[fic] yoroshiku (mabo/nagase)
Yoroshiku, more PWP written on my phone 'cause a pal of mine mentioned handcuffing Mabo. SIGHS.
Masahiro hates him. Absolutely hates him.
Hates him because he's not supposed to know how to make something this elaborate--though he imagines his bed having the traditional four posts probably made this an easy set-up. He's quiet as he watches Tomoya pull his shirt up over his head, quiet when he sees the man tug his pants off his hips, though he'll admit to the slightest hitch of breath the moment he sees Tomoya's underwear slide down his thighs and to the floor.
Tomoya's hard, as is expected.
Masahiro feels his throat dry even as he glares at Tomoya's smug face.
The younger man doesn't waste any time; he crawls onto the bed between Masahiro's legs and grasps his already half-hard dick, fingers long and warm and starting to stroke up and down. Masahiro shudders; his heart pounds. And when Tomoya's head ducks lower and his lips press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, Masahiro knows he's broken.
Tomoya starts to lick at the head, his hand firm around the base. His saliva covers every inch of skin he can reach, paying close attention to the spot just beneath the head, and Masahiro digs his ankles into the bed, hissing because he can't rock up and force himself past Tomoya's lips.
Tomoya's amused, of course. He looks up at Masahiro with those same puppy brown eyes and leaves a sucking kiss to the tip to punctuate the throb of Masahiro's erection.
And then he parts his lips and takes Masahiro in.
The heat is familiar; good and warm and Tomoya, and Masahiro grits his teeth as he feels his vocal's tongue starting to swirl and lick at the vein on the underside. Seemingly able to sense his frustration (in that way that Tomoya always succeeds in doing), Tomoya wastes no time in starting to bob his head, Masahiro's cock rubbing against his cheek and the roof of his mouth. It's unbelievable how hard Tomoya makes him as fast as he does, unbelievable how deep down the other man's throat Masahiro sinks in when Tomoya wants to make an effort. Tomoya looks up through his lashes and Masahiro knows there's precome dripping on Tomoya's tongue. But what gets him is when he notices Tomoya's own hips raised.
And his fingers pushing and stretching his entrance.
Masahiro groans then--finally--groans because Tomoya's fucking himself open dry, groans because he can see Tomoya's own cock hanging and just slightly curved. The flush spread across Tomoya's shoulders ruins him; more accurately, when Tomoya starts to swallow around Masahiro's dick, he's certain it's Tomoya himself who's gonna end up the reason for his death.
"Tomo--ya--" He's almost ashamed of how his voice cracks.
But Tomoya lifts his head and presses his lips together and Masahiro's hypnotised by the way Tomoya's saliva remains connected to his dick in a thin line.
Until Tomoya licks his lips and moves forward.
It's always eye-opening, being taken in by Tomoya's heat. Masahiro's head thumps back and hits the bed's headboard, and he hears the harsh intake of breath as Tomoya slowly lowers himself onto his aching cock. He wants to touch him; Tomoya's own length is flushed and hard and the sight of his lover's hands spreading his cheeks apart will kill Masahiro for at least the next year. Tomoya sinks down onto him and trembles, and with his lips parted and his eyes hazed over in pleasure, Masahiro doesn't think Tomoya's ever looked more debauched before.
"I missed you..." Tomoya whispers the moment all of Masahiro's inside him.
And somehow that makes Masahiro want to snap.
"Fuck, Tomoya--"
But he's cut off because he chokes on his own damn breath--because Tomoya starts to grind his hips down and Masahiro's dick is rubbing against his inner walls, because Tomoya's lifting himself up and pushing back down and crying out in pleasure, because Tomoya's fingers are curling into the sheets at either of Masahiro's sides and his body's being used for this stupid idiot's pleasure.
But God, if he isn't hard. If the sound of Tomoya moaning and making an absolute mess of himself isn't making Masahiro want nothing more than to thrust up into him himself.
Tomoya's walls tighten around him and Masahiro gasps out his name.
His face feels flushed.
Tomoya feels heavenly.
The bed creaks beneath them as Tomoya's body shakes and moves atop Masahiro's lap, and Masahiro sees the way the man's skin flushes red, the way his lips tremble and his cock starts to leak right out the tip. Masahiro curses and Tomoya shakes and arches his back. And as he lifts himself fully to his knees only to drop back down onto Masahiro's dick, the scream and twitch of Tomoya's own cock is unmistakable.
He found his prostate.
Tomoya gasps and moves again--harder and more eager--and the way he tightens around Masahiro's length only succeeds in having Masahiro's own toes curling in his pleasure. Masahiro hisses, Tomoya whines--"I'm s-so close, M-Masahiro, fuck--!"
And Masahiro swallows a thick ball of spit as he watches him through half-lidded eyes.
"Then come for me," he croaks out. "Please, Tomoya..."
Masahiro can't tell if that's what does it or if it's the way Tomoya furiously grinds himself onto his dick, but come spurts out Tomoya's length and covers both Masahiro's stomach and Tomoya's own. Shaking, Masahiro feels the intense tightening of Tomoya's muscles around him, and it's not much more of Tomoya's shaky hip movements before Masahiro feels himself coming, too, his head thumping against the wood of the board.
They pant, the two of them, and Masahiro blinks blearily as he sees Tomoya move over to cup his face and kiss him, his mouth warm and promising, his entrance leaking Masahiro's come. Their tongues touch and Masahiro sighs, and Tomoya's hips make circular movements that have threads of arousal threatening to tug at him once more.
"You brat," Masahiro whispers into Tomoya's open mouth, but he knows the smile on his lips betrays his real feelings.
Tomoya smiles right back, their foreheads touching and his fingertips brushing over Masahiro's high cheekbones. "Felt good though, didn't it?"
Masahiro answers him with a kiss that sears the both of them, Tomoya murmuring into his mouth and his arms wrapping around Masahiro's neck.
"You felt good," Masahiro finally replies.
Tomoya grins. "I know."
By the time he's unchained, his skin's tinged pink from the metal, but Tomoya kisses and licks the marks in quiet apology--or more, if the twinkle in his eyes betrays anything.
And so Masahiro pushes Tomoya down, straddling his lap and one hand pressed firmly on the younger man's collarbone.
"You're still ready for me, right?" he muses, watching the slow drip of his own come from Tomoya's hole.
And though Tomoya tries to answer, he's interrupted by the slide of Masahiro's cock inside him once more.
Masahiro hates him. Absolutely hates him.
Hates him because he's not supposed to know how to make something this elaborate--though he imagines his bed having the traditional four posts probably made this an easy set-up. He's quiet as he watches Tomoya pull his shirt up over his head, quiet when he sees the man tug his pants off his hips, though he'll admit to the slightest hitch of breath the moment he sees Tomoya's underwear slide down his thighs and to the floor.
Tomoya's hard, as is expected.
Masahiro feels his throat dry even as he glares at Tomoya's smug face.
The younger man doesn't waste any time; he crawls onto the bed between Masahiro's legs and grasps his already half-hard dick, fingers long and warm and starting to stroke up and down. Masahiro shudders; his heart pounds. And when Tomoya's head ducks lower and his lips press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, Masahiro knows he's broken.
Tomoya starts to lick at the head, his hand firm around the base. His saliva covers every inch of skin he can reach, paying close attention to the spot just beneath the head, and Masahiro digs his ankles into the bed, hissing because he can't rock up and force himself past Tomoya's lips.
Tomoya's amused, of course. He looks up at Masahiro with those same puppy brown eyes and leaves a sucking kiss to the tip to punctuate the throb of Masahiro's erection.
And then he parts his lips and takes Masahiro in.
The heat is familiar; good and warm and Tomoya, and Masahiro grits his teeth as he feels his vocal's tongue starting to swirl and lick at the vein on the underside. Seemingly able to sense his frustration (in that way that Tomoya always succeeds in doing), Tomoya wastes no time in starting to bob his head, Masahiro's cock rubbing against his cheek and the roof of his mouth. It's unbelievable how hard Tomoya makes him as fast as he does, unbelievable how deep down the other man's throat Masahiro sinks in when Tomoya wants to make an effort. Tomoya looks up through his lashes and Masahiro knows there's precome dripping on Tomoya's tongue. But what gets him is when he notices Tomoya's own hips raised.
And his fingers pushing and stretching his entrance.
Masahiro groans then--finally--groans because Tomoya's fucking himself open dry, groans because he can see Tomoya's own cock hanging and just slightly curved. The flush spread across Tomoya's shoulders ruins him; more accurately, when Tomoya starts to swallow around Masahiro's dick, he's certain it's Tomoya himself who's gonna end up the reason for his death.
"Tomo--ya--" He's almost ashamed of how his voice cracks.
But Tomoya lifts his head and presses his lips together and Masahiro's hypnotised by the way Tomoya's saliva remains connected to his dick in a thin line.
Until Tomoya licks his lips and moves forward.
It's always eye-opening, being taken in by Tomoya's heat. Masahiro's head thumps back and hits the bed's headboard, and he hears the harsh intake of breath as Tomoya slowly lowers himself onto his aching cock. He wants to touch him; Tomoya's own length is flushed and hard and the sight of his lover's hands spreading his cheeks apart will kill Masahiro for at least the next year. Tomoya sinks down onto him and trembles, and with his lips parted and his eyes hazed over in pleasure, Masahiro doesn't think Tomoya's ever looked more debauched before.
"I missed you..." Tomoya whispers the moment all of Masahiro's inside him.
And somehow that makes Masahiro want to snap.
"Fuck, Tomoya--"
But he's cut off because he chokes on his own damn breath--because Tomoya starts to grind his hips down and Masahiro's dick is rubbing against his inner walls, because Tomoya's lifting himself up and pushing back down and crying out in pleasure, because Tomoya's fingers are curling into the sheets at either of Masahiro's sides and his body's being used for this stupid idiot's pleasure.
But God, if he isn't hard. If the sound of Tomoya moaning and making an absolute mess of himself isn't making Masahiro want nothing more than to thrust up into him himself.
Tomoya's walls tighten around him and Masahiro gasps out his name.
His face feels flushed.
Tomoya feels heavenly.
The bed creaks beneath them as Tomoya's body shakes and moves atop Masahiro's lap, and Masahiro sees the way the man's skin flushes red, the way his lips tremble and his cock starts to leak right out the tip. Masahiro curses and Tomoya shakes and arches his back. And as he lifts himself fully to his knees only to drop back down onto Masahiro's dick, the scream and twitch of Tomoya's own cock is unmistakable.
He found his prostate.
Tomoya gasps and moves again--harder and more eager--and the way he tightens around Masahiro's length only succeeds in having Masahiro's own toes curling in his pleasure. Masahiro hisses, Tomoya whines--"I'm s-so close, M-Masahiro, fuck--!"
And Masahiro swallows a thick ball of spit as he watches him through half-lidded eyes.
"Then come for me," he croaks out. "Please, Tomoya..."
Masahiro can't tell if that's what does it or if it's the way Tomoya furiously grinds himself onto his dick, but come spurts out Tomoya's length and covers both Masahiro's stomach and Tomoya's own. Shaking, Masahiro feels the intense tightening of Tomoya's muscles around him, and it's not much more of Tomoya's shaky hip movements before Masahiro feels himself coming, too, his head thumping against the wood of the board.
They pant, the two of them, and Masahiro blinks blearily as he sees Tomoya move over to cup his face and kiss him, his mouth warm and promising, his entrance leaking Masahiro's come. Their tongues touch and Masahiro sighs, and Tomoya's hips make circular movements that have threads of arousal threatening to tug at him once more.
"You brat," Masahiro whispers into Tomoya's open mouth, but he knows the smile on his lips betrays his real feelings.
Tomoya smiles right back, their foreheads touching and his fingertips brushing over Masahiro's high cheekbones. "Felt good though, didn't it?"
Masahiro answers him with a kiss that sears the both of them, Tomoya murmuring into his mouth and his arms wrapping around Masahiro's neck.
"You felt good," Masahiro finally replies.
Tomoya grins. "I know."
By the time he's unchained, his skin's tinged pink from the metal, but Tomoya kisses and licks the marks in quiet apology--or more, if the twinkle in his eyes betrays anything.
And so Masahiro pushes Tomoya down, straddling his lap and one hand pressed firmly on the younger man's collarbone.
"You're still ready for me, right?" he muses, watching the slow drip of his own come from Tomoya's hole.
And though Tomoya tries to answer, he's interrupted by the slide of Masahiro's cock inside him once more.