Work Text:
11:43PM
Suzuki was browsing JetPens when he got the notification. The curved edges of the nearly opaque, white square obscured the website without warning. Suzuki’s finger, which had already made contact with the screen—ready to scroll— awkwardly maneuvered to the edge of his phone to allow him to read without lifting up. It’d popped up as a systems window, similar to how his Apple phone would tell him that his battery was low.
Are you interested in feeling good?
If yes, press OK. If no, press outside of the box.
OK
He’d stared at it for a long moment, wondering if he was dreaming. He absent-mindedly noticed that the OK was grayed out like he was selecting to press it, though his finger was far from the button. As far as he knew, there was no Apple update that enabled interactive pop-up windows— and, even if there was, would Apple send out something as peculiar as this? Did his phone have a virus? Were all of those accidentally-clicked porn ads finally coming after his blood?
He’d pondered it long enough for his heavy eyelids to droop, the fountain pens that kept him awake having been blocked by the window. As he relaxed into sleep, his phone fell with a whump onto his chest, and the finger pressed onto the screen— unintentionally selecting the OK button— slid off, completing his unwitting transaction. From beside him, on a king-sized bed situated next to his queen-sized one, his parents breathed evenly in their sleep.
12:13AM
Suzuki blinked himself awake only to find himself enveloped in linen-scented warmth. He nuzzled into it, inhaling deeply and reveling the way his nose comfortingly clogged up with the fabric. It reminded him of fuzzy blankets fresh out of the dryer. He didn’t notice the tingling up and down his spine until he tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, the constant hum of stimulation keeping him from relaxing. He arched his back into the warmth with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to escape from the tingle. The feeling only followed him. He couldn’t find the effort to move his arms back to push away whatever was causing the tingles, so he just wiggled closer to the warmth and whined when the feeling wouldn’t go away. That was when he heard— no, felt — the vibrations of a deep chuckle, reverberating throughout his entire body.
Suzuki tensed in an instant, his eyes snapping open though he could see nothing but black. The tingling sensation stopped, but the arm around his body pulled him in closer. He felt panic rise up in his throat, yet he was paralyzed. Who was this? Why were they in his bed? He realized with sick dread that the tingling he’d felt was the person’s fingers running up his spine. He felt his fingers dig into the palms of his hands, his arms squeezed against his chest in the tight space between him and the scarily warm person’s own.
Please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me
Fear laced itself through his veins. He held his breath for so long that his lungs burned, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Suzuki felt himself go dizzy. Whether it was from terror or from the lack of oxygen, he couldn’t tell. The figure before him suddenly shifted, and he breathed in sharply in apprehension. He felt a large hand thread itself within his hair, cupping his head and massaging it in what had to be a reassuring way. The motion continued soothingly, and Suzuki found himself relaxing, the panic ebbing away. His short and choppy breaths soothed the burning of his lungs.
He was lulled into a daze, not really sleeping but not really awake, eyes open but half-lidded. His breaths became even as the hand started to card through the strands, brushing his hair with its fingers. By now Suzuki was putty in the arms of the mysterious person. His parents continued to sleep, blissfully unaware of the new addition to their room.
12:58AM
The next time Suzuki awoke, there was a hand around his penis. He jolted at the realization and tried to pull away, but there was another hand still in his hair. It pressed its fingers into his scalp in warning. Suzuki forced himself to relax in fear of having his skull crushed.
He heard more than felt the small kiss to his head, a signal of approval and praise. He decided that he liked the feeling of warmth that blossomed into his chest.
The hand that reached beyond the elastic band of his pants was warm and gentle. It wrapped itself around his penis and pressed its thumb against a spot underneath its head, massaging it in slow circles. Its index finger curved overhead, atop his slit. Every circle of the thumb caused the ridges of the index finger to catch at the sensitive skin of his opening. Suzuki felt himself tense and twitch at every interval, his cock hardening despite it being nearly painful without lubrication. Before long he felt a drop of precum emerge from his tip, and the index finger eagerly moved back to smear the droplet over the head of his cock, rubbing its calloused ridges directly against his slit. A small whimper escaped his throat, and he heard a breathy chuckle from above him.
Suzuki shakily pulled one of his arms from the abyss of warmth to grip the arm connected to the hand around his penis. He buried his face into what he presumed to be the person’s neck, breathing in. Another whimper caught in his throat as the index finger spread another drop of precum.
As his precum accumulated, the hand eventually tightened around the head of his cock and began to jerk him in small, subtle wrist movements. The sides of the thumb teased the edges of his protruding tip. His breathing quickened but remained silent. Without realizing it, his hips began to move in tandem with the hand, using his grip on the person as leverage.
He was hyper aware of his parents’ breathing, which were somewhat covered up by the deafeningly quiet shlick… shlick… shlick… of his cock. Suzuki felt both shame and arousal as a thrill ran through him with the thought of being discovered by his parents.
His orgasm built gradually. The small motions brought him to a teetering edge of tension, and he gripped at the person’s arm hard enough for his own to ache.
Please please please please
His thrusts into the hand were deep enough now to slightly rock the bed. The rhythmic creaks only served to heighten his fear of getting caught— his arousal.
“... Coming…” He breathed in a moan, lifting his head slightly to the direction of the person's ear. He felt the thumb swipe and rub into his slit in response. With that, Suzuki’s breath stuttered and his back straightened, losing his darkened sight; the hand gripping the person’s arm shaking with effort. He tensed and twitched forward as he felt himself spill into the person’s hand, his toes curling with the force of his orgasm. The waves of pleasure pulsed in him for nearly 10 seconds, hiccuping his breath as he struggled to breathe and remain quiet simultaneously. Throughout it all, the hand in his hair massaged his scalp in approval, seeming to like the way his body responded to a mind-numbing orgasm.
3:03AM
Suzuki pushed desperately at the person’s arm as it continued to use its beyond soiled hand to torture his cock. His other hand remained trapped between two bodies, gripping at the fabric of the person’s shirt. Wet tears slipped from his eyes, painting new streaks down his cheeks and into his ears, onto the fabric and soaking it. He’d quietly begged the person to stop, but they’d continued to milk him, orgasm after orgasm after orgasm after orgasm , all with the same minuscule movements as when they’d started. His undergarments were soggy with semen and sweat, and the blanket over him was too hot and the person in front of him was too warm —
Yet the person would just continue to grind their thumb into the slit of his cock, at times using their nail to scratch into his tip and make Suzuki flinch at the over-stimulation. They’d ignore Suzuki’s frightened pleas to wait, seemingly uncaring or ignorant of his effort to remain quiet in the onslaught of stimuli. They seemed to revel in the wet sniffles that sometimes permeated the room, accompanied by the soft, broken sobs coming from the boy, rubbing appreciatively at his scalp with their other hand. The once inaudible shlick of his cock became shamefully pronounced, a steady rhythm to the uneven pants and hiccuped whines and moving fabric, almost in tempo with his parents’ sleeping breaths. Any louder and his parents would surely hear— would wake up and glance to their son’s bed illuminated by a pale lamp light, see an unknown mound of person, be able to smell the scent of arousal and sweat, catch a glimpse of their son’s flushed face matted with sticky black hair, recognize the source of his panting. They’d surely scramble to tear the blanket off of his body, revealing his grey shorts stained by a large dark spot on its front, bulging with the addition of the person’s hand still pleasuring him despite being caught, their son’s hips gyrating into the movement with audibly wet heat. They’d stare at it in horror, then shift their eyes back to their son’s face only to see it glazed with tears, his eyes puffy and his breath coming out in barely concealed moans, too far gone to realize that he’s been discovered by his parents; or perhaps too far gone to care. They’d see him suddenly revitalize his grip on the person’s arm, hear him let out a pitiful noise close to the word “coming” and then they’d see the stain on his shorts become inexplicably darker, see him shake and quiver and tremble into his orgasm, watch as more tears flowed from his foggy dark eyes. But the bulge in his pants would just keep moving, the person’s pruney fingers continuing to rub and rub and rub and rub and dig and he was coming he was coming he’s it it’s coming feels so GOOD PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
“!!!” Suzuki’s mouth opened in a silent scream, his eyes rolling back and his body tightening to the point of uncontrolled spasms, his toes curled and his legs pulled taut. His fingers dug into the fabric of the person’s sleeve, pulling it down and scratching them through their shirt. He blacked out but felt himself spurt a shocking amount of liquid into his pants, felt it ooze hotly past the hand and down his legs. It was different from the many orgasms he’d had before, the earlier ones having been pathetic dollops of semen forced from his tired cock. The pressure of his ejaculation was so strong that it felt like he heard every individual squirt of liquid, each one feeling like an individual orgasm. Too watery for semen; did he urinate? Did he squirt? Like a girl? His cock was still dribbling with liquid as he came down from his peak, making him twitch and clench with each smaller spurt. He heaved, struggling to regain himself quietly, his raspy breath a stark contrast to the now empty atmosphere. The person miraculously stopped when he began to spasm. Instead, they pressed another kiss to the top of his head and began carding their fingers through his damp hair once his breathing began to even. The hand around his cock remained as an oddly comforting reminder of the experience alongside the soaked fabrics of his bed.
Suzuki, despite being exhausted by the overwhelming pleasure, could not fall asleep. He simply laid there, stuffy and spent underneath the blankets, basking in the person’s attentions to him.
3:44AM
Suzuki was still dazed when the hand in his pants shifted downwards to wedge itself between his thighs. He felt the person’s fingertips nudge upwards and to the right, signalling for him to hoist his leg over the person’s body. When Suzuki made no effort to move even after several nudges, the person dug their fingers into his scalp with their nails. A clear warning.
So he tried— he really did— to lift his leg up and over, but he was so weak . It hurt! He was barely able to lift his leg a centimeter before he had to rest. His leg was sore and the small movement shot radiating pain through his spine. He felt himself weep in misery, shaking with cold sweat in the heat around him. He tried again, only to fail once more. Suzuki felt panic claw up his throat. What if they punished him? What if he was killed?
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m trying
But the person took mercy on him, their hands losing their malicious intent. The fingers in his hair moved back and down to cup his cheek, elevating it on his pillow. He felt a calloused thumb caress his bottom lip, and he instinctively met it with the tip of his tongue. It praised him with another caress. Suzuki both heard and felt the person lift themselves up to maneuver their arm underneath the side of their body. The bed creaked with the motion, a tinny spring groaning in protest. Then, the hand cupping his cheek moved further down to rest its thumb in the crook of his neck. The rest of the fingers stroked lovingly at his nape. In this position, Suzuki could easily be choked and strangled, yet he found himself eased into relaxation. His muscles were still aching with dull pain, but he was no longer afraid. The hand between his thighs slid out from underneath his pants to rest on his tummy. It teased at his belly button, causing him to let out a tickled breath.
The person then traced a pattern into his skin, around his belly button, and Suzuki was able to lie peacefully for only a few seconds more before his blood ran cold— colder than the sudden blade pressed against his stomach. Where did it come from?
Was he going to be killed?
Please I don’t want to die please I’m sorry I’ll do better I promise
In hopes to prove his promise, he wiggled backwards from the blade. He desperately forced his leg to move up, wincing at the burning sensation that seared through him, but he bit his lip and continued to try. Though he was more successful than his previous attempts, his leg could not take the strain and flopped back down, sending shocks of pain throughout his whole body. Earnest sobs began to wrack his frame, incomprehensible pleas for mercy mingling with whimpers as tears ran freely from his eyes. He was vaguely aware that he was being too loud.
The thumb resting on his neck moved to press against his throat. Hard. Suzuki stilled and quieted instantly, like a cat held by its scruff. He breathed through his nose in fear of making another noise, ignoring the way his nostrils felt lubricated with both wet and dried mucus. He felt the blade slide downwards to his groin, and he stiffened, gripping the person’s bicep in terror— the same bicep that belonged to the arm and hand holding the blade. Their thumb was still pressed into his throat.
He felt the blade turn. Its dull side was pressed against his skin, upright. Then, the person’s hand shifted.
Snip
It took a moment to register what happened. Before the awareness settled, however, another snip filled the air and overpowered Suzuki’s whistling breaths. He felt the blade circle around until it was at the edge of his hip. Once there, the snips became more frequent and confident. Confusion took the place of terror. What? ...cutting his clothes? The thumb pressed to his throat lessened its pressure but remained as a clear reminder to stay still .
...Suzuki had the dawning realization that the first cuts had no purpose if they were going to restart the cutting from his hips. Were they trying to show him what they were trying to do? To calm him down? ...why?
After several confusing minutes of steady snipping, the blade— or were they using scissors?— paused. It remained still against his skin, warm from his body heat. The thumb on his throat brushed a circle against his skin. Suzuki, always quick to figure things out, realized that they wanted him to pull up his shorts so they could finish cutting. He slid his hand from the person’s bicep to underneath the blankets. He had to awkwardly inch downwards, trying his best to ignore the stabs of pain in his back as he reached down to the bottom hem of his shorts. He pulled it back and straightened himself, waiting for the person to finish cutting. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the fingers on his nape lightly scratched him, and he released a shallow, shuddering breath.
Snip
His shorts fell apart. The person released the blade and traced another pattern into his skin, this time with his nails. To Suzuki’s shock, the blade disappeared instantly. The person grabbed the fabric of his shorts and attempted to pull it up and away, only for it to be held down by Suzuki’s weight. Everything stilled for a second.
Then, searing pain exploded throughout Suzuki’s entire body, causing him to gasp too loudly. The person, in a swift motion, had slid their hand between his thighs and hoisted his leg over their body. His hands grappled for purchase on the person’s clothing, clutching desperately to escape from the pain. He felt another wave of sobs rack his body. It hurts!!! He buried his face into the crook of the person’s neck, letting himself cry and cry and cry.
“H-hurts…” He whimpered, hoping the person could understand him. They only turned their head downwards to kiss the top of his head, using the hand between his thighs to gently tease the rim of his hole. He could do nothing but endure the pain.
The person’s arm shifted further downwards, allowing his hand to reach beyond his hole and touch his tailbone. He flinched at the brush of fingers against his tender spot. The hand paused, then pressed into his tailbone. He cried out in protest into the person’s neck, shaking from the pain, but they kept the pressure. Strangely, the person’s fingers were so… warm against him. He didn’t notice his shorts disappear with his sticky underwear.
Luckily, his parents were none the wiser to the activities of his son.
4:05AM
Suzuki was melting into the person’s arms. The excruciating pain he’d felt in his entire body dissipated with each passing minute of pressure on his tailbone. He let out a pleased hum and snuggled closer to the body in front of him. Another kiss was tenderly placed atop his head in response.
The pressure soon vanished, however, and before Suzuki could whine his displeasure, a feathery touch tickled his hole. He made a soft noise, clenching his hole instinctively and catching at a fingertip. A low chuckle rumbled from above him. He shivered at the sound.
A middle finger eased into the folds of his hole, but did not breach him. Instead, it seemed to be massaging an intricate pattern into him. He felt his cock begin to perk up in interest as the finger purposely moved back and forth, digging but not quite penetrating him.
Suddenly, he felt cool liquid seep out from within his hole, and he gasped in shock, clenching his hole with enough force to quite literally suck a part of the person’s finger past his rim. They used this opportunity to bury their entire finger in his hole, seemingly deeply amused by the entire situation if their short chortle was anything to go by. Suzuki was decidedly not that amused, the peculiar feeling of cold slick oozing past the finger inside of him too surreal to be ignored. A voice of reason within his mind told him that it must be lube, but where did it come from? Where? How?
He had not long to ponder it as the finger inside of him moved curiously, probing at his walls. It felt intrusive but not violating, and Suzuki felt himself enjoying the feeling of being explored despite the abnormality of it all. The nail of their finger just barely grazed a bundle of nerves within him, and he felt himself tense. The finger paused.
Then, it circled the edges of the spot, seemingly mapping out its circumference. Suzuki’s cock hardened at the teasing motions. They continued to teeter at the very edges of the spot— his prostate, Suzuki realized— without putting direct pressure onto its center. He clenched his hole, letting out a whine. They rewarded him by moving to the center of his prostate and pressing down lightly, rubbing circles into the spot. Tingles of pleasure shot through him. It was like the finger rubbed the tip of his cock from inside him, making his cock twitch and jerk with every circle. He couldn’t help the moan that squirmed past his lips, his mouth opening to pant. His hand, resting on the person’s shoulder, began to tighten its hold.
4:42AM
Suzuki bit his lip as he rocked his hips back onto the person’s fingers, again using their arm as leverage. They welcomed the action, pressing down onto his spot with three finger pads on every backward motion, urging him to continue. He mewled when they grazed their nails against it, feeling a spurt of precum emerge from his penis. He’d came only once with their fingers so far, a slow-washing dry orgasm that took him by surprise and left him tingly and unsatisfied. The three fingers in his hole gave a dull stretch and burn on every forward motion, spreading him open.
It was like they were lazily preparing him, as if it was no rush at all. It was contrary to the overstimulating barrage his penis had received, one that made him convulse and squirt all over himself. He felt his cock and hole twitch in remembrance of the feeling, and he wondered if he’d be able to experience it again.
He felt the person smirk into his hair, as if knowing what he was thinking about, but maybe it was just his hyper-active imagination fooling him into decadence.
5:02AM
Suzuki whined in protest as the fingers withdrew from his hole, still aware of his parents’ breaths from behind him. His cock was aching for release, leaking a steady stream of precum that pooled between his exposed body and their clothed stomach. It was hard to breathe in the stuffy room, but he found that he didn’t care.
An apologetic kiss was placed on his head, and Suzuki was about to be pleased by the affection before the person suddenly pulled away. The bed creaked as they sat up from their position. Suzuki furrowed his brows and helplessly gripped at their clothing as their hands slid away from his body. Was it over? Why?
Where were they going? He couldn’t see!
He felt a placating hand rest on his head, petting him reassuringly, but he couldn’t help but feel a wave of unease. Were they going to leave? Was this a farewell touch? Suzuki was about to open his mouth to ask when he felt a touch on the back of his shoulder, nudging him forward. He obediently rolled onto his stomach, grimacing as he felt wet spots of his precum and ejaculate on the fabric beneath him. The hand stroked his shoulder in praise before pulling away. Again, Suzuki was about to open his mouth, but he was interrupted by a sudden breeze to his naked legs. He jolted, welcoming the breeze on his sticky body but curling inwards from the sudden sensation. The blanket was thrown haphazardly to the side. It left him feeling especially vulnerable, knowing that there was one less safeguard between him and his parents’ sight.
A single finger distracted him from the thought as it trailed down the middle of his back to his hairless hole, and he shivered in anticipation. He heard a pleased hum when the finger dipped into him without resistance. He purposely clenched around it, impatient.
He felt the mattress dip beside him and creak loudly as they leaned all of their weight on presumably one arm. They loomed over him. A hand reached beneath him and lifted his rear up from the bed. He gasped when the warm hand touched his cooled, pulsing cock. The person held his penis outward and flat, signalling him to lay back down onto his stomach by tugging him downwards. His cock was exposed to the cool air as he laid atop his ballsack, no longer crushed by his tummy. He heard another pleased hum as the person pulled back to admire their handiwork, feeling their eyes roam across his back. His shirt, which was still in tact, stuck to his skin uncomfortably but was a welcome barrier against their all-seeing eyes. Suzuki felt himself blush, curling his fingers into the bed sheets as he turned his head to lay his cheek flat.
He heard a zipper unzip, then rustling of fabric. The bed barely creaked with the movements, as if holding its breath. Suzuki found that he, too, held his breath. The air conditioner abruptly clicked on, shocking him as the cold air blew across his body. He squirmed, moving his body upwards on the bed.
A forceful hand suddenly held him down by his back, right below his neck, and the person’s body was soon slung over him. He spread his legs automatically, wide enough to feel the person’s thighs touching his knees on both sides. They shifted themselves further downward, sliding their knees and pulling the bed sheets taut across his bed. It was only now that Suzuki realized how large the person was. He could feel their overbearing shadow envelope him in dominance, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t arouse him.
Feeling bold, Suzuki unwound his hands from the bed sheets and reached back. He gripped both of his buttocks with one hand on each, spreading them open. He shuddered as cool air brushed up against his exposed hole, pink and pretty and glistening even in the dark.
He moaned softly when he felt the head of the person’s penis press into his hole. It was large, but he was thoroughly prepared for the stretch— the entire tip of the person’s cock slid smoothly inside. It registered within his mind that the cock was quite lubricated, and the breaching of his rim was accompanied by an obscene squelch. They gave him time to adjust, staying completely still as he got used to the feeling. He spread his cheeks further to invite the rest of the cock inside him, excited to fill the empty void where their fingers used to be.
As soon as they began to inch into him, though, Suzuki’s eyes widened. He felt a small, hard nub catch at the rim of his hole, then squeeze in. Then another caught. Then another. And another. Immediately, his hands withdrew from his cheeks, instead reaching backwards in attempt to push the person away from him.
The person stopped. A low snarl sounded through the air. Suzuki froze.
Timidly— obediently— his shaky hands found their way to his buttocks, and spread them once more. The person— or monster?— resumed its previous inch by inch entrance. It seemed as if their entire shaft was covered by the hard nubs, some different sizes but no bigger than a small pearl. Without realizing it, his legs began to lift from his knees, his toes curling as the nubs rubbed and massaged his walls. His breath caught when a few nubs struck his prostate, then choked back a moan as the continuous inch forward caused several clusters to grind against the spot in a slow, torturous succession. It was not long before the person’s pelvis was flush against his buttocks. Suzuki, trembling, drew his hands from his cheeks to clutch at the bed sheets beside his head. He couldn’t help but twitch and jerk, soft mewls escaping him when each minuscule movement caused a nub to press into his prostate with varying pressure. They stayed like that for a while: the person, clearly enjoying the tremors around their cock as Suzuki struggled to remain still; and Suzuki, who felt like he was going to orgasm at any second.
Then, the person suddenly shifted forward, leaning all of their weight into Suzuki and causing the bed to creak. He let out a high-pitched whine as several nubs ground into his prostate, pushing him over the edge of orgasm. His cock pitifully leaked white dollops of cum onto the sheets as his toes curled, the strength of his orgasm detectable in the way his bed shook as he quivered. One of the arms supporting the person’s body weight folded inwards at their elbow, their hand snaking underneath his face and covering his mouth. It forced his head to straighten. They enveloped his body with their own, like an over-sized blanket, and Suzuki moaned helplessly into their hand as he felt the nubs nudge insistently at his sweet spot.
The person spent several minutes adjusting themselves to a comfortable position, pointedly ignoring the way Suzuki scratched at their skin in hopes of getting them to stop. Tears had begun to well up in his eyes, some spilling over and dripping down the person’s hand. He couldn’t properly catch his breath with every nudge to his prostate making his eyes roll backwards. He didn’t understand why it felt so good and why even though it was too much he couldn’t get enough and he was going crazy—
Another orgasm washed over him, setting his nerves alight and tensing his body. He let himself ride out the waves of his pleasure, rutting against the sheets and telling himself that there was no helping it if he felt good.
The person rewarded him by rocking their hips forward. Suzuki whimpered in response, clenching his hole. The hand across his mouth rubbed his cheek lovingly with its index finger. That was the only warning he got before they started a leisure rhythm of rocking back and forth.
He whined feebly at first, a secondary orgasm clawing its way up his urethra as their cock pressed into his sweet spot. But then they continued to move after his orgasm washed away, and suddenly Suzuki found himself unable to control his noises and his hands and his feet and his body .
The steady creak of the bed was deafening to his ears as he clawed at the body on top of him. No matter what he did, however, they would continue to just barely pull a centimeter of their cock out from his hole and push it back in; it was a deliberate grinding of his sweet spot, making him lose his mind as every nub pressed and pressed and pressed inside of him. It felt like his semen was being forced out of his cock. Every orgasm wracked his body one after another until he was a shaking mess beneath the still-composed person. He blinked his eyes clear of tears to glance to the left of him, checking on his parents. Somehow the sight of them only sent a thrill of arousal throughout his body, and his eyes rolled back as another orgasm struck him silly.
7:20AM
Suzuki sobs soundlessly as their cock drives into him, pulverizing his prostate as he grips onto the sheets for dear life. He’d been moved and bent over the edge of his bed after he’d came nearly 12 times lying prone, 18 times riding cowboy, and 9 times being carried and fucked onto the person’s cock while they were standing, his body twitching and spent long before they had decided to change positions. He feels himself squirt onto the floor and onto his feet, which were already wet with his ejaculate. He’s barely holding himself up with his legs, trembling like a newborn fawn. Every thrust forward is accompanied by a backwards pull on his hips, jerking his upper body back and forth on the bed. The obscene slaps of skin-on-skin match the tempo of his creaking bed. It is a miracle that his parents have not woken up— though some could say that Suzuki wouldn’t even mind it if they did.
Suzuki can’t think— all he can do is endure it. He barely has half the mind to pant and blabber inaudible Japanese gibberish as the nubs stirred him up inside, rubbing and mashing his sweet spot enthusiastically. Tears stream freely from his eyes, which were seemingly permanently rolled back. He couldn’t breathe, he was going to suffocate, going to pass out going to die but he didn’t care he didn’t care it just felt good GOD why did it feel so good so good GOOD GOOD I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T
Suzuki passes out at 7:43AM, 27 minutes before his parents would wake up.