grimaces, Keep it.
“Did you talk before he got mad?” She keeps tapping on her laptop.
“Well, yeah-”
“That’s probably it.”
“No, this is at least thirty per cent your fault.” He points at her, “So I may have stuck my fingers in Suguru’s ass,” he grins as Nanami glares, “Incredible, by the way, I tell you, good lord, the thighs on that man,” He dramatically rolls his head, “I deadass passed out, and also I lowkey said we were exclusive after Shoko got me fucked up, but, like, it was fine, Suguru even got me nachos after, and then I said something, I don’t fucking know, he’s mad, capital M.”
“Hold that thought.” Haibara sips his tea. “You fucked him?”
“Yeah?”
“For real?”
“..yeah?”
Satoru follows his stare to Shoko, they seem to be having a silent argument. She clicks her tongue and pissily slides five thousand yen over the table. Satoru doesn’t even need to know the basis of that to know—somehow—Satoru won that interaction.
“Thank you.” He grins, “Floors yours.” He gestures for Satoru, “What’d you say?”
“Nothing weird, said he had a voluptuous cock and called him Hoss—like, whatever, friends do that—but then I kind of.. so- I said I loved him, cause I fucking do, like, known him eight years now, I’ve said that several times, so whatever, y’know?” He rushes over his words, “He got quiet and left, the fuck does that mean?”
The table is silent enough that Satoru doesn’t need to be told he’s missed an important social cue. He already knew that, it’s why he’s here, so all these socially adept people can tell him what he’s doing wrong.
“Gojo,” Nanami stares him down, “I have never in my life called another guy's cock voluptuous and thought it was platonic.”
“What, are you, like, emotionally pent up?” Satoru mocks him with eyebrows, “Watch and learn. Haibara, man, Yuu, Bossman.” He turns.
“Satoru,” Mirroring the serious tone.
“I am of the fullest belief that your spiritual cock is of the utmost voluptuousity.” Shoko raises her drink to him and Haibara tells him his spiritual titties are also of incredible hedonism, Satoru turns back to Nanami, half bowing over the table. “Your turn?”
“I will shove my sock down your throat.” And honestly, the look in his eyes makes Satoru believe him.
“Your fun sock?”
Nanami enunciates the malice in every word carefully when he says, I am going to debone you like a fish, and Satoru skilfully dodges the book that flies at him and returns the fist bump Haibara offers.
“Satoru,” Shoko taps the rim of her cup, calling his attention back, “Do you like Suguru?”
“Yeah, no shit, I am so clearly not in New York right now.” He dodges.
“No, Satoru,” she presses her hand into the table, “Do you like Suguru romantically?”
Satoru blinks, he absolutely does but saying that to a living breathing human being with a brain is way too real right now, he needs his friend back first, “No.”
Everybody sighs. Everybody. Even the woman sitting alone at a nearby table glares judgment at him and he’s definitely sure it’s not because of homophobia.
“What the fuck am I missing?”
Even Haibara is squinting at him like he’s trying to figure out if Satoru’s joking.
He’s starting to feel anxious in his chest, because his friends are safe but they can’t do that quiet understanding thing Suguru does. Satoru darts his head down to stare at the way his leg is starting to shake, he presses his palm into his sternum.
“I know I’m, like, joking, but I really- I think I fucked up somehow. Like, truly.” He doesn’t want to look up at the table yet. “We had an argument, but it was,” he sighs, “Like there was something else I was supposed to be getting, I don’t think I said the right thing.” The table seems to get even quieter somehow, maybe pulling out his perfect Kansai accent and all of the leftover aristocracy that comes with it made it much more apparent how stuck he feels; way more than he intended anyway.
Satoru grunts into his palm and knocks his elbow on the table, the only other time he’s struggled getting honesty out of Suguru was in the midst of his depression, he hates this feeling, it makes him feel like something he’s unaware of is entirely fucking wrong, he needs Suguru in front of him, he needs to see him breathing and smiling and talking, which might be an overreaction and definitely obsessive, but Satoru’s never been much of a prodigy at emotions.
“Satoru,” Shoko snaps her laptop shut and Satoru is brave enough to meet her eyes, “Do you love Suguru?”
“Yes.” He rubs tension into his breastbone, it makes the tightness worse.
“Do you like Suguru?” She repeats, placing her hands flat like she’s really listening, like this is as important to her as it is for him.
He winces, “Yeah,” Satoru knocks his back into the booth, it stings over his spine, defeat colours the words, “Yeah, I do.”
“I think you should tell him that.” She says it gently.
Satoru wrings his neck and stares hard at the ceiling, “Okay.”
He glares at her across the short table, she waits.
“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” Satoru rests his hand on his chin. He’s been so over trying to explain his parents' complicated unconventional affection for several weeks now. He also learned very quickly that half-heartedly joking, Lowkey, this conversation makes me want to kill myself, does not go over well in therapy. She says something boring about effective communication and about strict confidentiality or some shit, “I want to talk about Suguru.” He cuts her off.
“You’re very close with him.” She states, like it’s supposed to be a prompt, “He really cares about you, it seems like a very complex relationship, Satoru.”
“I know, I don’t need help- what the hell is complex supposed to mean?” It’s not complex.
Suguru is his boyfriend, Suguru just doesn’t know that yet. It’s not that fucking complicated.
He throws himself back into the couch with a twump, cutting in before she can continue, “So, we also had sex, like several times, a lot of times, great by the way, he’s mad and I don’t know why, pretty sure those things are related though.” Satoru crosses his legs self-consciously and tugs at the seam that gathers where his knee bends.
He recounts their argument, pointedly ignores the part about NYU—which he realises takes out a lot of the conversation, but really they were saying university words, but that’s not really what they were talking about—she gives him this look like she doesn’t believe him.
“Stop doing that weird psychic shit.” Satoru rolls his eyes and tears an over-folded square of paper out of his pocket, he’d written down everything they’d said the best he could remember, “Happy?” He sneers.
“He seems more concerned about your view on your friendship than this scholarship, Satoru.” And Satoru already knew that. “How does that make you feel?”
“Don’t do that.” He crosses his knees like it’ll put distance between them, she stares, “Say my name like that.” Like you know me.
“You have a habit of separating yourself from people, Satoru.” She also crosses her knees, like it’s some kind of competition, or maybe Satoru just looks for competition everywhere. “I think the root of your touch aversion is in that concept of ‘others.’ You’re afraid because you refuse to be open with people.”
“I said I don’t want to talk about touch,” he snaps.
“Touch and trust are the same for you.” She waves the paper as if she’s gesturing to Suguru, “You’re too trusting with Suguru, you’re expecting him to be open about his feelings if you ask, you’re not returning that vulnerability.”
“I really don’t like how you just know all that.” Satoru squints at her.
“Because you consider me an ‘other?’”
“You don’t know the thing with Suguru and trust.” He ignores her question, which is an answer enough.
But he’s right, she doesn’t know anything about that long winter where he lived in Suguru’s tiny dorm and cast aside his incessant refusal to wash dishes, he actually cleaned windows for the first time in his life then. There’s not much he wouldn’t do for Suguru, they made their safe space after that, no matter if they were fighting or whatever else, they vowed they’d always call. Always. And they do. Suguru has seen every anxious, messy, weak side of him, physically as well as emotionally now.
He’s seen the same, he’s sat and held Suguru while he broke down for reasons he couldn’t define, brushed his hair when Suguru couldn’t find the will to do it himself, he was always there to stop Suguru hurting himself or shaking heartbreaking sounds into his pillow alone.
Their relationship isn’t something she could infer, that’s something he gets to keep until he wants to hand that information over.
“I’m plenty vulnerable.”
“Then why are you not telling him you love him?”
“I do that, like, all the time.” Satoru clicks his elbow into his knee and shoves his face into his hand. He did not tell her he was in love with Suguru.
“Satoru.” She says, he glares, “By letting Suguru believe you’re confessions are platonic do you not think maybe you’re hurting him?”
“No.” Snapped straight from the scowl on his face, “He’d tell me.”
“So you are expecting him to take the first step of vulnerability?” She repeats and it sort of clicks in Satoru’s head somehow, and he just breathes out a small, Oh.
“You don’t know anything.” He gets up and she’s got this little smile like she knows she’s right, like she knows Satoru knows she’s right. “We’re done today.”
“One second, Satoru, one more thing.” Because she already knows no amount of arguing will change Satoru’s mind about leaving, he does not give a single meagre fuck about manners.
She hands him a prescription and says because his aversion is based in anxiety instead of trauma the most effective whatever and blah blah, he didn’t really listen he just left.
“That was fast.” Suguru meets him in the waiting room and Satoru flops into his chest.
“Hold me.”
“You feel good?” He asks and wraps his arms around Satoru’s shoulders. “Bad?”
Satoru only gives him a grunt for a reply.
“Yours or mine?” Suguru presses a kiss to Satoru’s hair and he thinks he might die on the spot, or maybe just rip this stupid waiting room apart like a chimp on adderall.
Satoru proceeded to think about telling Suguru for several days, he also proceeded to not do it.
He really almost did when Suguru took him down to the juice bar after the gym and the sunset was hitting Suguru’s squinty smile at a real confess-your-pathetic-undying-love-to-your-fuck-buddy-slash-best-friend angle.
Apparently, he’s a coward now, so he told Suguru he had split ends and that his ass was looking tight as.
“What the fuck is up, you depressed bastard?”
“What?” Suguru leans on the door frame, apparently unimpressed with Satoru’s entire existence.
“You look like you fought an eel.” He pushes Suguru’s front door open, “And lost.” He snipes slapping his hand down on top of Suguru’s head, hair twisted up in some kind of sloppy mess. “What the fuck, why is it slimy?”
“It’s a hair mask, dipshit.” He shoves Satoru into the wall, “Made of avocado and whatev- Satoru!” He wraps his hand around his wrist, “Don’t fucking eat it, what is wrong with you?”
“Blegh,” He sticks his tongue out dramatically, “Suguru is so boring.” Then Satoru leans in, their noses bump together and Suguru takes half a step back, eyes flicking down. “You’re touching me, Hoss.”
“What?” Suguru asks his lips, drawing his gaze up for only a moment, then right back to Satoru’s smirk.
“You just grabbed me.” He shakes the wrist Suguru still hasn’t let go of, “You didn’t do that, like, before.”
“Sorry.” He drops it, then grimaces when Satoru wipes his weird-smelling hair thing on Suguru’s shirt, “I figured- because we- I shouldn’t have-”
“I didn’t say it was bad,” He laughs, “Just an observation.” Satoru leans in for a chaste kiss, quickly pulling on Suguru’s lips in that way he knows he likes and turns away to dig through his kitchen cupboards, “Man, you’re out of cereal again.”
“Satoru.” He snaps and Satoru leans to look over his shoulder. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You just kissed me.” Suguru stares at him disbelieving, like Satoru hasn’t stuck his tongue down Suguru’s throat before.
“I also put my fingers in your ass.” He points out, “Did you.. not want me to?” He tips his head, lowkey a little hurt, “Kiss you?”
“‘Toru.” He starts, and wrings his eyes, “Stop fucking confusing me!” Suguru shoves his hand into his face and Satoru feels like he’s missed an incredibly important detail somewhere, maybe a whole chapter, or maybe he’s in the wrong fucking book, he turns to look at him properly.
“Hoss-”
“That!” Suguru shouts and gestures at him. “You fucking-” He breathes a pained sound, “You kiss me and call me that stupid American name you picked up, you fuck me like you love me and call me your best friend, I don’t get it.” It cracks at the end.
Satoru is, like, feeling a lot all at once. Pressure builds in his head so fast he thinks all the thoughts might make him pass out.
“Are you okay?” He crosses the monstrous gap between them in like a second flat, “Suguru, I- are you okay?”
“Satoru,” Suguru grips the hem of his shirt and Satoru already knows what that means for the inside of his head, but when he steps forward, Suguru steps back, “Satoru, I really—fuck—I meant it when I-” he shakes his head, choking back a sound and Satoru really just want to hold him, “I really like you, Satoru. I wanna be- I want to be more than just a fuck buddy to you, more than your best friend.” He holds Satoru’s eyes with something almost like begging, “I’m—fuck—I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you, instead I just—Christ—I let you fuck me, I.. I used you,” Suguru rubs his hand harshly down his face, ashamed, “Satoru?”
“You said hoss was cool.” Which is possibly the least important detail, but Satoru feels like maybe everything hiding under his skin has just caught fire, the smoke is gathering in his brain and he doesn’t know what to do about that.
“Are you fucking for real right now?” Suguru glares, well actually, it’s more like he’s trying hella hard to keep his shit together, “Holy fuck.” He groans a loud sound and storms towards the hallway.
“Wait, wait, no, Sugu-” Satoru chases him.
“No.” He spins, “I am going to shower, and you-” he jabs a finger into Satoru’s chest, “Are going to think very hard about your words.”
“Wait.” Because Satoru doesn’t really know what else to say, “Sug-” It catches hard in his throat like anxiety and Suguru leaves.
Suguru’s not supposed to leave.
He stands alone in the apartment that might as well be his too. The apartment that has his clothes in the wardrobe, his favourite foods in the kitchen, his shoes, his soap, his fucking toothbrush. Satoru’s hands are shaking, the shower waters running, he tries to focus on that sound.
“You are. You- more, you’re more,” He says to no one, because there’s no one here anymore. Satoru shakes his hands out like maybe it’ll get rid of the clamping feeling in his chest, maybe he’ll be able to flick the knot in his throat off his fingers. He slams his fist against the door, “Fuck, Suguru-” Satoru tries to shout but he thinks maybe he’s forgotten how to exhale. He grinds his palm into his chest hard enough that it hurts, “Plea- h- I think I’m panicking.”
This is possibly the worst fucking timing, Satoru can barely see, tears are making the floor ripple in a way that makes him dizzy, he just uselessly slaps his palm against the door, and really, he should know how to deal with his anxiety on his own by now.
“Satoru,” It swings open, a hand finds his, “Shit, ‘Toru, come here.”
“Su-” Satoru’s voice locks up in his throat, he wrings his face, trying to will a sound out, some feeble attempt at communicating. His ankle clicks on the hard corner of the vanity, his hip hits tenderly on the floor, he can’t breathe out, panting breath in, bracing a hand on the tile floor between his legs, the other punching into his chest, trying to knock the locked-in feeling out of his body.
Suguru’s talking to him, probably about something irrelevant and boring, background noise so Satoru can focus on something outside of his own head.
He tries to wail, he can’t fucking breathe.
Five things. Five things.
The wall is pressing into his spine, it hurts a little, it’s cold, Suguru’s bathroom is always cold.
The lights in here are real bright, that harsh white colour that used to be in the hallway until Satoru broke the bulbs to make Suguru replace them, he cut his finger on the glass.
He knocks his heels into the grooves of the tile grout, shuffling off the suffocating feeling of his socks, slapping the soles of his feet into the smooth surface, he can hear the electricity in the room buzzing.
His fringe is blowing against his skin, the fans right above him, mixing the inside air with the wind from the open window.
Suguru is tapping his hand in a slow rhythm that no doubt matches his own breathing.
Satoru chokes out the tight molasses in his lungs, turning his wrist so he can cling to Suguru’s fingers properly.
He’s talking about his truck, about the warranty or some shit, breaking off when Satoru starts heaving instead of just flailing for oxygen.
“Ke- talk more.” Satoru tries to match his rising chest to the soft pressure of Suguru’s thumb in his palm.
“Satoru,” he links their fingers together and tells him all about the differences between sativa and indica, about the texture of his socks, about this random ass constellation he read an article on last week.
When Satoru can finally breathe at a healthy pace, Suguru moves to crouch in front of him. Satoru can’t help but notice his eyes have been crying too.
“Don’t touch me.” He places his hands on either side of Suguru’s face and Suguru pointedly does not touch him back.
“‘Toru-”
“Wait,” he shivers with nerves, “I gotta- le’mme think,” he wrings his eyes and then locks gaze with Suguru. “I love you.” He almost looks like he’s in pain, he quickly corrects himself, “I’m in love with you.” Satoru shakes and pulls him a little closer, “Fuck, I think I’ve loved you, like, the whole time I’ve known you. I just- I’d never had a proper friend, I didn’t know what was normal.” He presses his thumbs into Suguru’s cheeks, “So I’m a dumbass,” Satoru’s head clicks against the wall and he heaves once, “And I’m, like, super in love with you.”
Suguru looks at a total loss and Satoru feels like he’s made a huge mistake somehow.
“I’m sorry.” He tries, rubbing his thumbs into Suguru’s cheekbones, He doesn’t know what the right answer is, Suguru’s his goddamn moral compass. For every forgotten pleasantry, Suguru is there to correct him, he pisses off a lot of people, but he doesn’t always mean to. He does not usually—accidentally—piss off Suguru. “Is that- Hoss, you better say you like me back or this is about to get real awkward.”
“Satoru,” he laughs, “You fucking idiot.” Suguru’s tone immediately makes him feel better. “You fucking- you said you wanted to be mine, came in my goddamn ass, woke up, kissed me like I was your boyfriend, and called me your best buddy.” He places his hands over Satoru’s with a sigh, “The hell am I supposed to think?”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I straight up told you I loved you!” Suguru looks at him like he’s stupid, “While my dick,” He gestures, “Was in your hands,” He waves at him, “Then I fucking panicked about it.”
“You’ve said that before,” Satoru weakly, pathetically, defends himself, “You said it like ten minutes before that!”
“I said I loved you while you were touching my goddamn cock, Satoru! Y’know like how best bros do.” He drawls sarcasm into his words.
“Oh.” He drops one of his hands to grip Suguru’s, “I am a fucking idiot.” Satoru links their fingers together, “You really like me? How long?” He glances up and Suguru rocks from a crouch to a sit, resting his chin on his knees.
“I tried telling you when we graduated high school.” He smiles, “Moron. Fuck me, it’s like you keep your head inside your asshole when you’re not using it.”
“Rude, you can’t say that to me, I’m a natural blonde, y’know.” Though, Satoru can’t say he’s wrong with all the evidence sprawled over Suguru’s bathroom floor, “I’m also in therapy, that’s not a very healing statement, Suguru.”
“So happens, I am also in therapy, and my guy tells me I could stand to let you get away with less.” Suguru leans in, like he’s about to kiss Satoru and let him get away with anything he can hide behind a wide-eyed pout.
“I don’t like him, fire him.” Satoru tugs on his collar. “I’m, like, super clarifying here: We,” he waves between them, “Are dating now?”
“I think we already were for, like, ages.”
“Probably,” Satoru wraps his arms around Suguru’s shoulders, “That means you’re my boyfriend.”
Suguru bites hard at his smile, “You’re my boyfriend.” His hands still only hover over Satoru’s sides, “I- can- should I kiss you?” Suguru leans forward then back, like he’s warring with himself. “I want- are you okay?”
“Slow.”
So Suguru kisses him slowly, fingers dancing on the bones in Satoru’s wrists when his hands slide to cup his neck, brushing over Suguru’s jaw as he moves at Satoru’s delicate pace.
His hands slip onto Satoru’s collar, kissing him wide but not any less soft. Their kiss stays honest as Suguru gently runs his finger over the dips and sharp edges of Satoru’s neck.
“You’re hair is disgusting.” He pulls back with a laugh.
“It’s not my fault you have shit timing.” Suguru grins heavy on one side, “Shower with me.” And Satoru goes easily when he pulls him up, leaning on Suguru just for the sake of it.
“I don’t want sex.” Satoru says as he climbs in, and Suguru looks at him like he’s forgone any comprehensible language, “Like, right now,” He clarifies and Suguru huffs out a laugh, “I’m so fucken tired, man.”
“Don’t call me man, we’re boyfriends now.” He chides into Satoru’s forehead, kissing his hairline and rubbing his bare hips.
“Okay, lover.” He tries to tease but Suguru’s smile is so radiant it makes the sun look pathetic. “I’m gonna call you Hoss in my vows though.”
“Of course you would.” Suguru’s nose crinkles when he does that squinty smile.
He washes out whatever the green fuckery is that he put in his hair, purposely wringing it onto Satoru when he complains, he tells him it’s probably the healthiest thing his poor skin has ever seen and Satoru tugs his bangs affectionately.
Then when Suguru pulled him into his bed Satoru nervously tried to call him babe and he exaggerated a snarl and went, No, fuck no, Sat, babe is a straight guy word, call me something sexy, so Satoru called him hotcock which apparently was not sexy. Suguru shoved him into his sheets, rough about it until he wasn’t.
Suguru kisses him from his temple to his lips and called him quiet pretty things.
They still clung onto each other until the misfortunate reality of employment ripped them apart.
“Suguru—” His eyelashes flutter, then squeeze against the sunrise from the window. “Su—gu—ru—” Satoru pokes him again. Again again, like, for the eighth time.
“Mn.” Suguru rolls over, tipping Satoru off his chest and curling into him, nuzzling into his collar, hiding from the harsh light. It’s really adorable.
“Susu.” Satoru tugs his hair and he groans, jabbing Satoru in the ribs before using the dips of them like handles, folding his large hands into the grooves like that’s what they’re there for.
“What?”
“I’m horny, fuck me before therapy.” He doesn’t get a response, he wonders if Suguru fell asleep again, “Please?”
“It’s, like, no, too early.” He sighs, “Why do I even like you?”
“Please.” Satoru shoves his nose into his hair, petting it back, running the morning tangles out with his fingers, “If you don’t I’ll cry and wail and absolutely ruin your day.”
“That’s coercion.” But he squeezes Satoru’s sides, “I’m not fucking you ‘til you brush your teeth.” Then he grips harder when Satoru goes to do exactly that, “No— stay, you’re warm.”
“Dramatic much?” Satoru folds his arms around Suguru’s shoulders, happily admiring the way his ring glints in the sun. “I love you.”
“M’lobe you, go sleep.” Suguru slurs and buries himself further into Satoru’s chest. “Ten min..” And he passes the fuck out again.
Suguru did not wake up in ten minutes, and Satoru spent an entire session bitching about how his stupid ass fiancé was starving him of affection, to which his stupid ass therapist said, Okay, and if we talk unmetaphorically, what does that mean? He rolled his eyes and snapped, My asshole is empty, like it’s obvious. She sighs, probably reminds herself that Satoru is paying her to listen to his bullshit while he avoids his real problems.
When he kicks their apartment door open he’s about to be all like, Suguru you have ruined my day, fuck me senseless and make me pancakes, pretty please lover, but before he even gets his shoes off Suguru swings around the entryway corner and does this happy little jog up to him. Satoru melts in every definition of the word. He sinks right into Suguru’s arms as he presses smiling kisses from Satoru’s cheeks to his lips to his ears.
“Satoru, sweetheart.” He hugs his waist tight, “Our rings arrived at the jewellers today.” He bites his smile, “I want to try them on.” Satoru’s back meets the door, “Please?”
“Suguru—” Satoru shoves his face into his collar, “Suguru!”
And they messily sway around in their entrance way, laughing and trying to kiss past their smiles.
“Put your shoes on,” Satoru pats his shoulders fast when he leans down to get them, “C’mon, hurry up. Y’know, maybe we could just elope on the way home, I don’t even need a wedding.”
And Suguru chides him with only his name, but he refuses to let go of Satoru’s fingers until he slips gold onto his fourth.
Satoru lowkey cried when Suguru kissed him.