牛島 若利 Ushijima Wakatoshi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leftwinger) wrote2021-04-01 09:11 pm
leftwinger) wrote2021-04-01 09:11 pm
Entry tags:
Open post [ACTION]
For action/prose. For epistolary and texts, there's another post for that.
For action/prose. For epistolary and texts, there's another post for that.
[Now that Sakusa's all cleaned up, it confronts him with the indisputable sight of Ushijima's reservations beginning to crack: eyes flickering to catch the movement, his slow, heavy-chested inhales, and the careful selection of words. Anybody else might think Ushijima the stoic type, but Sakusa's always known how to focus on the details otherwise missed: the hungry twitch of a finger, the flare of a nostril... Sakusa watches Ushijima's restrained desire grow just as carefully as Ushijima had eyed his apron. Sakusa had welcomed the attention, but now that he's on the receiving end, he feels impatient, cheeks rosy with reluctance and flattery.]
...Okay, but don't laugh at me.
['Can you turn around for me, please?' could mean a number of things. On the most basic level, Sakusa could just turn his back to Ushijima to fulfill the request. But no, knowing that Ushijima is into the piece of clothing stirs Sakusa's playfulness as he takes a step back. It's a little too stiff to be sexy and obviously takes a great deal of effort for Sakusa, who is usually so lowkey in tone and expression, to twirl just once, enough for the sleeves and trim to catch some air and flutter. He strikes a pose when it settles, hands crossed over his lap like the polite image of a housewife greeting her husband after a hard day of work.]
Welcome home, dear. Would you like dinner? A bath? Or perhaps...me?
[Actions, tone, expression. All of it is deadpan.]
...Okay, but don't laugh at me.
['Can you turn around for me, please?' could mean a number of things. On the most basic level, Sakusa could just turn his back to Ushijima to fulfill the request. But no, knowing that Ushijima is into the piece of clothing stirs Sakusa's playfulness as he takes a step back. It's a little too stiff to be sexy and obviously takes a great deal of effort for Sakusa, who is usually so lowkey in tone and expression, to twirl just once, enough for the sleeves and trim to catch some air and flutter. He strikes a pose when it settles, hands crossed over his lap like the polite image of a housewife greeting her husband after a hard day of work.]
Welcome home, dear. Would you like dinner? A bath? Or perhaps...me?
[Actions, tone, expression. All of it is deadpan.]
[As grateful as Sakusa is to see a meal on the platters and not just rabbit feed, it could not have come at a more inopportune time, his foot stilling just after it'd slid right into place. Keeping still proves difficult when all he wants to do is fondle the full size of his boyfriend's giant cock, and Sakusa masks none of his displeasure, scowl returned as a stranger invades their space.
Then again. The table apron was long and Ushijima had kept quiet this long... 'You're welcome to try.' His focus returns to Ushijima while the waiter stacks their used table set with all the care and aesthetic a cooking magazine might take for an editorial insert. From the waist up, both of them had the strictest postures and most solemn of expressions, but his foot moving once more told a different story, gentle at first but increasing with pressure with every plate that's taken away.
Ushijima had chosen Japanese-French fusion, and that means a lot of forks are laid out next. Sakusa alternates position for this stretch, planting the ball of his firmly into the head of Ushijima's cock while teasing his heel from side-to-side. His smirk returns about the time the spoons are replaced, a simple, knowing thing that promises the best is yet to come.
Sakusa resumes stroking up and down only when the actual food is served, careful not to be too quick with his movements lest he accidentally kick up the table skirt. Every time Ushijima shifts, Sakusa pulls his foot off just slightly, then digs back in, taunting him until they're left alone again.
More delicious than the food on the table is how Ushijima acts throughout it all. Strong, welcoming, flawless, each shudder and clench of his jaw is a small, yet hard won victory for Sakusa. He sinks into a slouch, calculating his next move.]
Then, with your blessing...
[At the same time Sakusa reaches for his glass of Merlot, he pushes his foot flat against Ushijima's stomach. When he pulls it back, his heel catches on the waistband of Ushijima's underwear and he slowly drags it down the length of his cock, just enough to hook his foot inside the elastic. Sakusa pets the bare erection while offering up a stiff toast.]
To a wonderful evening. Bon appetit.
Then again. The table apron was long and Ushijima had kept quiet this long... 'You're welcome to try.' His focus returns to Ushijima while the waiter stacks their used table set with all the care and aesthetic a cooking magazine might take for an editorial insert. From the waist up, both of them had the strictest postures and most solemn of expressions, but his foot moving once more told a different story, gentle at first but increasing with pressure with every plate that's taken away.
Ushijima had chosen Japanese-French fusion, and that means a lot of forks are laid out next. Sakusa alternates position for this stretch, planting the ball of his firmly into the head of Ushijima's cock while teasing his heel from side-to-side. His smirk returns about the time the spoons are replaced, a simple, knowing thing that promises the best is yet to come.
Sakusa resumes stroking up and down only when the actual food is served, careful not to be too quick with his movements lest he accidentally kick up the table skirt. Every time Ushijima shifts, Sakusa pulls his foot off just slightly, then digs back in, taunting him until they're left alone again.
More delicious than the food on the table is how Ushijima acts throughout it all. Strong, welcoming, flawless, each shudder and clench of his jaw is a small, yet hard won victory for Sakusa. He sinks into a slouch, calculating his next move.]
Then, with your blessing...
[At the same time Sakusa reaches for his glass of Merlot, he pushes his foot flat against Ushijima's stomach. When he pulls it back, his heel catches on the waistband of Ushijima's underwear and he slowly drags it down the length of his cock, just enough to hook his foot inside the elastic. Sakusa pets the bare erection while offering up a stiff toast.]
To a wonderful evening. Bon appetit.
[In all honesty, Wakatoshi would have never bet on Sakusa taking things an extra step further. He's well aware that his request was, at the least, awkward and devoid of any sense -- the type of request that someone as particular as Sakusa loathes. Even Wakatoshi himself is having trouble trying to rationalize it beyond just wanting to take in a nice, long eyeful of his boyfriend in something so incongruently feminine and ruffled...yet it's so him. And yet, Sakusa not only indulges him, but offers up the roleplay act...
Tendou had lent him some manga in the past, many of which had a trope where excited males would often get nosebleeds. Wakatoshi thought those were dumb: how can a nose bleed from excitement? It's scientifically impossible.
And yet, here he is, feeling the blood rush to his nose. It's to his dick, actually, which has created quite the tent in his pants, visible through his own apron draped over it. With the way his short-circuited brain throbs at just the idea of Sakusa uttering goshujinsama, he thinks he'd be forgiven for mixing the two up.
Without a word, Wakatoshi swallows. Somehow, he keeps his hands to himself, despite every synapse in his lust-adled mind telling him to just go for it, Ushijima.]
...you're teasing me.
Tendou had lent him some manga in the past, many of which had a trope where excited males would often get nosebleeds. Wakatoshi thought those were dumb: how can a nose bleed from excitement? It's scientifically impossible.
And yet, here he is, feeling the blood rush to his nose. It's to his dick, actually, which has created quite the tent in his pants, visible through his own apron draped over it. With the way his short-circuited brain throbs at just the idea of Sakusa uttering goshujinsama, he thinks he'd be forgiven for mixing the two up.
Without a word, Wakatoshi swallows. Somehow, he keeps his hands to himself, despite every synapse in his lust-adled mind telling him to just go for it, Ushijima.]
...you're teasing me.
[Never in his wildest dreams could Sakusa have ever imagined that a measly cooking apron could render Ushijima Wakatoshi, the Ushijima Wakatoshi, speechless and hard. The tent in his apron is answer enough to Sakusa's little quip, a very obvious option three. And if Sakusa's being honest, he's feeling it too.
No, he's not bursting out of his apron like Ushijima is about it, but Sakusa feels...sexy. Knowing that he's turning Ushijima on turns him on too, and all the attention to his girly apron suddenly makes it feel all the more taboo. Besides, he doesn't really have to put on an act when it comes to behaving like he lives solely to please Ushijima emotionally and physically.]
Yeah, but only because you like it.
[There's not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone; anybody could see how sincerely captivated by Sakusa's apron he was, and Sakusa was willing to indulge him. He closes the distance between them again, hands carefully placed on either shoulder before slipping up and over to rub at that broad backside. He places one off-center kiss just on the seam of Ushijima's lips, gentle and silent, as his hands drop lower, fingertips pushing and pulling in comfortingly. He does his best to recreate the sense conveyed in TV scenes when a wife comforts her husband in her embrace, but affectionate and romantic are qualities at odds with his usual behaviors.
Sakusa tucks himself close enough to rest his face in the crook of Ushijima's neck and shoulder, lips resting as gently against his Adam's apple as they had against his lips. Meanwhile, one hand drags around Ushijima's hip while the other keeps venturing lower. By the way his hand silently rests against the mound, it's clear he won't be cooking again, not for awhile.]
I could give you a back rub...or this. [He gropes Ushijima's erection shamelessly.] Which do you prefer, darling?
No, he's not bursting out of his apron like Ushijima is about it, but Sakusa feels...sexy. Knowing that he's turning Ushijima on turns him on too, and all the attention to his girly apron suddenly makes it feel all the more taboo. Besides, he doesn't really have to put on an act when it comes to behaving like he lives solely to please Ushijima emotionally and physically.]
Yeah, but only because you like it.
[There's not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone; anybody could see how sincerely captivated by Sakusa's apron he was, and Sakusa was willing to indulge him. He closes the distance between them again, hands carefully placed on either shoulder before slipping up and over to rub at that broad backside. He places one off-center kiss just on the seam of Ushijima's lips, gentle and silent, as his hands drop lower, fingertips pushing and pulling in comfortingly. He does his best to recreate the sense conveyed in TV scenes when a wife comforts her husband in her embrace, but affectionate and romantic are qualities at odds with his usual behaviors.
Sakusa tucks himself close enough to rest his face in the crook of Ushijima's neck and shoulder, lips resting as gently against his Adam's apple as they had against his lips. Meanwhile, one hand drags around Ushijima's hip while the other keeps venturing lower. By the way his hand silently rests against the mound, it's clear he won't be cooking again, not for awhile.]
I could give you a back rub...or this. [He gropes Ushijima's erection shamelessly.] Which do you prefer, darling?
[Only because you like it. Fair enough. Wakatoshi would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn't like this when literally every part of it appeals to him in some way, shape, or form.
Chest rising with the deep inhale he takes when Sakusa approaches him, he holds his tongue and waits with bated breath for his lover to make the next move. The kiss is nice and calming, a cool salve over his anticipation of what's going to happen next; the nuzzle and next kiss, a warm compress. It'd be easy for him to just sigh and relax and return Sakusa's affections...assuming that's where the loving touches end.
But Sakusa's crafty, and his spindly fingers curling over his erection without pause as he continues the doting-wife routine shatters the few remaining bits of Wakatoshi's resolve.
He latches onto Sakusa's ass, greedily, the immaculate and soft fabric bunching up into his large, rough hands as he starts to tug and rub at any part of both Sakusa and the apron he can touch.]
It's...it's been a rough week, dear...
[His voice is gravel, tinged with desperation. It sounds foreign to him.]
...you know what I need.
Chest rising with the deep inhale he takes when Sakusa approaches him, he holds his tongue and waits with bated breath for his lover to make the next move. The kiss is nice and calming, a cool salve over his anticipation of what's going to happen next; the nuzzle and next kiss, a warm compress. It'd be easy for him to just sigh and relax and return Sakusa's affections...assuming that's where the loving touches end.
But Sakusa's crafty, and his spindly fingers curling over his erection without pause as he continues the doting-wife routine shatters the few remaining bits of Wakatoshi's resolve.
He latches onto Sakusa's ass, greedily, the immaculate and soft fabric bunching up into his large, rough hands as he starts to tug and rub at any part of both Sakusa and the apron he can touch.]
It's...it's been a rough week, dear...
[His voice is gravel, tinged with desperation. It sounds foreign to him.]
...you know what I need.
[Sakusa pausing when the waiter shows up was, admittedly, what Wakatoshi had expected. Engaging in anything further would have convinced him his boyfriend had some sort of exhibitionist kink (or was just extremely competitive and wanted to get the last laugh, no matter the cost).
So when the young waiter, still blissfully unaware of what's going on beneath the tablecloth (or, if he was, he made no indication of such), moves to Wakatoshi's side of the table to set the entree platter on the placemat before him...just as the pad of Sakusa's foot pushes into the swollen head of his cock, forcing a thick pearl of pre-cum to leak out, staining the expensive underwear he'd purchased specifically for this date. Oh dear. His fist slams onto the table -- not too hard, just enough to rattle the silverware -- startling the poor waiter and forcing Wakatoshi, jaw-clenched and red-faced Wakatoshi, to push through his agony and offer up a meek apology and insistence that they're fine and don't need anything right now, thankyouverymuchsir.
The waiter nods and smiles dutifully before he bowing and going off to service other customers not involved in mind-blowing footjobs elsewhere. Just in time, too, because half of Wakatoshi's cock springs free and he lets out a ragged groan, barely muffling it with the back of his hand.
One hand daintily curved over his wineglass, the other clamping tight around Sakusa's ankle, he shoots a look across the table.]
...Meshiagare.
So when the young waiter, still blissfully unaware of what's going on beneath the tablecloth (or, if he was, he made no indication of such), moves to Wakatoshi's side of the table to set the entree platter on the placemat before him...just as the pad of Sakusa's foot pushes into the swollen head of his cock, forcing a thick pearl of pre-cum to leak out, staining the expensive underwear he'd purchased specifically for this date. Oh dear. His fist slams onto the table -- not too hard, just enough to rattle the silverware -- startling the poor waiter and forcing Wakatoshi, jaw-clenched and red-faced Wakatoshi, to push through his agony and offer up a meek apology and insistence that they're fine and don't need anything right now, thankyouverymuchsir.
The waiter nods and smiles dutifully before he bowing and going off to service other customers not involved in mind-blowing footjobs elsewhere. Just in time, too, because half of Wakatoshi's cock springs free and he lets out a ragged groan, barely muffling it with the back of his hand.
One hand daintily curved over his wineglass, the other clamping tight around Sakusa's ankle, he shoots a look across the table.]
...Meshiagare.
[A simple word, 'dear,' is all it takes for Sakusa's posture to shift from a slouch to upright, eyes going wide. His entire body stills but resumes not a moment later, like a physically hiccup. With a single pet name, Sakusa completely, utterly, and thoroughly understands the appeal of the fantasy.
'Handsy,' Sakusa thinks to himself, with no small amount of pride. It's not like Sakusa isn't just as hands-on, rubbing his firm grip steadily thumbing over Ushijima's apron in a promise of what's to come, though it's difficult to maintain composure with all the force of Ushijima pulling him closer and clawing at the same places he'd left red welts not a week ago. Sakusa squirms as the dull ache mixes with new want, every little shift brushing the ribbons' ends over Ushijima's arms.
He hadn't planned on the roleplay seducing himself, but Sakusa quickly imagines and loses himself in a fantasy that places him on his knees and between his lover's thighs. Though it's not something they've tried before, Sakusa would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in it. Ever since the first time he held Ushijima's cock in his hand, he'd wondered what it would feel like in his mouth, and what was more housewifely than pleasuring one's husband? Sakusa doesn't require convincing.]
You work so hard... Isn't it about time you relaxed? Let me take care of you.
[Giving nothing less than his all even in this housewife act, Sakusa's usual monotone is laced with a hint of coyness and a pinch of a fluster. The words taste foreign in his mouth yet there's no way he'd give the act up now, not with Ushijima kneading his ass and his own mouth drooling in want.
Pulling away is unfortunate, but it's necessary for what Sakusa intends. He gently hooks a hand around Ushijima's wrist to lead him to the dining table and then ushers Ushijima into the seat. It's also going to be necessary to get that apron out of the way, no matter how cute Sakusa finds Ushijima in it. He wastes no time unfastening the apron and removing it from Ushijima, folding it neatly and placing it on the table; that part very well might not be part of the play, Sakusa naturally inclined to tidiness. He does, however, exaggerate his gestures, making certain his ruffles flounce.
With the apron that had been hiding that delicious lump out of the way, Sakusa drops into seiza, pries Ushijima's knees apart, and scoots into the newly opened space. Sakusa unzips Ushijima's fly, careful to keep the apron on display while he leans forward and hooks his fingers inside the band. He wants nothing more than to yank his waistband down and the rest of his pants along with it, but the fantasy calls for asking for permission. And so Sakusa looks up through his black eyelashes, not even properly lifting his face, and his pout tells Ushijima he won't take, 'no,' as an answer to this next question. He'll just have to make it so that, 'no,' isn't an option.]
May I, goshujinsama?
'Handsy,' Sakusa thinks to himself, with no small amount of pride. It's not like Sakusa isn't just as hands-on, rubbing his firm grip steadily thumbing over Ushijima's apron in a promise of what's to come, though it's difficult to maintain composure with all the force of Ushijima pulling him closer and clawing at the same places he'd left red welts not a week ago. Sakusa squirms as the dull ache mixes with new want, every little shift brushing the ribbons' ends over Ushijima's arms.
He hadn't planned on the roleplay seducing himself, but Sakusa quickly imagines and loses himself in a fantasy that places him on his knees and between his lover's thighs. Though it's not something they've tried before, Sakusa would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in it. Ever since the first time he held Ushijima's cock in his hand, he'd wondered what it would feel like in his mouth, and what was more housewifely than pleasuring one's husband? Sakusa doesn't require convincing.]
You work so hard... Isn't it about time you relaxed? Let me take care of you.
[Giving nothing less than his all even in this housewife act, Sakusa's usual monotone is laced with a hint of coyness and a pinch of a fluster. The words taste foreign in his mouth yet there's no way he'd give the act up now, not with Ushijima kneading his ass and his own mouth drooling in want.
Pulling away is unfortunate, but it's necessary for what Sakusa intends. He gently hooks a hand around Ushijima's wrist to lead him to the dining table and then ushers Ushijima into the seat. It's also going to be necessary to get that apron out of the way, no matter how cute Sakusa finds Ushijima in it. He wastes no time unfastening the apron and removing it from Ushijima, folding it neatly and placing it on the table; that part very well might not be part of the play, Sakusa naturally inclined to tidiness. He does, however, exaggerate his gestures, making certain his ruffles flounce.
With the apron that had been hiding that delicious lump out of the way, Sakusa drops into seiza, pries Ushijima's knees apart, and scoots into the newly opened space. Sakusa unzips Ushijima's fly, careful to keep the apron on display while he leans forward and hooks his fingers inside the band. He wants nothing more than to yank his waistband down and the rest of his pants along with it, but the fantasy calls for asking for permission. And so Sakusa looks up through his black eyelashes, not even properly lifting his face, and his pout tells Ushijima he won't take, 'no,' as an answer to this next question. He'll just have to make it so that, 'no,' isn't an option.]
May I, goshujinsama?
[Sakusa has always been a sucker for how traditional Ushijima is, and the Japanese sends a thrill down his body, right down to his curling toes. He carefully tips his glass back to match Ushijima's actions, and, though stuttery in movement, his smirk is in place when he lowers his glass.
Sakusa attempts to act the part of ordinary diner, but he's not nearly as good at it as Ushijima. When Sakusa dislike something, it's plain to see. And when Sakusa is focused on getting something, it's plain to see. His eyes burn pure want as he takes a handful of bites, slow and careful enough to focus on chewing and grinding in tandem.]
This isn't bad. Caviar, right?
[Sakusa can try to carry on like nothing's amiss, but he knows both of their minds are focused in one place only, and it isn't the food. He tests the give of Ushijima's grip, massaging Ushijima's dick in deep, slow circles.
In a way, Sakusa has already won what he wants. The pounded fist, the clenched jaw, the muffled grunt. And yet Ushijima still hasn't given in, not in the way Sakusa craves. He won't be pleased until seeing this through.]
You're looking a little tense, Wakatoshi. Something the matter?
[It's just observation, an observation paired with his foot rubbing directly against the leaking head, but it could very well be taken as provocation. Sakusa stills and waits for an answer, anxious to see what Ushijima does without the stimulation.]
Sakusa attempts to act the part of ordinary diner, but he's not nearly as good at it as Ushijima. When Sakusa dislike something, it's plain to see. And when Sakusa is focused on getting something, it's plain to see. His eyes burn pure want as he takes a handful of bites, slow and careful enough to focus on chewing and grinding in tandem.]
This isn't bad. Caviar, right?
[Sakusa can try to carry on like nothing's amiss, but he knows both of their minds are focused in one place only, and it isn't the food. He tests the give of Ushijima's grip, massaging Ushijima's dick in deep, slow circles.
In a way, Sakusa has already won what he wants. The pounded fist, the clenched jaw, the muffled grunt. And yet Ushijima still hasn't given in, not in the way Sakusa craves. He won't be pleased until seeing this through.]
You're looking a little tense, Wakatoshi. Something the matter?
[It's just observation, an observation paired with his foot rubbing directly against the leaking head, but it could very well be taken as provocation. Sakusa stills and waits for an answer, anxious to see what Ushijima does without the stimulation.]
[A comment about how I work hard for you, dear dies on the tip of his numb tongue, the words lost in the drool threatening to escape his mouth. He swallows them down and just in time, too, as Sakusa takes that moment to sink to his knees and makes his intentions known; and it's all Wakatoshi can do to not collapse. He doesn't, somehow, so long as he remembers how to breathe.
Even if Sakusa isn't, physically, the very image of a picture-perfect housewife or Wakatoshi himself of a husband, it's so easy to buy into the fantasy like this. He can easily imagine himself as a salaryman, coming through the door after a long days' work and throwing his keys and briefcase on the sideboard, only to have Sakusa waiting for him in the genkan with his slippers and helping him out of his blazer with a quip about how his day went and how he was home now, so he could finally relax...
Okay, so maybe there was something to those maid-cafes the Shiratorizawa boys always cooed about wanting to visit whenever they went to Tokyo for Nationals.
Still in a bit of a daze, Wakatoshi follows dumbly behind Sakusa and drops into his seat without even remembering how he got into this room or what happened to his apron. At this point, he honestly doesn't care. His knees spread apart, he clutches at his thighs to give his hands something to hold on to. For now.
Pupils already blown wide, he stares down at Sakusa as more and more desire unravels from the pit of his belly. Wakatoshi swallows, the thick tension making his Adam's Apple bob. It's cool inside the apartment yet his shirt is starting to stick.]
...of course, dear. Go right ahead.
[Honestly, 'no' was never an option because with Sakusa, Wakatoshi never has the resolve to resist him.]
Even if Sakusa isn't, physically, the very image of a picture-perfect housewife or Wakatoshi himself of a husband, it's so easy to buy into the fantasy like this. He can easily imagine himself as a salaryman, coming through the door after a long days' work and throwing his keys and briefcase on the sideboard, only to have Sakusa waiting for him in the genkan with his slippers and helping him out of his blazer with a quip about how his day went and how he was home now, so he could finally relax...
Okay, so maybe there was something to those maid-cafes the Shiratorizawa boys always cooed about wanting to visit whenever they went to Tokyo for Nationals.
Still in a bit of a daze, Wakatoshi follows dumbly behind Sakusa and drops into his seat without even remembering how he got into this room or what happened to his apron. At this point, he honestly doesn't care. His knees spread apart, he clutches at his thighs to give his hands something to hold on to. For now.
Pupils already blown wide, he stares down at Sakusa as more and more desire unravels from the pit of his belly. Wakatoshi swallows, the thick tension making his Adam's Apple bob. It's cool inside the apartment yet his shirt is starting to stick.]
...of course, dear. Go right ahead.
[Honestly, 'no' was never an option because with Sakusa, Wakatoshi never has the resolve to resist him.]
[The foot begins to move and Ushijima, narrowing his eyes just enough to convey a warning toward Sakusa that he's well-aware of what he's trying to do without having to actually say it. And if that doesn't work, or gets misinterpreted somehow, he's also squeezing his hand around Sakusa's mischievous foot, holding it firmly in place against his cock.
So he can rub them together, in tandem, of course.
It's like frotting, only not. It's only his cock that's rubbing nice and slow along the thick sole of that foot aided by the slickness of the pre-cum, though it can hardly qualify as a fitting substitute for Sakusa's cock, with a little imagination and more sips of his wine, he can pretend.
He takes a few bites of the food, lapping up a bit of the sauce that had dribbled onto his bottom lip.]
Ah, caviar. It's a delicacy in the West.
[He groans out the word 'delicacy', and it's a wonder the people in the nearest table didn't hear him.]
...I'm absolutely fine. Are you enjoying yourself, Kiyoomi?
So he can rub them together, in tandem, of course.
It's like frotting, only not. It's only his cock that's rubbing nice and slow along the thick sole of that foot aided by the slickness of the pre-cum, though it can hardly qualify as a fitting substitute for Sakusa's cock, with a little imagination and more sips of his wine, he can pretend.
He takes a few bites of the food, lapping up a bit of the sauce that had dribbled onto his bottom lip.]
Ah, caviar. It's a delicacy in the West.
[He groans out the word 'delicacy', and it's a wonder the people in the nearest table didn't hear him.]
...I'm absolutely fine. Are you enjoying yourself, Kiyoomi?
[There it is, 'dear' again. Sakusa grins to himself at the pet name while petting Ushijima through his underwear. It'd be so easy to be quick about this, but that doesn't fit into the roleplay. No, he needs to take it slow, really indulge the man in front of him, who was just as perfect as the fantasy and deserved every part of it.
Sakusa's long fingers slip into the waistband and follow the length down to his balls, where he cups them and begins petting the soft pair. His free hand eagerly twitches as he finally pulls down the waistbands, and Sakusa stares when Ushijima's cock bobs free off its confines right at his eye level. It smells amazing and looks even better. He can't wait to suck it...]
I've waited a long time for this.
[He admits it in the same tone he'd been using all along, but this remark is sincere. Since he'd had the cock inside of him, he had touched himself, fantasized, and, hell, dreamed about sucking it. He smiles at it, then smiles back at Ushijima, pressing the cock against the softest part of his cheek and then turn turning to place three open-mouthed kisses as his lips drag up the cock.
Sakusa connects his forefinger and thumb around Ushijima's balls and gently tugs at them just as he lavishes more kisses on the treat in front of his face. His first kisses are chaste and sweet, like the little pecks usually pressed into Ushijima's cheeks. The hand that had pulled down his clothes begins to knead into a thigh, grip becoming firmer at the same time those kisses take a sloppier turn.
Sakusa takes only the head into his mouth to keep it in place while lapping at the precum dribbling down the slit. Some of it continues to leak out the side of Sakusa's lips, mixed with drool of his own, but Sakusa licks that dry as well, then licks his lips clean in a manner that isn't entirely just for show. He's always liked bitter and salty, after all. Up to this point, his focus had been entirely on Ushijima's cock, but now he looks up again, hugging his cheek against the head of his cock.]
Mm... You taste good. [Sakusa's confession makes his own cheeks flush. Right, this is supposed to be play.] Honey.
Sakusa's long fingers slip into the waistband and follow the length down to his balls, where he cups them and begins petting the soft pair. His free hand eagerly twitches as he finally pulls down the waistbands, and Sakusa stares when Ushijima's cock bobs free off its confines right at his eye level. It smells amazing and looks even better. He can't wait to suck it...]
I've waited a long time for this.
[He admits it in the same tone he'd been using all along, but this remark is sincere. Since he'd had the cock inside of him, he had touched himself, fantasized, and, hell, dreamed about sucking it. He smiles at it, then smiles back at Ushijima, pressing the cock against the softest part of his cheek and then turn turning to place three open-mouthed kisses as his lips drag up the cock.
Sakusa connects his forefinger and thumb around Ushijima's balls and gently tugs at them just as he lavishes more kisses on the treat in front of his face. His first kisses are chaste and sweet, like the little pecks usually pressed into Ushijima's cheeks. The hand that had pulled down his clothes begins to knead into a thigh, grip becoming firmer at the same time those kisses take a sloppier turn.
Sakusa takes only the head into his mouth to keep it in place while lapping at the precum dribbling down the slit. Some of it continues to leak out the side of Sakusa's lips, mixed with drool of his own, but Sakusa licks that dry as well, then licks his lips clean in a manner that isn't entirely just for show. He's always liked bitter and salty, after all. Up to this point, his focus had been entirely on Ushijima's cock, but now he looks up again, hugging his cheek against the head of his cock.]
Mm... You taste good. [Sakusa's confession makes his own cheeks flush. Right, this is supposed to be play.] Honey.
[...That's more like it. Sakusa visibly shifts in place, considering if it's worth jerking himself off under the table as well. He decides against it, since the thoughts of cleaning up his own spunk or walking out trying to hide his boner turns him off, but he has no qualm with continuing to jerk off his date. Now sandwiching Ushijima's dick between his boyfriend's hand and his own foot, he strokes his sole up and down, at first a bit clumsy, but quickly finding a rhythm that involves twisting his arch into Ushijima's cock. It's more fun than Sakusa would like to admit, and maybe using both feet next time is something to consider.
'Next time,' he catches himself thinking. If it's a red flag, Sakusa pays it no mind, instead pressing one of the forks too enthusiastically into a soy and yuzu-infused duck à l'orange. Sakusa licks his lips clean of the meal while dragging the precum with his toes.]
I am. I'd enjoy myself more if you took my sock off though.
[It's the first either of them have mentioned their game outright, and Sakusa flexes his foot demonstratively.
He also slides over one of the small dipping dishes filled with olive oil.] This might help.
[Sakusa carries wet wipes in the way most men tuck a condom into their wallet. This can work.]
'Next time,' he catches himself thinking. If it's a red flag, Sakusa pays it no mind, instead pressing one of the forks too enthusiastically into a soy and yuzu-infused duck à l'orange. Sakusa licks his lips clean of the meal while dragging the precum with his toes.]
I am. I'd enjoy myself more if you took my sock off though.
[It's the first either of them have mentioned their game outright, and Sakusa flexes his foot demonstratively.
He also slides over one of the small dipping dishes filled with olive oil.] This might help.
[Sakusa carries wet wipes in the way most men tuck a condom into their wallet. This can work.]
[Sakusa flexes his foot and even though it might seem like a subtle change, to Wakatoshi and his trapped dick, it makes the difference between steadily calm and being on the verge of coming. He hisses, face pinching with repressed pleasure, then breathes out like he'd been taught in those yoga classes the team's athletic trainers had them take. He never imagined using those techniques outside of their appropriate setting, but then again, he never imagined he'd be getting an under-the-table footjob, either. Not outside of a masturbation fantasy, anyway.
The suggestion to remove the sock is meant with a reaction that could only be described as frenzied. Maybe overly enthusiastic? Wakatoshi pulls the sock right off in one swoop, and has enough sense to fold it up, nicely, and tuck it into his blazer pocket instead of tossing it aside somewhere.
He pauses and blinks at the olive oil dish, a little confused at first, until Sakusa's bared foot, drags against his shaft and there's some resistance and friction that, while not painful or bad, could feel a bit better. Everything clicks. With a nod, he dips three fingers into the oil then brings them down to his cock, letting it mix with the pre-cum that had leaked from the head; he repeats the process again and again, until his cock, and part of Sakusa's foot, is coated with enough of the oil to create a smooth and slippery base. Perfect.]
Is this any better?
[He asks, while using his free hand to pour some caviar over one of the sliced breads. The other one curves snug around Sakusa's foot, coaxing it into a rhythm up and down his twitching cock, the oil easing it along, making the movements smoother and faster. All calm and collected, despite the beads of sweat starting to dot his brow.]
The suggestion to remove the sock is meant with a reaction that could only be described as frenzied. Maybe overly enthusiastic? Wakatoshi pulls the sock right off in one swoop, and has enough sense to fold it up, nicely, and tuck it into his blazer pocket instead of tossing it aside somewhere.
He pauses and blinks at the olive oil dish, a little confused at first, until Sakusa's bared foot, drags against his shaft and there's some resistance and friction that, while not painful or bad, could feel a bit better. Everything clicks. With a nod, he dips three fingers into the oil then brings them down to his cock, letting it mix with the pre-cum that had leaked from the head; he repeats the process again and again, until his cock, and part of Sakusa's foot, is coated with enough of the oil to create a smooth and slippery base. Perfect.]
Is this any better?
[He asks, while using his free hand to pour some caviar over one of the sliced breads. The other one curves snug around Sakusa's foot, coaxing it into a rhythm up and down his twitching cock, the oil easing it along, making the movements smoother and faster. All calm and collected, despite the beads of sweat starting to dot his brow.]
[Embarrassment is a foreign concept to someone like Wakatoshi. He's not even sure if it's suitable to call what he feels now as embarrassment, honestly, as he's always associated that emotion with a certain level of discomfort -- which is far from what Sakusa's smooth fingers snaking down to his groin make him feel -- but the extra attention he's being given, the smile, the admission that Sakusa's wanted this for a long time...
It's embarrassing. Everything is embarrassing. How much this is affecting him. How much he likes this. How hard he already is...at this rate, it won't take much to make him come, something that Wakatoshi, and his stamina and control, can't help but feel a certain way about.
Wakatoshi blushes. Deep, hot, and all over. Any minute now, he's going to melt into the chair, he's sure of it. His hand comes over his face -- his eyes, mostly -- as if to protect Sakusa from this vulnerability. Not that it does much: his imagination's working overtime and his other senses are so hypersensitive, he can see what Sakusa's doing without having to watch him.]
Fuck, baby...
[Wakatoshi squirms, the motions making him sink into a slump and, unintentionally, pushing his cock further out into the humidity of Sakusa's mouth. Not too much, thankfully, but still enough for Wakatoshi to guiltily pull his hips back and mutter an apology.]
It's embarrassing. Everything is embarrassing. How much this is affecting him. How much he likes this. How hard he already is...at this rate, it won't take much to make him come, something that Wakatoshi, and his stamina and control, can't help but feel a certain way about.
Wakatoshi blushes. Deep, hot, and all over. Any minute now, he's going to melt into the chair, he's sure of it. His hand comes over his face -- his eyes, mostly -- as if to protect Sakusa from this vulnerability. Not that it does much: his imagination's working overtime and his other senses are so hypersensitive, he can see what Sakusa's doing without having to watch him.]
Fuck, baby...
[Wakatoshi squirms, the motions making him sink into a slump and, unintentionally, pushing his cock further out into the humidity of Sakusa's mouth. Not too much, thankfully, but still enough for Wakatoshi to guiltily pull his hips back and mutter an apology.]
Mmf.
[Ushijima thrusting into his mouth takes him by surprise, but more surprisingly than that...Sakusa likes it. He closes his eyes and hums into the thrust, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes roll back and his mouth sinks deeper. It's the combination of the name, baby, and Ushijima unable to control himself.
Baby. It's odd, since such a soft, cute nickname is such an unsuitable thing for a man like Sakusa, who is more bone than muscle, and what muscle he has is firm and sinewy, not like the plush muscles Ushijima's sculpted. Yet hearing it fall from Ushijima's mouth heats Sakusa's cheeks and spurs on his desire to swallow Ushijima whole.
When he looks up, Ushijima is covering his face, and that simply won't do. He pulls off to snap, and a filmy line of saliva sticks to his bottom lip, still connecting it to Ushijima's cock.]
Hey. Look at me.
[Watching started this whole thing, so Sakusa can't help but feel like it's a waste if Ushijima doesn't do just that. Besides, his pride won't stand for it. He'd been acting his part of the cute housewife, and damn it if he doesn't give Ushijima a sight worth watching. His brows narrow as he gets to work again, this time sticking out his tongue and kitten licking along the slit before taking his cock back into his mouth.
Sakusa hollows out his cheeks and that's the only indication he gives before swallowing down as much length as he can manage. He maintains eye contact while sinking down the length, tongue flat against the underside and tracing the veins. Another 'mmmf,' is joined by a sloppy, wet pop as he begins bobbing his head up and down.
'So big,' Sakusa thinks, pleased, but his thoughts come out as a garbled 'hhh-hmmf.' The vibrations from his throat rouse Ushijima's cock, which in turn prompts Sakusa's hips to squirm in the seiza. His own breathing picks up, even though it's not his cock getting coated in saliva and enthusiasm, and his hand finally slips up from Ushijima's balls to the soft pubic hairs, where he digs and strokes where his mouth can't reach.
He breathes carefully and pulls off with a slurp, letting his hand take over for his mouth in the meantime. There's no coyness or show this time, Sakusa's tone hoarse and demanding. It's clear from his tone alone that he doesn't intend to keep his mouth empty for long.]
In my mouth or on my face?
[Ushijima thrusting into his mouth takes him by surprise, but more surprisingly than that...Sakusa likes it. He closes his eyes and hums into the thrust, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes roll back and his mouth sinks deeper. It's the combination of the name, baby, and Ushijima unable to control himself.
Baby. It's odd, since such a soft, cute nickname is such an unsuitable thing for a man like Sakusa, who is more bone than muscle, and what muscle he has is firm and sinewy, not like the plush muscles Ushijima's sculpted. Yet hearing it fall from Ushijima's mouth heats Sakusa's cheeks and spurs on his desire to swallow Ushijima whole.
When he looks up, Ushijima is covering his face, and that simply won't do. He pulls off to snap, and a filmy line of saliva sticks to his bottom lip, still connecting it to Ushijima's cock.]
Hey. Look at me.
[Watching started this whole thing, so Sakusa can't help but feel like it's a waste if Ushijima doesn't do just that. Besides, his pride won't stand for it. He'd been acting his part of the cute housewife, and damn it if he doesn't give Ushijima a sight worth watching. His brows narrow as he gets to work again, this time sticking out his tongue and kitten licking along the slit before taking his cock back into his mouth.
Sakusa hollows out his cheeks and that's the only indication he gives before swallowing down as much length as he can manage. He maintains eye contact while sinking down the length, tongue flat against the underside and tracing the veins. Another 'mmmf,' is joined by a sloppy, wet pop as he begins bobbing his head up and down.
'So big,' Sakusa thinks, pleased, but his thoughts come out as a garbled 'hhh-hmmf.' The vibrations from his throat rouse Ushijima's cock, which in turn prompts Sakusa's hips to squirm in the seiza. His own breathing picks up, even though it's not his cock getting coated in saliva and enthusiasm, and his hand finally slips up from Ushijima's balls to the soft pubic hairs, where he digs and strokes where his mouth can't reach.
He breathes carefully and pulls off with a slurp, letting his hand take over for his mouth in the meantime. There's no coyness or show this time, Sakusa's tone hoarse and demanding. It's clear from his tone alone that he doesn't intend to keep his mouth empty for long.]
In my mouth or on my face?
[Thankful that he hadn't done any damage with his thrusting, Ushijima tries -- oh, does he try -- to settle down in his seat and ride out this wave of pleasure that is threatening to crest within him as still as possible. This proves impossible right away, as 1) the vibrations of Sakusa's hum add another layer of sensation over him that have him on the verge of sobbing, and 2) Sakusa pulls away, and he really does end up sobbing. Low, though, as it's on the tail end of a piteous groan.
He pulls his hand away from his face, now blushing so hot and so fiercely it feels like it might bruise, and gazes down at Sakusa still knelt between his legs, beautiful as ever, still playing the role of a devoted housewife.
His mouth opens, prepared to offer up an apology, only for him to let out a strangled noise that he'd be embarrassed about later. The hand he'd been trying to hide under, unable to come over his face, latches hard onto the chair's armrest and squeezes tight as the rest of his body follows suite, practically lifting off the chair. Even his toes begin to curl.
Head thrown back and both eyes pinched shut, and he lets out a half-sob, half groan when presented with a choice. His mind feels like it's being split open and Sakusa wants him to answer properly?
His hips lift again, only slightly, and as he feels the head of his dick brushing at the back of Sakusa's throat, he can only silently hope for forgiveness.]
Your mouth... nngh, your mouth. Please. I want -- mmmn -- you to taste me. I want to taste you...
Please...
[Wakatoshi, practically out of his chair now and on the edge of reason, has to force himself back down.]
He pulls his hand away from his face, now blushing so hot and so fiercely it feels like it might bruise, and gazes down at Sakusa still knelt between his legs, beautiful as ever, still playing the role of a devoted housewife.
His mouth opens, prepared to offer up an apology, only for him to let out a strangled noise that he'd be embarrassed about later. The hand he'd been trying to hide under, unable to come over his face, latches hard onto the chair's armrest and squeezes tight as the rest of his body follows suite, practically lifting off the chair. Even his toes begin to curl.
Head thrown back and both eyes pinched shut, and he lets out a half-sob, half groan when presented with a choice. His mind feels like it's being split open and Sakusa wants him to answer properly?
His hips lift again, only slightly, and as he feels the head of his dick brushing at the back of Sakusa's throat, he can only silently hope for forgiveness.]
Your mouth... nngh, your mouth. Please. I want -- mmmn -- you to taste me. I want to taste you...
Please...
[Wakatoshi, practically out of his chair now and on the edge of reason, has to force himself back down.]
Nng!
[The first time Ushijima's cock pushes into his throat, Sakusa nearly gags. He tears up immediately, but swallows upon contact, pushing through on effort alone. It's an intoxicatingly delightful burn, and one that is over before it begins.
It's beautiful, watching Ushijima come undone for him like this. He's a man so sincere that there's no other way to interpret his choked moans, his trembling thighs, his knuckle-white grip. Sakusa smirks while drinking it all in, not out of some sense of felling the infallible Ushijima, but from knowing that every delicious squirm and heave is his doing. He's accomplishing what he set out to do, and that is, for the first time perhaps ever, topped only by the sight before him.]
Of course, dear. Whatever you want.
[Sakusa kisses the leaking tip of Ushijima's cock as sweetly as he'd peck his cheek, and ensconces the head with his lips for a final time. Carefully tucking his teeth beneath his lips, Sakusa nods up and down the shaft, devouring Ushijima's cock in two deep inhales and tonguing at the bumps and ridges in tickle-soft strokes. He doesn't intend to stop until Ushijima's screaming his name this time.
Ushijima's trembling is so intense that Sakusa has to hold him down with both hands. His strength as a spiker proves an unexpected asset as he's barely able to restrain Ushijima from the waist down, and even then Ushijima's movements are spirited enough to jostle Sakusa's mouth and shoulders. Sakusa likes it better like that, the challenge of taking Ushijima apart enough to roll his eyes into his skull and make his hips jerk.
Sakusa's normally so controlled and precise, but he loses himself in his and Ushijima's body shivering as one, tongue sloppily swirling, rolling, and flicking as he tries to suck an orgasm out of his lover. He looks up through thick, dark eyelashes, eyes hooded in a lustful look that's equally focused and dazed. Ushijima looks, feels, and tastes so perfect like this, hot and hard in his mouth. He moans around it again, swallowing to hug all its width in his velvety soft heat.
It's not long before Sakusa sinks himself far enough for Ushijima's cock to push into his throat again, but this time he's more prepared, familiar with his own pace and the rhythm of Ushijima's hips fucking into his mouth. It's welcome, even, and so Sakusa closes his eyes, relaxes his jaw, and lets Ushijima fuck his face. He swallows along the girth diligently, little grunts of, "mmh, mmh, mmh!" barely sealing the spittle and precum drooling between his lips and down Ushijima's cock.
It should be impossible for Ushijima to get any thicker, yet his penis throbs in his mouth and Sakusa moans around it. He's close, Sakusa can tell. Their bodies rock in tandem at every thrust pushes against the back of his throat, and Sakusa swallows each and every time. He has to hold his boyfriend by his thighs just to keep his head in place, but the inertia of his movement keeps ruffling up the apron as Sakusa lets himself get face fucked. With Ushijima begging so beautifully with his words and body, Sakusa would be willing to give him anything.
Sakusa's moans grow erratic and loud as his mouth fills with the first taste of actual cum. It's alkaline and sharp, something that Sakusa revels in for its pristineness. The burn is intense, but nothing that Sakusa can't manage, especially when the cum starts pouring into his mouth as Ushijima roars beneath, above, and all around him. Sakusa holds him in place to drink him down, determined not to let even the smallest drip slip away from him. He sucks and sucks until Ushijima's thighs settle beneath him, and then he sucks again.
Sakusa pauses, breathes through his nose for a few minutes, and swallows down the remaining, sucking as he pulls off and then licking any residue off the shaft. He licks his own lips next, a small, "mmm," escaping him before he pets Ushijima's cock, gives it a kiss, and then tucks him back in with a zip. Sakusa remains kneeling between Ushijima's legs, leaning his sore jaw on one of those thighs, his voice mingled with a satisfied hum.]
Did you enjoy yourself, Wakatoshi?
[The first time Ushijima's cock pushes into his throat, Sakusa nearly gags. He tears up immediately, but swallows upon contact, pushing through on effort alone. It's an intoxicatingly delightful burn, and one that is over before it begins.
It's beautiful, watching Ushijima come undone for him like this. He's a man so sincere that there's no other way to interpret his choked moans, his trembling thighs, his knuckle-white grip. Sakusa smirks while drinking it all in, not out of some sense of felling the infallible Ushijima, but from knowing that every delicious squirm and heave is his doing. He's accomplishing what he set out to do, and that is, for the first time perhaps ever, topped only by the sight before him.]
Of course, dear. Whatever you want.
[Sakusa kisses the leaking tip of Ushijima's cock as sweetly as he'd peck his cheek, and ensconces the head with his lips for a final time. Carefully tucking his teeth beneath his lips, Sakusa nods up and down the shaft, devouring Ushijima's cock in two deep inhales and tonguing at the bumps and ridges in tickle-soft strokes. He doesn't intend to stop until Ushijima's screaming his name this time.
Ushijima's trembling is so intense that Sakusa has to hold him down with both hands. His strength as a spiker proves an unexpected asset as he's barely able to restrain Ushijima from the waist down, and even then Ushijima's movements are spirited enough to jostle Sakusa's mouth and shoulders. Sakusa likes it better like that, the challenge of taking Ushijima apart enough to roll his eyes into his skull and make his hips jerk.
Sakusa's normally so controlled and precise, but he loses himself in his and Ushijima's body shivering as one, tongue sloppily swirling, rolling, and flicking as he tries to suck an orgasm out of his lover. He looks up through thick, dark eyelashes, eyes hooded in a lustful look that's equally focused and dazed. Ushijima looks, feels, and tastes so perfect like this, hot and hard in his mouth. He moans around it again, swallowing to hug all its width in his velvety soft heat.
It's not long before Sakusa sinks himself far enough for Ushijima's cock to push into his throat again, but this time he's more prepared, familiar with his own pace and the rhythm of Ushijima's hips fucking into his mouth. It's welcome, even, and so Sakusa closes his eyes, relaxes his jaw, and lets Ushijima fuck his face. He swallows along the girth diligently, little grunts of, "mmh, mmh, mmh!" barely sealing the spittle and precum drooling between his lips and down Ushijima's cock.
It should be impossible for Ushijima to get any thicker, yet his penis throbs in his mouth and Sakusa moans around it. He's close, Sakusa can tell. Their bodies rock in tandem at every thrust pushes against the back of his throat, and Sakusa swallows each and every time. He has to hold his boyfriend by his thighs just to keep his head in place, but the inertia of his movement keeps ruffling up the apron as Sakusa lets himself get face fucked. With Ushijima begging so beautifully with his words and body, Sakusa would be willing to give him anything.
Sakusa's moans grow erratic and loud as his mouth fills with the first taste of actual cum. It's alkaline and sharp, something that Sakusa revels in for its pristineness. The burn is intense, but nothing that Sakusa can't manage, especially when the cum starts pouring into his mouth as Ushijima roars beneath, above, and all around him. Sakusa holds him in place to drink him down, determined not to let even the smallest drip slip away from him. He sucks and sucks until Ushijima's thighs settle beneath him, and then he sucks again.
Sakusa pauses, breathes through his nose for a few minutes, and swallows down the remaining, sucking as he pulls off and then licking any residue off the shaft. He licks his own lips next, a small, "mmm," escaping him before he pets Ushijima's cock, gives it a kiss, and then tucks him back in with a zip. Sakusa remains kneeling between Ushijima's legs, leaning his sore jaw on one of those thighs, his voice mingled with a satisfied hum.]
Did you enjoy yourself, Wakatoshi?
[Only in Sakusa's mind would an act such as pulling off a sock, folding it to prevent wrinkles, and tucking it safely into a pocket be considered erotic. If he wasn't in the middle of dinner and so sockless, he might have stood up and kissed Ushijima for it. Since he can't, he stores the visual memory for a jerk off session later.
He flexes his foot appreciatively instead, careful not to get in the way until Ushijima has coated his entire length with the table oil. It's different than the sock, and Sakusa shivers in place at the first smooth slide of warm skin on skin contact. He knew Ushijima was thick, but without the barrier between their bodies, he feels longer, girthier. It's different to the touch too, the shape surprisingly well suited to the arch of his foot and the touch of it feeling softer against his rougher sole than in his hand. His ankle bumps against Ushijima's wrist, but only for a second. Next thing he knows, Sakusa's stifling a moan of his own, Ushijima aggressively chasing his own pleasure by moving his ankle as he pleases.]
Yes. [Sakusa says it as though agreeing to taste the anguille sashimi.]
I should be the one asking you that, but it's obvious enough. You're handsome like this.
[It might not be noticeable to anybody else, but to Sakusa, it's plain as day. Ushijima's doing a fine job of looking composed, and even that, Sakusa revels in.
But he's not one to be outdone by the pace Ushijima's set, rolling his ankle to aggressively grind against the top of Ushijima's dick and from side-to-side while Ushijima sets the pace. Every third stroke, he twists his ankle to touch with the top side of his foot instead. It's sloppier, clumsier than usual, and not at all how Sakusa would normally like to have to sex, but it's exciting too, and he finds himself smirking mischievously around a mouthful of eel, caught in the same kind of unexpected play as when he first fell for his boyfriend.
Eventually Sakusa pushes his date's dick between his toes. It is a bit of a workout, especially at this angle, but Sakusa has never been a quitter. When the angle gets tough, he starts moving his leg by the hip to switch up the angle, jostling in his seat a little bit. It swishes the wine in their glasses and flickers the flame on their tealights, but there's no rattle otherwise. He's also unable to keep eating while concentrating like this, focus only on Ushijima and the yummy expressions on his face.]
Wakatoshi. You don't have to hold back anymore. Come for me.
He flexes his foot appreciatively instead, careful not to get in the way until Ushijima has coated his entire length with the table oil. It's different than the sock, and Sakusa shivers in place at the first smooth slide of warm skin on skin contact. He knew Ushijima was thick, but without the barrier between their bodies, he feels longer, girthier. It's different to the touch too, the shape surprisingly well suited to the arch of his foot and the touch of it feeling softer against his rougher sole than in his hand. His ankle bumps against Ushijima's wrist, but only for a second. Next thing he knows, Sakusa's stifling a moan of his own, Ushijima aggressively chasing his own pleasure by moving his ankle as he pleases.]
Yes. [Sakusa says it as though agreeing to taste the anguille sashimi.]
I should be the one asking you that, but it's obvious enough. You're handsome like this.
[It might not be noticeable to anybody else, but to Sakusa, it's plain as day. Ushijima's doing a fine job of looking composed, and even that, Sakusa revels in.
But he's not one to be outdone by the pace Ushijima's set, rolling his ankle to aggressively grind against the top of Ushijima's dick and from side-to-side while Ushijima sets the pace. Every third stroke, he twists his ankle to touch with the top side of his foot instead. It's sloppier, clumsier than usual, and not at all how Sakusa would normally like to have to sex, but it's exciting too, and he finds himself smirking mischievously around a mouthful of eel, caught in the same kind of unexpected play as when he first fell for his boyfriend.
Eventually Sakusa pushes his date's dick between his toes. It is a bit of a workout, especially at this angle, but Sakusa has never been a quitter. When the angle gets tough, he starts moving his leg by the hip to switch up the angle, jostling in his seat a little bit. It swishes the wine in their glasses and flickers the flame on their tealights, but there's no rattle otherwise. He's also unable to keep eating while concentrating like this, focus only on Ushijima and the yummy expressions on his face.]
Wakatoshi. You don't have to hold back anymore. Come for me.
Ah.
[Pleased that Sakusa is finding this impromptu footjob, along with the olive oil serving as an admittedly messy lube substitute, gratifying and worth smirking so devilishly over, and humbled by the compliment, Wakatoshi's skin flushes pink, glowing from the heat practically radiating off of him.
It's stuffy around the table now, and he can't tell for sure if it's because the temperature inside the restaurant has actually gone up or if it's his own body's response to the bombardment of stimuli, courtesy of one crafty, smirking Kiyoomi Sakusa. All Wakatoshi knows is if this keeps up, he's going to have to remove his tie and unbutton his shirt, and that he's not come across as the composed and smooth man he was when he first sat down to anyone passing by. Their waiter might call for a doctor. What a hassle that would be...
The change in angle, the toes getting in on the action, the added weight and pressure... More than that, though, it's Sakusa's expression. Smug and self-satisfied as it is, there's obvious strain on his part. He, too, like Wakatoshi, can barely keep his mouth closed.
It's got no right being that hot, yet there they are.]
Mmmhm.
[Wakatoshi clenches his jaw, his lips pressed tightly together as he fights to keep from doubling over too much as the first wave of his orgasm hits him, causing him to squeeze tighter all over and especially around poor Sakusa's foot. He comes in a continuous stream rather than in spurts, spilling hot over oil-drenched toes and the front of Sakusa's foot. Body quaking, he keeps coming, somehow quiet throughout aside from a soft and drawn out Hah... that he keeps muffled with one hand. The other stays curved around his softening dick and that foot, even as he slumps back in his chair, dazed and panting for breath.
He looks like he's slightly flushed, the rise and fall of his chest visible even beneath his jacket and shirt. Not too out of the ordinary. Inside, he feels like he's been through the ringer, like he's been through several rounds of intense sex. In a way, he has.]
[Pleased that Sakusa is finding this impromptu footjob, along with the olive oil serving as an admittedly messy lube substitute, gratifying and worth smirking so devilishly over, and humbled by the compliment, Wakatoshi's skin flushes pink, glowing from the heat practically radiating off of him.
It's stuffy around the table now, and he can't tell for sure if it's because the temperature inside the restaurant has actually gone up or if it's his own body's response to the bombardment of stimuli, courtesy of one crafty, smirking Kiyoomi Sakusa. All Wakatoshi knows is if this keeps up, he's going to have to remove his tie and unbutton his shirt, and that he's not come across as the composed and smooth man he was when he first sat down to anyone passing by. Their waiter might call for a doctor. What a hassle that would be...
The change in angle, the toes getting in on the action, the added weight and pressure... More than that, though, it's Sakusa's expression. Smug and self-satisfied as it is, there's obvious strain on his part. He, too, like Wakatoshi, can barely keep his mouth closed.
It's got no right being that hot, yet there they are.]
Mmmhm.
[Wakatoshi clenches his jaw, his lips pressed tightly together as he fights to keep from doubling over too much as the first wave of his orgasm hits him, causing him to squeeze tighter all over and especially around poor Sakusa's foot. He comes in a continuous stream rather than in spurts, spilling hot over oil-drenched toes and the front of Sakusa's foot. Body quaking, he keeps coming, somehow quiet throughout aside from a soft and drawn out Hah... that he keeps muffled with one hand. The other stays curved around his softening dick and that foot, even as he slumps back in his chair, dazed and panting for breath.
He looks like he's slightly flushed, the rise and fall of his chest visible even beneath his jacket and shirt. Not too out of the ordinary. Inside, he feels like he's been through the ringer, like he's been through several rounds of intense sex. In a way, he has.]
[When Ushijima finally comes, Sakusa has to bite his lip to stifle a moan that should be all Ushijima's to make. The satisfaction sinks in as he watches all the small tells shift across Ushijima's face, shoulders, and chest. It's kind of thrilling to think that nobody has noticed what they've gotten up to while the staff and guests are none the wiser, and Sakusa drinks in the sight of Ushijima coming down, accompanied by a small smile that's reserved only for when they face each other on opposite sides of the net.]
You looked wrecked. You should see yourself.
[Once Ushijima's breathing evens out, Sakusa pulls out his wallet to retrieve his credit card and a wet wipe for himself and his date. He tucks both of the wipes into the napkin that had been spread across his lap, folds the napkin into a neat lump, and hands it across the table.]
Here, for cleaning up.
[He'd clean his own foot, but he'd still be sockless, and passing the wipes over the table is easier than passing a sock. He leaves his heel resting on Ushijima's thigh, careful not to overstimulate him. It's a nice option, but there are certain things for Sakusa's eyes only, and he wouldn't risk leaking that to unsuspecting eyes.
Besides, if Sakusa has his way, he doesn't intend to put that napkin to use for the rest of the evening. Ushijima might have gotten off, but Sakusa's still squirming, just barely, in place, his breathing even but heavy. Anybody else might not be table to tell how pent up he is, how he wants to be far louder than is appropriate at the dinner table. Sakusa slides the credit card he'd pulled out visibly into the waiter's view. It's black and, like their evening, limitless.]
That main course was very satisfying, but I want dessert.
[He looks across the table, eyes dark and wanting, hoping that Ushijima catches his drift.]
You looked wrecked. You should see yourself.
[Once Ushijima's breathing evens out, Sakusa pulls out his wallet to retrieve his credit card and a wet wipe for himself and his date. He tucks both of the wipes into the napkin that had been spread across his lap, folds the napkin into a neat lump, and hands it across the table.]
Here, for cleaning up.
[He'd clean his own foot, but he'd still be sockless, and passing the wipes over the table is easier than passing a sock. He leaves his heel resting on Ushijima's thigh, careful not to overstimulate him. It's a nice option, but there are certain things for Sakusa's eyes only, and he wouldn't risk leaking that to unsuspecting eyes.
Besides, if Sakusa has his way, he doesn't intend to put that napkin to use for the rest of the evening. Ushijima might have gotten off, but Sakusa's still squirming, just barely, in place, his breathing even but heavy. Anybody else might not be table to tell how pent up he is, how he wants to be far louder than is appropriate at the dinner table. Sakusa slides the credit card he'd pulled out visibly into the waiter's view. It's black and, like their evening, limitless.]
That main course was very satisfying, but I want dessert.
[He looks across the table, eyes dark and wanting, hoping that Ushijima catches his drift.]
[Part of Wakatoshi wishes he could say that once his dear lover gave him expressed permission, he came and it was nice and blissful and perfect, the end. Except that's just the tip of the iceberg and it doesn't do Sakusa and the literal magic he can create with his mouth any justice.
He doesn't remember the moment his orgasm truly begins or when it ends. Vaguely, he recalls his hips bucking and Sakusa kissing his dick, tongue and lips and all, before his trembling thighs are held down and the rest of his body jolts in protest, at first, then surrenders to the welcoming heat of Sakusa's mouth. He trembles all over, dick pulsing as his hips move up for the last time. Then it's too much and something within him crests, and he lets out a strangled sound, mouth open in a silent scream as he shoots his load and pumps his lover's mouth full.
He collapses back onto his chair, barely aware at that moment that he'd even lifted off of it, a panting and sweat-drenched mess. Though his eyes are halfway open and lifted towards the ceiling, he can't see anything except brilliant dots and the overhead lights. He's out of his mind, half out of his body, with relief flowing through and out of him.
Sometime after the numbness throughout begins to fade, Wakatoshi feels -- rather than sees -- Sakusa peck him and put him away, prompting him to glance down through the bangs plastered to his forehead, sticky with sweat.
Fuck, he's so beautiful.]
Haah...
[Chest still rising and falling so fast that it's downright embarrassing, Wakatoshi averts his gaze, attempts to sit up straighter. (And fails, on both counts.) His hand reaches out, cupping Sakusa's cheek, the thumb stroking across the shine of his lip and over his chin, fond and careful.]
...I did.
[The huskiness of his own voice sounds foreign to him. Nevertheless, he smiles, continues to stroke his lover's cheek.]
Didn't...realize how much I needed that. Thank you, sweetheart...
He doesn't remember the moment his orgasm truly begins or when it ends. Vaguely, he recalls his hips bucking and Sakusa kissing his dick, tongue and lips and all, before his trembling thighs are held down and the rest of his body jolts in protest, at first, then surrenders to the welcoming heat of Sakusa's mouth. He trembles all over, dick pulsing as his hips move up for the last time. Then it's too much and something within him crests, and he lets out a strangled sound, mouth open in a silent scream as he shoots his load and pumps his lover's mouth full.
He collapses back onto his chair, barely aware at that moment that he'd even lifted off of it, a panting and sweat-drenched mess. Though his eyes are halfway open and lifted towards the ceiling, he can't see anything except brilliant dots and the overhead lights. He's out of his mind, half out of his body, with relief flowing through and out of him.
Sometime after the numbness throughout begins to fade, Wakatoshi feels -- rather than sees -- Sakusa peck him and put him away, prompting him to glance down through the bangs plastered to his forehead, sticky with sweat.
Fuck, he's so beautiful.]
Haah...
[Chest still rising and falling so fast that it's downright embarrassing, Wakatoshi averts his gaze, attempts to sit up straighter. (And fails, on both counts.) His hand reaches out, cupping Sakusa's cheek, the thumb stroking across the shine of his lip and over his chin, fond and careful.]
...I did.
[The huskiness of his own voice sounds foreign to him. Nevertheless, he smiles, continues to stroke his lover's cheek.]
Didn't...realize how much I needed that. Thank you, sweetheart...
[A post-orgasm Ushijima is a beautiful sight, and Sakusa would be perfectly content to watch his orgasm pass, but watching Ushijima while being pet is simply top-tier. He practically purrs while leaning his cheek into his lover's hand.]
You're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. It's my duty to take care of you.
[It could be taken as play, but it's more fact than fiction. He takes his role as a boyfriend very seriously.
Sakusa shifts position to kiss the fingertips and then begins tilting his jaw to get Ushijima to pet him exactly where he wants it, smirking all the while. Knowing that he's brought Ushijima to this point brings a smug grin on his lips, but it twitches at the name. Not in a bad manner, no, never. To the contrary, Sakusa looks away, his lips flushing from a blush. He'd thought the names would stop as soon as Ushijima came, but he's reminded of how hard he is with the simple "sweetheart". It makes him want to smile out of endearment as much as it makes him want to frown out of embarrassment.
Opting to focus on getting himself off instead of how Ushijima might have converted him to his kink, he slides up and takes a seat on one of those strong, muscular thighs. It puts the apron on full display, complete with a tent right where his hips are.
Sakusa's not sure if he should keep the play up, but it's hard to think when he's ready to be ready. He leans in and kisses Ushijima's ear, giving it a quick nip.]
My turn. I'm in your care.
[He guides the hand that had been resting on his cheek beneath the apron, grinding it over his hard-on.]
You're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. It's my duty to take care of you.
[It could be taken as play, but it's more fact than fiction. He takes his role as a boyfriend very seriously.
Sakusa shifts position to kiss the fingertips and then begins tilting his jaw to get Ushijima to pet him exactly where he wants it, smirking all the while. Knowing that he's brought Ushijima to this point brings a smug grin on his lips, but it twitches at the name. Not in a bad manner, no, never. To the contrary, Sakusa looks away, his lips flushing from a blush. He'd thought the names would stop as soon as Ushijima came, but he's reminded of how hard he is with the simple "sweetheart". It makes him want to smile out of endearment as much as it makes him want to frown out of embarrassment.
Opting to focus on getting himself off instead of how Ushijima might have converted him to his kink, he slides up and takes a seat on one of those strong, muscular thighs. It puts the apron on full display, complete with a tent right where his hips are.
Sakusa's not sure if he should keep the play up, but it's hard to think when he's ready to be ready. He leans in and kisses Ushijima's ear, giving it a quick nip.]
My turn. I'm in your care.
[He guides the hand that had been resting on his cheek beneath the apron, grinding it over his hard-on.]
[Brain on the verge of turning into mush, Wakatoshi can barely tell if Sakusa's declaration of duty is more along the lines of their play or if he's being completely and utterly honest with him. The fact that he can't even tell, or that either option is entirely plausible is, in a strange way, hot.
As he squirms around in his slumped, seated position and tries to regain basic motor skills -- that orgasm was too much too quick, apparently -- Wakatoshi allows his hand to continue petting Sakusa's cheek, the fingers caressing against the blemish-free skin and curling around the curve of his jaw with care and affection. Like he imagines a husband would to his doting wife. It's a sweet and heartwarming moment.
So, of course, Sakusa takes that opportunity to deposit himself right onto Wakatoshi's lap. It's not abrupt or surprising, but it does make him grunt out loud. Sakusa is lighter than he is, sure, but he's no waif, and Wakatoshi just came...
Instinctively and without a second thought, his large hands come up to Sakusa's waist, then trails down to the hem of the apron where they rub admiringly against the ruffles and fabric. It's of good quality, probably wouldn't rip unless Wakatoshi really tried; probably expensive, too. He wonders if Sakusa had purchased this for practicality or if he'd been curious enough to try something new with it on. Knowing him, it was simply to avoid getting the clothes beneath it dirty. Even so, it's worth every yen.
He sighs through barely parted lips as Sakusa guides his hand without protest. There's the unmistakeable bulge and his fingers wrap around it as best they can beneath the warmth of the apron's fabric, offering it a firm squeeze, plump and hot, against the calluses of his left hand.
His head tips back just enough so that he can peer through his lashes, trying to make eye contact with Sakusa.]
...kiss me.
[Rather than take what he wants, he waits for Sakusa to make the move. Somehow, he doubts Sakusa will -- he's even betting on the rejection. Kissing after swallowing every drop of someone's cum isn't exactly commonplace. It might even seem dirty. Wakatoshi doesn't mind, but he's curious...]
As he squirms around in his slumped, seated position and tries to regain basic motor skills -- that orgasm was too much too quick, apparently -- Wakatoshi allows his hand to continue petting Sakusa's cheek, the fingers caressing against the blemish-free skin and curling around the curve of his jaw with care and affection. Like he imagines a husband would to his doting wife. It's a sweet and heartwarming moment.
So, of course, Sakusa takes that opportunity to deposit himself right onto Wakatoshi's lap. It's not abrupt or surprising, but it does make him grunt out loud. Sakusa is lighter than he is, sure, but he's no waif, and Wakatoshi just came...
Instinctively and without a second thought, his large hands come up to Sakusa's waist, then trails down to the hem of the apron where they rub admiringly against the ruffles and fabric. It's of good quality, probably wouldn't rip unless Wakatoshi really tried; probably expensive, too. He wonders if Sakusa had purchased this for practicality or if he'd been curious enough to try something new with it on. Knowing him, it was simply to avoid getting the clothes beneath it dirty. Even so, it's worth every yen.
He sighs through barely parted lips as Sakusa guides his hand without protest. There's the unmistakeable bulge and his fingers wrap around it as best they can beneath the warmth of the apron's fabric, offering it a firm squeeze, plump and hot, against the calluses of his left hand.
His head tips back just enough so that he can peer through his lashes, trying to make eye contact with Sakusa.]
...kiss me.
[Rather than take what he wants, he waits for Sakusa to make the move. Somehow, he doubts Sakusa will -- he's even betting on the rejection. Kissing after swallowing every drop of someone's cum isn't exactly commonplace. It might even seem dirty. Wakatoshi doesn't mind, but he's curious...]
[Wrecked, Sakusa says. That matches up perfectly to what he feels, yeah. Still and somehow, he's able to keep up the appearance he always has in public, that of a serious and reserved young man who knows what he wants...especially when it's sitting across from him, giving him that suggestive small smile they've been teasing each other with since middle school.
With a grateful sigh and nod, he takes the offered wet wipes and napkin, unwrapping them with surprisingly nimble fingers and using them to wipe off the mess from his dick down below. Lucky for him, barely any of his cum spilled onto his pants, with Sakusa's foot catching the majority of it. He's still going to the dry cleaners anyway, but it's good to know he won't have any suspicious stains on it. Now with the second wipe, he cleans as much of his lover's foot as he can with thorough and painstaking care, making sure to go in between the toes and the underside with as much of the clean surface as he can. No careless and blind swaths here.
When the foot is cleaned to his satisfaction, he carefully folds up the wipes, dirty sides inward of course, then folds the napkins over those before setting the pile onto the corner for the busboy to take.
Clean and clear, in more ways than one, Wakatoshi glances back over to Sakusa, noting the labored breathing and just as he's about to comment on it and put Sakusa's sock back on for him, the credit card's being slid over, forcing him to pause. And blink.]
Do not worry, Kiyoomi. I've already covered this dinner in advance.
[Because of course he did. Spoiling him and paying for things just seemed like the appropriate thing to do, though he is flattered that Sakusa was willing to pay even if Wakatoshi had been the one to drag him out here.
With a small smile, he slides the card back, gestures for their waiter to come by with the check for him to sign. And of course the loyal little puppy of a waiter leaps at the opportunity to suck up for a bonus, which Wakatoshi casually signs over and all but shoves the card holder into the waiter's (comparably) tiny hands.
He rubs at Sakusa's foot, then pats it gently on the side, a silent gesture for him to prepare himself.]
But we can certainly have dessert at home.
[With a nod of his head towards the door.]
Ready?
With a grateful sigh and nod, he takes the offered wet wipes and napkin, unwrapping them with surprisingly nimble fingers and using them to wipe off the mess from his dick down below. Lucky for him, barely any of his cum spilled onto his pants, with Sakusa's foot catching the majority of it. He's still going to the dry cleaners anyway, but it's good to know he won't have any suspicious stains on it. Now with the second wipe, he cleans as much of his lover's foot as he can with thorough and painstaking care, making sure to go in between the toes and the underside with as much of the clean surface as he can. No careless and blind swaths here.
When the foot is cleaned to his satisfaction, he carefully folds up the wipes, dirty sides inward of course, then folds the napkins over those before setting the pile onto the corner for the busboy to take.
Clean and clear, in more ways than one, Wakatoshi glances back over to Sakusa, noting the labored breathing and just as he's about to comment on it and put Sakusa's sock back on for him, the credit card's being slid over, forcing him to pause. And blink.]
Do not worry, Kiyoomi. I've already covered this dinner in advance.
[Because of course he did. Spoiling him and paying for things just seemed like the appropriate thing to do, though he is flattered that Sakusa was willing to pay even if Wakatoshi had been the one to drag him out here.
With a small smile, he slides the card back, gestures for their waiter to come by with the check for him to sign. And of course the loyal little puppy of a waiter leaps at the opportunity to suck up for a bonus, which Wakatoshi casually signs over and all but shoves the card holder into the waiter's (comparably) tiny hands.
He rubs at Sakusa's foot, then pats it gently on the side, a silent gesture for him to prepare himself.]
But we can certainly have dessert at home.
[With a nod of his head towards the door.]
Ready?
[It shouldn't come as a surprise that Ushijima had been this thorough, but it is, and the extra care charms Sakusa further. His thighs clench in want as he slides the card back back into his wallet and, while his hands are beneath the table, pries himself away from Ushijima to tuck himself back into his shoe. Ushijima had done a satisfactory job of cleaning them both up afterward but particularly his foot, wiping it clean, dry, and sliding his sock on as if nobody were the wiser of what they'd been up to. It's a fairly intimate act that has Sakusa nearly moaning over the table, but Sakusa manages to keep shut and shiver while held still, eyes on the prize. Ushijima's impeccable manners were just another thing Sakusa looks forward to rewarding his boyfriend for as soon as they're home and behind locked doors.]
Yes. Let's.
[Sakusa can barely contain his enthusiasm as stands up, grabs his roses, and casts one final cursory glance at the waiter. He can't get out of here soon enough, a sigh of relief escaping him.]
The service was terrible.
Yes. Let's.
[Sakusa can barely contain his enthusiasm as stands up, grabs his roses, and casts one final cursory glance at the waiter. He can't get out of here soon enough, a sigh of relief escaping him.]
The service was terrible.
Page 3 of 4