Geto over flowers

he likes that idea. before you can even warn him not to cuff you too tightly, you're hearing a few clicks and the snug feel of cheap purple fuzz around your wrist.

so this is what an active sex life is like. you look up at geto, smiling at the hungry look in his eye as you hold out your other wrist and wait to be bound.

you hear the click, but no tightness around your free wrist. it's only when you look down that you see what geto has done. your idiot friend-with-benefits has handcuffed you, yes... but to himself.

"what—" you start, but geto is already taking advantage of your gift, and flipping the two of you over so that he's sat against the headboard and you're sat right on his thick thighs. you'd pictured this as more of a 'lay-down-and-let-him-ravage-you' thing when you bought the damn cuffs.

when his hands go to your hips to right you, your wrist follows uselessly. tugged down to your side to let suguru explore—wrested behind you when his hand wanders to your ass. he lifts the shirt of his that you wear to find a beautiful lack of panties beneath, and taps his fingers against your ass a few times for good measure.

"i like this view," he says, using the hand that's cuffed to yours to trace up your stomach under his shirt and grab at one of your breasts, forcing your hand to follow. "happy birthday to me."

"you were meant to cuff me to the bed or something," you complain, shifting forward a little to better straddle the hardening erection in his sweats. "you know, take what you want."

"this is what i want," geto's reply is simple. he pulls his hand back, yours in tandem, and gives the handcuff a rattle. "connection. am i poetic or what?"

"you're stupid," you retort, but can't get much else out when geto pulls your joined wrists down between you and drags a finger through your already-wet folds. "ah, suguru—"

"it's a sweet gift," suguru gathers your wetness on his finger and rbs it around your clit a few times. you can't do much but stare at him, his messy bed-head and eyes that are still just a little tired. "and don't get me wrong, there are some fucking disgusting fantasies in my head when it comes to you. but they're things i want to do with you, not to you."

ever since you two started sleeping together, the lines of your friendship have ultimately blurred. you're more than best friends, really. but is 'couple' the right term to define it? maybe you're still half asleep, because you find yourself comparing your relationship to the handcuffs keeping you together right now.

there's something binding between you. and you can decorate it all you want with pet names and sweet labels and scratchy purple fluff, but at the end of the day... it's not something you can just take off and on at will.

"touch yourself," he orders you, though not before pulling your hand away to free his cock from his pants. you shuffle a little closer to ease the limited movement the cuff gives you, and oblige, pulling at the restraints to rub at your clit as geto strokes his length.

"suguru," you exhale, attention caught between his pretty face and even prettier cock. you can see him squeeze it at his name from your lips.

"i'm right here," he says, using his free hand to tilt your chin up and redirect your gaze to his eyes. "with you. like this."

you don't need to watch what you're doing, because every upward stroke of suguru fisting his cock pulls at your wrist, and consequently forces friction against your clit. he sets the pace, but you follow it willingly.

the blurring purple of the moving cuffs is nothing like the purple of his eyes. you had picked it out with them in mind, but in moments like this you find it very easy to realise that there's no emulating anything about your geto.

including his touch.

"want you," you manage. "not as good when it's not you. please, sugu."

"you—" geto releases his cock and uses the cuff to jolt your hand away from your cunt and replace it with his own "—are so bossy."

you roll your eyes and move for his cock, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length and doing your best to work with his motions. "fuck me," you whisper. "please. please."

his grin is disgusting. "i will," he says. "but later. come on, do this with me. let me see your eyes."

you do your best to lift your gaze and meet his, the both of you panting at the stimulation of each other's bound hand. suguru's fingers speed up against your clit, these little infuriating circles that have your vision blurring more and more with each passing second. you speed up in turn, squeezing your fist to emulate your tightening core.

geto's hips snap up into your fist, jolting the both of you dangerously close to orgasm. you've never really touched each other like this before—it's always been one of you devoted to the other's pleasure. finding that mutual release together is... almost cathartic.

suguru kisses you deeply, groans into your mouth as you get greedy and start sucking on his tongue like you would his cock. his free hand cups the side of your face, rubs his thumb under your eye like he's trying to sooth the pathetic noises bubbling up in the back of your throat.

you greet your orgasms at the same time. just as suguru spills his hot release all over your fist, he's replacing his fingers on your clit with his thumb and pushing two digits up into you and curling them harshly. a few repeats of his motion and a quick retreat of his fingers has a weird feeling explode in your pelvis and a choked gasp lodge in your throat and...

everything is wet.

the purple fluff that pad suguru's cuffs is now soaked. as are his grey sweats, and the sheets that bundle up around the two of you. what can be covered is covered, and you aren't even finished.

"did i just..?" you pull away from his lips, which chase yours with a pathetic whine. "suguru. did i just pee on you or did i not."

you'd slap him for how he laughs at you if you weren't still fucking shaking. geto leans forward despite the mess you've made on him and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.

"i made you fucking squirt."

"well shit" you look down at the mess between you, your chest heaving with exertion. guess you have laundry to do. "happy fucking birthday to you."

"best present ever," your best friend laughs some more, though he pauses when he lifts your conjoined wrists and looks closely at the now-soaked purple cuffs. "hey, these came with a key... right?"

oh. shit.