Day 18 ~ Fetish NC-17
18
FetishIt starts with Choutarou's mouth.
Or, actually, maybe just with a look.
What does it matter, anyway?
Just an evening like most others, nothing special or unusual about it. They had dinner, done their usual exchange of news and fun facts during it, after which Shishido finished up some stuff for his classes while Choutarou rocked out on his piano. Nothing special. Nothing in particular that Shishido can blame for being as worked up as he is, nothing understandable like seeing Choutarou without his shirt (even though yeah, getting a major turn on from just getting an above-the-waist glimpse is pretty lame, but hey, fuck it, it's useless to resist and all -he should know).
Choutarou is leaning into him as they watch TV, low enough that his head is just above Shishido's lap, resting his lower stomach. It's an ideal position to fingercomb and pet, which should've been it. But then half-way through a movie (a pretty good one, at that) Shishido glimpsed down at him, just to find Choutarou's eyes already on him and, well, dammit, that got his attention.
It wasn't really sexual then. Just looking at each other, kinda smiling, Shishido's hand sliding down out of his hair to trace over that familiar face. Basically being stupidly, shamelessly in love and enjoying it and anybody that had something disparaging to say about it could go and fuck themselves, because Choutarou just made something screw up tight in his chest like he was gonna cry, only it was good, unbelievably good.
Anyway.
His hand was on Choutarou's cheek a moment ago (nice 'n sweet) and just now his thumb traced along that bottom lip and fucking hell if that didn't… didn't… well, turn him on something bad.
So there he is, hot and bothered from Choutarou's mouth, kinda out of the blue.
His mouth.
And what a nice mouth he has on him, Shishido reaffirms. Especially when he strokes the pad of his thumb over it again, watching his those lips drag along under the motion and the feel of them, full and warm and soft. Unable to help himself he does it again, from right to left, sure and slow, but halfway through Choutarou parts his lips and heat from the inside of his mouth slipping through… oh man.
He closes his eyes.
He's not a damn teenager anymore. He should be able to sit on the damn couch and watch some fucking TV, touching Choutarou whilst keeping his goddamn dick in his pants, right?
Dammit.
Knuckles brush his chin.
Shishido blinks.
"Come here," Choutarou murmurs, tugging his head lower.
He dips his head and Choutarou leans up, so they meet in the middle. They kiss.
Without talking, they can tell each other so damn much.
Just lips and yet Shishido can feel it, the rising need from Choutarou. It's not even meeting halfway. Choutarou beckons him and then draws him in, warm and needy and eyes that are solid black with want.
It is only natural -cause and effect and, well, them, since they are a law of nature all by themselves- that they end up in bed. Not that Shishido isn't all for sex on the couch, but Choutarou is tall and it works better the other way around.
Cause and effect sounds more fancy, but Shishido admits that the husky 'make love to me', complete with fierce blush and steady gaze is what actually had him all but drag Choutarou to the bedroom before their actual bedtime.
Not that there is any dragging to be done.
Choutarou is willing.
His clothes come off faster than Shishido can keep track of, as do his own and before he can properly roll the knowledge of this around in his mouth they are naked together.
Shishido admits to having a strong preference for 'afternoon' (or middle of the day) sex. He loves it best because that is the most spontaneous of love making. Not that bedtime-sex and morning-sex are lesser, or not as good. Dammit, sex is sex and he loves it, because it's Choutarou and damn amazing at all times.
But this feels like it, like afternoon-sex, because it is barely nine in the evening and they can't wait any longer, can't keep it contained. And like afternoon-sex, it is honest and raw on top of the sheets, with the blinds undrawn and admitting yellow glow from the streetlights in the Tokyo-alive night.
It is Choutarou under him, head canted back and voice throbbing as Shishido touches him.
There are no words for this.
No words to express just how alive Choutarou can make him feel. Or how the sight of him under him and legs spread and hands reaching… It makes Shishido feel invincible, like nothing he can describe, that Choutarou wants this. Difference in physique and some sort of natural dynamic makes it that Choutarou is usually the… aggressor, wrong though that word sounds in his head, because Choutarou is nothing like that. There is no 'boss' between them. But he feels so damn grateful that Choutarou asks for this, himself, without Shishido needing to hint at it or worse… ask it and have it granted out of pity or misplaced endearment.
That they can be together, like this, Choutarou spread out underneath him and wanting, coming undone with his head canted back on the bed, body loose yet braced to receive Shishido deep and true, one hand tangled in the sheets and the other a painful and positively demanding clutch in Shishido's hair.
They can't kiss.
Choutarou is too damn tall.
Instead Shishido lowers his head until his forehead rests in the middle of Choutarou's chest and gathers all his concentration to the amazing sensation of being inside of him, the rise and fall of their bodies, of making Choutarou come apart with pleasure. He takes care to angle himself, to push deep, and there's Choutarou's thighs wrapped around his hips to help him, extra leverage that slides him harder and more acute inside of his partner than he'd truly intended to.
"Careful," Shishido murmurs.
Choutarou's eyes open, mere slits. His body shines with perspiration and his brows are a picture of what seems like excruciating pain, but is pure pleasure, lips parted, chest rising, hips moving.
"Don't stop," he says. Fingers tighten in Shishido's hair, cradle his head to a galloping heartbeat. "Please."
He leans, hears the steady thrumming, and moves, body hard and merciless. There's sweat under his lips when his mouth falls open and the rough, sweet ah!'s Choutarou makes when he slams in as deep as he can in his ears. He can smell Choutarou, musky desire and sweat, as well as himself, feel the hot possessive cling of his body and see him, Choutarou, loving every single damn minute of being fucked by him.
It's that.
But it is also what Choutarou asked of him… love making, because Shishido doesn't honestly know how else to do this, not without everything he feels for Choutarou poured into the very act, not without gathering him as close as he can until only their very skin keeps them from melting together.
Choutarou moans and rises up to him, hips snapping to meet his and Shishido kisses him where he can, which is pressing his lips repeatedly over the flutter of his heartbeat in his chest.
Thankfully he manages to outlast Choutarou, just long enough that he can tear his mouth away from where he's been suckling at the pulse point in that broad chest. Just in time to see him thrummed out on so much pleasure and sensation that he goes wide and pure, all for Shishido and because of him and the sight of that is all he needs to follow him over the brink.
He kisses Choutarou's cheeks after, touches his mouth, his body. The tips of his fingers and the corner of his mouth. They cradle one other and breathe, and Shishido feels like he's just succeed at life.
It starts with Choutarou's mouth.
Or maybe just a look.
But they end together.