𓂃✍︎ 18+ mdni · oh, baby, look what you started?
Something about the way Yūta is polishing his sword has gotten you feeling quite aroused. It's a completely surprising feeling, though perhaps it's more to do with the time spent being apart than anything. His hands move in precise fluidity; from the hilt to the tip, there is a certain way his muscles tighten in their movements. Sometimes he catches you staring, and Yūta offers a teasing wink before he returns to his chore.
A contented sigh escapes your lips, simply because of how domestically peaceful this all feels.
"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" He piques your interest with that boyish grin.
"Nothing much, really." You nestle your chin on top of your folded arms. "How long are you still going to keep doing that?"
You whine playfully at his response. "20 more minutes?"
"I suppose," he says apologetically.
You turn yourself over so now your back is pressed against the mattress. The hems of your blue nightgown rise higher when you prop both knees up, and while you either seemed not to care or that you must've overlooked it, Yūta notices the skin of your inner thigh, glistening from the body oil you used earlier.
"You're quite persistent today, aren't you?" Yūta says with a breathy chuckle. "Is there anything you want to do instead?"
Listlessly, you play with the front laces of your nightdress. "Nah, I think I can wait. It's been a while since we've had this much time together, so I don't mind just spending it like this."
"Are you sure? We can do something else if you really want to?"
You laugh, twirling and tugging the laces around your fingers so you can do something to pass the time and to simmer the heat that's been coiling slowly in the pit of your stomach.
"No, it's okay." You tell him honestly. "I know you need to clean your sword. Might as well do it now, huh?"
You reach for your ankle and scratch it.
Had you stopped staring at the ceiling, wondering if you should actually place those glow-in-the-dark stickers like your sensei recommended, you definitely would have noticed the change in Yūta's stare. Where once they held something light and teasing, they turn into a subtle hunger for you.
"What's on your mind now?" Yūta asks again. You miss the way his tone goes lower.
"Hmm? Uhm, I'm thinking about getting those damn stars Sensei's been yapping about and placing them on our ceiling. Never really had those when I was younger."
"Yeah? We can grab some this weekend if you want."
You look at him with a smile. "I was half-kidding, but you make it sound so fun to do. You think we can jump on the bed and see which one puts the most stars?"
Yūta returns your smile with his. "I'd let you win, you know that."
You return your attention to your front laces. "Yūta,"
"I — never mind. Forget I said anything."
"You barely said anything." Yūta chortles. "What is it?"
"Think you can continue that tomorrow? You've been at it for a while now." You pout, stealing a glance at him. When you catch him looking, and he looks too damn good, you slap your hands against your eyes and groan. "It's just — ugh! — never mind! Keep doing what you're doing!"
Confused, Yūta tilts his head and blinks. "Wha — why? What is it?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Don't be like that. What's wrong?"
"You're going to laugh!" You mumble against your hands. "So, no!"
"I won't know until you actually tell me."
Cheeks uncontrollably burning and focus set anywhere but the man who's busy cleaning his sword, you admittedly whisper, hoping it's not enough for him to hear: "I'm really horny, Yūta. I want you to touch me, that's why."
There is an out-of-tune shhhiiiiing coming from Yūta's direction, then silence.
You two remain frozen for some time, allowing the silence to stretch. You don't dare look at him just yet, but you can clearly tell that the air has shifted from the sudden change you've caused.
You are honestly fine waiting for him to finish, but the more stolen glances passing between each other, the talks you thought would've tried calming yourself down (if you had known, too, he was doing the same), the way he laughed and it's that kind of rasped laughter you'd die for — none of those have helped you. In fact, every bit of interaction has led to fueling your heat more.
"Y-Yūta?" You call out to him, still not looking where he's at.
He still says nothing, and you're left wondering whether you've given your poor, tired lover a heart attack.
"What're you —" You sit up at the exact moment you catch Yūta in the middle of gathering his cleaning supplies, his weapon, and chair across the room and dragging them to the foot of the bed, where he uncharacteristically plops himself down.
"On your back." He orders, eyes ablaze at your slightly damp underwear. "Legs up."
You blink, momentarily speechless.
"I won't ask again. Take off your underwear and play with yourself until I finish here."
"Don't keep me waiting, baby," Yūta warns.
Hesitantly, you do as you're told, throwing your underwear carelessly aside. One of your fingers teasingly hovers atop your clit. "Wait — but what if I come?"
Your hands finally settle down to your pussy, spreading it open for Yūta. He only takes one gentle swipe at it, causing you to whimper, before he picks up his sword and polishes it again.
Your fingers dip inside. You imagine that they were his fingers pumping in and out of you.
"Fuck, Yūta!" You moan for his name; you beckon him with a plea to come and let him fuck you mercilessly instead. But Yūta's restraint is unparalleled, and so he sits there and watches.
"Use your other hand and play with your clit, too. Twist and pull it for me."
As if he were born with Inumaki's cursed speech, your other hand seems to have no difficulty following his orders. Your fingers pull, twist, and even rub your clit aggressively.
The squelching sounds coming from your wet mound harmonize along with Yūta's cleaning.
"Add a finger. Add as much as you want, baby. Pump yourself until you come for me. Will you do that? Will you come for me?"
"Yes! Fuuuck!" You arch your back.
The pace at which your fingers are pistoning goes faster. Your breath grows uneven, your knees begin to buckle from a lack of control. One of Yūta's hands grips you tightly in place, steadying you as he always does.
"That's it. There we go. Come for me, my love." Yūta praises you breathlessly. "I think you've also squirted. That's a good girl."
"Shh," Yūta kisses your knee. "I'm not finished yet, so keep playing with yourself."
"I-I need a moment, though."
"I didn't tell you to stop, my love. You're horny, aren't you? So, keep going." He strokes your gaping pussy, languidly flicking your bud as well. "Look at you being all needy."
He raises his slicked fingers covered with your release to where you can see. And in that moment of pure undulated heat, he puts it in his mouth. He sucks on his fingers once, then licks them from the rims, then to the base. He made sure you never take your eyes off of him.
"Again, baby." He softly orders.
Shakily, you jerk yourself again with that haunting memory Yūta offered for you.
After coming the first time, the next two rush to you quicker. You remember begging him to stop cleaning and fuck you already, but he always says the same thing: that he's not finished and just keep on going, baby.
Oh, but you listen. You always listen to everything Yūta says, and he always revels in that control he's got over you. Except what goes out of that potty, little mouth of yours that always breaks Yūta's concentration into pieces he doesn't think he knows how to fix.
"Baby," you mewl, you whine, you cry out desperately for him in that hopeless voice you use when you want something he knows he can give you and that you know he'd give in to, "please, fuck me now. Please, I've been coming for you over and over, but I want your cock, please. My fingers are not enough, baby. Please, stretch me. Please. Yūta, where are you? Please! Oh my God, just drop that fucking sword to the ground and fuck me already!"
You are incessantly babbling that you haven't even realized Yūta's been finished cleaning after your third release, and he's been standing over you, listening all this time.
Then, he undresses himself, takes your hands away from your mound with a kiss, and plunges himself home inside of you. Both of you groan at the contact, and you pull him much, much closer to you.
"Oh, baby," he whispers sweetly to you, "look what you started?"
"Yūtaaa," You moan shamelessly.
He thrusts in and out. You follow the movements for more. Your kisses are everywhere; lips meet lips, eyes, skin, anywhere you two can touch and taste each other.
His hands knead your ass and thighs, and for some inexplicable reason, it feels so intimate; you feel like crying. And when you do, he thumbs them away and tells you just how beautiful you are for him. How lucky he is that you're his and how you return it to him that you're lucky that he's yours.
What began as fucking turns into the most intimate sex you two have had for a long time. Those moments where missions have driven you two apart and wishing to have a few more seconds with each other have finally made up to this.
"I love you," he whispers against your lips.
"I love you, too," you seal with a kiss.
He spills inside you warmly, as you come for him once more. He peppers you with kisses and a poetry of sweet nothings. And when all has been said and done, both of you could only laugh freely.
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