#trans!yuta

So, it wasn't until whoever had walked in plopped down next to Garcia, just over Yuta's head, that he blinks and twists to see who's there.

"Uh," Garcia says, looking up from his own phone, "hi?"

Hook is sitting back such that he's basically swallowed by his hoodie, a shock of blonde hair sticking out, his handsome face all pouted and his shoulders hunched. For a long moment, he just glares at them. Long enough that Yuta pockets his phone and shifts up off Garcia's lap, sitting upright on the couch.

"Dude, what's up?" Yuta asks, and Hook's eyes flicker to him. This quiet guy that Yuta's met maybe all of one time seems, for the first time, to possibly be uncomfortable. Unsure. He's looking between the two of them, hands stuffed into the front of his hoodie, and he seems...anxious.

"My dad...told me you guys are trans," Hook says, and it's the most consecutive words Yuta's heard from him. His voice is quiet, low, and there's that distinct New York accent on him. Yuta looks at Garcia, then at Hook, his hackles starting to raise.

Garcia, the bolder of the two, the one who strutted in his first day with his top surgery scars and vagina and had undressed in front of the whole locker room long before Yuta got the same courage, asks,

"And?"

Hook's frown deepens, and he glances around. There's a few other guys in there with them, but they're being too loud over some video game for them to notice the three guys on the couch. Finally, Hook shifts to sit closer to them, angling his back to the rest of the guys, and he pulls something halfway out of his pocket.

At first, Yuta doesn't know what he's looking at. It's a...mount of flesh, maybe, with a clear cup coming out of a gaping hole in the top, and-

"Oh...oh!" Yuta gasps, and Hook, a vibrant shade of red, shoves his STP back into his front pocket.

"I don't know...how to use it. I wanna start using the urinals here, but.... Internet doesn't help much," Hook mutters quietly. Garcia, who a moment ago looked like he was rearing for a fight, is suddenly smiling with all his teeth.

He glances at Yuta and the two of them share a look of excitement, right before they focus back on Hook. Yuta grabs Hook's hand and gives it a tug.

"There's a single-stall bathroom a couple halls down, we'll show you the trick to it!" Yuta promises him.

"If yours doesn't work, it might just not fit," Garcia adds, standing up, and Hook is wide-eyed as the two of them tug him along, excited, thrilled, and Yuta wonders in the back of his head: Is this what it felt like for an endangered species to find another one of their own? Is this how the last two Dodo birds felt, huddled together in the forest? This thrill, this excitement, this immediate knowledge that he would lay himself down on the railroad tracks for Hook?

"You can try mine, I have an extra one," Yuta says once they're in the hallway. "If yours doesn't fit, I mean. I always bring two in case one breaks."

It was his own fault, getting used to having someone there to take care of him. Someone used to be there to lay behind him and rub his stomach and help him through the pain of. Well. All of it. But that person was gone now, and Max- Max didn't want to try and go down the road of thinking what Cole was really thinking during those times. He didn't want to know what Cole really thought of him.

Another cramp rolls through Max and it's almost, almost bad enough to keep him from hearing his hotel room door open up. Startled, his head jerks up and he blinks, and a thought flashes through his mind - Cole, breaking in, hearing he was back in town, hearing he was travelling again, but-

It's not Cole.

It's not one person.

It's three.

"...What the fuck are you morons doing in my hotel room?" Max snaps as Yuta, Hook, and Daniel Garcia filter in. Yuta, whose arms are full of Burger King and who is holding the room key between his teeth, just does his sickeningly adorable smile, and Hook meanders over to Max's bed and just. Sits on it.

"Heard you were back in town, buddy," Garcia says, dropping a bag and sitting on the other bed. "And would you look at that! You're still synched with us."

Max blinks in disbelief as the Goon Squad invades his hotel room, Yuta setting the warm Burger King bags down and stuffing the key from his teeth into his back pocket. He's all smiles still, passing out the food as he sticks his tongue out at Hook.

"Told you. Once a bunch of guys synch up, we don't synch out."

"That's the lamest thing I've ever heard," Hook answers, sitting back against the pillows beside Max. Max shifts himself and frowns, sitting back as Hook pulls a bottle of Ibuprofen out of his front hoodie pocket.

And Max had forgotten about that, completely. That at one point, he'd walked into the bathroom in AEW and tried to covertly undo a pad, taking the wrapping off inch by terrible inch, sweating because there were other guys in the room who would hear, and they would know, and they-

Heard. And they knew. And before Max knew it, Garcia's head was popping up from the top of the next stall and he was waving a pad at Max.

"Hey, twinsies!" he exclaimed to a frozen, shocked Max.

It was Garcia who tugged him along and introduced him to the others, the covert and not-so-covert transmen of the roster, who were such fucking dorks. There wasn't a single not-mid transman on their roster, just a bunch of dorky twinks, and Max only hung out with them to make them feel better about themselves.

"I've got a heating pad," Garcia says, tossing an electric pad on Max's stomach, "a bunch of chocolate, and like, every Shawn Michaels match that exists on DVD."

"God, give me a chocolate," Yuta groans, crawling up onto the bed next to Garcia. "You got the Burger King!"

"Cuz I was craving it, but now that I smelled it I have the ick," Yuta whines, which, fuck, feeding that guy on his period is a nightmare. "Hook can have it. He isn't even bleeding anymore."

Hook, without a word, snatches up the bag and sets it in his lap, all of this happening while Max is trying to understand what's going on. And then, at some point, when all the guys are laid back and watching Shawn Michaels flash his ass on the hotel TV screen, Max realizes exactly what's going on.

“It…it’s…. Do you have feeling in it?”

“Go ahead and see, sunshine.”

Every touch is exploratory, gentle, curious. Yuta hadn’t met anyone who’d had a full bottom surgery before, and a thousand questions come to mind as he touches around Regal’s t-cock, feels where a vagina once was.

But all the questions sound far too clinical, and Yuta thinks he’s going to die if Regal doesn’t fuck him with this right now. But Regal is patient, he allows the curious touches, is slow as he lays Yuta down on his stomach, as he slowly opens up his young charge with skilled fingers.

Yuta is sopping wet, betraying what he’s trying to hide with a hand over his mouth. The last thing he needs is for Mox or Bryan or Claudio to hear Yuta wailing in the room over from them, to have someone walk in and find Yuta trembling under Regal’s pumping fingers. So he tries to keep quiet, stifling his whine when Regal removes his fingers.

“Please, please,” he breathes from behind his hand. He hears Regal’s gentle chuckling behind him, but it isn’t demeaning. It’s affectionate, in a way.

“You needn’t worry about noise pollution, petal,” Regal says softly. “They’ll hear you in the end.”

“Th-that’s cocky, sir,” Yuta pants, trying to pretend the words didn’t sent a pleasant tremor down his spine. If the guys hear….

“You make a beautiful sight. Hips up a bit, dear…. Ah, there we are. Oh, the boys will be jealous. Perhaps I keep you to myself,” Regal muses, guiding Yuta’s back to bow just like he guides Yuta’s body in training. Yuta buries his face in his arms and takes in a deep breath, thighs shaking.

He feels Regal’s cockhead press to his entrance and Yuta whines softly, the excitement making him dizzy.

“Are you ready, flower? Tell me if anything feels wrong,” Regal checks, and Yuta nods. Yes. God, fucking yes.

Yuta isn’t a religious man, but Regal’s steady thrusts bring Yuta closer to heaven than he’s ever been. Regal is hard, he can get hard, he can fuck Yuta even if only a few inches deep, even if he pulls out all the way every time - it makes it better. Being empty and full, empty and full. And Yuta sobs at the face of god when Regal hits somewhere just right.

——

“Kid’s getting laid,” Mox says the second Bryan steps into the bedroom. Both Mox and Claudio have their ears pressed to the wall, smiles on their faces. Bryan can’t help but to laugh and take both of them by the arms, tugging them away.

Mox is masculinity stripped out of a Hollywood movie and slapped onto a man. Yuta can't help but to envy the thick chest hair, the full beard, the way Mox carries himself that's just so.... It's strong. It's confident. He's manly, for lack of a better term, and Yuta wants that.

So he copies it, as best he can. Tries growing out some patchy chest hair, and his beard never sits quite right on his face, he thinks, and when he walks he just seems lanky and unsure of himself. But he tries, god, he tries, and he tries, and he just-

Some days are harder than others.

"Why ain't you naked?" Mox mutters against the back of Yuta's neck, arm wrapping around him as Yuta slides into bed. Mox's big hand rests on Yuta's chest, and Yuta exhales softly. A small moment goes by, then Mox nudges his nose into Yuta's neck and mutters, "You good?"

Yuta's good because he has Mox, and Mox has him. And Yuta isn't good, because some days he wants to tear off parts of his body and make them different, mould himself like clay, but he can't. He can't and that makes him anxious and it makes him want to wrap himself in enough layers that his body will just disappear underneath.

But men don't talk about stuff like that, so Yuta just nods and Mox holds him a little tighter that night.

-

Bryan doesn't help.

He doesn't mean to be hard, and Yuta never tells him otherwise, so it isn't his fault when he laughs after Yuta's arms give out during training, or when he fumbles a submission hold, or when he has a nick on his face from shaving. Yuta tries to shoulder it, because that's what men do. They take the ribbing, try to give it back. Pretend it doesn't cut a little bit deeper when he can't keep up.

Sometimes he's okay. Sometimes, Yuta watches Bryan obsess over Garcia and he can't help but feel like if he were a little stronger, a little more masculine, was born like Garcia was born, if he could just...if he could just be Garcia. If his body was strong like that naturally. If. Then maybe Bryan wouldn't keep looking at Yuta like he was a consolation prize.

-

Claudio is....

Claudio is kind.

Claudio can't help that he's perfect at fucking everything, and so Yuta tends to avoid him during training. Because the only thing worse than being the weakest is being the weakest by far. Still....

"Would you like some help?"

Yuta glances up, sees Claudio smiling softly at him in the bathroom mirror. Yuta grips the razor in his hand, glances at the sloppily-applied shaving cream on his face. But men don't need to ask for help, men know how to shave, and so Yuta shakes his head. Claudio pauses, waits, and then after a moment he steps forward and slips the razor from Yuta's hand.

"Like this. Shave with the direction of the follicles," Claudio says softly, and he gently drags the razor down Yuta's cheek. "You don't want too much of this cream on your face, you won't be able to see your beard. Here, let's start over. And we will use my razor, it has a guard on it so you can control the length of the beard."

And so Claudio washes Yuta's face, applies more shaving cream - this time, a lighter layer - and he holds Yuta's hand as the electric razor buzzes in his fingers. Slow strokes, down and down, forming a perfect line along his cheek. Claudio smiles the entire time, his words gentle and encouraging.

And Yuta can't help but wonder if this is what it's like to have a big brother.

-

Yuta gets hurt, and he thinks the whole world might fucking end.

It wasn't enough to lose the title to Daniel, to see Bryan put the belt on the man he really wanted in the club. It wasn't enough to have Claudio try to pity him with a talk on 'sometimes we lose so we can grow.' It wasn't enough that Mox was too focused on getting his title to really notice anything outside Jericho. It wasn't enough that Yuta felt like he was slipping.

Now he's hurt.

It happens in training - something small, landing on the mat from the top rope, and he should do a lariat. He should. Except his fucking knee gives way, and Yuta falls to the mat, clutching his leg as a pain pulses from under his kneecap.

He was supposed to like pain. Not this kind of pain, though. This unlovable pain.

"Stop!" Regal's voice had boomed through the training room, and Yuta already knew. He already knew what was happening, and now he was out, and now he was on the bench, and now he was sitting in the training room at two in the morning because he can't slow down, he can't hold himself back, he can't give them any excuse to kick him out.

Because men deal with this.

Yuta sits on the mat and glares at himself in the mirror. When he blinks, the tears that cloud his vision fall onto his chest, and he can see the scars in stark contrast with the rest of his tanned skin. He knows men where their scars blend in so easy, but his don't. Always there. Always pronounced. His shorts lay flat across his crotch. His chest hair is patchy. His knee is taped up.

They won't want a consolation prize, Yuta says in his head, remembering the speech he gave after he lost his title. They won't want second-best. They won't take excuses. They won't want me if I'm broken in a way they can't fix.

But Mox has said he loves him. Said it last month, quietly, in the showers. Meant it, because he said it again and again and again. But sometimes, Yuta's brain tells him it's a lie, that he says it so much because he feels bad for Yuta. Bryan says he loves him, too, but Yuta's never fully believed it. Bryan's never gone out of his way to make it believable. Claudio has lain in bed with the three of them, breaths heaving, fingers slipping and gripping and sliding. Wet, lewd sounds of what was supposed to be love.

Claudio's never complained. Claudio's perfect. Yuta's not even close.

"Ah, there you are. I grew worried when I didn't see you in bed with the boys," Regal says softly. Yuta jerks in place, quickly bringing his arms up so he can scrub the tears off his face with his forearms. Regal walks across the training room, over the mat, that makes up the entirety of the BCC mansion basement.

"I couldn't sleep," Yuta mutters after clearing his throat, keeping his face turned away from Regal. His mentor walks behind him, sits next to him. He's in a grey shirt, black sleep pants, thick socks because he gets cold. It's the most dressed down Yuta's ever seen him.

Regal doesn't join them in bed. Regal invites others into his room. He's only ever let Yuta kiss him before, late at night, after Yuta first one his championship. Breathing heavy, eyes alight, and Regal had leaned down and muttered against Yuta's lips Go ahead, sunshine.

Ever since that night, Yuta was too afraid of approaching Regal again. He felt....

If Regal wasn't impressed. If Regal found a flaw. In bed. In Yuta.

Yuta was pretty sure he'd die.

"You push yourself so hard, don't you?" Regal asks, and his large hand rests on Yuta's bandaged knee. "You outwork everyone here, even Bryan. Even Claudio. But you know, rest is essential to the warrior's toolkit. After all, you saw Bryan lose to Garcia when he came back far too soon."

"It's not that bad," Yuta says softly, only looking over once his face is dry. Regal smiles at him, and there's a sadness there. There's not pity, no, just sadness. And he's beautiful, and he's barrel-chested, and he's rugged, and he's life-worn. Yuta looks at Regal and he knows he won't ever be that.

"You try so hard, petal," Regal says softly, and Yuta bites his lower lip, because he's so, so, so tired. "You don't need to."

"...I do," Yuta breathes, and he wishes his voice wouldn't shake. "I have to try harder. Because.... To be...like them. As good as them. As you. I have to try.... If I don't, then Garcia- Bryan already doesn't- I'm now. It's not the same. For me. I have to try harder."

"You don't. We loved you from the first moment you stepped foot into this home."

"Bryan didn't want me. He wanted a man. Mox loves men, Claudio likes men, I have to try because-"

Regal reaches over and he places his hands on Yuta's wet cheeks, thumbing the tears out of the corners of his eyes, and there's a sadness in his eyes that's so much more potent now. He shakes his head gently, tsking.

"That's not true. Bryan wanted you. He's just a bit of a terrible boy, you know? He isn't as forthcoming as Mox. He doesn't know how his actions hurt others."

"...I just want to be...enough. M-man enough...I want to be...."

"You are," Regal says firmly, hands pressing Yuta's face slightly. "You are, my terror. My flower. My weapon. You are more than enough, because you are you, and Wheeler Yuta is the man we chose. ...What was it you just said? You want to be man enough? Do you think because your body has different ingredients that it makes you any less a man?"

Yuta goes quiet. Because the truth is complicated, and it's hard to articulate when his throat is stuffed up and the pain in his knee is making it hard to think. Regal pauses a moment, must see that Yuta's struggling, because he doesn't ask him again. Instead, he sighs and stands up, taking one of Yuta's hands and guiding him to his feet with him.

Once they're standing, Yuta sniffing and trying to look a bit less snotty and waifish, Regal takes the neck of his own shirt and tugs it up. Yuta doesn't register that Regal is stripping out of his shirt for a second, because it's so...it's so much. Because Regal is Regal and Yuta's never been worthy to see him in anything less than his night clothes, and-

And Regal pulls his shirt off without struggle, holds it in his left hand, and motions to his chest.

Where there are two perfect little scars, curved and cupping the underside of his chest. Yuta's eyes widen slowly, and all coherent thoughts fly out of his mind. He reaches a hand forward and gently touches the center of Regal's chest before he can think if that's polite or not. Regal, however, doesn't slap his hand away. Instead, he puts his hand over Yuta's and guides his fingers along the scar under his left pec.

"You...?"

"Am I any less than I was a moment ago, sunshine?" Regal asks in a tone that already knows Yuta's answer. The younger man is shaking his head before Regal can finish speaking. Because Regal is a man. Regal is the pinnacle. Regal is the goal. Yuta feels the tender scar tissue.

"...I didn't know," Yuta says softly. "Why didn't anyone tell me that...?"

"Yoots! What's takin' you so damn long-" Mox bursts into the bathroom and Yuta’s head snaps up, eyes wide, hands freezing where he was hovering a needle above his thigh. Perched on the edge of the tub, Yuta is in full view, with just his underwear on and nothing else. Immediate embarrassment floods Yuta and he opens his mouth to speak, but Mox is first.

He tilts his head, brows furrowing and dropping, and with a slow, dangerous tone, he asks,

“Do not tell me that shit is what I think it is. Kid, I’m gonna kick your ass if you’re fucking juicing up in the fucking bathroom, I swear to god.” Mox stalks towards him and Yuta holds the needle close, shaking his head with his eyes wide.

“No! No, Mox, it’s not- it’s not what it looks like!” he exclaims, and then he feels his subconscious groaning at him. ‘Not what it looks like’? How cliche and guilty could he seem? It doesn’t seem to jive with Mox, either, who reaches his hand out and snatches Yuta by his hair, squeezing and yanking his head back. Yuta hisses at the pain that blossoms over his scalp from where Mox’s nails scraped and where the roots are pulled tight.

“Ain’t what it looks like? Then gimme a good fucking reason you’re needling right before we have to take off to a fucking show. And don’t lie, because I swear to fucking Christ Yuta-”

“They’re hormones!” Yuta exclaims, holding up a hand for mercy. “They’re hormones. My testosterone shots. I....”

Mox’s hand lets go of Yuta’s hair and he watches as the older man blinks a couple times, lips parted, brows pulled down a bit low. He blinks again, then shakes his head and steps back. 

There’s a fear in the pit of Yuta’s stomach. It drops heavy, twisting up his guts, tightening his chest. He looks down at the shot in his hand, then, suddenly full of shame, he hides it on the other side of his body, looking away from Mox. They’re quiet for...a long time. Too long. Long enough for Yuta to feel the impending rejection.

It’s like an old friend now. He knows when it’s coming, he recognizes it’s face before it’s even standing in his doorway. Maybe, less like a friend. More like a shadow.

“You’re like, what? Trans?” Mox asks. “That’s what hormone shots are for, right? Or...I guess you could be missing your boys from cancer. Fuck, is it that?”

“No,” Yuta says quietly, looking down at his muscular thighs, at the thick black hair that started growing there a couple years ago. “...I’m uh...I’m a trans man.” He squeezes his knee, taking in a deep breath as the dread joins the fear and washes him of his warmth.

“Huh.”

“...Can I like...can you let me tell them first?” Yuta asks, looking at the wall now when his eyes sting in humiliation. 

“What?” Mox asks, blunt. Yuta takes a deep breath and asks,

“Can I tell Bryan and Regal? ...I’d rather get kicked out, like, face-to-face, you know? Not because someone else told them.”

Yuta hears the soft scratching of Mox rubbing the back of his head, then,

“Uh, I mean, sure you can tell ‘em if you want. Don’t know why you’d get booted, though.”

Yuta blinks, looking at the wall, then his thighs, then up to Mox’s face. The man is scratching at the back of his head, looking like he’s already gotten distracted from their conversation as he walks over to the toilet near Yuta. Without shame, Mox takes himself out and starts pissing, all the while carrying on a casual conversation.

“You’re real reactive, ain’t you kid? Nah, we ain’t kicking you out when we don’t have any good reason to. You just caught me off guard is all,” Mox explains, then he glances over to Yuta’s needle. “So...you gotta stick yourself with that every day? Could probably do it somewhere more steril than the bathroom.”

Yuta feels dumbstruck, his brain taking a moment to go from one direction, pulling back, and flipping towards another. Mox doesn’t seem bothered, not in the least. He just tucks his dick back into his pants and moves to wash his hands. 

“I...uh...I usually do it in private,” Yuta says softly, and Mox turns around with a brow raised. “I mean...usually it’s just me and Chuck. I’m really bad at injecting myself, needles freak me out. But now I’m seeing Chuck less often, so....”

“Oh,” Mox says, and walks up to Yuta calmly, plopping down on a knee. Yuta just blinks at him, warmth spreading over the bridge of his nose when Mox reaches over and gently takes the needle from Yuta’s hand. “Fuck, just say so, kid. You don’t get shit you don’t talk about or ask for, you know? Like me and the boys, we don’t give a shit about this shit. We just care you’re a damn good fighter, keeping yourself right.”

“I.... I didn’t want you guys to have to, you know.... I thought you’d think it was weird. Or like I couldn’t take care of myself, you know?” Yuta says as Mox rubs a hand over the spot he’s going to inject, warming it up. 

“We know you can take care of yourself,” Mox says, blunt and simple and without the need for explanation. “Deep breath, kiddo. Maybe I’ll give you a lollipop after if you’re good.”

Yuta is smiling when he looks away, which turns into a strange grimace when he feels the needle go in. But Mox has a surprisingly steady hand, and soon enough the needle is out and Yuta’s fishing in his bag between his feet for a bandaid. He finds a black one and slaps it on over the injection site, then takes the empty needle and puts it in his used needle case. 

Mox watches him as he does this and he hums.

“You got all the works in there, huh?” he asks, and Yuta nods, slowing his movements. “Well, you’re one of us now. So you’re gonna have to tell the boys how to use this stuff, when you inject, shit like that, you know?” Mox says, grunting as he stands up. He holds a hand out to Yuta, looking at him with that serious, ‘I’m gonna give you a life lesson’ expression. 

When Yuta takes his hand and stands, holding his bag in his other hand, Mox leans down and bumps their foreheads together.

“We protect our own,” he says to Yuta. “Don’t matter what you’re packing, so long as you’re clean.”

“I am! I promise, I don’t even drink anymore,” Yuta says, and Mox gives him a lopsided smile, like what he said was cute. It’s a nice, handsome smile, really warm, really tender. Mox leans in and gives Yuta a gentle kiss on the cheek, one that sends a wave of heat through the younger man.

“Good boy,” Mox hums, and Yuta swears his knees very nearly buckle.

-----

Yuta stands on the pedestal in the suit shop, in the private section Regal got because he was William Regal, and he just...got his own private dressing rooms everywhere, Yuta supposed. And he’s there, with thoughts of the Best of the Super Juniors in his mind, standing in a well-fitted suit, and he can’t help but to look at himself.

Broad shoulders. A masculine cut. A tie that accentuated his thick neck and broader chest. Regal is walking around him, going on about where the sleeves should fall, how the pants should fit (”Your generation likes them rather tight, and while I think it looks a bit ridiculous, I wouldn’t have you go out there in something out of fasion.”), what color belt and shoes went with what color jacket and pants.

And he looks like a man. He looks like a serious, professional man, about to embark on a huge journey to Japan, to compete in a huge competition, and Yuta swallows a lump in his throat. Regal steps up to the podium and stands behind Yuta so he can adjust his tie and the lay of his jacket, cool blue eyes focused, looking so much larger than Yuta. Shoulders broad, extremely tall, a man Yuta wants to be.

And when Yuta looks at himself in the mirror, he sees the man he is. He sees a man. 

Tears well up in Yuta’s eyes and he’s quick to turn around, wrapping his arms around Regal’s waist. 

“Oh! ...Oh, my dear boy,” Regal says softly, gently patting Yuta’s hair, wrapping his other arm around him to return the embrace. Yuta sniffs and presses his face to Regal’s chest, unable to speak, knowing his voice will crack horribly and he just won’t live that down. So instead he just hopes Regal understands that he’s thankful, that he’s so...so thankful.

Regal gives Yuta a very firm hug, when whispers in his hair,

“You look like a fine gentleman, Master Yuta.”

-----

“There’s a good boy,” Mox purrs in Yuta’s ear, smirking when Yuta’s hips buck up into Bryan’s mouth. He gasps when he feels the man once more sink his tongue inside him, nose nuzzling his clit, beard tickling his folds. He can feel his climax coming up on him fast, what with how Bryan’s eating him out like a man starved, and how Regal’s large hand keeps playing from one nipple to the other, rubbing them in gentle circles.

“Please!” Yuta gasps, hips bucking again. Bryan slips his arms under Yuta’s thighs and grips his hip bones, forcing them down. Yuta writhes on the bed, gasping as Mox whispers praise into his ear, as Regal paws at his chest and smiles down at him in a way that’s both sharp and predatory and soft and sweet at the same time.

“Shh, a moment longer, a moment longer,” Regal hums, accent soft. But Yuta feels like he’s about to implode, heat churning in his gut as Bryan sucks hard on his clit.

“Please!” Yuta yelps, almost sobbing with need now. 

“You’ve done so well. You may cum now, dear boy. Cum for us,” Regal hums, and Yuta only catches the beginning half. He feels himself slip down, things blacking out as his juices flow over Bryan’s tongue and lips. His lover moans as he laps it all up, sucking and kissing at Yuta’s sopping core and releasing his hips so Yuta can grind down against his face.

“There we go, look at that mess you made all over Bryan’s pretty face,” Mox chuckles, kissing Yuta’s temple as the younger man shakes. “There’s our boy, you cum so good for us.” 

Yuta is shaking when Bryan lifts his head, licking wet lips with a satisfied look in his eyes. He crawls up and rests over Yuta, his head resting on Yuta’s chest. Bryan shifts his head, turning it to kiss at the very faint top surgery scars. The action fills Yuta with a soft warmth, making him exhale slowly. The men around him don’t leave, they gently praise him and touch him, kiss him, let him cool down.

“How do you feel, sunshine?” Regal asks calmly. Yuta nods, eyes half-lidded, rubbing his cheek gently on the man’s hand that strokes down his face. He hears Mox chuckle softly near him, and Bryan moves to kiss Yuta’s throat.

“Love you sweet man,” Bryan says, sex-drunk and sleepy. Yuta hums in agreement, prompting Mox to tease,

“He’s gonna fall asleep.”

“Let him rest. You two have had your fun with him for hours,” Regal chuckles, and the reminder sends a wave of prickly warmth through Yuta. He thinks he could probably, maybe, one more time, take someone, but sleep is far too close and far more tempting.