Archive of Our Own

Beneath him, Toono squirms and moans, fingers clenching onto the sheets like they’re a lifeline. He’s on his hands and knees, ass perked up in the air as Yacchan lets his hands wander to cup at the brunet’s flesh. Yacchan lets out a low growl as he spreads the other boy apart even further, watching his hole twitch around the cock buried inside him. God, Toono’s just perfect, with the way his entire body moves in tandem with Yacchan’s, like he’s made just for the ginger. 

Made for me, Yacchan thinks, a steadying hand on Toono’s hip as the brunet whimpers out small noises of desperation. Made for me. Not for Kashima, or a classmate, or any of the boys in his club.  Just for me. His words, his thoughts, his body. All for me and no one else. 

Yacchan’s practically giddy with the thought of it. 

He’s still giddy as he brings his own hips back, drinking down Toono’s whine of dissatisfaction before slamming all the way back in to the hilt with a laugh. Underneath him, Toono’s back arches shamelessly, his mouth open in a wordless sob. And then Yacchan repeats the motion, and again, and again, and soon enough the bed’s rocking beneath them with the force of his thrusts. 

“Such a good little slut,” Yacchan hisses, and Toono makes a soft cry at the comment. “Taking my cock so well.” At that, Toono nods fervently, pushing himself up on his elbows and rocking back against the ginger’s thrusts. “Yacchan,” he moans, his body glistening under a sheen of sweat, “Yacchan, ngh, ah! Harder, harder!”

Yacchan complies without a second thought, thoroughly enjoying the wet noises that he hears every time he fucks into the other boy. He wants to carve his shape into his hole, wants Toono to know just how bad Yacchan can ruin him. And Toono wants it too; Yacchan just knows it. Toono wants to be ruined, wants to be fucked senseless, no matter how much he desperately tries to deny it.

“Does my cock feel good? Does it feel good inside of you?” Yacchan grins through his thrusts, hands digging bruises into Toono’s hips. 

“Yes, yes, it— ah, ah, oh— I feel so good!” Toono’s got his face halfway buried into Yacchan’s pillow, his arms trembling as he tries to keep his upper body from collapsing onto the precum soaked sheets underneath him. “Please, more, ah, Y-Yacchan, fuck me more!” His voice reaches an octave that the ginger’s never heard from him before. 

Yacchan really, really wants to hear it again. 

Toono takes a heaving gulp of fresh air when Yacchan pulls out all the way, panting wetly against the bed as Yacchan rearranges his grip; one hand stays firmly planted on the brunet’s hip, the other splaying across the small of Toono’s back. 

“You want it?” Yacchan teases, sliding himself in between the cleft of Toono’s ass. His skin is beautiful, so soft and pale and supple and Yacchan wants to mark it, to make sure Toono knows who he belongs to, but he feels like that’s for another night. 

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” Toono breathes in response to the ginger’s taunt, his words slurring into a moan as Yacchan presses his tip against the brunet’s hole. “Yacchan, please, fill me up.”  

And so Yacchan does, sliding back in past that tight ring of muscle, a low groan making its way past his lips as Toono clenches around him. “Oh…. ngh, Y-ya— yes!” Toono squeaks as Yacchan bottoms out, adrenaline coursing through the ginger as Toono grinds backs against him. God, it feels good to have Toono like this, on all fours and practically begging for Yacchan to fuck him hard into the sheets. 

“Please, move, Yacchan— please,” Toono hiccups, clenching his trembling fingers around fistfuls of the sheets. Yacchan nods, though Toono can’t see it. 

“I hope you’re ready,” Yacchan growls, and before Toono can respond, Yacchan’s pushing down hard on the hand resting on Toono’s back, all while thrusting all the way back into the brunet. 

He knows he’s hit the right spot when the brunet convulses underneath him. 

A few seconds later and Toono practically wails, his upper torso falling to rub against the sheets as he buries his face into the pillows. “There!” He screams, reaching that high, pleasure-soaked octave again. Yacchan doesn’t think he’s ever heard something so beautiful. “Yacchan, there, right there, so good— Yacchan!”

Yacchan grins as he fucks into Toono hard and fast, aiming for that certain spot over and over again. He can tell Toono loves it by the way he presses his hips back, like he’s desperate for Yacchan to plow into him. 

“Yacchan— mmm— I’m close, Y-Yacchan!” the brunet cries, his words bleeding together into a high-pitched surrender of obedience. Yacchan snaps his hips back even faster, drives his cock in even deeper; he can’t see Toono’s face, but he can imagine it: those pretty green eyes hazed over as they roll back into the brunet’s skull, those kiss-bitten lips parted as Toono moans and whimpers through each thrust. 

Just the thought of Toono’s expression is enough to push Yacchan towards his peak. “Mm’ close too,” he grunts, his fingers digging bruises into the soft flesh of the brunet’s hip. 

“Inside,” Toono gasps out. “Please, Yacchan—! Do it inside!”

“Kyousuke,” Yacchan growls, something hot clawing at his insides. “Call me Kyousuke, yeah?” 

Toono lets out soft, stuttered noises of agreement, fingers clenching around handfuls of the sheets. “Kyousuke,” he cries, “Kyousuke, Kyousuke, I’m— I’m gonna cum—“

“Me too,” Yacchan groans, snapping his hips forward a little faster. “Me— oh, fuck, me too—“ He can feel it, the heat rising in his gut, the way his entire lower half throbs with pleasure through each forward surge of his hips. He wants to cum, wants to fill Toono to the brim and then some. 

The brunet’s making these soft, stilted noises of ecstasy as he reaches his peak, soft sobs falling past his lips. “Kyo— ngh, ah, AH, Kyousuke—!” he practically screams, body heaving as he trembles against the force of Yacchan’s thrusts. “I’m— I’m cumming— oh, OH, Kyousuke—!” Toono climaxes on the last syllable of the ginger’s name, hips shaking violently as he cums untouched. He twitches around Yacchan, convulsions racking his body as he lets out choked, breathy moans through the last embers of his orgasm. 

He does this all while Yacchan continues to fuck into him; harder, faster, pushed onward by the thought of his own release and by how tight Toono’s gotten. The brunet’s still feeling it, still taking Yacchan in deep despite the fact that he’s already cum. 

“Yacchan, hurry,” the brunet whines, his words slurring together on his tongue. “M’ feel— mm! Weird—!” He’s sluggish, but still sloppily grinding back against Yacchan like he wants more. 

“I— fuck— more, just a little bit—“ Yacchan wants so desperately to release that it’s eating him alive. He wants to see the brunet full of cum, his cum, dripping from his hole down his thighs. He wants to hear Toono’s moans of pleasure when Yacchan finally fills him up. 

“Yacchan— your cock is— your cock is shooo deep…!” Toono wails, every word running together as the brunet begins to pant into the sheets. “I’m going crazy, Yacchan’s cock is making me go crazy, I— cum inside me, Kyousuke!”

“Fuck,” Yacchan grunts, the snapping of his hips growing even more relentless because he feels it now, that heat in his stomach, the ever-growing need to empty himself in Toono. “Fuck, fuck, Toono—“ he’s groaning, fingers digging even deeper into the brunet’s skin. Toono’s babbling on and on  underneath him, a barely audible mantra of “Kyousuke’s cock’s so good” and “Fuck me, Yacchan, fuck me” that makes Yacchan’s skin tingle with pleasure. 

“I’m— yes, I’m cumming—“ the ginger finally gasps out, fucking in and out of the other boy like a piston. Toono’s past the point of responding; he’s letting out these small, happy moans from underneath Yacchan, too fucked out to have any understanding of what’s going on. I fucked him stupid, Yacchan thinks, and the thought is what sends him spiralling, “Fuck, fuck—“

“Fuck!”

Yacchan jolts up from his bed with a sheen of sweat covering his forehead and an unpleasant sticky sensation in his underwear. 

It was a dream. 

More specifically, the same dream he’s had for the past six nights. 

Growling, he flops his head back onto his pillow, pressing the palms of his hands against his closed eyes until he starts to see stars. “How many times,” he mutters, “How many more fucking times?”

He pulls off his sweatpants and boxers with a sigh, trying not to look at the mess of cum that’s covering him. He’s learned that it’s best not to think too much about it; even seeing himself coated in the stuff is enough to make him remember the way that Toono feels in his dream, and it always manages to make him harden up again. 

He doesn’t feel the urge to put on another pair of underwear. He’ll wait till the morning, wait till he’s not fuzzy and warm from the haze of sleep, wait until his conscience is clear. 

So he lies down, pulling his blanket up around his neck, and lets his exhaustion sweep him under. 

His last thought before he falls asleep is that, in some sick way…

he doesn’t want the dreams to stop.