#sinful saturdays

because now, you’re lying spread-eagled on your shared bed, chuuya in between your legs. his hands hold you firmly in place, refusing to let up no matter how hard you buck and beg and try to pull away. he’d told you to count how many times he can make you cum with his mouth alone, but you’d lost count after number five. now, the only thing grounding you is the steady tick-tock-tick of the clock on the wall.

“isn’t this what ya asked for? my attention. i’m giving it to you,” chuuya smirks, licks a stripe up your sopping wet pussy, the clear liquid of your arousal staining the sheets below. “or perhaps you’ve had enough of me?”

“no!” you answer, on instinct—before you realize what you’d basically agreed to. “that’s not— but i—”

“you can just tell me to stop, yanno,” his voice now plain and serious. you shake your head eagerly, so adamant and against the notion of stopping right now. “s’that so? then don’t mind if i go back to business.”

(chuuya gauges you for a moment, trying to see consciousness in your eyes. you nod at him, a silent agreement. you haven’t used your safeword. and honestly? you don’t think you will.)

“mmm, i’ve missed this,” he hums, languidly collecting your juices up with his tongue before fucking it back into you. “i could just sit here and eat ya out for hours if ya let me. it’d be a win-win for both of us.”

you whine, the thought of it sending electricity jolting up your spine. surely you’d been here for an hour already? you try to spot the clock but your eyes are too blurry to work properly. instead, you uncurl your hand from where it’s frozen on the bedsheet and tangle it into chuuya’s fiery red hair, stroking his scalp.

“t-too much,” you whine, trying to close your thighs to seal the oversensitive flesh in between, but chuuya’s firm hand stops you from doing so. “had enough.”

-

the do you trust me he had asked a few minutes ago hangs heavily over the both of you. chuuya hands you an innocuous glass of red wine. but he’s got that smile on his face.

“chuuya…”

“it’s harmless,” he pledges, hands raised up defensively. “and if something does happen, i’m here.”

your nose scrunches up, but you take the wine glass up to your mouth anyway. “i’m killing tachihara if this does something weird.”

and then nothing happens.

not for thirty minutes. chuuya seems unperturbed, so you shrug it off. the two of you continue to cuddle peacefully in bed, talking about everything and nothing. chuuya has got a hand on your exposed thigh peeking underneath your nightgown. there, he idly thumbs the plushy flesh. and it feels good. comforting, even.

until it isn’t. until the little patch of skin he’s touching feels… electrified. for a moment you think it’s the wine. you squirm closer to chuuya, hoping to relieve it. it’s a movement he makes no effort to push aside. but it just gets worse. he’s breathing down the nape of your neck, the hard line of his chest against your back, his voice low as he speaks…

when he squeezes your thigh there’s no stopping the salacious moan that slips out of you.

“bingo,” chuuya says softly, sexy smirk on his face.

he pushes you down onto the bed and you sigh at the loss of contact. something clicks. “the hell? what’s tachihara doing with shit like this?” you ask, the effects of the viagra or whatever finally coming clear.

“one of his underlings’ missions,” is all chuuya says by way of explanation; he’s too busy taking off your clothes. “now stop talking about tachihara while you’re like that.”

“like wh—haaa!” you cry out as chuuya suckles on a pert nipple. you clench and hang onto his fiery red curls as he hums happily. contentedly—the bastard. “geez, at least—uhn—warn me next time, this is—fuck—pretty intense.”

“‘next time’?” chuuya grins. the implication doesn’t hit you quickly, and it takes a few moments to load. “good, because i’ve got quite a supply,” he offers, and that makes you blush even redder—if that’s still possible. kisses heading lower down your body, he adds—“and in case you’ve forgotten, this is your punishment—try not to enjoy it too much?”

and boy, is it the hardest order he’ll give you tonight.

because the heat—the itch—doesn’t wane, no matter how hard you try. no matter how good it feels, it lingers there. chuuya eats you out and then fucks you open with his fingers but it isn’t enough. he pulls out your trusty vibrator and you keep on it until you’re squealing but it still isn’t enough.

“chuuya, goddammit!” you cry out, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and pulling him closer to you. “just put it in me, for gods’ sakes.”

you raise your leg to brush your thigh against his cock and it makes him hiss, half in laughter. “how the hell am i supposed to keep up with you like this?” he asks, kissing down your neck as he aligns himself.

“i have an idea.”

you say, your voice clear, steady, as you eye the unfamiliar bottle sitting on the nightstand. chuuya’s grin grows even wider when you reach for it, struggling a little bit with the safety cap. you put a capsule in between your teeth, teasing him to get it.

“you really like trouble, don’t ya missy?”

“only when it’s with you, chuuya.”

when chuuya finally makes eye contact with you, his pupils are blown wide.

“oh?”

you turn around to take the few steps from the full-length mirror to the bed, crawling over him as he eyes you up and down in your half-dressed state. the white button down open enough to reveal the cleavage between your breasts, the red shorts you’d slept in riding up your ass.

he smirks. “what happened to ‘casually dating’?”

you sit yourself down on his lap, but he doesn’t flinch, budge, or push you away. you take that as a good sign. “this seems casual to me,” you answer, hand hesitating over his chest. he holds onto your wrist and presses your hand flush against his skin.

“gotta say, ya confuse me sometimes,” chuuya admits. “but this isn’t an unwelcome development.”

it’s chuuya who pulls you onto his crotch, the line of his half-hard cock so tangible and so real underneath you. he keeps his hands on your hips, but does not guide or direct you. you press both your hands over his chest and wiggle your hips experimentally.

the sound that comes out of chuuya is heavenly.

the kind of sound someone would make at the attainment of something they’d long wanted. spurred by his moans, you continue to work your hips. something about all this—the sound of chuuya’s voice, his hair fanned out like a halo on the pillow, your hands on his chest, the texture of your clothes where your bodies touch, the sunlight from the window casting a gentle glow over the both of you—fills you with heat, building everywhere.

“you’re so sexy,” chuuya breathes, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt to press fervently against your bare skin. the praise makes your mind blank for a moment, and all there is the pressure building in your belly as you grind roughly against him.

“you’re not so bad yourself, nakahara,” you tease, fingers drifting to toy with his nipple. “didn’t know you were hiding this in your pants.”

“there are way too many things you don’t know about me yet, sweet,” he says, that boyish smirk on his face again; but you catch the exact moment his patience runs thin, his hands beginning to urge you more intensely against him.

you don’t last long, that far you know. but the moment seems to last forever, just you and chuuya right there, a feeling erupting in your chest as something catches somewhere and everything goes electric, making you sigh and whimper and begin to beg. “chuuya, gods, please…”

chuuya’s hands trail higher under your shirt, making you shiver. “just a little longer—c’mon, i got you.”

you see his pretty pink lips just as the high is about to hit; but something in you stops you from reaching out and just kissing him until you’re dizzy. instead, you groan out his name before biting down on your own lower lip, the orgasm making you crumple forward onto his chest.

“satisfied?” chuuya asks once your breathing has evened, his voice a low drawl that nearly ignites the fire inside you again. you chuckle.

“yeah, actually,” you admit, the blush fierce on your face, but you make no move to hide it. he pinches your cheek, but your focus is elsewhere, something still poking and waiting against your thigh. you look up at chuuya, enjoy the pinkness in his cheeks, the glow of his gray eyes, and ask, work be damned—