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Daiki loves fucking Satoru from behind. So, yes, he meant it when he said in one of his tweets that Satoru’s got a beautiful ass.
But that’s not the only thing he loves about Satoru.
Satoru has a pretty voice and Daiki loves it when he puts that asset of his in good use. Nothing turns Daiki on more than Satoru’s sweet little moans, and the muffled sound he makes when he buries his face in his pillow—they’re music to his ears.
Daiki just can’t get enough.
These are the thoughts running through his head as he wraps up the last track of his new album. It’s probably his proudest work so far as a songwriter and the fact that Satoru is part of this brings a smile to his face. He can’t forget how excited Satoru looked when he invited him to be the vocalist for this track.
Then it strikes him that they haven’t seen each other in a while.
Satoru’s face lights up when Daiki shows up at his place.
So there they are, two childhood sweethearts, making out in Satoru’s pigsty of a room on a cold Friday night.
Satoru lets out a soft moan as Daiki’s dick works its way into his warm hole. The feeling of having something foreign thrust in and out of his body is so overwhelming, and just the thought of Daiki being inside him puts Satoru in euphoria. He can’t help but moan in ecstasy on every thrust.
“Daiki…” Satoru turns his head back to Daiki with an expression of satisfaction—glazed eyes filled with pleasure, cheeks flushed from the intense sensations. Daiki, on the other hand, looks unbothered. It’s hot, Satoru must admit, but insecurity creeps in the moment he realizes what this means. He tilts his head and slowly presses his lips against Daiki’s, trying to shake off the feeling of being unwanted. Daiki grabs his waist and starts thrusting deeper as he kisses him back.
Daiki’s affection during sex is as good as it can get, and Satoru is quite content with that. After all, he gets to sleep with the man of his dreams, what more can he possibly ask for? Satoru thinks.
Blessed with good looks, talented and kind, Daiki is perfect in every way, like a dream come true for Satoru. For years he has kept his feelings for Daiki to himself, out of the belief that Daiki is too good for him and that his feelings will never be reciprocated. It took him years and numerous steamy sessions with Daiki to finally understand what it means to live in the moment. What the future holds for them is as clear to him as the waters of a murky river after heavy rains, but the present, the memories that they share together—something he can hold on to forever—will never be taken away from him. That’s how he has learned to come to terms with the reality that, most likely, their relationship isn’t going anywhere.
Satoru is snapped out of his reverie when Daiki pulls out suddenly. “What’s wrong?” He asks in a cracking voice, confused. Daiki usually finishes inside him.
“I wanna fuck you missionary.” Daiki answers, a blank look on his face.
“Oh, okay,” Satoru’s not opposed to the idea. As a matter of fact, he’s more than happy to oblige. Because what’s better than locking eyes with the man he loves while he’s deep inside? Satoru lies on his back and watches as Daiki slowly slides in. With strands of curly hair sticking to his forehead, beads of sweat running down his lean torso, a finely chiseled face and flawless skin, Daiki looks just like the mighty handsome Adonis coming to life.
What a sight for sore eyes. Too bad he’s no Aphrodite to his Adonis.
Mesmerized by what he's seeing, Satoru reaches over to tuck Daiki’s long hair behind his ears before pulling him close and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.
“Relax, Satoru,” Daiki sighs heavily, “you’re clenching on me.”
“O-oh…I’m sorry,” Satoru looks away, embarrassed. “I-I guess I got too nervous.” Awkwardly, he releases his arms from around Daiki to grab his own knees instead, pulling them all the way back to allow Daiki better access. For a brief second, a look of bliss washes over his face as penetration deepens; barely noticeable. Daiki would totally miss it if he didn’t pay enough attention.
Daiki finds it kind of hot.
“Don’t be.” He stares into Satoru’s eyes as he leans in to plant a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re doing great.”
Satoru gazes up at him, lips apart. Those three words almost escaped from his mouth.
Satoru always gives him that look of admiration the way an enthusiastic collector would to a delicate piece of artwork, does whatever he says, and acts all flattered by even the smallest ounce of affection from him; it’s almost as if Satoru’s in a constant state of bending over for him (technically yes. In the bedroom, at least), or worse (better) yet, worshiping him. Daiki is not a self-serving person by any means, but as odd as it may sound, he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it at all. That being said, he wants Satoru to feel more comfortable around him, both literally and figuratively.
“Hold me, Satoru.” Daiki whispers into Satoru’s ear.
Satoru can feel Daiki’s hot breath blowing on his neck. Without thinking, he wraps his arms and legs around Daiki’s waist, drawing Daiki further in.
For the first time since their first hookup, Satoru feels like they’re making love.
Satoru runs his fingers through Daiki’s hair while Daiki thrusts deep, murmuring words he can barely make out in between kisses. The smell of his hair, the taste of his lips, his pretty eyes, his deep voice, his girth, his length…everything about Daiki is so hot that it’s driving Satoru to the verge of losing his mind. Just when he thinks he’s done being so hung up on Daiki, Daiki is making him fall in love all over again. He has to bite down hard on his lip to not let anything but his moans slip out.
“Ugh fuck- I’m getting close,” Daiki grunts as he lies on top of Satoru, putting his full weight on him. “Can I come inside you?”
“Yes please,” Satoru says in a trembling voice as he locks his legs around Daiki and pulls him in for another kiss. Not that he’s complaining, but he doesn’t remember ever telling Daiki no.
With their bodies rubbing up against each other in the same rhythm of his thrusts, and Satoru gasping in pleasure, tapping his heels and curled toes against his thighs whenever he pushes in deep, Daiki finally gives in and blows his load inside Satoru.
“Oh…Daiki…” Satoru pants, stroking the back of Daiki’s neck gently. Daiki can feel Satoru still quivering from the intense orgasm and his hole gripping his dick in spasms.
“Daiki, I,” Satoru looks at Daiki, still trying to catch his breath, “I think I just saw heaven.”
“Oh, what a coincidence,” Daiki laughs, running his lips over Satoru’s neck. Satoru saying silly things like this never fails to crack him up. It’s probably the most adorable thing about Satoru. “I think I just went there too. What was heaven like?”
“Like Daiki.” Satoru giggles at his goofy response as he grabs his face and kisses him on the lips. “And where’s your heaven?”
“In the sheets with you.” Daiki answers with a more passionate kiss, rubbing his nose against Satoru’s. Satoru can hear his own heartbeats layered over Daiki’s like two different rhythms overlapping to complement each other. Is Daiki falling for him? Or is he imagining things? Satoru wonders.
“So I guess missionary is underrated after all huh,” Daiki smirks as he pulls away. This is not their first time doing missionary but it’s definitely the first time they finish in missionary. They tried it a couple times in the past but four times out of five they ended up switching back to doggy midway somehow, probably because he liked the view better, and that one time where they didn’t, he finished with Satoru sucking him off instead. He doesn’t even know what came over him tonight when he suggested missionary but he’s glad he did.
Satoru nods in agreement, hooking one of his legs around Daiki’s neck to draw him back into his body. “Can we do this more often?”
“Yeah, why not?” Daiki picks up on the hint and grabs the other leg of Satoru, putting them both over his shoulders. “Well I guess that’s the perk of fucking a taller guy,” He smiles at Satoru seductively as he fondles his knees.
“Just one among many.” Satoru says, a grin on his face as he gently massages Daiki’s shoulders with the back of his knees. “You’ll see.”
“Before we start, can I ask you something?” Daiki asks, out of nowhere, in a serious tone.
“S-sure. Go ahead.” Satoru’s heart starts to race just thinking about what Daiki’s going to say. Did he do something wrong? Did he upset him?
“Just now when we’re going at it, I heard you say something. What was it?”
“I didn’t say anything…”
“Were you trying to say I lov—”
“What? No! You’re just hearing things, Daiki,” Satoru exclaims, heart pounding like a drum. To be honest, he wouldn’t be surprised if he actually said it. It’s already hard enough for him to conceal his feelings and emotions even when he’s being his most clear-headed self without being completely lost in the paradise of getting pinned down and receiving that good jackhammering from Daiki. Besides, his actions, behaviors and expressions whenever Daiki’s around very likely already said it a million times before his words did—and probably better too—as much as he wants to believe he did a good job hiding it. But why would Daiki care? Why would anyone, let alone someone as level headed as Daiki, take what he said in bed seriously? Did Daiki know all along? Is he making fun of him?
“I think I know what I heard, Satoru.” Daiki says in confusion, in response to Satoru’s overreaction. He can’t wrap his head around why Satoru’s making such a big deal about it. “Is that what I think it is all about?” Daiki continues, “you don’t want me to get the upper hand; you don’t want to lose this game. Am I right?”
“No, Daiki. It’s not about winning or losing. This is not a game. Even if it is, I don’t mind losing to you. The only thing I don’t want is losing you. Right now, I feel like I’m just three words away from that and I don’t think I’m ready, so please…” Tears start welling up in Satoru’s eyes, his voice shaking, like he’s going to burst into tears any minute.
“Wait, what do you mean? What makes you think that?” Daiki asks, even more confused.
“…every time we get close, you pull away. It’s like whenever I take one step forward towards you, you take two steps back. I’m so scared of waking up one day to find out that you’ve sailed away without me, that you’ve walked out of my life for good. It’s just…too much for my heart to take. Daiki, I know you’re out of my league, but I, I-I” Satoru still can’t bring himself to say it. His fear of losing Daiki at last overcomes his desire of taking things to the next level, but then he immediately laughs at his own thoughts: how to lose someone who’s never his to begin with?
“Huh?” Daiki utters under his breath.
As if the irritation in his voice alone isn’t telling enough, Daiki furrows his brow, somewhat like a frown, of which Satoru’s able to catch a glimpse before it dissolves in the mist in his eyes. Daiki is annoyed. Satoru now feels like a fool making mountains out of molehills and acting like he’s special to Daiki. Oh God, how much he wishes he could take back everything he just said. He’s really messed up this time. “…I’m sorry.”
Daiki’s still trying to make sense of everything Satoru just said. He knew Satoru was insecure, he just didn’t know it was this bad. What has he done to make him feel this way? What’s with all this overthinking? Anyways, he has no intention of letting this conversation drag him down a rabbit hole that leaves him with more questions than answers. He was just teasing Satoru; had he known it would startle him like that, he wouldn’t have done it. And he’s not about to give Satoru a therapy session with a raging boner, either. How can he even begin to tell Satoru to work on himself and stop making him out to be the bad guy? Should he sugarcoat it or just tell it like it is? He’s always had a way with words, surely he can deliver it in a less harsh way. But none of these seem to matter anymore because the moment he catches a stream of tears running down Satoru’s face like a waterfall, all the things he was going to say get washed away, and his mind goes completely blank. Then, in the end, all he can hear himself saying is, “you’re not losing me, Satoru.”
Next thing he knows, he’s tracing his tongue along that stream of sorrows like a stranded hiker pleading for water, from the corners of Satoru’s eyes all the way through to his bushy sideburns, leaving trails of his own bitterness over those salt stains along the way.
Has Satoru ever tasted his own tears? Daiki wonders as he sticks his tongue into Satoru’s mouth. Satoru’s breath smells like peppermint, which goes pretty well together with his tears. Hell, he must be going out of his mind because even Satoru’s whimpers are now starting to sound like melodies.
Daiki pulls away from the kiss to find a puzzled Satoru, short of breath.
“It’s all in your head,” Daiki adds, “I’m not leaving you.”
Driven by his impulses, Daiki runs his fingers down Satoru’s stomach until he reaches that small swollen opening through which he just made a deposit.
“By the way, ‘I love you’, really? Of all the things we’ve done together, this is where you draw the line?” Daiki says in an unintentionally condescending tone as he starts fingering Satoru, whose face is now filled with bewilderment and disbelief. Then, a hand grabs his wrist abruptly to stop what he’s doing.
“Daiki, what you just said, did you mean it—” Daiki hears Satoru asking, his voice raspy from crying.
“What? ‘I love you’?” “—that you won’t leave me?”
Daiki blurts out just as Satoru’s about to finish his sentence.
“Yes,” Daiki replies. He can feel the grips on his wrist and fingers tighten briefly. “Hmm, and yes.”
Daiki is not sure if he should continue with his business down there though, since Satoru is surprisingly quiet. “Uh, do you want me to stop?”
Still no response.
“All right, I’ll take that silence as a yes then.” Daiki starts withdrawing his fingers slowly with Satoru still holding his wrist. The next second, a firm grasp draws his fingers back into where they were, guiding them to go even deeper, and he hears Satoru murmur, “no, please don’t stop.”
Daiki’s fingers are now drenched in his own semen, some of which starts oozing out of Satoru’s body, making a mess on the bed sheets as he becomes more aggressive. His fingers are nowhere near as thick and long as his tool, but that’s one of the beauties of them—they are a lot more flexible when it comes to performing different types of motions and reaching secret places, especially when they belong to a seasoned guitarist like Daiki, whose skills and creativity come in handy in bed—both of them are only finding out now. Satoru clenches his teeth trying to hold back his moans, but is failing miserably when some of them still manage to escape as quiet squeaks, which actually turn out to be a huge turn-on for Daiki—it doesn’t take too long for Satoru’s hole to start tensing up, upon which Daiki replaces his fingers with his throbbing dick and starts pounding away.
Legs up in the air, body moving like a sailing ship caught in a thunderstorm, Daiki’s body on top of his, and oh, the things Daiki just said…Satoru wishes he could save this moment for a lifetime so he could relive it anytime he wanted—he swears he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
While Satoru is immersing himself in the experience, Daiki is debating whether to pick up the pace or to keep the rhythm since Satoru looks like he’s about to pass out with his breathy, tiny squeaky moans; his half-closed eyes looking afar at intervals, gaze wandering between him and his own swinging feet. But then, Daiki comes to a sudden realization that having this debate in the first place is in itself debatable—to him at least, because since when did he start caring so much about how Satoru feels? And why? Yet, that doesn’t stop him from asking “hey, you okay?”, to which Satoru responds by reaching out for his hands and intertwining their fingers, concluding his debate and the debate over his debate prematurely. After another series of hard and fast thrusts, Daiki finally shoots his second load tonight inside Satoru, leaving both of them fully soaked in sweat like two divers washing up on the shore, breathing heavily in each other’s arms.
“Daiki…” Satoru whispers in a breathy voice as he strokes Daiki’s hair gently, trying to decide if this is a good time to bring up that talk. “…Daiki, so like, uh, what are…” What are we? Is he being too forward? He doesn’t want to scare Daiki off by coming on too strong. “…I mean, are we, uh like, together?” And then, Satoru knows what he needs to know when Daiki gives him his signature keep-your-distance look before rolling to the other side of the bed. Oops, shouldn’t have asked. Screwed up again. Now back to square one. Well done, Satoru.
There’s a long silence between them before Daiki breaks it: “Yeah, we’re together in bed now” in a poor attempt at humor. In his defense, he didn’t see that question coming at all—it totally caught him off guard. Also, he didn’t expect Satoru to take what he said seriously. Who does that? They’re fucking and anything said by a horny person is a default lie because that’s dopamine talking, although he cannot say with full confidence that there’s no truth to any of the things he just said. Daiki glances over at Satoru to find him staring at the ceiling in silence, expressionless. “Aren’t we?” Upon hearing Daiki’s joke, Satoru slowly rolls over on his side with his back to Daiki.
“I didn’t know you’re that sentimental, Iguchi,” Daiki asks, “is this why you’re avoiding me?”
Satoru looks over at Daiki and replies, “What? No, I—”
“You’re not texting me as much as you used to, and you’re not asking me to hang out anymore. We’re only here right now because I called you.”
“…I thought you’re busy with your new album and everything, and I didn’t wanna get in your way, that’s all.”
“I was.” Daiki sighs in relief, “oh, speaking of which, I just finished the track you did, want a sneak peek?”
“Which one?”
“The movie one.” Daiki says as he wraps his arm around Satoru’s waist, hugging him from behind.
Then he hears Satoru say, “I’m good.”
Daiki didn’t see that coming; he expected an excited yes. He’s having an uneasy feeling that he’s never had before, but it’s immediately dismissed as soon as he hears Satoru say, “I suppose I can wait for the premiere…that’s if I’m invited, of course. Right?”
“Yeah, right.”
“Iguchi,” Daiki holds Satoru tight in his arms as he speaks, “I just want you to know that I care about you, a lot. What I’m trying to say is—can we do this one step at a time?”
Without saying anything, Satoru turns to plant a quick kiss on Daiki’s lips.
This time, like many other times, Daiki’s affection comes in like fuel to the dying embers in Satoru’s heart, none too much, but nothing less, just enough to keep that flame alive.
“Satoru.”
“Yeah?”
“Round three?” Daiki asks with a broad grin on his face, his perfect teeth shining bright like the moonlight.
And Satoru smiles back at him.
The night is young.