Really, really helps, apparently. He’s already leaking precum when he gets his dick free, smearing a glob on the inside of his boxers. He shudders and curses under his breath, wrapping a shaky hand around his throbbing cock.

“Fuuck…” He groans, holding the magazine tightly enough that it bends in around his fingers. “Y/N…”

He bites down on his lip. He can’t be making any noises right now. His quarters don’t have a lock. The very last thing he needs right now is someone walking in - Especially you. If you heard him saying your name while he jerks off, you would not only hate him, but you could report him! His career would be over before it even began, and he’d be outcast on the Tulpar for the rest of the mission. Even Jimmy would hate him.

Daisuke lets his eyes shut so his imagination can take over. The model who looks like you is posed with her legs spread, her underwear covering her vulva but her tits out, ripe for viewing. He tries to imagine you sitting in front of him like that, your perfect boobs and your warm pussy just inches away, on display just for him. He would bury his nose in that thin, damp cotton and just breathe you in for as long as you’d let him. He would pull the fabric aside with his teeth and lick your slick away until it’s all replaced with his saliva. 

If you’d let him, he would fuck you. Oh, he would fuck you. He hasn’t had sex in a couple years, but he thinks about it constantly, especially since he boarded the Tulpar. It’s been torture being trapped in space with no privacy and no material. This magazine was supposed to be his saving grace, but it’s just not doing it for him.

Imagination just isn’t enough for him. He needs some porn or something, something where the plot is already there for him to enjoy. He’s not good at coming up with it on his own! 

He huffs out a frustrated breath. This is so not fair. He’s basically still a teenage boy, he shouldn’t be subjected to this kind of torment. It’s painful, truly painful. 

He tries to stroke faster, squeeze harder, fuck up into his own fist. It doesn’t do much. He just needs something more.

“Daisuke?” A voice calls from the hall. There’s only two women on board, and that’s definitely not Anya’s voice. Daisuke’s eyes go wide with panic. He crumples the magazine in his hand and tries to pull his pants up as quickly as he can.

He’s not fast enough.

“Daisu- Oh! There you are, I’ve been looking for you!” You only spot his face at first. His guilty, flushed face. That expression makes you look him over, from head to toe. “Oh.”

He swallows, trying to subtly cover his unzipped fly with his forearm. “Hi. Hello. You were looking for me?”

“Uh-huh…” You narrow your eyes, unconvinced by his innocent act. “Yeah, I was… What’re you up to?”

“Um,” He looks around aimlessly. “Nothing.”

“Right.” You step into the room and close the door behind you. Daisuke tenses. His dick twitches in his pants. “Nothing.”

He nods weakly, his eyes locked on you as you walk closer. And closer. And then you’re right in front of him, cocking your head to the side as if you already know everything he was doing.

“Nothing,” You move his arm out of the way, planting a knee down between his thighs on the creaky mattress. He tries to move it back, cover up the tent in his pants, hide the evidence, but you don’t let him. “You weren’t doing something dirty, were you?”

He lets out a shallow little breath, a failed attempt at a laugh. “N-No. Of course not.”

You move your knee higher up between his legs, letting it press against his bulge.

“You sure?”

He whimpers. Truly fucking whimpers. It’s pathetic and guilty and so inviting. 

“Thought so…” You murmur, grinding your knee into his clothed cock, watching the way he starts to squirm. “Did I interrupt?”

“I wasn’t…” He tries to deny it - It’s a real, honest attempt - But it’s no use. You know. “Yes…”

“Oh, you poor thing,” You coo, resting your hand on his cheek. He leans into your palm like a cat. “Were you close?”

He shakes his head. “No… Can’t do it…”

You smirk, tilting his head down so he’s watching you knee his dick. You press your forehead into his so you can watch as well. “Aw, you can’t? Do you need some help?”

His groan is more than enough of an answer. He looks up at you, his head still tilted down. It’s the prettiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Please.”

It’s the prettiest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. 

Your hand wraps around his throat, squeezing gently at the sides. You can tell by the way his lips part and his eyes unfocus that he likes the feeling. 

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” You whisper, moving your other hand down to his pants. You only have to pop open the button and tug the denim down. He’s straining in his boxers and started soaking through the fabric. 

But you don’t take his dick out. Instead, you start to take your own pants off. Daisuke is half expecting (and hoping) you’re wearing a strap-on or something - The way you take control is making him think of things he’s never considered before. If he was gonna let anyone peg him, it would be you. 

But there’s no silicone instrument under your pants. Just a pair of blue underwear, which is even better right now. Daisuke wants to lick you.

And then your underwear is on the ground and Daisuke really wants to lick you.

“Y/N.” He mumbles, his eyes locked on to what he can see of your cunt. He feels spit pooling in his mouth. If he opens it again, he’s sure he’ll drool.

“Daisuke,” You climb onto the bed on your knees and slowly push him down onto his back. “Are you gonna be a good boy? Gonna lick my pussy?”

Oh, fuck. He whines, shifting impatiently on the bed. His hands have a mind of their own. They find the back of your thighs - God, your thighs - And urge you up towards his face.

“Sit on my face,” He pleads softly, feeling desperate. He’s never felt so foggy before. All he wants is to taste you, feel your thighs around his head, breathe you in. “Please.”

You thread your fingers through his hair, holding his head in the right position. You slowly crawl up towards his head, setting your knees on the shitty mattress on either side of it. You don’t sit down just yet.

“Make me come,” You tell him, no room for disagreement. Not that he would ever dare to pass up an opportunity like this. “If you don’t, we’re never doing this again.”

He tries to lick you, lifting himself up as much as he can before you pull his hair and guide him back to how you want him. 

“Did you hear me?” You sound stricter this time. 

“Yes, yes…” Daisuke shuts his eyes, frustrated. “I’ll be good, I’ll make you come. I’ll be a good boy.”

“Mm… that’s what I like to hear.” You purr, slowly lowering yourself down onto his face.

His mouth is ready. He’s licking messy stripes up your cunt before you’re even down all the way. The round tip of his nose bumps your clit. You can tell he’s going on passion alone, but it makes you feel good, much better than you were expecting.

You don’t tell him that, though.

“C’mon,” You chastise, voice breathless. “I know you can do better than that.”

He whines into your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue across it until you moan. He’s proud of himself for getting that reaction out of you, laving his tongue down your folds until he’s at your hole. He pushes his tongue past the pulsing muscle, his eyes rolling back as he gets a good taste of you. You’re heady and sweet and so fucking delicious.

“That’s it…” You tighten your grip on his hair, absentmindedly rolling your hips against his face. “Good boy.”

Fuck, that gets to him. He feels his hips buck up off the bed, his cock twitching, achy and leaking. 

He could stay between your legs forever, lapping up your juices and nuzzling your clit for hours on end. If you’d let him. Maybe you would. You are letting him do this, after all.

All of his focus is on making you come. He’s never made a girl finish before, admittedly. Not for lack of trying, but simply lack of skill. But he feels confident this time. What he lacks in skill he makes up for in sheer need.

He wraps his hands around your thighs, pulling you further down onto his face. He can barely breathe, but he doesn’t need to breathe. He needs to get you off. Needs to prove to you that he deserves your attention, your touch. That you should let him do this again - Everyday, if he can.

It’s actually embarrassing how quickly Daisuke gets you off. It feels like almost no time has passed when your legs start to shake, your back arches, and your thighs tighten around his head. He makes a noise, a high-pitched keen, almost a squeal, but you barely even notice it as you come. You gush onto his tongue, into his mouth. He’s squirming under you, lapping your wetness up and kissing your damp skin as much as he can. 

You lift yourself up onto shaky legs, holding the headboard to keep yourself upright. Daisuke is panting under you, trembling even more than you are.

“Did you come?” He whispers, looking up at you pleadingly, his pretty eyes genuinely worried that he failed.

“Mhm,” You brush his hair out of his face. “You did… so good, honey…”

“Tell me I’m a good boy…” He licks his lips, and then around them, trying to get his tongue to reach his chin and nose. 

“You’re a very good boy,” You coo, wiping your slick off of his face with your thumb. He eagerly sucks your thumb into his mouth. “A very good fucking boy… Jesus…”

You sink back onto your butt, trying to catch your breath. It’s then that you let your eyes drift down to his boxers.

His soaked boxers. 

You push your palm down, feeling the cum stick to his dick under the fabric. He twitches and gasps, sitting up onto his elbows.

“Oh, honey,” You purr, smearing his cum around in his boxers, ruining the cotton and coating his cock in his release. He’s not fucking real. He came from eating you out. “You’re fucking perfect.”

He mewls, his legs squeezing together and bending at the knee, trying to push your hand away from his sensitive bulge. “Y/N…”

“Alright, alright,” You smile, taking your hand off of his boxers. You give his thigh a comforting squeeze and feel him relax under your touch. “Next time.”

Maybe Daisuke won’t have to worry about being pent up anymore.