talk shit ʇᴉɥ ʇǝƃ

His thighs ached and shook, unused to the exertion. There was an ache in his hips, his arms, in the air he breathed. He wanted━he wanted━he sat up straighter, snatched his hands from Ushijima's thighs. He pushed and pulled at the makeshift ties around Ushijima's wrists, wanting hands on him, around him. The tie dropped first but he made quick work of the belt even as his fingers slid clumsily over the leather.

"Jesus━fuck." The wood beneath his hands felt slick with sweat, his fingers white around it. He felt like he could do it for hours, just sliding up and down Ushijima's dick. Every drop punched the breath out of him, his toes curling. Shit. He felt━starved, like he hadn't had sex in ages, hadn't had a dick shoved up him.

But━he hated it, how open his mouth was, the red flush in his chest. It was so fucking━he swallowed, leaned down to press open mouthed kisses against Ushijima's mouth, tongue swiping over lips. His hips rocked back and forth, little swivels of movement so he could get closer, press his dick to Ushijima's abdomen.

There was so much heat. He could feel it, between them, hot and humid. He panted, dropped his mouth to Ushijima's shoulder, neck. let his teeth close around skin and bite down, hard. He brought one hand down and pressed it to Ushijima's ribs, fingers digging into skin and muttering "c'mon c'mon."

For a moment, he was frozen, caught up in his thoughts and all the directions he could take this in. He could do things with this. But—a glance into Ushijima's lap reminded him he had other things to take care of. 

He scrambled off the bed and dropped to his knees next to his suitcase. There was at least one belt—success. He draped it over his shoulder and dug through the case some more. He wasn't betting on finding another belt but he did have—another success. He held the only tie he owned in his fist and climbed back onto the bed.

Before getting right to business, he patted Ushijima's stomach with his free hand. That had to be at least a little reassuring, right? Whatever. He reached for one of Ushijima's wrists, pressed it against a bar and muttered, "don't move."

He used the belt first, wrapped it carefully around the wrist and took care to make sure it was sturdy enough to resist pulling. He quickly moved on to the other wrist, repeated the same actions with his tie before sitting back to survey his work.

Satisfied, he straddled Ushijima and wrapped a hand around his cock. He just—CONDOMS. Right. Maybe—maybe for a moment he'd forgotten the condoms.

(A series of long moments.)

Jesus fuckin—he looked over his shoulder, spotted them on the edge of the bed. He huffed, irritated, and dislodged himself from his place on Ushijima long enough to grab them. 

(A+ job, Craig.)

He ripped one open and impatiently rolled it down Ushijima's cock. That out of the way, he re-wrapped a hand around Ushijima and positioned himself. deep breath and—he let himself drop down, inhaling sharply when the head of Ushijima's cock popped through. 

He wanted to bite back, wanted to leave marks that would stay for days, wanted something to sink his teeth into. It was good—receiving bites, marks, all that. He was just also interested in pushing Ushijima into the bed and digging teeth into his chest. But—

Jesus shit. He couldn’t come like this. digs his fingers into Ushijima’s skin instead of curling them around his cock. Not yet.

But Ushijima was pushing out words like ‘fuck me’ and ‘fuck you’ and fuck. Craig tried to slow his breathing, pressed a hand hard against Ushijima’s bicep. “Ok, ok.” God, shit, so fucking breathy. “You can—yea. C’mon.” He (shakily) scrambled his way up and off Ushijima's fingers, teeth sinking into his lip as he did so.

His fingers closed around the nearby bottle of lube, quick to open and upend it over his right hand. There was probably too much and he was being too fucking impatient but—fuck. Whatever. He fisted Ushijima's dick, gave a few quick strokes. It'd be fine. Yea.

He let loose a sharp inhale when Ushijima pushed another finger in. breathed through the feeling. let his hips drop a bit whenever the fingers slid back out. Everything felt hot and tight, his skin already slick with sweat and they weren't even at the good part yet.

He felt—impatient. trapped in his skin. ready.

But Ushijima was abandoning eye contact and his own eyes fell shut, his head dropping back. Teeth scraping against his neck had him trying not to squirm, wanting—

His breath was hitched and rough. Fuck, he could slide down on this man’s fingers for days. Shit. Every drop down punched the breath out of him, mouth dropped open and eyes half-shut. His fingers tightened around Ushijima’s shoulder, the nape of his neck, as he repositioned his knees for better leverage.

For all that most of this was very much—unexpected—he couldn’t muster up any shock when Ushijima asked where he should put his fingers. He felt as though he’d been waiting for that question. He was quick to shift his knees and lift up from Ushijima’s lap, pressing a hand into his shoulder. Preparation is key.

“Just—” he grabbed at Ushijima’s hand and pulled it between his legs. His legs shifted a little further apart as he pressed fingers to his hole, unable to stop a sharp inhale. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

It was tempting, to just press down on his own, but—fuck. But what? He huffed out a little breath, annoyed with himself, and carefully curled down all but one of Ushijima’s fingers. (If the child in him snickered at his decision to leave the middle finger up, that was his own business.) Might as well start out slow.

Ushijima’s hand held in place, Craig slowly sunk down. He didn’t stop until he was down as far as he could go and then it was only to release a breath that verged on a laugh. He pressed his forehead to Ushijima’s and gave a slow smile.

Falling hadn't resolved the boner situation and he didn't actually want to look Ushijima in the eye because how fucking uncool was this. What was he doing. Why were his pants so far away. Jesus fuck.

It felt like a whole new low, laying face down on the floor, naked because he had been on the verge of penetrative sex. Where had that gotten him.

(Maybe he should move to Peru. Take up shooting lasers out of his eyes as a hobby.)

All that being said, he hadn't thought Ushijima would have the nerve to pick his ass up off the floor.

Craig would like to argue the shit out of this because why the fuck was he in the air when the fuck he didn't ask for this shit━

Oh. Well. He supposed returning to straddling was as good an excuse as any to pick someone up off the floor. He wasn't going to argue the straddling. Maybe the lifting, later. After. Craig Tucker was not meant to be carried to bed.

But━ hands on his ass and a mouth to his collarbone had him groaning and pressing his nose to Ushijima's hair. He brought both his hands back, squeezed them hard over Ushijima's hands, nosed at Ushijima's cheek when he brought his head up.

Shit. He wanted to know what to do? Craig huffed, pressed in closer. And to think, he thought he'd have to take care of everything himself. (Not that he wasn't prepared to.)