[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.]
[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.]
[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.]
[Getting up from the table takes some effort. Even though he's certain he looks fine, Wakatoshi isn't certain he looks as pristine as he did when he first stepped into the restaurant and if any of the other diners or the staff have noticed -- snooty rich types tended to be so critical of such things, especially when directed towards (somewhat) celebrity athletes and the like.
It's also difficult to seem so unaffected when Sakusa, meanwhile, is practically doubled over their table and getting a look of absolute hunger burning behind those impossibly-black eyes. But Wakatoshi manages, even offering Sakusa his elbow once he's sure his suit is smoothed out and he's retrieved all of his belongings, including his credit card.
The waiter bristles, apparently overhearing Sakusa's commentary but ever so dutiful and professional, despite getting his balls torn off verbally, he does nothing except smile and nod as the two men turn and head toward the restaurant's exit.]
Very sorry about the subpar service you received, Sakusa. I'm hoping to make it up to you with dessert at home...
[Which he really does intend to, once they make it home. The trip back is mostly forgettable -- Wakatoshi sprung the extra cash for a cab ride instead of a standard train ride, not wanting their suits to get dirty, and if it was to get a chance for him to sneak and run his large hand over Sakusa's thigh and crotch for the entire trip while the driver was blissfully unaware, that was just an added bonus and certainly nothing he'd planned for.
They're barely three steps into his abode, with their shoes neatly removed and placed on opposite sides of the genkan when Wakatoshi undoes the button of Sakusa's slacks, reaches in through the open fly of his underwear, and starts blowing him right then and there.]
[Sakusa has no doubts that Ushijima will make it up to him, though truly there's nothing to make up, considering what a worthwhile date it's been. Sakusa smirks seeing all of his boyfriend's little tells as they leave the restaurant, and he can't help himself from rebuttoning and righting Ushijima's collar before slipping his hand into the crook of his elbow.
Once in the cab, Sakusa's teeming with anticipation. He steals a few glances at Ushijima, lips relaxing deeper into a smile every time he catches his lover looking already. It's such a silly thing to get flustered over, but Ushijima is handsome, especially when he has that post-orgasm glow. The touching, beginning teasing at first, earns a quiet murmur the first time Ushijima's palm slides up his thigh, but Sakusa gasps when the ball of his wrist pushes into his crotch. He closes his eyes and focuses on keeping his breath even as the touching picks up, subtly rocking his crotch into the touch and trying his best not to moan. (How did Wakatoshi manage keeping his cool in front of an entire restaurant? Sakusa's respect for him grows deeper.)
The ride cannot be over soon enough; Sakusa has a death grip on Ushijima's knee and white knuckles as they pull up to the apartment. The shuffle out of the car and into the apartment is clumsy, to say the least, and involves at least one instance of Sakusa awkwardly hiding behind his boyfriend (nothing new) to hide his boner (something new) from a neighbor.
By the time they trip into apartment, Sakusa's body is alight with impatience and heat. Sakusa's too turned on to even ask Ushijima to take him to the bedroom, far more focused on yielding to Ushijima's eagerness and letting himself be pushed against the wall. While he'd had his own ideas of what dessert might entail, the suddenness and passion of the gesture continue kindling the fervor building inside him. His fingers curl over his lover's ears and slip over until petting his short strands.]
Wakatoshi-kun...
[It's a warning, before he starts pumping Ushijima's head like a fleshlight or before Ushijima accidentally sucks an orgasm out of him without expecting it. His thighs are already trembling after carrying his desire this far; finally having Ushijima's mouth lapping and sucking around his cock...]
[As it turns out, Sakusa is a lot more worked up than Wakatoshi had presumed. He can't tell if that's due to his inability to see through the haze of his own lust and anxiousness or if Sakusa hid it very well. He doesn't choke, but he does come very close to it when his lover's hips begin to move frantically; instead of pulling away, he accepts Sakusa's enthusiasm and loosens the clench of his jaw, allowing Sakusa to fuck his throat at his own pace and pleasure. There's an occasional groan around the cock in his mouth and a squeeze of his fingers around Sakusa's muscled thighs when things get particularly good and deep but no actual protest, just an encouraging hum here and there. And lots of spit.
He'll apologize to Sakusa about it and clean it up later.]
Mmmm.
[It's yet another encouraging hum, as if to say I'm betting on it when Sakusa warns him. Wakatoshi has no intentions of stopping, intent on sucking every last drop out of Sakusa as he possibly can. A hand reaches down to cup at his balls, letting the weight of them settle on his fingers and squeezing only barely enough to be felt.]
[Ushijima is impressive in everything he sets himself to, and this is no exception. Even the way he grunts around Ushijima's cock is sexy in a way that Sakusa finds completely unfair; he swears beneath his breath as he fucks Ushijima's face more steadily, holding his face steady so as to not hurt him. His inner thighs tighten with a familiar and enjoyable burn as Ushijima squeezes and hums and he'd worry about being too free with his motions if Ushijima's saliva wasn't rolling down the inside of his thighs. It's wet and entirely excessive, but Sakusa has never seen anything as sexy as Ushijima looking up so pliantly and determined to please.
Sakusa had already warned Ushijima that he'd be quick, and he's not one to repeat himself. Ushijima, the wonderful, sane human being that he is, has probably prepared himself to receive once warned, and that is just as attractive to Sakusa as the welcome sight between his legs. Sakusa would praise him for it if he wasn't biting his lips in a desperate (and futile) attempt to keep his moans stifled. The noises grunted in tandem with his thrusts are more dignified, even if the way Sakusa digs his fingertips into his lover's hair and squirms against the wall aren't.
When his cock brushes against the back of Ushijima's throat, an unexpected croon that forces its way out in an open-mouthed gasp. Though any attempt to silence himself can't silence the sounds he's already made, Sakusa covers his mouth, shoves in as deeply as he can manage, and spills.]
Wakatoshi-kun.
[It's choked out and immediately followed by a relieved keen. The grip he has on Ushijima tightens before it relaxes, and Sakusa practically slides down the wall as his knees bend from the pleasure of release. He catches himself before he slips too far down, and takes some moments to breath, only humming in response until he's caught his breath. It's only then that his hands begin to pet Ushijima fondly, grip as firm as his satisfaction.]
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[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.]
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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.]
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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?
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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.
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It's also difficult to seem so unaffected when Sakusa, meanwhile, is practically doubled over their table and getting a look of absolute hunger burning behind those impossibly-black eyes. But Wakatoshi manages, even offering Sakusa his elbow once he's sure his suit is smoothed out and he's retrieved all of his belongings, including his credit card.
The waiter bristles, apparently overhearing Sakusa's commentary but ever so dutiful and professional, despite getting his balls torn off verbally, he does nothing except smile and nod as the two men turn and head toward the restaurant's exit.]
Very sorry about the subpar service you received, Sakusa. I'm hoping to make it up to you with dessert at home...
[Which he really does intend to, once they make it home. The trip back is mostly forgettable -- Wakatoshi sprung the extra cash for a cab ride instead of a standard train ride, not wanting their suits to get dirty, and if it was to get a chance for him to sneak and run his large hand over Sakusa's thigh and crotch for the entire trip while the driver was blissfully unaware, that was just an added bonus and certainly nothing he'd planned for.
They're barely three steps into his abode, with their shoes neatly removed and placed on opposite sides of the genkan when Wakatoshi undoes the button of Sakusa's slacks, reaches in through the open fly of his underwear, and starts blowing him right then and there.]
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Once in the cab, Sakusa's teeming with anticipation. He steals a few glances at Ushijima, lips relaxing deeper into a smile every time he catches his lover looking already. It's such a silly thing to get flustered over, but Ushijima is handsome, especially when he has that post-orgasm glow. The touching, beginning teasing at first, earns a quiet murmur the first time Ushijima's palm slides up his thigh, but Sakusa gasps when the ball of his wrist pushes into his crotch. He closes his eyes and focuses on keeping his breath even as the touching picks up, subtly rocking his crotch into the touch and trying his best not to moan. (How did Wakatoshi manage keeping his cool in front of an entire restaurant? Sakusa's respect for him grows deeper.)
The ride cannot be over soon enough; Sakusa has a death grip on Ushijima's knee and white knuckles as they pull up to the apartment. The shuffle out of the car and into the apartment is clumsy, to say the least, and involves at least one instance of Sakusa awkwardly hiding behind his boyfriend (nothing new) to hide his boner (something new) from a neighbor.
By the time they trip into apartment, Sakusa's body is alight with impatience and heat. Sakusa's too turned on to even ask Ushijima to take him to the bedroom, far more focused on yielding to Ushijima's eagerness and letting himself be pushed against the wall. While he'd had his own ideas of what dessert might entail, the suddenness and passion of the gesture continue kindling the fervor building inside him. His fingers curl over his lover's ears and slip over until petting his short strands.]
Wakatoshi-kun...
[It's a warning, before he starts pumping Ushijima's head like a fleshlight or before Ushijima accidentally sucks an orgasm out of him without expecting it. His thighs are already trembling after carrying his desire this far; finally having Ushijima's mouth lapping and sucking around his cock...]
Your mouth... Hnn. So good. Won't last long.
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[As it turns out, Sakusa is a lot more worked up than Wakatoshi had presumed. He can't tell if that's due to his inability to see through the haze of his own lust and anxiousness or if Sakusa hid it very well. He doesn't choke, but he does come very close to it when his lover's hips begin to move frantically; instead of pulling away, he accepts Sakusa's enthusiasm and loosens the clench of his jaw, allowing Sakusa to fuck his throat at his own pace and pleasure. There's an occasional groan around the cock in his mouth and a squeeze of his fingers around Sakusa's muscled thighs when things get particularly good and deep but no actual protest, just an encouraging hum here and there. And lots of spit.
He'll apologize to Sakusa about it and clean it up later.]
Mmmm.
[It's yet another encouraging hum, as if to say I'm betting on it when Sakusa warns him. Wakatoshi has no intentions of stopping, intent on sucking every last drop out of Sakusa as he possibly can. A hand reaches down to cup at his balls, letting the weight of them settle on his fingers and squeezing only barely enough to be felt.]
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Sakusa had already warned Ushijima that he'd be quick, and he's not one to repeat himself. Ushijima, the wonderful, sane human being that he is, has probably prepared himself to receive once warned, and that is just as attractive to Sakusa as the welcome sight between his legs. Sakusa would praise him for it if he wasn't biting his lips in a desperate (and futile) attempt to keep his moans stifled. The noises grunted in tandem with his thrusts are more dignified, even if the way Sakusa digs his fingertips into his lover's hair and squirms against the wall aren't.
When his cock brushes against the back of Ushijima's throat, an unexpected croon that forces its way out in an open-mouthed gasp. Though any attempt to silence himself can't silence the sounds he's already made, Sakusa covers his mouth, shoves in as deeply as he can manage, and spills.]
Wakatoshi-kun.
[It's choked out and immediately followed by a relieved keen. The grip he has on Ushijima tightens before it relaxes, and Sakusa practically slides down the wall as his knees bend from the pleasure of release. He catches himself before he slips too far down, and takes some moments to breath, only humming in response until he's caught his breath. It's only then that his hands begin to pet Ushijima fondly, grip as firm as his satisfaction.]
As always, you never fail to impress me.