Work Text:
His hair fell perfectly, not a strand out of place. His brow and facial muscles were relaxed, at peace. His posture—he sat and carried his whole being elegantly, his body aligned from his shoulders to his crossed legs, all angled and measured. Like a beautiful balance—complete control of every minuscule muscle while still holding that softness that made him almost immaculate.
Suzuki watched as the glass tipped in slow motion, pressed to Sugiki’s mouth. The red liquor dampened and glistened on the plump center of his lips, taken, swallowed. Like rain falling exactly on the tips of a rose petal, gliding until it reached the core—blessed as it landed and taken for the sole purpose of being consumed by this exact beauty of an existence.
Tsk.
Suzuki mentally reacted in displeasure as he caught himself drowning again in the allurement of the simple existence of the man by the name Sugiki Shinya—his boyfriend. Well, sort of. Or hopefully they really were.
They had been together now for almost two years or more. It was a bit of a mess how they had started. From starting with a taunt to enter the Ten Dance, to discovering something more, something deeper. This rivalry—no, this fight Sugiki dragged him into was a war that he had no option but to fight until he ended it as the victor. To win by defeating the Grim Reaper himself and let him fall into the arms of the angel he lured into this danse macabre, ending it by taking him as his trophy.
Only Suzuki understood it—the depth. It was almost a plea. Sugiki’s skin ignited with every touch connecting with his, things Sugiki would never claim through words but screamed wordlessly through their bodies.
Sugiki never needed to win the Ten Dance. He had been running and pushing himself, draining his life and everything he had for a false purpose. An invented reason just to continue onward. A fight with himself he could never win, for he had wagered and sacrificed himself in the process.
A trap he had set for himself and could never escape, only awaiting its end. An end that would come only by losing to someone worthy—an angel he himself would mold with his cold hands to triumph. And in the end, wouldn’t dying in the warm arms of an angel be the sole fitting demise for the tragic grim reaper?
And he did.
Suzuki won the Ten Dance by the second year he entered, making a glorious achievement as the first Asian to win the title. Something he himself would never have even imagined coming to reality. But he did.
Through the drive of his love to conquer and carry Sugiki back to himself. In broken pieces or whatever remained to him, he would claim him. Claim Sugiki for himself.
Sugiki could finally let go of his aimless route to win. His lost love would never return when he won. He would never win through brokenness and a body dragged by a soulless being. He would never win without love. And importantly, love isn’t found through winning.
What Sugiki needed was not to win… what he needed is love, and it was Suzuki.
A catastrophe of a relationship they had built from tension, competition, and some heated sex to relieve themselves from unresolved and unclear things going on between them. And it never ended, even after the rivalry. They continued meeting up, acting the same as before, like it was nature for them to banter like an old married couple, warming up through flirting arguments, and ending in bed after. That’s why Suzuki couldn’t count how long they’d been officially together. He was scared to ruin whatever they had. He wanted this. He needed Sugiki. But as much as they had undergone together, weren’t they just fuck buddies? Or worse—just rivals who gave in to the natural need for physical release in the moment. So, Suzuki didn’t question. Didn’t ask for more.
Until—
“Weren’t your boyfriend competing at this year’s Latin Dance Championship in Spain?” a friend asked Sugiki at one event, while Suzuki happened to just arrive, walking towards them.
“Yes. Suzuki is preparing for it,” Sugiki confirmed. Simple. Not a stutter. No denial for the title the other was claiming.
Maybe he didn’t hear that part. Maybe he didn’t take it seriously. Maybe it was some joke he was passing off as nonsense.
“Oh, here’s your boyfriend!” the other man called out to him.
Sugiki turned to him, smiling. He smiled. A smile, he realized, different and more vibrant and just for him. Wider, and his eyes crinkled softly at the edges, glinting for him. Then his hand followed, securing Suzuki at his waist as Sugiki had always held him. Private or public didn’t matter, it didn’t change. Was it always like this? Suzuki paused for a second, thinking, but still couldn’t even get a hold of himself from the words used to describe him.
“Is he alright? He seems a little—“ the man asked concernedly, stepping closer to look at his face.
Sugiki’s brow raised for a second as he eyed the man down, even for someone towering over him. Then his fingers pressed possessively and pulled his boyfriend closer while guiding his self slightly forward—in between Suzuki and the man.
“He’s fine.” He smiled. A grin, almost too proud, behind that perfect expression no one would dare question. “Excuse us for a while.” He nodded a gentle bow, ending the conversation and taking Suzuki away from the crowd at the event.
They went outside the place and ended up at the seats under the pergola in the garden. Sugiki let go of Suzuki’s hand as they sat, now facing each other. His gaze held a hint of worry.
“Are you alright?” he leaned in closer.
Suzuki stared, confused for a second. Sugiki tilted his head, trying to read him further in his silence. He sighed. He reached for Suzuki’s cheek, his slender fingers spreading gently over him. Thumbs nudged his skin softly. Suzuki leaned into the touch instinctively.
“So… mind telling me now?” Sugiki smiled, seeing him at ease. “What’s the problem?”
Suzuki shifted, stiffening at the returning question. His eyes darted, looking almost anywhere but Sugiki’s. He sat upright, fixing himself, his gaze landing finally on the table, all too conscious.
“Suzuki,” Sugiki called out. Firm. Too clear it made his heartbeat skip from fear. After all, he was too familiar with that tone. An order.
“I’m just… just taken aback by what he called me. That’s all,” Suzuki finally answered, honest.
Sugiki frowned. His eyes looked confused as he seemingly walked back through the conversation.
“Boyfriend?” he asked, almost dumbfounded, confirming.
Suzuki didn’t answer. He crossed his arms for comfort and leaned slightly, nodding, looking up at Sugiki with wide eyes and pressed lips like a pout—like a puppy.
“What’s with it?” Sugiki remained serious, still confused.
“Boyfriend,” Suzuki repeated. “Are we? Are we officially together? Boyfriends?” His tone almost broke at the last words.
But Sugiki’s face only deepened in confusion, then morphed into agitation. He gasped a mocking exhale, then slumped back into his seat, crossing his arms and legs.
“Are you saying we are not? Or are you breaking up with me?” Sugiki questioned bitterly.
“What—no! No!” Suzuki was horrified, scrambling at his seat to stand, slamming the table.
The pathetic act, for some reason, earned a pleased smirk from Sugiki. Then he chuckled.
“I got it. Sit down.” He commanded, making Suzuki feel all mixed up—annoyed at Sugiki’s amusement at his feelings, yet relieved by how calm Sugiki was.
Once Suzuki settled back, he obediently sat, hands clasped on the table, waiting patiently.
“You didn’t know we were in a relationship,” Sugiki pointed out, exhaling exasperatedly. “It’s my fault we never had a proper talk about this and just assumed things were official already,” he explained. “I forgot we can be very opposing in some aspects and forgot the crucial thing—" Sugiki paused. "You dumb Latino.”He blurted grimacedly. “Are you taking me as one of your casual hookups then?”
Suzuki profusely shook his head in denial and reached to grab Sugiki’s hands.
“Was it that hard for you to connect the dots?” Sugiki mocked. “Do you think I’d stay with you for a long time if I were the kind of person who gets into casual hookups? That I’d travel—” he groaned. “That I’d even fly, just to get laid? Are you claiming you’re my expensive, bratty escort now?”
Sugiki ranted, but his hands were just as firm within Suzuki’s hold, pressing and squeezing with each harsh word of love he spat out.
Maybe it was out of fury, or maybe his feelings had finally cleared. But Suzuki felt more comfortable with him rambling like this right now. He felt like he was melting just listening to Sugiki.
So they were boyfriends. Suzuki thought, and he couldn’t help but beam widely and stared lovingly at his boyfriend.
Boyfriends.
Sugiki is his boyfriend.
His.
Sugiki stopped and stared at him, ticked off by the plastered smile Suzuki couldn’t help but wear. Sugiki rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help grinning slightly as his boyfriend’s smile lingered and rubbed off on him. Since then, they officially counted that day as their anniversary.
It had been two years from then. They were now finishing up a fancy dinner, and Suzuki was just caught up in the years that had passed and how this man in front of him, drinking his wine, was his. He was down bad with him, but he would not say that out loud, even with how obvious it could be. After all, they spoke the most and connected the most through touch and actions. Both of them were getting better at ‘talking’; they were working on it, but really, it was almost a quirk in their personalities to communicate through their bodies, and it never really bothered their relationship so long as they were officially boyfriends.
But that’s where this new problem, more like a new step they had to take. And like before, rather than talking it out, Suzuki let it stew and stir him inside first until he had to take action.
They were boyfriends… until when? Were they just boyfriends only…and that’s it? If he asked about it, would this relationship end?
Suzuki fiddled with the pocket of his jacket. He watched Sugiki pat his lips clean after drinking. All gentle. All pretty. Sugiki was unfairly gorgeous, and Suzuki both hated and loved it. If he didn’t make an official claim to his boyfriend, a ton of rabid people were already eyeing his Sugiki, waiting to take over his position. Men, women, there was a whole horde of competition.
No. No. No.
It had been years now. He was sure he wanted Sugiki for a lifetime. But did Sugiki feel the same? Wasn’t it said they could be opposing in some things? But he was the pure Japanese one, wasn’t marriage an important thing he aimed for in a relationship? A serious topic they should have talked about? Wait—is being in a gay relationship different? Or was he not serious about their relationship? His brain was spiraling and digging his own deep hole of misery to die in. It felt awful, and he knew he was just overthinking, and yet he couldn’t stop it.
That led him to this. A do-or-die decision.
His hold grew tight on the box. He could feel his hands trembling.
“Are you alright, Suzuki?” Sugiki interrupted his thoughts.
Suzuki raised his head, hands clawing at the edge of the table while the other remained on his box.
Sugiki raised his brow, patiently waiting for him to answer. Suzuki felt a lodge suffocate his airway, his throat constricting. He felt teary. He felt fear tearing through him.
Sugiki was a man who gave orders. A man who led. A man with detailed plans for the things he aimed to claim. A part of Suzuki felt, and knew that if Sugiki truly wanted something, he had already proposed and taken matters into his own hands, not left it to someone like Suzuki, who had a tendency to ride out surging emotions and go with the flow.
And Sugiki did not. Not a word about it. Not a plan. Not a future for them being together.
The constriction in Suzuki’s throat twisted further down, reaching his gut, making him feel like he’d vomit the pricey dinner he’d just eaten.
“Suzuki. Hey, you really don’t look fine to me. Was it the food? What are you feeling? We should go back home.” Sugiki fumbled, trying to remain calm in tone, but his body was already tense and about to stand.
Suzuki held on to him, urging him back to his seat.
He raised his palm, a gesture for Sugiki to stop, giving himself a moment to recollect himself—or even just a small breather. The other understood and obeyed, pausing as requested.
If things went as he hoped, he would go home with peace of mind and heart… and a fiancée. At worst… at worst… he gulped, feeling his fingers pulse as he held the box inside his pocket, the velvet texture almost too soft, slipping in his grip.
At worst... He's going to die.
He's gonna jump off a bridge and end his heart's suffering once and for all.
He exhaled. Too loud, some even peeked at their table. He's spiraling so bad and thinking awful things. It was just a joke. He thought to himself. A joke he tried as cope but partly speaks his inner truths.
Sugiki just gazed at him, concern etched across his features.
He pulled it out. His palm shook over the black box, the table now supporting the weight of something he had been carrying for so long.
“I… I uh—Sugiki… This uhm…” he stammered, starting. “We’ve been together for more than two years now… and I know this isn’t perfect, or… maybe up to your standards… but…” Suzuki paused, words choked as a surge of tears threatened to overwhelm him. “I love you.” Tears fell, and he didn’t bother wiping them, letting them trickle freely. His lips quivered, finding the strength to speak again. “I want you—no, I need you—to be mine forever… Please?”
He finally opened the ring box, revealing a pair of golden bands.
“This is not perfect but, Sugiki… will you—“
Sugiki stopped him. Closed the ring box, the snapped sounded like a haunting echo that kills him inside.
Suzuki felt his heart slowly sink. His grip faltered, his breath caught, and the air seemed to leave him. Sugiki gently pushed the box back to him, but not as gently enough to stop Suzuki from feeling like his life had crashed down in that very second. Speechless, he let the tears continue to stream.
A handkerchief now pressed to his face, Sugiki tenderly dried his tears. Suzuki followed the warm touch, leading back into Sugiki, staring down at him with a gaze full of hurt, pleading, and desperate hope for understanding.
“Let’s go home,” Sugiki said, leaving only Suzuki to follow his body aimlessly. As they left Suzuki continued to feel the slow deterioration crumbling inside him.
Sugiki gave him a few worried glances as he held the steering wheel, driving them back home. Suzuki remained silent in the passenger seat, leaning to the side, looking afar at the passing darkness, with blurred lights from the establishments and streetlights.
Maybe his proposal had been half-assed for Sugiki. Maybe he could try once more, fix it, and do better.
But maybe there was nothing to fix, and that was just it.
Tears fell once more, dripping down his neck and soaking his white turtleneck. Not a sob, not a sniff. Just a silent cry, his broken heart squeezing itself out of his body.
Maybe he was just never enough.
But he didn’t answer him “no.”
But then again, silence was far from yes.
It hurt.
Damn it, it hurt.
He wiped his tears, decided. He’d ask him once they got home. If his unspoken answer was just a gentle no for his dignity’s sake or if there was more to it. He needed to know. He need to so he could grieve and not cling further to a string that was bound to break. Let him say it straight to him. Let Sugiki break him fully, and not half-heartedly.
Once they’re back at their home—yes, they’ve been living together for a year now—Sugiki held his hand firmly as they walked onward. Suzuki was devastated and hurt, and yet he could only pout as Sugiki brushed his thumb soothingly over him, making his heart melt.
This damn fucker is not playing fair with his heart. Suzuki frowned, making an annoyed face as he followed obediently behind his boyfriend, who never looked back and carried a resolute presence that Suzuki could feel even through their silence.
They reached the living room. Sugiki let go of him, and Suzuki could see the small nervousness in Sugiki—how his face barely maintained a straight expression, or how his eyes darted around, almost avoiding him, fearful of something. Like he was lost and confused, stumbling over messy, mixed feelings barely contained—exactly how Suzuki felt.
Ugh. Sugiki is being cute right now.
I love him so much.
I love him so bad…
If only he loves me back in same way I do...
“Sit here. I’ll get tea… and… just wait for me,” Sugiki mumbled, blushing. Suzuki blinked, taking in that expression and embedding it in his memory. Sugiki left, scurrying his way out and even stumbling before he disappeared from Suzuki’s view.
AHH!!!!!!!!!
Suzuki screamed inside as his face felt like it was combusting from the turmoil rupturing inside him. The hurt he had suffered moments ago was now forgotten, drowned by more confusion—and charmed by his boyfriend.
What was that? What’s going on?
His eyes remained locked on the kitchen hall where Sugiki had gone, while his hand trembled, blindly searching for the edge of the couch for support before his knees gave out.
His heart hammered inside his chest, fingers fidgeting over each other as he waited, trying to find a moment to focus and get his shit together.
Clink.
The tea cup was now in front of him, wafting a soothing scent. It was Genmaicha, smelling sweet and nutty, with a hint of refreshing green tea. Sugiki’s own tea cup was settled close to his, along with the whole teapot on a wooden tray set at the table. Something unusual.
Suzuki’s chance to reflect had vanished in mere seconds, leaving him without any resolution. Yet now, he felt unexpectedly calm watching Sugiki settled beside him.
He looked at him, then at the tea set. Sugiki followed his gaze.
“Oh.” Sugiki muttered. “I didn’t bring any tea-treats since we just ate. Do you want anything? I’d just take a minute—“ he offered, but Suzuki held his wrist to stop him and shook his head lightly.
“Tea is fine,” Suzuki claimed, but never withdrew his hold. He noticed Sugiki’s hair was a bit tousled from before. Nothing unattractive—in fact, it was his best look, one he loved. Mess in all the right places, tangled and handsome, and his alone to see. Something he loved seeing soaked or even dripped with sweat as Sugiki pounded on top of him, and by morning, waking up to hair all scattered and pressed against his face, suffocating him… he could just die every time.
“Tea sounds great,” Suzuki muttered once more, trying to realign his thoughts to the matters at hand, not the treat best to pair with Sugiki’s tea right now.
But getting all hot and dirty in bed, or wherever and however Sugiki wanted him, was far more tempting to indulge in than to suffer through this awkward, hurtful talk they were about to have. His horny-coded brain surged and argued.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
He cursed himself, disappointed for being so inappropriate at the wrong time and place.
But really… yes, please. Fuck me, please. Gosh.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to muffle the sinful words going haywire inside him. He took his tea and sipped it, searching for the calm to ease him down.
Sugiki mirrored him and took a sip as well.
By the moment, they halved the tea, getting warmer the longer they sat in silence—unnerving, but also somehow comfortable.
Suzuki peeked at Sugiki and was caught. Rather, Sugiki had been eyeing him, never straying his gaze.
He smiled again. Small. Assuring. Then he lowered the tea and pushed it away, making space on the table in front of Suzuki.
“Since we both have calmed down… now we talk,” Sugiki said, garnering a short nod from Suzuki in agreement.
Sugiki bit and wet his lower lip. Then he exhaled, turned to his side, and brought something to his lap.
“About what you did at the dinner… is that real—are you serious about it?” Sugiki leaned forward, his eyes glimmering with pleading confirmation.
Suzuki frowned a bit, hurt at being doubted, but he waived the thought, sensing Sugiki needed assurance.
“Yes. I am serious with my proposal to you.” he answered. Paused. “And, y’know, it hurt me that you—I'm not even sure if you turned me down or not. Or if we’re still lovers… right now,” Suzuki confessed, trying to be direct and unfiltered. He almost bit the insides of his mouth, trying not to be swayed by his feelings and cry again.
“I’m not turning you down,” Sugiki answered.
Suzuki’s eyes widened. Hopeful. His mouth now curved into a suppressed smile.
“No. No—I’m not saying yes too,” Sugiki added, his tone returning to something reprimanding.
Suzuki’s face contorted into a big sulking sad face, and before he could do more, Sugiki sighed and returned the squeeze on Suzuki’s hand.
“Not yet,” he said, leaning closer to Suzuki. “I won’t say no… so rest assured, Suzuki.” He smiled at him.
“So what is it really? You’re making me confused right now, Sugiki. My heart is not taking your vague answer well,” Suzuki complained, aching. “I was never a no… but am I not enough for a yes?” Suzuki whispered, inching closer so their noses nudged, foreheads pressed. “Sugiki…” he murmured, a tone of desperation laced into the man’s name he yearned for.
Sugiki leaned back into his space.
“Here,” he said, placing the binder from his lap onto the table in front of Suzuki.
Suzuki was still confused, but if this binder was the answer to when he’d finally get his yes, then he’d play along. He grabbed the binder, settled it on his lap, and flipped through random pages, only to find compiled photos of Sugiki. He looked younger there. Likely a teen. Cute. Looking like an asshole for being so perfect—his posture flawless, his smile perfect, that glint in his eyes sharp and confident. Still, his beloved asshole.
So… what’s the point?
He looked back at Sugiki, brows furrowed.
“Don’t look at my photos. Read the attached documents,” Sugiki clarified.
Suzuki did. He flipped to the next page and skimmed through the details. A property title. The establishment behind young Sugiki in the photo. He turned to Sugiki again, mouth slightly open now, brows still knitted, asking for clarity like a confused child.
“It’s one of my properties,” Sugiki explained. “Along with others, if you continue.”
“I’m not marrying your properties, Sugiki. It’s you. Only you I need,” Suzuki interrupted.
“I know that,” Sugiki replied. “But it’s still important, along with the other files inside.”
“Can I... can I have a summary?” Suzuki asked, staring at him with widened eyes and a demure smile, trying to get his easy way.
Sugiki’s brows knitted tighter, irritation flashing, making Suzuki sink lower into his seat.
“You asked me if you were worthy of a yes,” Sugiki said. “And yes—I shall answer yes if you ask me again after reading everything I prepared.”
Suzuki groaned, his body fully slacking against the couch.
“But this is so thick! It’ll take me forever to finish this!” he argued, nearly whining, almost stomping his feet.
“That’s one of four binders I made,” Sugiki added.
Suzuki stared at him in horror, soul visibly leaving his body.
“Four?” he repeated, throat dry and aching from that single word.
Sugiki nodded. “And you’ll get your yes if you still feel like asking after finishing all four binders.”
“C—Can’t I get your yes now? Just for a boost to finish this?” Suzuki begged. “I swear, whatever it contains, I won’t back out of my proposal. Please, Sugiki… please, please. Marry me.”
“No,” Sugiki denied, crossing his arms. “It would ruin the point of you understanding the depth of who you’re marrying. I’m complicated. Stubborn. A mess. And all the conflicts we’ll likely face in the future as a gay couple and as competitors on the same platform are in there.”
He continued, voice firm. “If you don’t have the patience for this small thing, then how can you handle marrying me? You might end up divorcing me, and I won’t allow that. I can’t have that. I can’t survive another heartbreak.”
Sugiki leaned forward slightly.
“If you marry me, you marry me until my last breath, Suzuki. So get your ass up, and I’ll read it with you.”
“Is that why you brought the whole teapot here?” Suzuki asked, still frowning, his head already aching at the thought of four binders while his heart swelled painfully with love.
Sugiki didn’t answer, but it was clear enough. This was a night meant for reading papers.
“Don’t you want to have sex?” Suzuki mumbled, pouting. “It’s our anniversary.”
“Sure,” Sugiki replied eerily calm. “If you only want me like before, as a fuck buddy, then sure, Suzuki.”
The words were bitter. Sharp. They cut straight through Suzuki.
Another strangled moan of pain escaped Suzuki as he collapsed further into the couch, utterly defeated. Suzuki hugged the binder as he laid down with his face still madly sulking staring back to Sugiki.
“First you hurt me. Now you’re denying me sex on our anniversary,” Suzuki grumbled. “What on earth did you put in there that it took four binders… and when did you even make this?”
“I made it since—” Sugiki paused, squeezing Suzuki’s hand tighter in his. “Since that night we danced together for Ten Dance,” he admitted. “It’s law documents, my family background, my finances… and other things. I just want you to be sure. About me. I can’t fall for you any deeper than I already have and be tied to you, only for you to regret marrying me later. You don’t know how much it scares me, Suzuki. Loving you is both the best and the scariest thing I’d ever dare to claim in my life. ”
He paused, composed his self.
“As much as I wanted to propose to you, I waited... because I wanted you to ask me yourself. I’ve been waiting so long for you.” Sugiki opened.
Sugiki felt lightheaded, heavy, as his world suddenly shifted around him. He was moved, pushed down. He stared up at the dimly lit white ceiling, and now, above him was Suzuki, pinning him down. Their bodies pressed together, and he could feel the strained hardness beneath Suzuki’s pants brushing against him. Suzuki was hot. So warm. Like fire, and Sugiki was drawn to him just to survive.
“I love you. Sugiki, I love you,” Suzuki confessed, their hands entwined, pressing tighter as if afraid to let go. “I’m not good with words like you. I can’t put into speech how terrified I am of losing you. I can’t describe how awful it feels to imagine you with someone else… not mine. I don’t know better ways to say that you’re all I ever wanted. I’m asking you to marry me because I need you like an air so I can live. I love you… I love you. Please let me tell you how much I love you every day for the rest of our lives, Sugiki.”
Tears fell, landing on Sugiki’s lashes.
Before a breath could escape, before even a gasp, Suzuki was pulled down, his mouth moving helplessly as Sugiki claimed him. Entering, savoring, lapping and swirling with his tongue, taking full dominion over him.
Suzuki’s breath choked, but Sugiki’s mouth consuming him became everything. To give way. To be taken.
His eyes rolled back in pleasure as his hips moved uncontrollably, chasing what his body demanded.
Then Sugiki freed him, a smirk plastered across his lips as Suzuki gasped for air, panting, choking slightly, his mouth wet as their shared heat and mixed fluid trailed and spilled over the edge of his lips.
Suzuki was left lust-blown, vision blurred from such a short but heated exchange.
“Thought sex—ack—is not on the table for now?” Suzuki grinned, triumphant. “Thought I should finish… my… my homework first before my treat. Like a good boy I am, hm… Sugiki-sensei?” he taunted, still catching his breath.
Sugiki only pulled him back for another wave of kisses, softer this time. Sweet. Chaste, but hungry. Still hot, still wet, still exactly how they communicated best.
“I’ll be the bigger person here and make sure you do it tomorrow,” Sugiki said, hands roaming, slipping beneath Suzuki’s shirt at the back as his other hand began unbuttoning Suzuki’s pants. “After all, I doubt your horny brain right now can comprehend anything other than getting laid.” he added.
“Mmh—fuck, Sugiki,” Suzuki moaned, biting his lip until the sound turned into a purr. “I’m thankful—fuck—I’ll make sure to ace all four binders. So make sure I get your sweet yes.”
Sugiki hummed against Suzuki’s neck. “Yes.”