3rd for 30 Lemons
Title: Alone time
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: explicit sexual behavior
Prompt: 021. Alone Time, or, "When I Think About You, I Touch Myself"
Word count: 974 words
Summary: Even though Dino's alone, Squalo is always with him.
Notes: Dedicated to cross_chord
It was always hardest for Dino when he was halfway across the world in Japan to help Reborn with the tenth generation of the Vongola. Normally, Squalo would be on a job, or too busy training Yamamoto on the rare occasions that he did show up in the country. Though he had plenty to distract himself with during the day, - between Reborn’s antics, Tsuna’s need for help, and Kyouya’s constant need for spars - at night, when it was quiet and he was finished with his work, that was when it was most difficult.
It always started when he finally lay down in the large bed that graced his hotel room, cold and lonely without a certain white haired swordsman to take up part of it. At first, his longings were innocent enough, such as wishing that he was there to steal his warmth (Squalo was always cold, it never failed), or that he could run his fingers through that long, thick hair (which he could admit, to himself, that he had a slight fetish for, despite its meaning) and listen to the purr that would rumble deep in Squalo’s throat, or maybe just lay with him, kissing and touching as they talked about their days. That thought always led to what Squalo would do next.
Somewhere in their talks, Squalo would smirk, just a faint twitch of his lips and press up against him. He would be hard as he tangled their legs together, arching and rubbing against him with a purr. It would drive Dino mad as their hips pressed together, Squalo’s head tipped back in pleasure. Thin, long fingers would thread through Dino’s hair, the feel of skin on one side and leather on the other a sharp contrast to each other as Squalo pulled his head toward his exposed neck. He would bury his face there, his mouth working at the skin and alternating between the soft kisses and licks that Dino preferred and the hard bites and harsh sucks that Squalo preferred. Squalo would be breathless, laughing at the slight tickle, or gasping sharply at particular bite. And then…
By now, Dino was always hard, longing for Squalo’s touch. His own was pale in comparison when he ran a hand along his chest, fingers tweaking a nipple slightly. He still gasped in pleasure, body arching a little as he dragged his hands down his chest and along his stomach. His fingers lingered on the tattoos on his side, where Squalo’s fingers always did, tracing the dips and whorls and swirls of the colorful ink. He wished that a hot tongue was following it, as Squalo’s did, desperate for the taste of Dino’s skin and the reaction that he gave him. He really didn’t have any interest in teasing himself though.
He slid down the pajama pants that he had put on before he had climbed in bed, exposing his half hard cock to the air. It was easy then to let his mind blank save for his thoughts of Squalo, to let his body do what he wanted. He grasped his member and let his eyes close, losing himself in the fantasy.
As he stroked, gasping softly at the pleasure, he thought about what Squalo would do next. His hands would slide along Dino’s body, pausing when he gasped or moaned to tease a particular spot. His mouth would follow his hands, making Dino groan out his pleasure. By the time he reached his cock, he would be aching for him, throbbing and begging for him to do something.
Just the thought of it made his hand move faster over his length, squeezing the base as Squalo would do. He thought about the way Squalo’s tongue would travel along his cock, tongue swirling over the head and his thumb brushed over it, gathering the moisture there to try to equal it. It didn’t, but he still felt pleasure and arched, groaning loudly. His thoughts strayed to the way that Squalo’s mouth would wrap around the head, sucking harshly as his tongue swirled around it. His hand was a pale substitute for Squalo’s mouth, always hot and wet, with just the right amount of suction to pull his orgasm from him.
However, the thought of that talented mouth and tongue made his hand move faster, his orgasm just out of reach. His free hand would go down to massage his sac, as Squalo would do, and he tossed his head back with a cry. Each stroke made the knots in his stomach tighten, made him moan and toss his head from side to side in pleasure. When he finally came, body arching and taut, it was Squalo’s name he cried out. He was so lost in his fantasy that he didn’t hear his phone ring.
As he was coming down from his high, hand slowing on his cock and finally stopping when he was milked dry. He relaxed for a moment, breathing heavy before reaching for some tissues to clean himself. When he did, his phone rang again and he smiled, knowing the ringtone. Dino grabbed the phone and answered the call.
“Hey Squalo,” he said, still breathless. There was a pause, and he knew his lover was quirking an eyebrow.
“…Did you run for the phone?” Squalo asked.
“Not exactly.” There was another pause and he knew that Squalo was smirking.
“Oh really. And just what were you doing?” Dino lay back on the bed, relaxing a bit.
“I was just thinking about you. It was…invigorating.”
“Oh really?” This time, there was purr in the statement. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” Dino smirked and ran a hand over his stomach softly.
“Well…” As he began to recount his fantasy, he knew that it was going to be a long, sleepless night. And he didn’t mind that at all.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: explicit sexual behavior
Prompt: 021. Alone Time, or, "When I Think About You, I Touch Myself"
Word count: 974 words
Summary: Even though Dino's alone, Squalo is always with him.
Notes: Dedicated to cross_chord
It was always hardest for Dino when he was halfway across the world in Japan to help Reborn with the tenth generation of the Vongola. Normally, Squalo would be on a job, or too busy training Yamamoto on the rare occasions that he did show up in the country. Though he had plenty to distract himself with during the day, - between Reborn’s antics, Tsuna’s need for help, and Kyouya’s constant need for spars - at night, when it was quiet and he was finished with his work, that was when it was most difficult.
It always started when he finally lay down in the large bed that graced his hotel room, cold and lonely without a certain white haired swordsman to take up part of it. At first, his longings were innocent enough, such as wishing that he was there to steal his warmth (Squalo was always cold, it never failed), or that he could run his fingers through that long, thick hair (which he could admit, to himself, that he had a slight fetish for, despite its meaning) and listen to the purr that would rumble deep in Squalo’s throat, or maybe just lay with him, kissing and touching as they talked about their days. That thought always led to what Squalo would do next.
Somewhere in their talks, Squalo would smirk, just a faint twitch of his lips and press up against him. He would be hard as he tangled their legs together, arching and rubbing against him with a purr. It would drive Dino mad as their hips pressed together, Squalo’s head tipped back in pleasure. Thin, long fingers would thread through Dino’s hair, the feel of skin on one side and leather on the other a sharp contrast to each other as Squalo pulled his head toward his exposed neck. He would bury his face there, his mouth working at the skin and alternating between the soft kisses and licks that Dino preferred and the hard bites and harsh sucks that Squalo preferred. Squalo would be breathless, laughing at the slight tickle, or gasping sharply at particular bite. And then…
By now, Dino was always hard, longing for Squalo’s touch. His own was pale in comparison when he ran a hand along his chest, fingers tweaking a nipple slightly. He still gasped in pleasure, body arching a little as he dragged his hands down his chest and along his stomach. His fingers lingered on the tattoos on his side, where Squalo’s fingers always did, tracing the dips and whorls and swirls of the colorful ink. He wished that a hot tongue was following it, as Squalo’s did, desperate for the taste of Dino’s skin and the reaction that he gave him. He really didn’t have any interest in teasing himself though.
He slid down the pajama pants that he had put on before he had climbed in bed, exposing his half hard cock to the air. It was easy then to let his mind blank save for his thoughts of Squalo, to let his body do what he wanted. He grasped his member and let his eyes close, losing himself in the fantasy.
As he stroked, gasping softly at the pleasure, he thought about what Squalo would do next. His hands would slide along Dino’s body, pausing when he gasped or moaned to tease a particular spot. His mouth would follow his hands, making Dino groan out his pleasure. By the time he reached his cock, he would be aching for him, throbbing and begging for him to do something.
Just the thought of it made his hand move faster over his length, squeezing the base as Squalo would do. He thought about the way Squalo’s tongue would travel along his cock, tongue swirling over the head and his thumb brushed over it, gathering the moisture there to try to equal it. It didn’t, but he still felt pleasure and arched, groaning loudly. His thoughts strayed to the way that Squalo’s mouth would wrap around the head, sucking harshly as his tongue swirled around it. His hand was a pale substitute for Squalo’s mouth, always hot and wet, with just the right amount of suction to pull his orgasm from him.
However, the thought of that talented mouth and tongue made his hand move faster, his orgasm just out of reach. His free hand would go down to massage his sac, as Squalo would do, and he tossed his head back with a cry. Each stroke made the knots in his stomach tighten, made him moan and toss his head from side to side in pleasure. When he finally came, body arching and taut, it was Squalo’s name he cried out. He was so lost in his fantasy that he didn’t hear his phone ring.
As he was coming down from his high, hand slowing on his cock and finally stopping when he was milked dry. He relaxed for a moment, breathing heavy before reaching for some tissues to clean himself. When he did, his phone rang again and he smiled, knowing the ringtone. Dino grabbed the phone and answered the call.
“Hey Squalo,” he said, still breathless. There was a pause, and he knew his lover was quirking an eyebrow.
“…Did you run for the phone?” Squalo asked.
“Not exactly.” There was another pause and he knew that Squalo was smirking.
“Oh really. And just what were you doing?” Dino lay back on the bed, relaxing a bit.
“I was just thinking about you. It was…invigorating.”
“Oh really?” This time, there was purr in the statement. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” Dino smirked and ran a hand over his stomach softly.
“Well…” As he began to recount his fantasy, he knew that it was going to be a long, sleepless night. And he didn’t mind that at all.