Do You Want The Blog Tour? ⊹ ࣪

“you’re still pissed i got the bigger bonus last quarter?” kuroo’s voice cut through the dark highway, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping an irritated rhythm on his thigh. his suit jacket was tossed in the back, tie loosened, top buttons undone. he looked too good, and god if that didn’t make you angrier..

“i’m pissed that you undermined my presentation in front of the sponsors,” you snapped, arms crossed tight over your chest. “you just had to jump in with your ‘holistic approach’ bullshit like i wasn’t standing right there.”

he laughed, low and mean. “sweetheart, your slides were weak. i saved your ass.”

“saved my ass? you made me look incompetent!”

“you were incompetent on slide seven. don’t lie to yourself.”

the car felt too small. the tension had been building since osaka—stolen glares across conference tables, brushing past each other in hotel hallways, the way his eyes lingered on your legs during dinner. hate and something worse. something that still burned hot between you even after all this time.

“pull over,” you said suddenly.

“what?”

“i said pull the fuck over, kuroo. i’d rather walk the rest of the way than sit here with you.”

he didn’t pull over. he kept driving, jaw clenched, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. the silence stretched until it snapped.

“you know what your problem is?” he growled. “you’re so fucking stubborn you’d rather crash and burn than admit when you’re wrong.”

“my problem?” you twisted in your seat, glaring at him. “my problem is you. you waltz in with that smirk like you own the room, like you still own me. newsflash, asshole—we’ve been done for two years.”

kuroo’s eyes flicked to you, dark and dangerous. the car swerved slightly as he took the next exit too fast. gravel crunched under the tires as he pulled into an empty rest stop off the highway, far from the lights. the second the car stopped, he killed the engine.

“get in the back,” he ordered.

“excuse me?”

“you heard me.” his voice was rough, chest rising fast. “you want to fight? fine. but i’m not doing this in the front seat like some dumb teenager.”

you should’ve told him to fuck off. instead, heat flooded your body and something worse. you shoved the door open anyway.

he was faster, long legs ate up the distance around the car. his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not bruising, and he pulled you toward the back door. you stumbled in, landing across the leather seats with your skirt riding up.

kuroo followed right after, slamming the door shut. the space was immediately too small for his broad frame. his knees hit the seat, shoulders hunched, but he crowded you anyway, one hand bracing beside your head.

“you drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered, breath hot against your cheek. “always fuckin’ have.”

“then why are we here?” you shot back, shoving at his chest. your palms met solid muscle. he didn’t budge.

“because you’re soaked already and we both know it.”

his hand slid up your thigh, fingers gripping the soft flesh as he pushed your skirt higher, brushing teasingly against the edge of your panties. you cursed under your breath, heat flooding your core despite yourself, but didn’t stop him. the tension crackled between you, angry and desperate.

“tell me you want this,” kuroo rasped, voice low and rough against your ear, his breath hot as his fingers hovered, waiting. “say it. i won’t touch you unless you do.”

you glared at him, cheeks burning “oh wow, now you want my permission? how caring of you, tetsurou,” you sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

that was all he needed. clothes came off in frustrated, eager tugs, your blouse half-unbuttoned with buttons popping loose, bra shoved down to expose your breasts, panties dragged slowly down your legs and tossed aside. his jacket was already gone, shirt rumpled. the car fogged up quickly from your heavy, mingled breathing, windows blurring with the heat of your bodies.

kuroo pushed your thighs apart wider, settling between them in the cramped space. one of your legs hooked awkwardly over the front seat, spreading you open for him. he stared down at your exposed pussy, eyes darkening with hunger as he took in how wet and swollen you looked, glistening under the faint light.

“aww, look at this,” he murmured, voice mocking. he used two fingers to spread your lips slowly, deliberately, exposing your glistening folds and swollen clit. “already this wet? pussy all puffy after one argument. you’re pathetic, you know that?”

“shut up,” you spat, face burning. you tried to close your legs but he held them open, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin.

“why would i? this is too good.” he dragged his fingers through your slick, spreading it messily. “two years and your body still reacts like this to me. embarrassing.”

you grabbed his hair, intending to pull him up for a fight, but he dipped his head lower instead.

he started slow—too slow for how angry you both were. his tongue traced a lazy path along your folds, tasting you. then he focused on your clit, circling it gently at first, coaxing it out from under its hood with soft, deliberate licks. his breath was hot, lips brushing teasingly.

“this is the only way to shut you up, is it?” he said against your skin, voice vibrating. he sucked lightly on your clit, tongue flicking in slow, coaxing strokes. not aggressive. not rushed. like he was savoring how you twitched and tried to fight it.

“fuck you, nghh.. kuroo!” you gasped, hips jerking.

he chuckled darkly, the sound muffled. “yeah? keep talking. see how long that lasts.”

he slid one thick finger inside you, curling it slowly while his tongue continued its unhurried work on your clit. he added a second finger after a minute, scissoring gently, stretching you open with careful patience.

your hands fisted in his messy black hair. “you’re such an asshole… ah— always acting like you know everything..nghh..”

he groaned softly against your pussy — a low, involuntary sound he tried to swallow back. you felt it more than heard it. he pretended he didn’t make noises like that, always so controlled, but here in the cramped backseat he couldn’t hide it.

he kept licking and sucking your clit with focused dedication, fingers pumping in a steady rhythm. the wet squelching sounds filled the car. your thighs trembled around his head. he switched between soft sucks and slow, flat licks, drawing it out until you were whimpering despite yourself.

“atta girl,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. his lips were shiny. “getting so wet for me. can’t just slide my cock in without getting you ready, can i? not that you deserve it.”

“i-i..nnghh.. hate you!” you breathed, but your hips rolled toward his mouth.

“i know.” another groan slipped out as he dove back in, sucking your clit a little harder now, fingers curling deeper. he was still holding back the full aggression, making you feel every deliberate stroke.

you came with a broken moan, back arching as much as the tight space allowed. he worked you through it, tongue gentling but not stopping until you were pushing at his shoulders, oversensitive and panting.

when he finally lifted his head, his hair was wrecked, eyes wild. a streak of your arousal shone on his chin. he wiped it with the back of his hand, smirking.

“still cursing me out?” he asked, voice rough. he freed his cock from his slacks, thick and heavy, flushed dark at the tip, it rested against your thigh, leaking.

“yes,” you snapped. “fuck you tetsurou. this changes nothing.”

“that’s fine.” he spread your lips again with his fingers, staring down at your soaked, puffy entrance. “look how messy you are. dripping all over my leather seat. you really hate me, huh? pussy says otherwise.”

you reached down and grabbed his cock, squeezing it in warning. “just shut up and fuck me already if you’re going to!”

he groaned again, In that same low, reluctant sound as you stroked him. “bossy even now.”

he lined up, rubbing the head through your folds, teasing your clit with it. then he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open. the cramped backseat made it harder to move.

“fuck… you’re tight,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck. he didn’t slam in. he rocked in deep, grinding rather than pounding, letting you feel all of him.

“i still hate you,” you gasped, nails digging into his back. “you’re such a smug bastard… always have to act like you’re right…”

he rocked harder, hips rolling in controlled thrusts that hit deep. “yeah? keep talking shit while your cunt’s squeezing me like it missed me.” another groan escaped him. he tried to muffle it against your shoulder but failed.

you wrapped your legs around him as best you could in the tight space. “you think you’re so good at this? you’re not. you’re just… ah— an asshole who got lucky.”

kuroo laughed breathlessly, the sound turning into another groan as he ground against that spot inside you. “lucky? baby, you’re the one creaming all over my cock right now. look at you.” he reached between you, spreading your lips again while he was buried inside, thumb brushing your swollen clit. “so wet. pretty pathetic how bad you need this.”

“shut up— fuck you kuroo!” you moaned, hips bucking to meet his slow, deep thrusts. the car creaked with every roll of his hips. fog covered the windows completely.

he kept the pace deliberate, desperate but not frantic — grinding deep, circling his hips, making sure you felt every inch. his hand came up to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“say it again,” he taunted, eyes gleaming. “tell me how much you hate me while i’m inside you.”

“i hate you,” you hissed, clenching around him on purpose. “i hate your stupid face, your stupid voice! the way you think you can just— fuck— pull me into the backseat like this…”

he groaned loudly this time, hips stuttering for a moment. “keep going. it’s cute when you’re mad knowing I’m inside of you.”

you cursed him more—a stream of “asshole” and “i fucking hate you” mixed with moans as he rocked into you steadily. every insult made him grind harder, thumb working your clit in tight circles. sweat dripped down his temple. his hair stuck to his forehead.

well the thing is..

he refused to speed up no matter how much you squirmed and cursed beneath him, keeping those deep, rolling grinds that dragged against every sensitive inch inside you but never quite pushed you over the edge. the cramped backseat made it worse—every slow rock of his hips pressed you awkwardly against the leather, your leg hooked high over the front seat, bodies slick with sweat and stuck together in the fogged-up heat. you were getting frustrated, tears of pure irritation prickling at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure coiled tighter without snapping.

“fuck, kuroo! you’re—ahh doing this on purpose aren’t you!?” you hissed, nails digging harder into his back. “you smug piece of shit! just fuck me properly or get off me. i hate you so much right now—”

he groaned low against your throat, the sound slipping out unwillingly again as your walls clenched around him. “yeah? look at you, whining because you’re desperate.” he mocked, voice rough and smug even as his hips kept that same deliberate, grinding pace. he spread your lips again with his fingers while still buried deep, thumb brushing your swollen clit in lazy circles. “pussy’s so fucking puffy and wet, dripping everywhere, but you still can’t cum? maybe you don’t hate me enough. or maybe you just like suffering on my cock.”

“shut up—ahhh fuck you tetsurou!” you cried out, voice cracking with frustration as another slow thrust made you throb but refused to tip you over. tears slipped down your cheeks now, angry and overwhelmed. “you’re such an asshole, always having to control everything even this—”

kuroo’s smirk faltered when he caught sight of your face, the genuine little sobs mixing with your moans. his golden eyes softened just a fraction, that reluctant groan rumbling out louder this time as he pressed his forehead to yours. “shit… don’t cry pretty girl.” he muttered, almost like he hated himself for it. “can’t stand seeing you like that, even when you’re pissing me off.”

this time? he finally gave in. his grip on your hips tightened and he started thrusting faster—still deep and desperate but with more urgency now, hips snapping harder in the limited space. the car rocked noticeably with each thrust, the wet slap of skin echoing louder. he kept one hand between you, fingers spreading your lips obscenely while his thumb rubbed your clit in firm, quick circles, coaxing you right where you needed it.

“there you go,” he taunted through gritted teeth, but his voice had that wrecked edge. “cursing me out and crying on my cock? fucking pathetic. this what you wanted hm? my pretty girl needs it rougher to cum?”

“yes— fuck, yes!” you moaned, tears still falling but now from the overwhelming pleasure as it finally built sharp and fast. your walls fluttered wildly around him, squeezing tight. “i still hate you—hate how good this feels hate you—”

he groaned deep and broken, burying his face in your neck again as he fucked you harder, pace turning frantic in the cramped backseat. every thrust hit perfectly now, grinding against that spot while his thumb worked your swollen clit without mercy. the build-up finally shattered—your second orgasm crashed over you in intense waves, making you cry out loud and clamp down around his cock, thighs shaking violently.

kuroo kept thrusting through it, chasing his own release with those same desperate groans he couldn’t hold back anymore. “mmph— fuck!”

he spilled inside you moments later with a wrecked groan, hips pressing flush and grinding deep as he filled you, pulse after pulse of heat. but he didn’t pull out right away, still rocking slowly through the aftershocks, keeping you full and messy while you both panted in the tangled mess of limbs and fogged windows.

then he pulled out slowly, spreading your lips one last time with lazy fingers, watching his cum leak out of your swollen pussy. “still so messy,” he mocked softly, voice low and satisfied. “hate looks good on you.”

you shoved weakly at his chest, though there wasn’t much force behind it. “get off me tetsurou. this was a mistake.”

he didn’t move right away. instead, he leaned down pressing a kiss to your cheek before lifting his head to meet your eyes. his smirk was still there, sharp and smug. “you don’t mean that.” he murmured, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “you did so well for me, hm?”

you glared up at him, cheeks still flushed, but your usual sharp comeback didn’t come as fast this time. the pettiness in you wanted to snap back, yet the way he was looking at you made your stomach twist.

his car was a wreck, quite literally. the windows are completely fogged, clothes scattered everywhere, air thick with the smell of sex and lingering anger.

but…

neither of you moved to clean up right away. the hate was still there for sure, simmering hot under your skin. but so was the undeniable pull that neither of you could deny.

—

AN;; I hope I didn’t write Tetsurou too out of character </3 NOT PROF READ SO EXPECT MISTAKES🥹

"and you're a bit rough... tired from today, toshi?"

you pulled away slightly to look into his sharp olive eyes, searching for the softness in them. it's there but masked by unmistakable exhaustion. a crack in the armor. the faintest hint of fatigue lingers at the edges just visible under his lashes.

"hmm… tired is not accurate." he says it like he’s reciting a fact from memory. "i am efficient with my energy. but training took longer than expected."

a beat passes as he studies your face, then his grip on you tightens slightly. not enough to hurt, but enough to feel calculated. softly, he mutters, "do you need something?"

"so you are tired, toshi. it's alright, it's just the two of us here, you don't have to play strong," you reassured him as he held onto your figure, stroking his dark and damp hair. one hand landed softly on his cheek to palm at it. 

he leans into your touch as you cup his cheek, much like a panther seeking affection. with you, at least, he feels safe to let his guard down, to show some of the tiredness deep within his eyes. then he lets out a soft, relaxed exhale as he speaks.

"i don't like to appear weak."

weakness, for a fact, was not in his vocabulary. absent-mindedly, his fingers rubbed small circles onto the fabric of your shirt soothingly. at this point, you were just used to this, knowing he'd rather curl up in bed with you at the end of the day.

"who said that that's making you seem weak? hmm?" you softly pressed a kiss to his cheek as he settled down on the couch, your ball-of-energy figure sitting on his lap. your weight is always a comfort, your warmth grounding.

the man lets out a huff at your question, arms wrapped around you as he leans his head against your shoulder. his voice is a low rumble as his hands traced lazy circles along your thighs.

"weakness is vulnerability. exhaustion is vulnerability."

"hmm.. i don't wanna argue." you chuckled with finality. leaning closer to engulf him in a warm hug, hands rubbing along his back in a calm manner.

the two of you basked under the glow of your lamp, still tangled in the same position you were a couple minutes ago before you spoke, voice muffled in his neck. "stay for tonight?”

almost involuntarily, he hums in contentment, body instinctively relaxing under your touch. the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours is a reminder of his sturdy presence, his steadfastness. 

"of course."

he doesn't even hesitate. for you, he'd stay for as long as you asked.

"i love you, i want to take care of you." you mumbled, hand creeping up at the back of his neck and up his undercut. just lightly scratching.

he was a real big softie at heart, no denying it. always relishes in the simple gestures, enjoys himself being on the receiving end of affection even if he doesn't admit it.

tilting his head ever-so-slightly to lean into your touch, his hold on you tightens, pulling you closer against his chest. the body heat between you igniting into a further flame. "i'm capable of taking care of myself."

despite his denial, he doesn't move your hand away. in fact, he seems to press into it, a silent request for you to keep at your movements regardless of the tiny implosion happening within him.

"shh... just let me, babe. you need it," you firmly kissed at his temple then his cheek then a quick one on his lips. when you pulled away, a gentle, assuring smile spread over both of your lips. "that okay? one more?”

he lets out a soft breath at the string of kisses. the small, affectionate gestures leave him almost dizzy, chest tightening in a way that's entirely unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome. your smile and the soft tone of your voice make it impossible for him to deny you. "one more."

and your boyfriend doesn't even wait for you to move, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he captures your lips again.

with your hand repeatedly gently massaging his scalp, your lips tangled together in an innocent myriad of kisses none of you dared to pull away from except if it was needed for a short breath.

"one more," you exhaled before diving in yet again.

ushijima melts under your touch, a low, approving hum rumbling in his throat. fingers find their way to your hips, gripping them just a bit tighter as you kiss, his calloused palms from years of volleyball pressing firm against your skin. 

just like all the times before, he follows you every time you pull away for a breath, eagerly seeking more. with his voice deep and ragged, he moans a soft “more”. came out seemingly as a request as much as it's a demand—a rare moment of him not masking his desire behind stoicism or indifference.

"alright, maybe that's enough." 

a fit of giggles filled the entire living room as you locked your hands around his neck, staring deep into his eyes for a moment, taking in the image of him flushed and disheveled. one hand came up to thumb at his undereye, just above his cheek in a soft caress.

"you're sexy, you know that? i love everything about you.”

the soft tinge of blush on his cheeks betrays the usual stoicism in his expression. he looks uncharacteristically soft, almost vulnerable in this light. he wasn’t trained for this but still he let it happen. he just lets you happen.

"you're biased."

"i– what? of course, why wouldn't i be? you're my boyfriend, toshi." a huff of disbelief followed by laughter erupted in your throat. the other hand rested on his arm, cheekily squeezing at the muscles.

admittedly, he's not used to this kind of teasing, the way your fingers press into his hardened biceps like it's something to play with.

"that is not an objective assessment." he says flatly, but there’s no real bite behind it. if anything, he flexes just slightly under your grip as if proving a point or maybe just enjoying the attention. he is enjoying. “you say that too much."

"can't i just enjoy praising my lovely boyfriend?" you hummed, lifting his arm onto your shoulder to cage you under it before pressing a chaste kiss on his forearm til it reached further up the length of his arm all while your eyes trained on him for his reactions. 

however, he wasn’t the best at attempting to keep a stoic expression; your words and your kisses have an effect on him. the more your lips brush over the sensitive skin of his arm, the more the flush on his cheeks deepens.

"you're too sweet to me."

there it is. the feigned indifference. but he can't deny the way his body leans into your touch, the slight shiver running down his arm.

"and you're too stubborn. didn't i tell you i'm here to take care of you?" 

ushijima tenses instantly at the sharp sensation of your teeth along his bicep, a rough sound catching in his throat. to your dismay he shakes you off his arm softly.

"that is not what taking care is."

you had grown fond of how strained his voice gets when he’s mock-scolding you without reacting too obviously. "stop."

but he doesn’t push you away. rather, his free hand lifts slightly as if considering dragging you back toward him again. fair enough. he was right. you couldn't just claim to “take care” of him in your own terms. 

"what does boyfie want then, hmm?”

he notices your subtle pout, but he doesn't give in. he has to stand his ground. even if your pout is annoyingly cute and definitely his weakness. his fingers digging into your hip like he's trying to distract himself from the way you're leaving kisses on his arm.*

"do you want the real answer or the answer you'll like?"

"i want to hear what you want. that's the answer i'll like." 

for a moment, he studies your face, trying to gauge just how genuine you are. while he's not used to this kind of open vulnerability, this back and forth of intimacy and emotional exposure, he trusts you more than anyone else, so he lets his defenses down just a bit more.

your man huffs a long, slow breath through his nose before openly confessing something he longed for and it burned his throat for a minute once it left his lips. 

“i want you to touch me."

his grip on you is still focused and he's still trying to maintain his composure, but the way his voice drops is a dead giveaway. he wants this.

your gaze softened at his softer plea. this was new. he never asked this kind of physical intimacy before and it was always because something kept him from doing so. maybe it was his something ingrained deep in him like self-restraint. either way, you wished he would allow himself to indulge in little pleasures like this. 

"tell me how you want me to touch you, toshi." you murmured into his skin, on his knuckles as you brought them to your lips.

the rough pads of his knuckles flexed under your lips before he's quiet for a long moment. too used to keeping things internal, too trained in discipline.

but then he finally speaks, voice low and gruff. "your hands. on my back.”

he says it like a buried confession. like he’s admitting something embarrassing rather than just stating what feels good. his jaw clenches slightly at the thought of you teasing him about it.

"mm, alright. turn around for me?" you slowly got off his lap and onto the soft cushioning of the couch, sat on your haunches. following his every move, he shifted to face away from you, baring his back. "want me to take this off?"

a whisper as you felt the material of his shirt in between your delicate fingers, desperate to feel the entirety of his skin too. he hesitates for just a moment before nodding, shoulders tense as he complies with your request. obedient like the disciplined athlete he is. he lifts his arms just long enough for you to carefully pull the shirt off of him before lowering them again. 

it was apparent that his back is a sight to behold—muscles rippling under taut, lightly tanned skin every time his shoulder blades twitch. you can see the faint shadows of his well-defined abs from the side, and the way his ribs expand as he exhales.

"you can touch now." he murmurs.

boom shakalaka yes gawd... "alright, tell me if it's uncomfortable, 'kay?" 

you peered over his shoulder, palms gently pressing on the broad stretch before using your knuckles to skillfully knead at the tense muscles into which he lets out a sharp breath as his body stiffened for half a second. 

"mhm, it's not uncomfortable, darling." his chest heaves in a steady rhythm as you work at the tension in his muscles. his shoulders slumped slightly as you dug in deeper with each knead of your fingers.

"harder."

"'kay," you breathed, head dipping down to plant kisses over his shoulders and planes of his back, firmly kneading harder all the way down to his waist. "feels good?”

his body shivers. actually shudders under your touch and the kisses trailing down his back. you can see goosebumps starting to appear on his skin as he lets out a low, rough exhale. normally, he's not the type to sound affected by anything, but right now he's struggling to bite back the quiet sounds of appreciation.  

"yeah. good."

you smiled knowing he’s not even attempting to mask his reaction anymore. that he’s indirectly telling that you’re doing a good job at making him feel good, massaging every knotted muscle while simultaneously being overly affectionate with him. so pliant and soft. very different from his usual stoic persona overflowing with conviction. 

teasingly, you slowly traced at the ripples of his back muscles, swallowing lightly as you touched them. bit and sucked at his left shoulder, an evident mark on his skin about to manifest the next day. the marks you're leaving are an undeniable claim, a stark contrast to the usual calm and composed image he usually presents to the outside world. 

"you can do it harder." please, do it harder, he thought to himself. 

"babe, this is as hard as i go, i'm gonna claw at you if i dig my nails any deeper," you muttered softly, continuing the array of hickies on his shoulders now trailing up his neck.

he flinches slightly as your lips find their way to his neck, tilting his head to give you better access like he's instinctively surrendering to your touch. it's almost endearing the way he doesn't protest or push you away, the way he lets you mark him up like he belongs to you—which he does, more than he'd ever say out loud. 

another sharp inhale at your words and the sensation of your teeth on his skin. "bite me."

fuck. for one, you never pegged him as someone who would like any sort of pain inflicted upon him but this admission? 

"are you sure?" you whispered into his searing hot skin. 

"yes." then a quiet "i trust you."

it’s not just permission; it's surrender. the kind of blind trust that makes your chest ache with how much he relies on you to take care of him even when asking for something so reckless.

in an instant, you found yourself draping your arms over his shoulders from behind and gently kneading at his deltoids in the process. lips moulding over the curve of his neck, you softly bit at his skin, immediately running your tongue up to soothe the possible sting.

your boyfriend tenses in his seat then practically turns into melted butter under your touch, his entire body going pliant under the combination of your hands and lips. a rough sound escapes him as you follow the bite with a languid stroke of your tongue, his shoulders dropping like he's trying to physically press closer.

"again." ushijima’s voice is wrecked already, gravelly with something that isn’t just exhaustion. he found himself digging his fingers into the couch cushions beneath him like he’s anchoring himself there.

so much so that his breath hitched when your chest gently pressed on his back, resuming at leaving bites all over him, throwing in a few hickies that will surely be hard to cover up once they bloomed purple. then a couple ended up littering his biceps, the sweet taste of his skin smoothing over your tastebuds.

"you're gonna look so pretty after this, all marked up," you chuckled. usually it would be the other way around—him marking you up but you didn't mind claiming what's yours. heck, you would be lying if you said that you don’t secretly like the little sparks of controversies the media spews out when they broadcast his games on national television with your name and his on the headlines.

something in you swells with pride that you get to mark your name on the renowned ushijima wakatoshi of japan’s national team.

as if your words are just as stimulating as your hands and teeth on his skin, he shudders and moans. the idea of being marked up by you, visibly carving your claim is doing something to him that he can't explain, sending a jolt of something deep below his belt. 

he tries to stifle back a grunt when you press close, his back now completely flush against your chest.

"don't stop." in a low, desperate command to which you easily complied.

and shit, maybe tonight was the time that he finally discovers he had a thing for feeling the drag of your teeth against him, just hard enough to break skin.