[Well, he can't say he didn't get what he asked for. He's being held but he's falling, being kept perfectly safe and steady and yet his world is spinning around him.
Maybe he's woken up still chasing the tail end of a dream like this before. Dreams are easy to shoo away, to chalk up to random error of sunconscious thought, to file away as meaningless and bury under the busy hum of everyday life. But he finds now that they've lingered in a corner of his memory, lighting up now to match their outlines against the reality of being kissed by his best friend.
But it's not just being kissed, is it? Because Kaoru is pressing back almost frantically, dragging Kojiro down closer, carving scratches into his bare shoulder because the goddamned idiot doesn't know how to wear a fucking shirt.
He was promised he's allowed to be angry later, so he pushes that to the background for now. No thinking about time wasted, or about ugly, shapeless jealousy. For now, he only lets in the sensation of Kojiro eating him up like he's running out of time. The heat of his mouth. New data collected in the form of what it feels like to touch, really touch, the muscles that shift under so much sunkissed skin.
It's so much. It's overwhelming. And yet he wants more.
He lets out a small sound that he will later insist was not a whimper, thank you, and nips at Kojiro's lower lip. Coaxing. Beckoning.]
[ If Kaoru hadn't come at him like this -- claws out and teeth gnashing -- Kojiro might have been able to dial it back. Calm the storm enough to make room for reason, at least. They should talk about this, shouldn't they? Figure it out, draw some lines, work out the logistics. As if the boundaries between them have ever been good for anything but crossing.
But there's something lurking there, creeping in the wake of the welts that Kaoru's scratching into his shoulder and hiding behind the sharp edge of canines in his lip. Something desperate and feral. Like he's trying to take Kojiro apart, like he's digging into the meat of all this, sinking his teeth in and still aching for more. And Kojiro's loathe to leave him wanting.
Kojiro's winds a possessive arm around Kaoru's waist, and his grip tightens at the back of Kaoru's neck. It keeps him close, practically flush against Kojiro's broad chest, to hold Kaoru into that devouring kiss while he moves them both in one swift pull. Because Kaoru always needs some illusion of control, and in Kojiro's lap feels like the most natural place for him to be. And if he wants to protest the manhandling, he'll have to fight Kojiro's tongue for the chance to speak. It's diving between Kaoru's lips, drawing him out, coaxing him to meet Kojiro blow for blow.
Maybe Kaoru will argue the notion that he's vocally enjoying this, but Kojiro's unapologetic about it. He's all sighs, hitched breaths, soft huffs, falling hot and quick against Kaoru's mouth. Losing his cool, damaging his calm. Even if he were conscious of it, there would be no stifling them. Because this--
It's a culmination. Finally, Kaoru. Finally. That's all his pleasure-soaked mind has room for. ]
[Yeah, no. If Kaoru isn’t allowed to overthink this situation, he certainly won’t allow Kojiro to move in on his territory and start applying logic either. It feels far too good to have all of that turned off for once. He’d rather hear Kojiro sighing into his mouth than the usual news ticker running through his mind, supplying every possibility of what might go wrong.
So when he does finally put in enough fight to break free from the kiss, it’s only so he can attach his mouth elsewhere, worry bruises right down the column of Kojiro’s neck and across one collarbone. There, now maybe that will finally make him think twice about bearing so much skin in public, at least for a little while.
Mine. The thought drifts through his mind, unbidden. It isn’t even shaped like a question; it’s a declaration pressed into Kojiro’s skin. The bruises might fade over time, but the intent behind them is indelible.]
[ There's something vicious about this, almost mean. It's sure as hell not subtle, laying his claim like this, but Kojiro can't find the words or the will to call him out on it. Instead, his head tips back, makes room for the insistent push of Kaoru's teeth. Fine. Let him pull a trail of bruises through Kojiro's throat. Let him mark his territory with a necklace of hickies. It'll serve as its own kind of reminder; Kojiro will see them -- and smile -- every time he looks in the mirror (probably for the next week, at least, if Kaoru's zeal is anything to go by).
Kojiro's hand drifts up from Kaoru's neck, thick fingers straying to sink into that mass of rosy hair. It's silken, and this too both meets and exceeds his expectations. Did he imagine Kaoru's hair was soft? Yes. Has he always ached to push his fingers through it, just like this? Fuck yes. Did he expect to be momentarily distracted by the texture? Absolutely not.
This felt like the eye of a storm the second Kaoru's mouth dropped to his neck. Kojiro's lips are still swollen from Kaoru's kisses, but they're hungry to have them back again. Kaoru's pulling wave after wave of pleasure through him, testing the frayed edges of Kojiro's patience, winding him tighter until, again--
It snaps.
Kojiro's hand tightens to a fist around the roots of Kaoru's hair, anchoring him to the bruise he's currently worrying into Kojiro's shoulder. Maybe it'll keep him close, steady, when Kojiro's other hand drifts from his low back over the rise of his hip -- all maddeningly impeded by his obi -- and down the outside of his thigh. His fingers go stiff at Kaoru's knee, pushing past the split in his kimono to find bare skin instead.
[Ohhhh. It’s hard to say which of them is having more fun with fingers in Kaoru’s hair. He has to stop what he’s doing to groan into heated skin. He could definitely do with more of that… the rough, sharp tugging that sends tingles down his neck, and then maybe once he’s done with that, Kaoru could fall asleep to broad fingers gently stroking at his scalp. Maybe every night for the rest of forever. They’ll have to check their schedules later, see if an arrangement can be made.
He’s breathing so hard his entire body heaves with it by the time he feels Kojiro seeking out more skin. Kaoru should probably be wearing less. But before he can think of the quickest route to making that happen, Kojiro drops the next bomb.
It knocks the wind out of him, and the aftershocks echo through his chest and rattle his bones. He can feel his eyes stinging, and—no, no, he is far too grown to revert back to crying in Kojiro’s arms. So he buries his face in Kojiro’s chest and tries to will the tears not to fall.]
You should have told me. I’ve been yours this whole time.
[“You moron” is implied. And, “So hurry up and be mine, too,” is better shown than said in words, he imagines.]
[ Kaoru buries his face against Kojiro's chest, and for a fraction of a second, everything cools. There's something here that needs to be honored. Somewhere between the tightness in Kaoru's voice and the reluctance to show his face, Kojiro needs to find a place to acknowledge and appreciate this for what it is. Vulnerability is hard; harder for Kaoru than it's ever been for Kojiro, and he's not going to sully something so rare by ignoring it.
Instead, Kojiro smiles, warm and gentle, and lets his arms curl around Kaoru's waist and shoulders. It wraps Kaoru up -- safe, secure -- and pulls him in for kiss after kiss after kiss. Crown, temple, cheek, jaw, a shower as unyielding as his embrace, until he's at a better angle to tuck his forehead against Kaoru's shoulder. ]
I'm sorry. Sorry I didn't see it. I'm an idiot, remember? I'm all yours now, I promise. I'll make it all up to you.
Just tell me how you want this to go. You're the boss.
[Okay. Okay. It seems like he can breathe evenly enough that there will be no actual crying, but his eyes are decidedly more wet than usual. He's definitely never been kissed like this before--like he's precious, and something to be protected. It's a lot. Hearing "all yours" is a lot, too. He chases Kojiro's lips, determined to memorise them. To remember them long after everyone else has forgotten. It is, quite frankly, not fair that Kojiro kisses like this, and so many others have known it long before he did. Kaoru will steal away so many memories for himself that no one can ever compare.
Aside from that... how does he want this to go? Acknowledging that this is what he's wanted all along is like staring directly into the sun after holding the curtains shut tight for so long, knuckles white and fingers numb.]
I.. don't know. [Under all other circumstances, yes, he'd want to have the last word and feel in control of every move. But right now...] I don't want to think anymore. I've done enough thinking.
[ Those are impossible words from Kaoru. I don't want to think anymore, as if he hasn't built an entire career around beating every thought into shivering submission. I've done enough thinking, like he couldn't overthink and outwit an entire battery of scientists and philosophers just for fun. It's the one drawback of that big, beautiful brain of his. It never stops. It exhausts him. Strength and weakness both.
But Kojiro can make good on all of those assertions from earlier. Maybe he can crowd out all those thoughts. Push out all the doubt and the demons. Leave a blissful vacuum to fill with his praise and his gratitude, with soft words and pleasured hands. Not forever, probably. But just for a little while, so that Kaoru never has to second-guess that--
Fuck, that he's so incredibly loved. Kaoru deserves that. He's always deserved that. To be so loved that he never has space to doubt it. To be so safe, he won't have room for fear. ]
That's fine. [ Kojiro meets each and every one of Kaoru's seeking kisses while he speaks. ] You don't have to. You don't have to worry about anything at all. I'll take care of you.
[ Whatever that looks like, whatever that entails, Kojiro will take care of him. The promise is punctuated by a hand pushing through Kaoru's hair, to scrub blunted fingernails across the back of his scalp. ]
I'm want to touch you a little. Find every little piece of you. Just tell me if it's too much. Or not enough. I promise I'll give you whatever you want, and I promise I'll stop if you ask me to.
You good with that?
[ Kojiro asks this, as his spare hand spiders back down the outside of Kaoru's thigh. ]
[He knows he's not sounding like himself at all. He usually doesn't allow himself to be this vulnerable, even around Kojiro. But he can make excuses and blame it on the alcohol later. Right now he just wants to indulge and be taken care of in the way only Kojiro can offer. In the way he hates admitting he still needs.
He shivers at the feeling of fingers pressing into his scalp, swallows, and nods just a little. He's blushing all the way to the tips of his ears, and can hardly meet Kojiro's eye. He must look so pathetic... but that's never seemed to be a problem with Kojiro. He just keeps showing up, smiling that broad smile of his like there's nothing at all to worry about in the world. Sometimes he's found that vexing, even infuriating, in loud clashing contrast with how full of complication and worry Kaoru's world almost invariably seems. But right now, it's comfort. It's security.
[ Make me stop thinking. It's not a request. Despite the plea, Kaoru's not asking for Kojiro to touch him. He's demanding it, and that begs a small smile from Kojiro. Typical. Pushy bitch. Kojiro wouldn't have him any other way.
The obi comes apart end over end, and Kojiro helps to unwind it piece by piece until he can pull Kaoru free and toss it over the arm of the couch. Sash next, untied and discarded, all while Kojiro's lips bully their way to the side of Kaoru's neck, to push lingering kisses beneath his jaw and down to his shoulder. Christ, these layers; it feels like unwrapping a gift, like snapping ribbons on a pretty package. Appropriate, all things considered. Because Kaoru is a gift, and Kojiro fully plans to treat him accordingly.
Kojiro's hands press between the part in Kaoru's kimono, slide up beneath the collar and coax it off his shoulders. There's no desperation to undress him, though. More and more of Kaoru's skin is exposed, bit by tantalizing bit, and Kojiro seeks it all out just as soon as he can. His hands are like fire, so warm they practically burn trails over Kaoru's flesh. Down his collar, his chest, back to his shoulders, down his arms, shifting to his ribs. His lips follow wherever they're able to reach. None of this new territory is left untouched, unkissed, unexplored. Kojiro's worshiping him, taking his time, savoring Kaoru's body.
He's lost in it. Kaoru's so much softer than he imagined, so much better than anything he's had. He's made to be touched and kissed like this. He's made for Kojiro, just like Kojiro's made for him. ]
Now, there's a thought he'd never dream of sharing out loud. But it's just too good, not having to do anything except watch Kojiro unravel both his clothing and his composure at the same time. Those big, brutish hands have a surprisingly deft and delicate touch when they need to. Did he ever imagine it would be like this to have those hands mapping out his skin as if he's being memorised? If he did, he certainly never thought he'd admit to wanting it as much as he does. But heaving for breath the way he does, groaning low and long under the barrage of kisses, feels like admitting everything all at once. Even the parts he was so careful not to admit to himself.
He digs his fingers into Kojiro's hair, just to have something to hold onto. Some way of grounding himself in the middle of a moment that's making him so dizzy. Because, how is he supposed to feel? Kojiro has always been bigger and brighter and stronger, able to navigate life with such ease and so little worry, and yet here he is handling Kaoru in a way that's so admiring it feels almost subservient in its quiet intensity. It's not like Kaoru lacks confidence in the areas where the evidence is overwhelmingly in his favour--his particular areas of expertise, and his appearance. But he also isn't a stranger to thoughts like don't outgrow me and don't leave me behind.
What Kojiro is impressing into every inch of skin he can reach is a promise that Kaoru doesn't ever need to worry about those things. Not with him. Someone who touches him like this isn't going to run off somewhere Kaoru can't follow.
His eyes are stinging at the corners again, and he closes them tight.
There's something he wants to say so badly that it feels like the force of it might crack his ribs from the inside. But he's still so new to all of this that he feels the need to tread carefully. To work his way up to it and place it in just the right spot.]
[ Simple as that. No lies, no sidestepping, no flowery bullshit. Kojiro lays it out so matter-of-factly, it almost feels incongruous with the way his hands are spreading over Kaoru's body; the words are firm and sweet, while his touch is full of sentiment. But if he knows anything about Kaoru, it's that he can't leave any room for misinterpretation, can't provide loose ends for his anxiety to twist around.
And why should he be anything but truthful? What's Kaoru going to do at this point? Run? With the way his hands are wringing through Kojiro's hair? How is breath is staggering over the question? Not fucking likely. ]
Just waiting for you to want it. Or tell me.
[ Kojiro's lips are pushing kisses down Kaoru's sternum when he pauses, and tilts his head up to meet Kaoru's eyes. ]
Never thought you were waiting on me too. Sorry I didn't see it sooner. I'll do better.
[ There was a blind spot before, but Kojiro's pretty sure he's got it worked out now. All that aggression, the snide remarks, the ire, the derision; it all comes from somewhere, all rooted in the same place that these soft touches are springing from now. And now that Kojiro's figured that part out, the rest will come easy. At least as easy as it is to touch Kaoru now, and that's felt miraculously natural from the start.
Kojiro's hands slide down to Kaoru's hips, to guide him closer with a gentle squeeze. There's no hiding his own reaction or eagerness; it's hard already between Kaoru's legs when their bodies press flush. And is Kaoru all right with that? That remains to be seen. ]
If you let me. If you want me. I'll do better. I'll do the best I can for you.
[Kaoru is used to treading the psychological minefield of words like "pretty" and "princess" and "sweetheart," answering them with expressions of practiced exasperation and disdain. But Kojiro has never pulled a petname on him like that with such warm sincerity in his voice. Kaoru's breath catches.
He almost wants to argue, because it would be easy and familiar. He has no idea how to navigate Kojiro taking responsibility for everything, or gently asking for permission to do everything Kaoru never let himself hope for. That seems like a major oversight now--not at least considering a possibility, no matter how slim, no matter how much it made his chest ache. At least he'd maybe he could have been able to feel less clumsy working a hand between their bodies to touch Kojiro's erection through fabric that feels so, so thin.]
Of course I want you, idiot.
[Then again, maybe Kaoru is the idiot whose toes are curling just from touching a dick for two seconds. And for letting Kojiro go on and on like every bit of the responsibility is his own.
But that's a matter for later. No more thinking. Just expressing pent-up desire through panting breaths and careful strokes of fingers pressed tight between the two of them.]
[ No room for misinterpretation there. Kaoru wants him. Kaoru's touching him. And despite Kojiro's general philosophy about love and seduction, it's a little different when it involves Kaoru. In large part, Kojiro's still suspending his disbelief; still struggling to convince himself that this decade-old achy, yearning want is finally blooming in his lap, and the shock is lending him a degree of caution.
Or appreciation. The need tightens in him, winds lower with every pass of Kaoru's hand over his cock. The harder he gets, the more evident it becomes that Kojiro is well-proportioned, thick and stiff in Kaoru's grip, practically throbbing already through the pleasured sigh that he breathes against Kaoru's chest. The sensation pushes through him so softly, arrests his thought, stills his breath, and--
Fuck, he wanted to take his time and enjoy this, but that's quickly turning into a non-option. He needs Kaoru, now. And if this is happening, it's not happening on the fucking couch. ]
Hold on to me, gorgeous.
[ Kojiro doesn't wait for Kaoru to react. He hooks a forearm under Kaoru's ass, and lifts him along when he stands from the couch. Then it's down the hall, to the bedroom, where Kojiro lowers Kaoru to the end of his bed, and drops to his knees on the floor in front of him. It's like fire and ice between them, cooling one moment only to fan to inferno the next. Like now, with Kojiro reclaiming his lips like they're breath, like they're life, invading Kaoru's mouth with his tongue, and guiding Kaoru's hips up to pull away his briefs with both hands. ]
[It seems that Kaoru can fling all the insults he wants, and just get more terms of endearment in return. That’s a nice little compromise to all of the control he’s (albeit willingly) giving up here; it certainly feels like he’s winning something.
Especially because, if there was some small part of Kaoru that was also doubting whether this is too good to be true, it’s blown out of the water when he can feel for himself the way Kojiro is reacting. It’s not like that big stupid gorgeous oversized body can lie.
Pout and protest as he might about being manhandled and carried(he is capable of waking, thank you very much!), he still lets himself be deposited on the bed, still shifts to let Kojiro lay him bare as he gets every bit of breath kissed out of him. More things that he can blame on the wine later, even though said wine isn’t preventing him from being so hard that it aches. Nor from spreading his legs before he knows what he’s doing. Okay, so maybe it’s been a while, so sue him.]
[ Kaoru can be as pliant or as reticent as he wants about this; he won't catch Kojiro saying a damn thing about it. Touching Kaoru is too much of a thrill, and Kojiro's happy for anything Kaoru will give to him. He's too good, too sweet; he tastes like he belongs to Kojiro, and Kojiro has wanted this for far too long. He'll follow Kaoru's lead, and Kaoru said he wants him, so--
Kaoru gets what Kaoru wants, and it's Kojiro's pleasure to give it. But it's too good to rush, and Kojiro sits back when he drops Kaoru's briefs to the floor. He has to take a second to drink this in, to take in every piece of Kaoru he's never been allowed to admire before. Jesus, he's fucking beautiful. Work of art, statuesque on Kojiro's bedcovers. Kojiro's fixated on the aesthetic of his hands on Kaoru's body, strong and dark against the pale perfection. They wander over the new territory, staking their own claim, touching Kaoru with careful hands and greedy eyes. ]
Kaoru... you're more beautiful than I imagined.
[ The words bring a hot flush to Kojiro's face, and there's something so satisfying about that. A rosy blush that only darkens when his lips shower kiss after kiss down Kaoru's chin, down his throat, to his chest, and then drift to distraction at Kaoru's nipples. His teeth catch across one, tease with his lips and then worry between a bite until it hardens, and he's satisfied to move across to the other. ]
I thought about this. About how I'd make you feel good, if you ever let me. Did you think about it?
[ A question like this, as Kojiro pushes a hand between Kaoru's legs, and thick fingers curl around Kaoru's cock. ]
WELCOME BACK this was so delightful to see in my inbox =']
[This is almost surreal. Kojiro and those big, soulful, heavily-lidded eyes of his... they're just so damn expressive, and Kaoru reads both hunger and adoration in them. His childhood friend who seems to spend so much time prodding and trying to get a rise out of him, and he's capable of looking at Kaoru like this? Really?
He flushes hot at the compliment, and even hotter at Kojiro working his mouth over sensitive nipples. It makes him gasp and arch his back. Oh god, Kojiro is going to uncover every weakness too quickly. Kaoru is in such deep trouble. Absolutely done for.]
How could--ah! How... could I think about it? [His thoughts are scattered, fragmented. He can't gather them enough to consider whether maybe he shouldn't be this honest.] I didn't want to think about what you could do. I didn't want to think about what you might be doing to someone else.
[But Kojiro did. He imagined doing this... when? It always seemed like he had plenty of distractions. One outlet after another for those sorts of thoughts. Where in all of that was Kaoru?]
[ Where Kaoru was, in all that, was firmly occupying every corner of Kojiro's great, big heart. Distractions were all well and good, and maybe Kojiro had plenty of them. But as much as he gave of his body, his heart and his soul still stayed in Kaoru's hands. There came a point when he just had to accept it; to acknowledge that he'd never love anyone the way he loves Kaoru, and embrace the burden that came with it.
And too much came with it: memory and regret and fantasy, all heavy and heart-rending and achy. What Kojiro imagined was always nebulous; fragments of need, broken and lacking for all that his memory couldn't supply, and they don't measure up. Not to this. Not to the addictive responsiveness of Kaoru's body, or the sweet music of his quiet gasping, or the unparalleled softness of his skin under Kojiro's touch. So maybe he doesn't have a good imagination, because this feels decadent, and Kojiro's indulging in as much as Kaoru will allow him.
But that admission-- It's hard to hear. That Kaoru was aching for him just as much -- that Kojiro caused some of that hurt -- is altogether too gravid to brush off. He reaches up to cradle Kaoru's chin in one hand, guides him down so he can catch his gaze and hold it, even while his other hand languidly strokes Kaoru's cock. ]
You have me now. Okay? Hundred percent. I'm here. We're here. I'm yours.
[ Kojiro's grip is hot and tight around Kaoru's arousal. Steady; a slow caress from hilt to head and back again, toying with different angles and pressures until he can find the one that makes Kaoru gasp again. ]
I'm yours, Kaoru. Thank you for giving me a chance. I'll never let you regret it.
[Kaoru has never been touched quite like this. It's possible that no one else could do it. That it's because it's Kojiro that he's able to feel safe enough to be this vulnerable. He presses his face into Kojiro's hand, eyes wide as he takes in the words and slowly, slowly nods. He can let himself believe this, right? Kojiro has always been as good as his word. Kaoru won't find himself hurt in the end even if he gives himself over to this, even if he lifts his hips into the touch and lets the soft sighs escape into the space between them, allows himself to be open and honest about how much he wants this.
And god, does he ever want this, now that he's allowing himself to peer into this corner of his mind. Once he untangles all of the bitter jealousy and defeatism, there's something much more appealing there. It feels warm and bright in his chest.]
You had better make good on that promise. You know I'll kick you if you don't.
[ Not gonna happen. No way. He always told himself that if Kaoru ever gave him the opportunity, there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell he'd waste his shot. This is it. This is what he's waited for. This is what he never thought he could have. If he can't sweep Kaoru off his feet now, then Kojiro doesn't deserve to have him in the first place.
But there was a point to that question, initially. Kojiro asked for a reason, didn't he; if Kaoru had ever thought about it? About them? Kojiro's lips have wandered their way down Kaoru's stomach, tongue blazing a hot trail that cools in its wake, teeth creeping out to drag gentle welts into his waistline. Why was he asking--? ]
I always thought-- [ The words come between the press of gentle attention from his mouth. ] If you ever gave me a chance, I'd ruin you for anyone else. Make it so you can't feel anything but totally loved, and you'd never think about anyone else again.
[ Worship him. Drive out all the doubt, just like Kojiro said. And the way he's kissing Kaoru -- the slow play of his lips, leaving no part of Kaoru untouched -- is as close to diefic praise as Kaoru's ever seen him. He's cresting Kaoru's hip now, nosing into the cradle of his thigh, pausing for just moment to pull a little mark from the pale skin he finds there. ]
So let me know if I'm heading in the right direction for that. Okay?
[ That's the last thing Kojiro says before his lips close around Kaoru's cock, then take him in quick -- searing and wet velvet -- right down to the hilt. ]
[It's a little difficult to process the words when Kojiro's touch is so sweet and so sure, and when it's this mesmerising to see deep red bloom into his skin. Systems are overloaded. Kaoru is working at diminished capacity in trying to answer with anything that isn't a choked moan.
The word ruin has an enticing sort of edge to it. Kaoru has long thought that maybe something a little destructive was the only way to get him out of his head enough to let pleasure slip in. But he never imagined that ruin could look so much like adoration. That it could feel like--]
Fuck, Kojiro...!
[Before he knows it, he has two handfuls of thick hair, and he's tipping his head back to groan long and low at the ceiling about what it feels like for his cock to hit the back of Kojiro's throat. Alcohol is his friend for a lot of reasons, and one of them is preventing him from coming embarrassingly early.
Kojiro is his friend for a lot of reasons, too, and he never imagined that he'd be adding because his mouth feels like heaven on earth to the list. But life is unpredictable like that.]
[ Kaoru's hands are gripping his hair like a lifeline, and if Kojiro's mouth weren't so full, the notion might beg a sly grin. Still makes him laugh, though; a soft huff and a warm sound that thrills along Kaoru's cock as Kojiro's lips slide to the head again, then plunge straight back down. It's not like those words are foreign to him; he's heard it from Kaoru in varying degrees of annoyance and exasperation since they were old enough to swear. But never like this. Never on the edge of a moan, never a soft cry.
Kojiro's name, on Kaoru's lips like that? That's the best thing Kojiro's ever heard.
But Kaoru's thighs are right there, all pale and gorgeous and begging to be touched. Kojiro hooks his arms up underneath them, coaxes Kaoru's knees over his shoulders, just to have them that much closer. His hands are still wandering, covering Kaoru's legs, slipping up the back of them to cradle his ass and keep him steady. Because Kojiro's diligent; his mouth works Kaoru's cock like it's his job, tireless tongue and devouring lips, and all the while his eyes never leave Kaoru's face.
He wants to watch Kaoru like this forever. He wants Kaoru to have all the pleasure in the world, and he wants to know he's the one to bring it to him. ]
[Kaoru can feel Kojiro's laughter all the way to his core. God, he's so full of himself, isn't he? Kaoru would almost find that aggravating, if not for the fact that it's 100% earned. He knows exactly what he's doing. A blessing, because Kaoru really does get to turn off all his overthinking in favour of getting lost in the way big hands pull him into position like he's done this a hundred times. And maybe that's the power of Kojiro being the one who let himself think about this, the one who let himself really want it--if Kaoru had entertained any such thing for longer than a moment without immediately shoving it away, maybe it would be just as intuitive to work his fingers through Kojiro's hair without clinging for dear life, or hook his legs around Kojiro's shoulders without digging heels into his shoulderblades, every muscle pulled so tight that it feels like he might just snap. Because, fuck, is having Kojiro's hands on his ass and his mouth on his dick at the same time ever right on the edge of way too much.
He's vaguely aware that his legs are trembling like crazy. Some part of his mind is trying to remember how to feel embarrassed about that, pinned in place by the heat of Kojiro's gaze and no longer able to hold back the moans that keep spilling from his throat. Embarrassment has slid off to somewhere he can't quite reach it, though, and that is a whole other kind of bliss. He wants more, wants total oblivion. So he bucks his hips up desperately in search of it.]
[ Kaoru's legs are all but shaking him apart on either side of Kojiro's head, and that's another line item for Kojiro's brand new list of Things He Loves About Fucking Kaoru. It's another facet that doesn't quite match up to his imagination, because somehow, he'd never expected Kaoru to be so incredibly responsive to his touch. He keeps grasping tighter and pulling Kojiro closer, and fuck, Kojiro wishes he had words for exactly how it feels to be so needed. It's incredible. Kaoru is incredible.
Kojiro's mouth makes an absolutely obscene sound when he pulls Kaoru's cock free of it. Just for a few moments, just long enough to lean over to his bedside table and single-handedly fumble his way through spilling some lube into his palm. Then he's right back to task, right back between Kaoru's thighs, with the addition of slick fingers pressing beneath Kaoru to tease at his entrance. ]
How we feeling, beautiful?
[ Nice of Kojiro to check in, at least. Or make the effort. It's a miracle he manages that much, because Kaoru's hole is tight against his fingertips, and there's an impending promise of driving him so much farther out of his mind that Kojiro can't resist. He doesn't give Kaoru a chance to respond; half a breath later, he's devouring Kaoru's cock again in earnest, hot and wet and back to that same driving pace, just as his forefinger sinks slowly into Kaoru's body. ]
[He fully growls in protest at the sudden loss of Kojiro's mouth, which he is already so fully addicted to that he's sure he never wants to feel anything else every again in his life.
Or so he thinks, until he feels Kojiro's fingers there. Choked, frantic moans follow the initial sharp gasp, so he has no idea how Kojiro expects him to respond to that question with anything besides half-formed syllables that are almost a string of expletives.
And then he's surrounded by wet heat again, relentless, all the more overwhelming for the momentary break and the added sensation of being slowly pressed open—
The orgasm hits him so suddenly he doesn't have a chance for so much as a word of warning, and with such force that he feels almost as if he's left his body. He can't even tell if he's really saying Kojiro's name, or just shaping his lips around it again and again through each shuddering breath.]
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beefyspaghetti) wrote2021-05-08 06:09 pm
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Maybe he's woken up still chasing the tail end of a dream like this before. Dreams are easy to shoo away, to chalk up to random error of sunconscious thought, to file away as meaningless and bury under the busy hum of everyday life. But he finds now that they've lingered in a corner of his memory, lighting up now to match their outlines against the reality of being kissed by his best friend.
But it's not just being kissed, is it? Because Kaoru is pressing back almost frantically, dragging Kojiro down closer, carving scratches into his bare shoulder because the goddamned idiot doesn't know how to wear a fucking shirt.
He was promised he's allowed to be angry later, so he pushes that to the background for now. No thinking about time wasted, or about ugly, shapeless jealousy. For now, he only lets in the sensation of Kojiro eating him up like he's running out of time. The heat of his mouth. New data collected in the form of what it feels like to touch, really touch, the muscles that shift under so much sunkissed skin.
It's so much. It's overwhelming. And yet he wants more.
He lets out a small sound that he will later insist was not a whimper, thank you, and nips at Kojiro's lower lip. Coaxing. Beckoning.]
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But there's something lurking there, creeping in the wake of the welts that Kaoru's scratching into his shoulder and hiding behind the sharp edge of canines in his lip. Something desperate and feral. Like he's trying to take Kojiro apart, like he's digging into the meat of all this, sinking his teeth in and still aching for more. And Kojiro's loathe to leave him wanting.
Kojiro's winds a possessive arm around Kaoru's waist, and his grip tightens at the back of Kaoru's neck. It keeps him close, practically flush against Kojiro's broad chest, to hold Kaoru into that devouring kiss while he moves them both in one swift pull. Because Kaoru always needs some illusion of control, and in Kojiro's lap feels like the most natural place for him to be. And if he wants to protest the manhandling, he'll have to fight Kojiro's tongue for the chance to speak. It's diving between Kaoru's lips, drawing him out, coaxing him to meet Kojiro blow for blow.
Maybe Kaoru will argue the notion that he's vocally enjoying this, but Kojiro's unapologetic about it. He's all sighs, hitched breaths, soft huffs, falling hot and quick against Kaoru's mouth. Losing his cool, damaging his calm. Even if he were conscious of it, there would be no stifling them. Because this--
It's a culmination. Finally, Kaoru. Finally. That's all his pleasure-soaked mind has room for. ]
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So when he does finally put in enough fight to break free from the kiss, it’s only so he can attach his mouth elsewhere, worry bruises right down the column of Kojiro’s neck and across one collarbone. There, now maybe that will finally make him think twice about bearing so much skin in public, at least for a little while.
Mine. The thought drifts through his mind, unbidden. It isn’t even shaped like a question; it’s a declaration pressed into Kojiro’s skin. The bruises might fade over time, but the intent behind them is indelible.]
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[ There's something vicious about this, almost mean. It's sure as hell not subtle, laying his claim like this, but Kojiro can't find the words or the will to call him out on it. Instead, his head tips back, makes room for the insistent push of Kaoru's teeth. Fine. Let him pull a trail of bruises through Kojiro's throat. Let him mark his territory with a necklace of hickies. It'll serve as its own kind of reminder; Kojiro will see them -- and smile -- every time he looks in the mirror (probably for the next week, at least, if Kaoru's zeal is anything to go by).
Kojiro's hand drifts up from Kaoru's neck, thick fingers straying to sink into that mass of rosy hair. It's silken, and this too both meets and exceeds his expectations. Did he imagine Kaoru's hair was soft? Yes. Has he always ached to push his fingers through it, just like this? Fuck yes. Did he expect to be momentarily distracted by the texture? Absolutely not.
This felt like the eye of a storm the second Kaoru's mouth dropped to his neck. Kojiro's lips are still swollen from Kaoru's kisses, but they're hungry to have them back again. Kaoru's pulling wave after wave of pleasure through him, testing the frayed edges of Kojiro's patience, winding him tighter until, again--
It snaps.
Kojiro's hand tightens to a fist around the roots of Kaoru's hair, anchoring him to the bruise he's currently worrying into Kojiro's shoulder. Maybe it'll keep him close, steady, when Kojiro's other hand drifts from his low back over the rise of his hip -- all maddeningly impeded by his obi -- and down the outside of his thigh. His fingers go stiff at Kaoru's knee, pushing past the split in his kimono to find bare skin instead.
This-- It's too much, too fast, but--
Fuck, Kaoru... I love you. I've always loved you.
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He’s breathing so hard his entire body heaves with it by the time he feels Kojiro seeking out more skin. Kaoru should probably be wearing less. But before he can think of the quickest route to making that happen, Kojiro drops the next bomb.
It knocks the wind out of him, and the aftershocks echo through his chest and rattle his bones. He can feel his eyes stinging, and—no, no, he is far too grown to revert back to crying in Kojiro’s arms. So he buries his face in Kojiro’s chest and tries to will the tears not to fall.]
You should have told me. I’ve been yours this whole time.
[“You moron” is implied. And, “So hurry up and be mine, too,” is better shown than said in words, he imagines.]
Sorry for the delay; notifs chronically suck
Instead, Kojiro smiles, warm and gentle, and lets his arms curl around Kaoru's waist and shoulders. It wraps Kaoru up -- safe, secure -- and pulls him in for kiss after kiss after kiss. Crown, temple, cheek, jaw, a shower as unyielding as his embrace, until he's at a better angle to tuck his forehead against Kaoru's shoulder. ]
I'm sorry. Sorry I didn't see it. I'm an idiot, remember? I'm all yours now, I promise. I'll make it all up to you.
Just tell me how you want this to go. You're the boss.
NO WORRIES, notifs love to fail
Aside from that... how does he want this to go? Acknowledging that this is what he's wanted all along is like staring directly into the sun after holding the curtains shut tight for so long, knuckles white and fingers numb.]
I.. don't know. [Under all other circumstances, yes, he'd want to have the last word and feel in control of every move. But right now...] I don't want to think anymore. I've done enough thinking.
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But Kojiro can make good on all of those assertions from earlier. Maybe he can crowd out all those thoughts. Push out all the doubt and the demons. Leave a blissful vacuum to fill with his praise and his gratitude, with soft words and pleasured hands. Not forever, probably. But just for a little while, so that Kaoru never has to second-guess that--
Fuck, that he's so incredibly loved. Kaoru deserves that. He's always deserved that. To be so loved that he never has space to doubt it. To be so safe, he won't have room for fear. ]
That's fine. [ Kojiro meets each and every one of Kaoru's seeking kisses while he speaks. ] You don't have to. You don't have to worry about anything at all. I'll take care of you.
[ Whatever that looks like, whatever that entails, Kojiro will take care of him. The promise is punctuated by a hand pushing through Kaoru's hair, to scrub blunted fingernails across the back of his scalp. ]
I'm want to touch you a little. Find every little piece of you. Just tell me if it's too much. Or not enough. I promise I'll give you whatever you want, and I promise I'll stop if you ask me to.
You good with that?
[ Kojiro asks this, as his spare hand spiders back down the outside of Kaoru's thigh. ]
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He shivers at the feeling of fingers pressing into his scalp, swallows, and nods just a little. He's blushing all the way to the tips of his ears, and can hardly meet Kojiro's eye. He must look so pathetic... but that's never seemed to be a problem with Kojiro. He just keeps showing up, smiling that broad smile of his like there's nothing at all to worry about in the world. Sometimes he's found that vexing, even infuriating, in loud clashing contrast with how full of complication and worry Kaoru's world almost invariably seems. But right now, it's comfort. It's security.
He shifts, and starts to unwind his obi.]
Please. Make me stop thinking.
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The obi comes apart end over end, and Kojiro helps to unwind it piece by piece until he can pull Kaoru free and toss it over the arm of the couch. Sash next, untied and discarded, all while Kojiro's lips bully their way to the side of Kaoru's neck, to push lingering kisses beneath his jaw and down to his shoulder. Christ, these layers; it feels like unwrapping a gift, like snapping ribbons on a pretty package. Appropriate, all things considered. Because Kaoru is a gift, and Kojiro fully plans to treat him accordingly.
Kojiro's hands press between the part in Kaoru's kimono, slide up beneath the collar and coax it off his shoulders. There's no desperation to undress him, though. More and more of Kaoru's skin is exposed, bit by tantalizing bit, and Kojiro seeks it all out just as soon as he can. His hands are like fire, so warm they practically burn trails over Kaoru's flesh. Down his collar, his chest, back to his shoulders, down his arms, shifting to his ribs. His lips follow wherever they're able to reach. None of this new territory is left untouched, unkissed, unexplored. Kojiro's worshiping him, taking his time, savoring Kaoru's body.
He's lost in it. Kaoru's so much softer than he imagined, so much better than anything he's had. He's made to be touched and kissed like this. He's made for Kojiro, just like Kojiro's made for him. ]
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Now, there's a thought he'd never dream of sharing out loud. But it's just too good, not having to do anything except watch Kojiro unravel both his clothing and his composure at the same time. Those big, brutish hands have a surprisingly deft and delicate touch when they need to. Did he ever imagine it would be like this to have those hands mapping out his skin as if he's being memorised? If he did, he certainly never thought he'd admit to wanting it as much as he does. But heaving for breath the way he does, groaning low and long under the barrage of kisses, feels like admitting everything all at once. Even the parts he was so careful not to admit to himself.
He digs his fingers into Kojiro's hair, just to have something to hold onto. Some way of grounding himself in the middle of a moment that's making him so dizzy. Because, how is he supposed to feel? Kojiro has always been bigger and brighter and stronger, able to navigate life with such ease and so little worry, and yet here he is handling Kaoru in a way that's so admiring it feels almost subservient in its quiet intensity. It's not like Kaoru lacks confidence in the areas where the evidence is overwhelmingly in his favour--his particular areas of expertise, and his appearance. But he also isn't a stranger to thoughts like don't outgrow me and don't leave me behind.
What Kojiro is impressing into every inch of skin he can reach is a promise that Kaoru doesn't ever need to worry about those things. Not with him. Someone who touches him like this isn't going to run off somewhere Kaoru can't follow.
His eyes are stinging at the corners again, and he closes them tight.
There's something he wants to say so badly that it feels like the force of it might crack his ribs from the inside. But he's still so new to all of this that he feels the need to tread carefully. To work his way up to it and place it in just the right spot.]
Where on earth were you hiding all of this?
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[ Simple as that. No lies, no sidestepping, no flowery bullshit. Kojiro lays it out so matter-of-factly, it almost feels incongruous with the way his hands are spreading over Kaoru's body; the words are firm and sweet, while his touch is full of sentiment. But if he knows anything about Kaoru, it's that he can't leave any room for misinterpretation, can't provide loose ends for his anxiety to twist around.
And why should he be anything but truthful? What's Kaoru going to do at this point? Run? With the way his hands are wringing through Kojiro's hair? How is breath is staggering over the question? Not fucking likely. ]
Just waiting for you to want it. Or tell me.
[ Kojiro's lips are pushing kisses down Kaoru's sternum when he pauses, and tilts his head up to meet Kaoru's eyes. ]
Never thought you were waiting on me too. Sorry I didn't see it sooner. I'll do better.
[ There was a blind spot before, but Kojiro's pretty sure he's got it worked out now. All that aggression, the snide remarks, the ire, the derision; it all comes from somewhere, all rooted in the same place that these soft touches are springing from now. And now that Kojiro's figured that part out, the rest will come easy. At least as easy as it is to touch Kaoru now, and that's felt miraculously natural from the start.
Kojiro's hands slide down to Kaoru's hips, to guide him closer with a gentle squeeze. There's no hiding his own reaction or eagerness; it's hard already between Kaoru's legs when their bodies press flush. And is Kaoru all right with that? That remains to be seen. ]
If you let me. If you want me. I'll do better. I'll do the best I can for you.
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He almost wants to argue, because it would be easy and familiar. He has no idea how to navigate Kojiro taking responsibility for everything, or gently asking for permission to do everything Kaoru never let himself hope for. That seems like a major oversight now--not at least considering a possibility, no matter how slim, no matter how much it made his chest ache. At least he'd maybe he could have been able to feel less clumsy working a hand between their bodies to touch Kojiro's erection through fabric that feels so, so thin.]
Of course I want you, idiot.
[Then again, maybe Kaoru is the idiot whose toes are curling just from touching a dick for two seconds. And for letting Kojiro go on and on like every bit of the responsibility is his own.
But that's a matter for later. No more thinking. Just expressing pent-up desire through panting breaths and careful strokes of fingers pressed tight between the two of them.]
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Or appreciation. The need tightens in him, winds lower with every pass of Kaoru's hand over his cock. The harder he gets, the more evident it becomes that Kojiro is well-proportioned, thick and stiff in Kaoru's grip, practically throbbing already through the pleasured sigh that he breathes against Kaoru's chest. The sensation pushes through him so softly, arrests his thought, stills his breath, and--
Fuck, he wanted to take his time and enjoy this, but that's quickly turning into a non-option. He needs Kaoru, now. And if this is happening, it's not happening on the fucking couch. ]
Hold on to me, gorgeous.
[ Kojiro doesn't wait for Kaoru to react. He hooks a forearm under Kaoru's ass, and lifts him along when he stands from the couch. Then it's down the hall, to the bedroom, where Kojiro lowers Kaoru to the end of his bed, and drops to his knees on the floor in front of him. It's like fire and ice between them, cooling one moment only to fan to inferno the next. Like now, with Kojiro reclaiming his lips like they're breath, like they're life, invading Kaoru's mouth with his tongue, and guiding Kaoru's hips up to pull away his briefs with both hands. ]
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Especially because, if there was some small part of Kaoru that was also doubting whether this is too good to be true, it’s blown out of the water when he can feel for himself the way Kojiro is reacting. It’s not like that big stupid gorgeous oversized body can lie.
Pout and protest as he might about being manhandled and carried(he is capable of waking, thank you very much!), he still lets himself be deposited on the bed, still shifts to let Kojiro lay him bare as he gets every bit of breath kissed out of him. More things that he can blame on the wine later, even though said wine isn’t preventing him from being so hard that it aches. Nor from spreading his legs before he knows what he’s doing. Okay, so maybe it’s been a while, so sue him.]
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Kaoru gets what Kaoru wants, and it's Kojiro's pleasure to give it. But it's too good to rush, and Kojiro sits back when he drops Kaoru's briefs to the floor. He has to take a second to drink this in, to take in every piece of Kaoru he's never been allowed to admire before. Jesus, he's fucking beautiful. Work of art, statuesque on Kojiro's bedcovers. Kojiro's fixated on the aesthetic of his hands on Kaoru's body, strong and dark against the pale perfection. They wander over the new territory, staking their own claim, touching Kaoru with careful hands and greedy eyes. ]
Kaoru... you're more beautiful than I imagined.
[ The words bring a hot flush to Kojiro's face, and there's something so satisfying about that. A rosy blush that only darkens when his lips shower kiss after kiss down Kaoru's chin, down his throat, to his chest, and then drift to distraction at Kaoru's nipples. His teeth catch across one, tease with his lips and then worry between a bite until it hardens, and he's satisfied to move across to the other. ]
I thought about this. About how I'd make you feel good, if you ever let me. Did you think about it?
[ A question like this, as Kojiro pushes a hand between Kaoru's legs, and thick fingers curl around Kaoru's cock. ]
WELCOME BACK this was so delightful to see in my inbox =']
He flushes hot at the compliment, and even hotter at Kojiro working his mouth over sensitive nipples. It makes him gasp and arch his back. Oh god, Kojiro is going to uncover every weakness too quickly. Kaoru is in such deep trouble. Absolutely done for.]
How could--ah! How... could I think about it? [His thoughts are scattered, fragmented. He can't gather them enough to consider whether maybe he shouldn't be this honest.] I didn't want to think about what you could do. I didn't want to think about what you might be doing to someone else.
[But Kojiro did. He imagined doing this... when? It always seemed like he had plenty of distractions. One outlet after another for those sorts of thoughts. Where in all of that was Kaoru?]
Ty ty <3 bless your patience
And too much came with it: memory and regret and fantasy, all heavy and heart-rending and achy. What Kojiro imagined was always nebulous; fragments of need, broken and lacking for all that his memory couldn't supply, and they don't measure up. Not to this. Not to the addictive responsiveness of Kaoru's body, or the sweet music of his quiet gasping, or the unparalleled softness of his skin under Kojiro's touch. So maybe he doesn't have a good imagination, because this feels decadent, and Kojiro's indulging in as much as Kaoru will allow him.
But that admission-- It's hard to hear. That Kaoru was aching for him just as much -- that Kojiro caused some of that hurt -- is altogether too gravid to brush off. He reaches up to cradle Kaoru's chin in one hand, guides him down so he can catch his gaze and hold it, even while his other hand languidly strokes Kaoru's cock. ]
You have me now. Okay? Hundred percent. I'm here. We're here. I'm yours.
[ Kojiro's grip is hot and tight around Kaoru's arousal. Steady; a slow caress from hilt to head and back again, toying with different angles and pressures until he can find the one that makes Kaoru gasp again. ]
I'm yours, Kaoru. Thank you for giving me a chance. I'll never let you regret it.
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And god, does he ever want this, now that he's allowing himself to peer into this corner of his mind. Once he untangles all of the bitter jealousy and defeatism, there's something much more appealing there. It feels warm and bright in his chest.]
You had better make good on that promise. You know I'll kick you if you don't.
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[ Not gonna happen. No way. He always told himself that if Kaoru ever gave him the opportunity, there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell he'd waste his shot. This is it. This is what he's waited for. This is what he never thought he could have. If he can't sweep Kaoru off his feet now, then Kojiro doesn't deserve to have him in the first place.
But there was a point to that question, initially. Kojiro asked for a reason, didn't he; if Kaoru had ever thought about it? About them? Kojiro's lips have wandered their way down Kaoru's stomach, tongue blazing a hot trail that cools in its wake, teeth creeping out to drag gentle welts into his waistline. Why was he asking--? ]
I always thought-- [ The words come between the press of gentle attention from his mouth. ] If you ever gave me a chance, I'd ruin you for anyone else. Make it so you can't feel anything but totally loved, and you'd never think about anyone else again.
[ Worship him. Drive out all the doubt, just like Kojiro said. And the way he's kissing Kaoru -- the slow play of his lips, leaving no part of Kaoru untouched -- is as close to diefic praise as Kaoru's ever seen him. He's cresting Kaoru's hip now, nosing into the cradle of his thigh, pausing for just moment to pull a little mark from the pale skin he finds there. ]
So let me know if I'm heading in the right direction for that. Okay?
[ That's the last thing Kojiro says before his lips close around Kaoru's cock, then take him in quick -- searing and wet velvet -- right down to the hilt. ]
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The word ruin has an enticing sort of edge to it. Kaoru has long thought that maybe something a little destructive was the only way to get him out of his head enough to let pleasure slip in. But he never imagined that ruin could look so much like adoration. That it could feel like--]
Fuck, Kojiro...!
[Before he knows it, he has two handfuls of thick hair, and he's tipping his head back to groan long and low at the ceiling about what it feels like for his cock to hit the back of Kojiro's throat. Alcohol is his friend for a lot of reasons, and one of them is preventing him from coming embarrassingly early.
Kojiro is his friend for a lot of reasons, too, and he never imagined that he'd be adding because his mouth feels like heaven on earth to the list. But life is unpredictable like that.]
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Kojiro's name, on Kaoru's lips like that? That's the best thing Kojiro's ever heard.
But Kaoru's thighs are right there, all pale and gorgeous and begging to be touched. Kojiro hooks his arms up underneath them, coaxes Kaoru's knees over his shoulders, just to have them that much closer. His hands are still wandering, covering Kaoru's legs, slipping up the back of them to cradle his ass and keep him steady. Because Kojiro's diligent; his mouth works Kaoru's cock like it's his job, tireless tongue and devouring lips, and all the while his eyes never leave Kaoru's face.
He wants to watch Kaoru like this forever. He wants Kaoru to have all the pleasure in the world, and he wants to know he's the one to bring it to him. ]
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He's vaguely aware that his legs are trembling like crazy. Some part of his mind is trying to remember how to feel embarrassed about that, pinned in place by the heat of Kojiro's gaze and no longer able to hold back the moans that keep spilling from his throat. Embarrassment has slid off to somewhere he can't quite reach it, though, and that is a whole other kind of bliss. He wants more, wants total oblivion. So he bucks his hips up desperately in search of it.]
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Kojiro's mouth makes an absolutely obscene sound when he pulls Kaoru's cock free of it. Just for a few moments, just long enough to lean over to his bedside table and single-handedly fumble his way through spilling some lube into his palm. Then he's right back to task, right back between Kaoru's thighs, with the addition of slick fingers pressing beneath Kaoru to tease at his entrance. ]
How we feeling, beautiful?
[ Nice of Kojiro to check in, at least. Or make the effort. It's a miracle he manages that much, because Kaoru's hole is tight against his fingertips, and there's an impending promise of driving him so much farther out of his mind that Kojiro can't resist. He doesn't give Kaoru a chance to respond; half a breath later, he's devouring Kaoru's cock again in earnest, hot and wet and back to that same driving pace, just as his forefinger sinks slowly into Kaoru's body. ]
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Or so he thinks, until he feels Kojiro's fingers there. Choked, frantic moans follow the initial sharp gasp, so he has no idea how Kojiro expects him to respond to that question with anything besides half-formed syllables that are almost a string of expletives.
And then he's surrounded by wet heat again, relentless, all the more overwhelming for the momentary break and the added sensation of being slowly pressed open—
The orgasm hits him so suddenly he doesn't have a chance for so much as a word of warning, and with such force that he feels almost as if he's left his body. He can't even tell if he's really saying Kojiro's name, or just shaping his lips around it again and again through each shuddering breath.]
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this can probably be the bow on this thread, if you're good with that