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"Keishin~" You sing from the bedroll. "I'm hungry. We should go get something to eat."
A pre-wrapped onigiri is tossed your way over Keishin's shoulder. Not a glance or single word uttered your way. The rice and seaweed snack falls onto the blanket at your lap; you give it the same treatment Keishin is giving you, ignoring it entirely. He's far too engrossed in the volleyball game on TV to pay attention to you. Getting a little attention is the sole reason you forced your way into his apartment, calling just before he closed the shop for the day, ignoring his insistence that he was too busy to hang out, that he has to be up early and there's so much he needs to do. He let you inside when you showed up on his doorstep, but that didn't stop him from actually keeping his word on being too busy.
You huff and lean on your elbow to look around Keishin. A high school volleyball game, something he's supposed to be studying and researching for his own team and blah blah blah…He's not paying attention to you and it's beginning to piss you off. Already you'd tried to tear his attention away saying you're thirsty and his eyes barely left the screen when he poured tap water into a glass. What much more can you do to get just a crumb of attention?
"I don't want this." You all but pout, tossing the onigiri back towards Keishin.
"Go downstairs to the shop and grab whatever."
"I want something hot."
"Then use the fucking microwave!" He yells, already tired of your whining. Keishin rewinds the tape with one hand and lights a cigarette in his mouth with the other.
"No! I want to go out! I didn't come here to entertain myself—I'd stay home for that." As you speak, you push yourself onto your knees, crawling towards Keishin and draping your body along his back. "What's the point of me being here if you're going to ignore me?"
There's a low growl that you feel more than you hear with your chest against his back. Keishin inhales and then exhales cigarette smoke. "I told you I'm busy and you came here anyway."
It was your turn to make noises, groaning loud and dramatic as you climb over Keishin like he was a jungle gym. With your arms over his shoulders, you swing one of your legs over his lap, hanging off of his neck with all your weight. The whole time his eyes were glued to that fucking TV screen. He even switched hands to hold both his cigarette and remote in one, since you tried to obstruct his other to keep him away from the controller.
"I wish you wouldn't smoke. It's disgusting."
Keishin knows what to do and what not to do. You've known each other for years, perfected the dynamic of flirtatious friends, people in their twenties that are getting by in life trying to enjoy themselves. Which means, when he sucks on the end of his cigarette and proceeds to blow the smoke directly into your face, he knows exactly what he's doing. No shit-eating grin necessary.
Your nostrils and lungs burn from the forced inhalation of smoke but you still hang off of his neck like a monkey on a branch. Coughing and shaking your head to escape the fog, you spit out Keishin's name as a warning; this time, the playful whine in your tone was nowhere to be found.
Just when he looks to be taking another drag and the threat of another face-full of smoke lingers, you reach out and grab ahold of Keishin's wrist as it makes its way towards his slightly puckered lips, meeting his eyes that peer at you from the corner. The air in the room shifts. "You're an asshole." You bite and Keishin grins like a schoolboy—all mischief and chaos.
"I keep saying I'm busy." He responds innocently and you can feel him lightly testing your grip on his wrist.
"Don't you dare." You grit and Keishin rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh.
"You don't have to stay here, y'know!? This is my apartment." He fights harder against your grip, one that's much weaker than his forearm strength and doesn't take much for his lips to wrap around the butt and suck some of the smoke out. You weren't going to let him think he can get away with it again.
There's a scuffle with some gritted words of frustration shared between you. You reach out to fight the cigarette out of Keishin's hand while he tries to keep it away from you—mindful about trying not to burn down the building. Despite putting up a little bit of a fight, it was easy for Keishin to gain the advantage and pin you down atop his bedroll, all with one hand and his body weight.
A flash of surprise crosses your face when you realise what had happened; the air in your lungs suddenly pushed out with the force of your back on the floor, the weight of Keishin's body leaning over you, one hand holding your wrist to the sheets beside your head while the other still clings onto a half-smoked cigarette. He's nestled between your legs so easily and if it were anyone else, that fact would make you sick. But because it's Keishin, your friend and number one guy to annoy, it doesn't seem so bad.
Looking up at him with a mixed smirk—somewhere between a grin and gritting your teeth—you reach out for his cigarette with your free hand. Keishin took it as bait, taking a healthy drag of the cigarette and inhaling it to his lungs, a cheeky spark in his eye that told you exactly what was coming next.
Before you could wiggle from his grasp, Keishin leans down and exhales the smoke in his lungs directly over your face. Coughing and sputtering, you struggle under his broad frame. For a guy who's practically made of smoke and can drink his own weight in beers, he sure is lean and strong. Over your cries of distress and anger, you hear him laughing, finishing off the last of the cigarette before expertly tossing it into the ash tray behind him. Not for a second did he alleviate his grip on you. There was only one thing left to do to pay him back.
You reach over and bite Keishin's arm that held you down. Hard enough to leave indents of your teeth in his skin but not enough to bleed. You expected the hiss between clenched teeth, but you didn't anticipate the way his hips would grind into you. It catches you off guard, your jaw slacking from the attack on his arm and a pathetic moan vibrating against his swollen skin. At first you're embarrassed—despite the already suspect position—but when your eyes meet one another and you rest your head back down on the futon, you bite your lip to carelessly hide a cheeky smile.
The air, thickening since you'd arrived, grows to dizzying lengths of unbreathable. Not at all negatively, though. It's hot and a little uncomfortable, amplifying the arousal that fogs your mind and the steady buzzing in your clit at the friction. Keishin's eyes darken as he became serious, tightening his grip on your wrist and pinning down your other hand with his, letting fingertips dig into tender bones—enough to be considered a warning.
A room once full of giggles and teasing is near-silent. The TV plays a volleyball match in the background; squeaking of trainers on the court, call outs and the almost rhythmic slapping of a ball. There's a fire between you, a threat of anger that's thinly veiled with play, tempered by the slow rocking of Keishin's hips against you.
You lock your legs around his hips to keep him close—you know that if he thinks you're enjoying this too much, he'll pull away and insist he's too busy to keep playing, just so he can see that angry look in your eye and the bratty pout on your bottom lip.
Keishin steals the air from your lungs again when he kisses you so suddenly. It's hard to decide if it's out of horny desperation or his own frustration at just how much of a pain you've been. All mangled teeth and sloppy tongues that don't want to coordinate with one another. It's hardly a kiss but a fight; an excuse to annoy one another some more, push each other over the edge to see who will give in first.
And fuck is he putting up a good fight.
Every rock of his hips has your brain short circuiting. It was impossible to keep yourself from moaning his name, not when his cock was rock solid in his thin shorts and rubbing against your clit in a way that made you see stars. Both of you are still clothed and you're practically mewling.
While you don't want him to win, not yet at least, you struggle to keep your mind focused. Lapping at his tongue and flexing under his hold, you bite his lip and his tongue to tease, moaning sweet nothings directly into his mouth with the hope he doesn't hear any of it. Nothing feels real, and at the same time, you're so hyperaware of every little part of Keishin right now. The way he readjusts his grip on your wrists, the brush of his nose against yours to coax your lips to find his own again, the shaky inhale he breathes when you squeeze your knees around his hips.
And then you smell the cigarettes on his breath. Like a bull seeing red, you're reminded of why you're supposed to be annoyed with him. Fucker placated you by using your clit against you.
With his tongue in your mouth, you bite him with a little more force than necessary. You expected Keishin to pull away from you entirely, to give you some satisfaction of punishment, but he grinds into you harder and presses his swollen cock just right against your clit. In turn, you release his tongue and moan directly into his mouth, missing the low groan that comes from him as a result.
"Fuck me if you're gonna fuck me, asshole." You breathe against Keishin's lips. The bite in your tone isn't as severe as you were hoping—on account of your clit vibrating on its own and being so close to cumming in your pants from dry humping.
That doesn't stop Keishin from continuing to remind you of why you do these things—annoy him, don't listen to anything he says, bite him—and it's because he can dish it out just as much as you. "You're the vocal one. I was trying to work before you threw yourself at me, and you're still begging."
Your face displays anger and annoyance, but your hands are swiping carelessly at the waistband of Keishin's shorts, brushing past trimmed pubes and wrapping your fingers around hot, velvet steel. There's a controlled sigh that barely passes Keishin's lips as you pull him out from his pants to sit against your clothed pussy. With a nip at his bottom lip, you say, "You're the one leaking in his pants."
That's all it seems to take for Keishin to give in to you. A couple of slow strokes of his leaking cock as he fumbles with your pants, almost tearing them in the process of getting them over your ass and down your thighs enough to slide inside your warmth. He wastes no time in giving you what you want, and what he has been desperate for too.
Hard and fast, Keishin fucks you like his life depends on it—like he can't stand you, but can't get enough of you at the same time. Practically folding you in half with the awkward position of your pants since he couldn't wait to free a leg. His breath is hot on your neck, hearing every laboured breath direct from his lips. All the while you were seeing stars and trying to keep his name from your lips already.
The build up to this was as heavy as his weight on top of you. Slightly uncomfortable but you wouldn't have it any other way. Your core had been wound up tight since you'd been thrown onto the futon, made worse by the grinding of his cock through layers and layers of clothing. You were ready to cum untouched and if it were anyone else, you'd be embarrassed about cumming already.
Thankfully, you have way more in the tank to keep going.
At first you don't realise what Keishin is doing when you feel his lips and tongue on your neck—in fact, you lean your head the other way, giving him more room to lap at your sensitive skin. His cock driving into you with each hard thrust had your mind in a cloudy haze of arousal. Everything feels so good and amplified that you don't want any of it to end. Curses fall from your lips instead of his name, you wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction, but you do cling onto his back in the hopes of leaving a physical mark he can remember you by.
When he sucks harshly on your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point, your walls clench around him but also seem to pull you back to reality for a very brief moment. The last thing you need is anyone at work questioning who you'd fucked or trying to play a guessing game with only one potential suitor. At least his marks can be hidden from customers and students—you're about to be wearing this experience like a neon sign strapped to your forehead.
"Stop…" You whine and try to wiggle from his grasp but as expected, it's impossible. This is your punishment, you suppose, for pushing him so far. The good with the bad. Keishin only moans into your skin, continuing to lap at your neck as he fucks you even faster when you try to stop him, biting his shoulder and tugging on his hair.
All of it serves to encourage him and in turn, your limbs become jelly when he starts to hit you in just the right spot. Now his name falls from your lips like a sweet prayer, begging him to keep going. Any and all stubborn rules you'd given yourself were gone out of the window and you were like putty in Keishin's hands.
The quiet room is filled with a string of moans and praise of Keishin's name, curses and the odd threat when he slows down just a little, pulling his hips back more than usual and leaving just hit tip hanging at your entrance, assaulting your neck and pressing his chest further into your own to keep you from wiggling. Even when you're both getting what you want, he still likes to tease—just like you would if you were to have the advantage.
It's hot and suffocating but you wouldn't have him any other way. Keishin's hot breath fanning your skin as he chokes back moans of pleasure, your walls milking him for all he's worth since you've already cum once. He's resilient though, and ready to make sure you're more satisfied than he could ever be. Nipping at your jaw and lips, he grabs your wrists again when they begin to wander across his chest beneath the thin shirt he still wore. It was just a little tweak of his nipples—so sensitive that he immediately put a stop to it.
When you smile up at him, mischievous and sickly sweet, Keishin asks, "This what you wanted?"
There's no room for a real answer. Everything is a haze of sex, so all you can think to do is lean up and nip at his bottom lip, reminded again of the disgusting smoke that lingers on his tongue. You make a comment again, a scoff of disgust, something that's almost slurred with how gelatinous your whole body feels being fucked like this.
When Keishin pulls out, you barely catch the whine in your throat. He does, however, see the genuine worry and distress in your face before forcefully flipping you over onto your stomach.
The new position is like a breath of fresh air. A new sign of life. There was a whole range of sensations with the position and you were moaning into the floor so shamelessly, you're glad that it's only the empty store beneath the floorboards.
Keishin's weight on top of you was suffocating in the best possible way. The majority of his weight pressing into you, the pressure swallowing you whole, all while his cock drives into you impossibly deeper than before. Your jaw hangs enough for you to carelessly drool into the sheets, gripping onto the futon for your life, begging him to keep going again and again and again.
He laughs from behind, smoky breath leaning into your senses but all you care about is how good Keishin's cock feels right now. "Is that better?"
This is possibly the closest you've gotten to dumbification. What started as mutual annoyance with one another, fighting and purposely pissing each other off until it gets to this point, has led to a winner. You can't even complain because you sure don't feel like a loser right now.
You cum again and again, losing track of how many times your body shudders with your release and your walls tighten around Keishin's cock, choking on his name when it becomes the only word you know. It feels almost like a gift when he cums inside of you, especially when he groans so low in his throat that it almost sets you off again. In reality, it's the final blow to the fight you'd lost. You don't miss the gentle, barely there kiss to your shoulder before he pulls out.
"Here," Keishin says from somewhere in the room, "Clean yourself up. You can sleep here if you want, but I'm going to be awake most of the night watching these games."
A soft towel is tossed onto your back as you lay dormant in the position Keishin left you in. Entirely blissed out, you can hardly bring yourself to move even an inch, satisfied to bask in the way your muscles are relaxed and the ghost of his body on yours. Keishin leaves you there as he returns to the edge of the futon where he was before, lighting a cigarette with a click of his lighter and rewinding the tape back to where he was before you'd begun bothering him.