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Before Shishitoren, Noroshi, and the heavy weight of Bofurin’s legacy — there was Sakura Haruka, his smile, and a road Hayato specifically paved with good intentions.
Hayato didn't mind having to tutor Sakura in most things. The boy was dumb as bricks when it came to basic arithmetic and English (as is common for half the population of the whole damn school), but he possessed a gentle and almost child-like curiosity for everything. Anything he could get his hands on, soaking up information like a plant in the sun.
Hayato didn't mind the after class discussions, the late nights in the local library, and the sleepovers spent poring over a stack of Sakura's barely legible notes. This was his captain, and someone Hayato trusted with his life. They didn't have assignments or exams to begin with — but when the other boy pleaded with Suo for “biology help” one morning patrol, Hayato didn't think twice before agreeing immediately.
—
“How much of this are you familiar with, captain?” Hayato whispers into Sakura’s left ear. His hand covers the shorter boy’s own hand under his right thigh, pushing it even farther from Sakura’s other leg like he knows his captain is capable of. Sakura’s cunt is a little pink and slightly slick with moisture, probably confused arousal from the compromising position they've found themselves in. It’s tight. Twitching. At a glance, Hayato can tell nothing’s ever been in it at all. Nothing, until today.
Haruka shakes his head, bashful and indignant. He hates not knowing things. Hates being ignorant. He's willing to learn things if there were people to teach him, but something wasn't right with how everyone seemed to know about this stuff but himself at this age. They all said it was fine — normal to not know these things. Haruka also knew that they were hiding their surprise by the skin of their teeth.
Hayato sees the frustration that flashes through Sakura's expression and shushes him like a child. “That's alright, Sakura-kun. It's just me. Your equipment’s a little different than mine but, well, —”
His index finger, gentle but callused, swipes the little nub at the top of Sakura’s cunt in a tight circle and the boy keens before snapping those muscled thighs shut around Hayato's wrist like a python. It's barely anything, but still too much to someone who never knew they could be touched in this way before. Hayato bites back his drool.
“... I should still be able to teach you to make it feel good.” He finishes at last.
Sakura is panting atop him on the bed, chest moving with shallow breaths like he's nervous beyond relief of what Hayato will do next. Hayato simply buries a selfish smile into the crook of Sakura’s throat, hiking his captain farther up his lap as he rests against the headboard. Sakura knows nothing, and Hayato’s been instructed to teach his captain everything.
Little by little, with Hayato’s calming remarks, Sakura unwinds his legs from Hayato’s wrist. The joint now feels somewhat sore, yes, but Hayato supposes that the strength of Sakura’s kicks have to come from somewhere. The knowledge almost makes him giddy with delight. Sakura grumbles something beneath his breath, leaning back as Hayato gently pries his thighs back open with a nip to his nape.
When Hayato was ten, his uncle took him to a pottery shop.
They wanted to teach him how to make a tea set. A bit of an odd choice for honing one’s control and dexterity, but his masters were always quite the unconventional sort. It was an arduous process, with many steps. He was expected to learn a master’s level understanding of the clay and kiln with the mind of a child and only a few weeks to spare. Still, the Suo family is built on discipline and restraint — so Hayato persisted.
He was at the pottery shop for two months and thirteen days. Covered in terracotta, stained with glaze, and smelling like a burnt brick oven. His uncle must have guided him through hundreds of sets that were broken and remade again. Thrown, sculpted, fired, inspected, shattered, and thrown again. A pattern he could recognize in his sleep. And at last, he had finally made one. A perfect, if small, tea set. Adorned with designs of lovely wisteria trees and hummingbirds along the bottom that he handpainted with gentle trembling fingers. Hayato’s uncle even had a custom stamp for him to sign it with, allowing Hayato to admire the grooves and details of his crest as he toted it home to show the masters.
Until now, Hayato has not been allowed to use the tea set once.
Holding Sakura feels like holding the fine china. He is made of strong clay and hardened through the trial of fire, but he is flighty and delicate in the way one wrong move could break him into pieces. His captain gets into a fight every other day, but despite it all feels like he could shatter if Hayato spanked him hard enough to cry. Hayato is a careful, careful man — but he is so very thirsty and Sakura is that clay cup with painted trees and the birds, brimming with sweet drink.
Hayato shapes him. He tries again with his fingers, soothing long strokes on Sakura’s clit with his thumb. His right knee carefully pins Sakura’s thigh to the side while his other arm tightens its grip around Sakura’s waist. His captain lets out harsh breaths, as if trying to control himself without Hayato asking a damn thing, but Hayato still feels the responsibility to teach him something new.
“Captain, I want you to try keeping your thighs open for me,” Hayato breathes again, next to Sakura’s ear. The other boy nods his head slowly, biting his lip like he doesn’t know whether to growl or to whimper. “No matter how weird or good it feels, you must learn to keep them open.”
With no further warning, Hayato slips his hand between Sakura’s folds again and spreads them. He collects slick like it’s payment, coating his middle and ring fingers until they gleam in the late afternoon sun through the window of Sakura’s bedroom. Hayato brings them up a little, then makes slow rocking motions on Sakura’s clit once more that go ‘round and ‘round like a spot of clay on a throwing wheel. Between the roaring in his ears, Hayato clears his throat at the schlick-schlick-schlick sound that each pass makes.
Sakura’s voice is quivering when he speaks up. “How are you ...?”
“Feels good here, no?” the taller boy replies simply. He knows that Sakura knows the names of all the parts of his own anatomy. That much was at least settled. With such a perfect fucking cunt however, Hayato could only guess at why Sakura’s never touched it before. It’s gorgeous, and once again Hayato remembers that the nicer plates are only ever reserved for guests. He uses the blunt nail of his middle finger to flick the sensitive nub down, before applying a deeper pressure with both fingers on his clit that makes his captain flutter his thighs like a clipped butterfly.
Sakura just barely catches himself from slamming his legs around Hayato’s wrist again, and he mumbles into the other boy’s neck. “Rough, rough! Too much!”
“You bark like a dog,” Hayato teases amusedly. With the hand that was playing with his clit, Hayato grabs one of the hands Sakura has fisted into the sheets. He gently guides it over the peeking nub and guides it in the same circular motion that he’d been doing. Sakura truly does whimper then as Suo forces him to play with his own clit, trying to match his pace and pressure, and keeping his thighs open like it’s a tough battle he’s on the losing end of.
“G’nna put a collar on me, then?”
Goodness, this boy will kill me.
Hayato nips him in the ear for his sass, and the boy on his lap laughs a little despite the bright red of embarrassment taking over his cheeks. Sakura does end up losing some of that bravado when Hayato grabs his other hand and guides it to finger between folds. His stance is awkward, shoulders hunched as Hayato manipulates him into finger-fucking and clit-teasing himself like a depraved whore. It’s the easiest way for Sakura to learn how to make himself feel good, Hayato reasons. But he pays close attention to the way Sakura’s calloused fingers slip into his own hole and knows he is a disgusting liar.
Predictably, Sakura moans like he’s overwhelmed.
“S-Suo, please. Does i-it always feel like this? It’s starting to f-feel weird –”
He shushes Sakura, using gentle touches to guide those twitchy thighs a little wider. Sakura makes another noise that makes Hayato fear he’s actually hurt himself, but instead pauses when he looks straight ahead and sees they’ve shifted within frame of Sakura’s mirror.
Their rumpled forms stare back at them accusingly. A part of Hayato wants to grimace, acknowledging his slightly ruffled hair and partially unbuttoned Tangzhuang, but the greater sum of him is fully distracted by the shivering wreck between his knees. Sakura is, in the simplest of terms, breathtaking as he turns bright red in face of his own debauchery. Creamy thighs spread open, not a damn thing hidden from sight. His fingers shake with every downstroke, sinking into a tight wet heat that Hayato wants to fill until it's sick and sore.
Hayato whispers at him to keep finger-fucking himself when his tempo stutters from embarrassment, watching the mirror with eyes like a hawk. Hayato wonders why his captain keeps listening to his instruction so obediently when shame seems to linger in his every thought, but it’s hard for either of them to have any greater cognition as the squelching gets louder.
Sakura gasps, fully humping into his own fingers like he was born for this exact purpose. “Feels w-weird. I think… It feels like…”
Hayato makes a sympathetic noise, sneaking a hand under Sakura’s white shirt to gently swipe at his nipple. “Feels like something’s coming out?”
He gasps at Hayato’s fingernail flicking his tit, but shakes his head quickly. Sakura frowns, shifting his hips and sliding so that he’s more secure on the taller boy’s lap, but it seems to make him frustrated as he tries to chase what is, ostensibly, his very first orgasm ever.
“Don’t chase it,” Hayato chides, pulling Sakura’s hips down from where it began to hitch up in order to seek pleasure. Sakura whimpers frustratedly, forcing his thighs open when they begin to close from the effort. Hayato’s eyes train on the defeated red rim of Sakura’s cunt in the mirror as he works on his restraint. “Just focus on how good it already feels, and you will come all on your own.”
The fact of the matter is that Hayato cannot keep his hands off his captain. All the while Sakura’s been fingering and stroking himself into a pink haze, Hayato’s light touch has been trailing between Sakura’s thighs, down his stomach, and under his shirt like a bird looking to nest. He squeezes and gropes, shapes Sakura’s position and guides him away from bad habits like closing his thighs or looking away. Hayato tries not to think too hard about the people who will reap the rewards of his training for his captain, but well. It is difficult and he is only human.
He knows he could probably make Sakura fall apart in seconds. Knows he could find that good spot, or suck Sakura’s clit so gently it feels like falling into clouds. Hayato knows what he is capable of, and that it looks like his captain laid in rumpled sheets with legs that can’t stop shaking no matter how hard he tries. It looks like pleasure and ruin, like Sakura gasping Hayato’s name as if it’s all he can remember.
He also knows he could make Sakura dependent on him. Desperate for Hayato and Hayato’s touch alone. Palm stuck cupping an ache between his legs that won’t go away until Hayato can get his fingers, teeth, tongue, anything within its reach. Hayato thinks he can make it so Sakura never learns to come by himself at all. Ruin him for anything and anybody else, so that Hayato can get his fill. Can quench his thirst. Can drink and drink and drink until the cup breaks and he has to reshape him all over again.
But that is not what his captain wants from him.
“You can do it, Sakura,” Hayato encourages instead. His heart thrums beneath his ribcage where he hopes Sakura won’t notice. He wants to sink his fingers in that tight, tight space. Feel Sakura’s heartbeat for himself with his own hands. “You’re doing so good.”
When Sakura makes himself come, it is obvious and slow-moving. His hips are the first to still, tensing and backing into the cradle of Hayato’s lap like it’s finding home. They stutter, allowing Sakura to arch against Hayato’s stomach like a taut bow ready to snap — pushing his fingers deeper and making that pink wet mouth of his fall open with a gasp. Sakura’s dramatic about it of course, hyperventilation interspersed with high-pitched squeals as the sensation takes him over by surprise, moving his fingers over his nub and inside his cunt only out of pure need to chase that high, quivering against the line of Hayato’s front as the taller boy tries to recount all the reasons he can’t ravage his captain until he sobs.
Sakura pulls his hands away too soon to prolong his orgasm in a way that Hayato knows would make him feel even better. So, without thinking, Hayato presses his captain’s hips back into his lap with one arm and uses his right hand to continue rubbing tight circles around Sakura’s clit. The shorter boy yelps, losing the war with his thighs as he clenches them around Hayato’s hand once more. He shakes like leaves in a storm, moaning like he’s being tortured as Hayato draws out that orgasm like pen to paper all while staring at their reflections dead in the eye.
Hayato distracts himself by explaining the pleasure to Sakura in the most even tone he can manage, even as the other boy continues to shiver. “It’ll feel better to ride it out, captain. Draw it out a little bit, get it all out of your system.”
He goes until Sakura eventually stops twitching, slowly unclenching his thighs until Hayato’s hand is free and they can both see the thick, white slick clinging to Sakura’s tired folds. Hayato has to swallow back all the drool that's collected in his mouth, pathetic like a dog begging for a steak. It’s small mercies that Sakura’s head is too fuzzy and fucked out to notice the way Hayato struggles to school his expression, to hide the throbbing ache in his pants, to remain unflappable as always. It’s a battle he’s losing all on his own.
“Same time this Thursday?”
It goes like that for a bit. Every week, Sakura invites Hayato over to his house, locks the door, and touches himself stupid with his vice captain whispering steady commands next to his ear. He gets better and better at, well, making himself feel good — and Hayato slowly loses his mind over teaching and teaching but never quite taking anything for himself.
He should. Take for himself, that is. It would make lessons easier, would help Sakura understand how to move those naturally-talented hips and flexible body to feel good and make other people make him feel good. Hayato never asked why Sakura wanted to learn any of these things to begin with, and he’s still too scared to know the truth. He should take things for himself, but he doesn’t because despite what anyone will tell you, Hayato does not enjoy getting hurt. So Hayato reclines back on the wall and watches the shorter boy slowly learn to come by himself.
All that being said. Hayato does fancy himself a bit of fun once in a while.
When Sakura lets him into his apartment, his eyes immediately zero-in on the plastic bag Hayato has with him today. Usually, he just comes straight from Bofurin and patrols a little before heading to Sakura’s place — so obviously Sakura’s taken a little aback when he’s a whole hour early and with something outside his usual fanfare. The shorter boy makes a curious noise and paws at the plastic bag, before Hayato tuts at him and gently bats his prying hands away. They’ll both have plenty of time to thoroughly explore what Hayato’s brought before the day ends, of course.
Oh captain, his captain, Hayato prays that Sakura does not kill him for the contents of his plastic bag.
They used to have a whole preamble of stilted work updates, patrol reports, and weather talk before getting down to business. Sometimes Sakura brought out tea and made both of them some light snacks to nibble on before either of them even looked in the direction of his bedroom. Nowadays, Hayato removes his shoes and knows instinctively that Sakura is already waiting for him in front of the mirror, thighs spread and fingers obediently tucked between his knees.
Hayato brings the plastic bag with him, digging something out and humming when Sakura looks at him curiously. He obscures the object behind his back and takes his usual position seated behind Sakura until his front is pressed flush to the other boy’s back. Sakura takes to his usual position, one hand fingering himself and the other headed for his nub, when Hayato intercepts and bats the latter away.
“Think you can learn to come without touching your clit?”
Sakura’s reflection snarls at him, face already a deep red from watching his own depraved movements. No matter how many times they’ve done this, Sakura still looks afraid of looking at himself. It’s not something Hayato’s been able to train him at just yet, but he honestly quite likes this particular weakness as it is. Regardless, his captain acquiesces and slowly fingers himself until he comfortably reaches three fingers with quite a bit of slick to spare.
Hayato takes a moment to feel bad, before he shoves two of his own fingers inside right next to his captain’s own hand.
Sakura chokes on a yelp, fighting to keep his thighs open as he stretches a lot more than he had a few moments ago. His other hand goes to grab Hayato’s wrist to pull it out, but Hayato remains firm and crooks his fingers into a spot he’s been aching to touch.
“S-Suo! Wh’ the f-fuck?!”
“Sorry,” Hayato says unrepentantly. “Sorry, I know. I’m trying to teach you something new. Can you handle this, captain?”
The shorter boy whimpers desperately, insides going wild and fluttery against the foreign fingers consistently nudging at his g-spot with a one-track-minded precision. His back arches again, pushing their joint hands against each other like he wants both more and nothing at all. Right when it seems Sakura’s about to come at once, Suo takes both their hands out and pulls Sakura’s hips down against his abdomen.
Predictably, his captain is upset. “For f-fucks’ — ! Suo, you bastard, if you’re going to surprise me like that, you may as well have also let me get off!” Understandably, Suo has to dodge an errant fist or two and takes the elbow to his gut with a well-earned grace. He waits until he can no longer feel Sakura’s pulse jack-rabbiting against his ribs, and offers Sakura a peck to the temple for all his efforts.
Hayato apologizes again. “I wanted to switch the routine up today, but didn’t warn you in case you’d overthink it.” To which Sakura only deigns him with a few grunts in acknowledgment. “Captain — look at me.”
When heterochromatic eyes bashfully meet Hayato’s sole wine red one in the mirror, Hayato smiles softly, tucking his captain comfortably against him with an arm across Sakura’s chest like a particularly secure seatbelt. Without missing a beat, he holds up the soft yellow silicone egg he’d been carrying with his other hand and begins to shove it inside Sakura’s slick gaped cunt.
“Hold it.”
“What is — Suo?!”
“Hold it, captain. Do your best to keep it inside.”
“N-no! What the fuck?! Is that a —”
“You told me, right? Your initial request to me was to teach you how you can make others feel good, and I told you you’d only know after you can make yourself feel good — so you told me you’d do whatever it takes to learn more?”
“Well, yeah, but —”
Hayato’s tone turns firm, brooking no room for argument. “This is me telling you you now know how to make yourself feel good. Now trust me captain, and listen when I tell you to. Hold. It.”
The toy slips in after a second of struggle against the widest part of the shape. The slight gape of Sakura’s cunt shows the vibrant yellow in the mirror’s reflection, playing hide and seek with every one of Sakura’s own clenches and twitches. His captain follows his order valiantly, attempting to stop it every time the silicone egg threatens to pop back out again. Hayato hears him mewling and it feels like a pyrrhic victory.
“Clenching down feels good for your partner,” Hayato supplies simply. It is not a lie. Hayato would have loved to experience the dividends of this lesson personally for himself, but again. It’s not what his captain wanted. ”Drag your walls against them, and I guarantee they’ll be very happy men.”
Sakura nods timidly at the mirror, fighting spirit all but wrung out of him as the egg presses against his insides. It’s not that small a toy either, just wide enough that the threat of it slipping back out is always going to be at the back of his captain’s mind. Neither of them know what would happen if Sakura let it slip back out — Hayato hadn’t ever even thought that far. But, well. Sakura’s determination seems to drive him all the same. Hayato breathes slowly and continues with his plan.
“Stand up, captain. This position is too easy for you.”
Sakura looks like he wants to protest so desperately, but can only bring himself to nod and get on his knees. It’s uneasy and takes Hayato’s own assistance to get Sakura to stand, but he does it eventually with shaky legs and even shakier breaths. His feet are gently kicked apart, poor cunt working overtime to keep that egg in against the force of his own looseness and gravity working against them. Hayato sees the tempting and gentle way it twitches, cunt adjusting until it holds the egg as best it can.
“Good job,” Hayato mirthfully murmurs into Sakura’s blushing nape. He grabs the remote from his pocket and leans forward, pressing into Sakura’s back until they’re both bowed and his captain’s forehead leans against the mirror. “You can either look away from the mirror or you can control the vibrator. Take your pick, captain.”
Sakura’s expression looks mutinous from where it glares back at Hayato through the mirror. He seems to contemplate, weighing both options in mind like it was a tough battle ahead of him.
“I want control,” Sakura says at last. He’s pouting brattily, and Hayato can’t help but croon and rub his hip in consolation. Hayato was kind of looking forward to controlling his captain’s orgasms, but he doesn’t let it get the best of him. Besides, maybe this can finally help him nail home Sakura’s self-image issues.
It’s a simple device, in the other boy’s trembling hand.
Sakura meets his own eyes in the mirror with an air of petulance and apprehension. It’s obvious he’s trying not to acknowledge what a wreck he’s become. The red rims of his eyes, the hazy flush on his cheeks, the stains of sweat from effort and sheer arousal — all sights reduced to nothing compared to the puffy outline of his cunt.
Hayato looks at the slight movements they make, and can trace every exact moment Sakura spends feeling the egg threaten to pop out through the gaped entrance before he catches himself and brings it back.
“No cheating, captain. Turn it on. Try to stay upright and keep it inside for at least thirty seconds, hm?”
His captain takes on the challenge.
Sakura flicks his thumb and brings the toy up to the first level to test the waters. The gasp that tears through him is absolutely gutting – sudden vibration causing him to cross his legs lest the egg fall right out and springing tears into his eyes. Sakura whines high and distressed, pitching to the side before Hayato steps in to support his weight.
His captain leans on him, shaking all over and cramming a hand between his legs to keep the toy in at all costs. Sakura’s shoulders shake, legs unsteady and scrambling for purchase against strong vibrations that Hayato probably should’ve double-checked before trying on poor Sakura. The shorter man claws against the arm Hayato braces around his waist, keeling over as what must have been a sudden orgasm rushes through him.
Sakura hurriedly shuts off the toy with a click, collapsing against Suo’s hold like a puppet cut from its strings. Hayato clucks his tongue and brings his captain’s chin up to keep looking at the mirror.
“Too hard?”
The shorter man tears up, nodding at the mirror. He looks shocked. A little fucked stupid, actually. Hayato was waiting for the indignant screams or demands for the lesson to end there, but here Sakura is looking lost and desperate to get this one thing right. He shifts, moving to stand behind Sakura instead and support him from behind. Sakura looks at him through the mirror, leaning back as Hayato hoists him up from the biceps and tucks his head over black and white tresses.
“Need help?”
“...Yes, please.”
Hayato wastes no time kicking Sakura’s feet wider apart in stance, forcing him to begin clenching on the toy again to avoid it slipping out. His forearms brace against Sakura’s upper body, pinning the shorter boy’s arms to his sides and forcing Sakura’s back to his front. His captain’s head lolls against Hayato’s left shoulder of its own volition, eyes looking down at his own reflection like promised. Sakura slurps in oxygen in several deep breaths as if bracing himself, briefly making eye contact with Hayato through the mirror like he’s asking for permission.
Sakura switches the toy on the lowest setting again, and his knees barely manage not to buckle.
“Mm – hn!” The shorter boy trembles a bit, thrashing as his body fights the urge to double over and touch himself. Sakura does a good job however and manages to still keep his legs spread, keeping the toy in with sheer internal contraction as he cries once more. Each movement unwittingly grinds him back into the rigid line of Hayato’s body, pressing against the aching erection he’s long since given up trying to conceal.
Hayato shrugs up, making sure Sakura still has his footing beneath him and shushes his captain soothingly. The other is crying openly now, gasping for air as he does his damn best to learn what Hayato’s been teaching him. “You’re okay, captain. You’re okay. Twenty-one seconds to go. Let it out, if you need to.”
Sakura legitimately sounds tortured now, wailing and clawing at the taller man’s arm like his pussy was naught but a gaping wound. Hayato can’t tell if he’s coming, or if he already did, or if it was only on the way at all — just that Sakura was drowning in the foreign stimulation and taking it like a fucking champ.
“Suo, S-Suo I can’t. S’oo much. Too much!”
The taller man can’t help but squeeze him a little and press a kiss to Sakura’s temple. “No, I promise. You’re almost done. You’re doing so good, just a few more seconds.”
Between the tremors and definite-orgasms wracking Sakura’s tired body, Suo sneaks a hand down between spread legs to cup that overworked cunt, less to help and more as a safety net as Sakura loses more and more coherence to keep grip on the toy grinding mercilessly inside of him. Unintentionally bumping against the tender folds, his captain twists and thrashes slightly in vain attempt to escape all sensations.
“Keep holding it, Sakura.” Another kiss to the temple. Hayato even dares to lick off a drop of sweat. “Almost there.”
Hayato would like it on record that he tried and, in his opinion, lasted a whole hell of a lot longer than most people would when tempted with sin incarnate. For the record, he is a man who prides himself on his incredible self-control and fortitude of will. He did what was asked, took only what he could, and put his captain’s feelings consistently over his own. Hayato never once took advantage of this lifetime opportunity he was given, and only ever finally relieved himself late at night tucked in his room, far far away from Sakura Haruka.
He thinks, then, he can be forgiven for these slight slips in his restraint.
“Ten,” Hayato begins counting down leisurely. His foot once again comes to knock Sakura’s legs wide open, tight grip around his chest being the last thing keeping his captain from tumbling to the ground. Sakura keens confusedly, barely having the time to think past stopping himself from dropping the toy completely.
“Nine,” Hayato continues, swiping a forefinger along the tender seam of Sakura’s gorgeous cunt. It’s soft and bright red against his touch, struggling enough that Hayato can feel the slight vibrations of the toy going crazy inside of his captain. Sakura drops the remote with a clatter and resigns himself to feeling every ounce of sensation with a distinct lack of control.
“Eight.” The gentle swipe turns into a palm rubbing slowly against the general area of Sakura’s clit. It’s not a sharp pain, but an all-encompassing press that drives Sakura insane as a fresh sob breaks anew from his hoarse throat. Hayato fantasizes of replacing his palm with his lips, and decides maybe he’ll save that break in control for another time.
“Seven.” Instead of the side of his head, Hayato dares to plant a kiss on the corner of his captain’s mouth. He doesn’t allow himself any closer than that, but it’s enough to feed that obsessive beast inside him a little longer. Spit leaks from the corner of Sakura’s mouth, and Hayato eats it up like honeydew right from the cut of the fruit.
“Six.” Using the hand cupped over Sakura’s pussy as leverage, Hayato lifts his captain slightly to adjust him against the cradle of Hayato’s hips. He imagines the pressure and forces of gravity work against Sakura, forcing him to clench tighter against the toy pushing even deeper against his g-spot. True to form, Sakura wails for a moment, clawed grip changing destination to the arm braced above his tender core.
“Five, four.” Lined up perfectly now, Hayato presses his hard length against Sakura’s entrance. His pants are fully ruined with stains of precome, straining to contain his cock that’s been hard since he walked through the door to Sakura’s apartment. Restraint, in this, is not stripping off his pants and rawing his captain until he can’t walk. Restraint, in this, is Hayato simply feeling the sloppy folds of Sakura’s gorgeous quim through barriers of cloth.
Hayato does not make it to three.
Between one number and the next, he cannot resist a particularly hard thrust against that vibrating and warm fuckhole as his hand pushes Sakura’s hips back on him. Sakura, who had been valiantly clenching and standing since this whole debauchery began, had finally lost the battle against his many orgasms and fucking squirted on the next movement.
The vigorous climax had overtaken his limbs once more, twisting him out of Hayato’s iron-clad hold and allowing him to buckle over as Sakura’s knees gave out beneath him. He fell into a squat, a little ways in front of his vice captain and spills himself onto the floor. The yellow vibrator falls out of him with a clatter, and Sakura has to support himself with his arms thrown out as the pleasure kept going and going. Hayato has never seen him squirt this much before. Hayato had never seen anyone squirt this much before.
Eventually, the orgasmic gush slows down to a trickle and Sakura collapses into a sitting position. He looks like a hot mess in front of the mirror like that, hair ruffled and legs akimbo with his cunt fully exposed like he was too fucked out to care about anything else anymore. Hayato had long since come the second Sakura fought out of his grip, and could only observe in painfully aroused awe as Sakura’s trembling hand finally reaches for the fallen remote and turns the toy off. His captain swallows around a dry throat and sniffles.
“... I didn’t make it to thirty seconds.”
Hayato looks into the mirror and cocks his head to the side. He wonders distantly, maybe it’s not about the cups. Maybe it was never about the cups. Maybe he’s always only ever been this desperately thirsty. Sakura looks at him muzzily, and it feels like the first sip.
He sighs. “That’s alright. We can try again next week.”