Work Text:
“Fuck”
Satoru huffs out a laugh as his breath ghosts the shell of Suguru’s ear, the younger man’s hands cradling the dips of his hips as he moves his hips down and practically rides Suguru, clothes still on the both of them.
“That’s the idea, Suguru.” Satoru teases, trailing a perfectly manicured hand down the younger man's chest, indigo and black nails leaving gorgeous trails of pretty red, stopping to trace lightly over his nipples. “I saw the way you were watching me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Suguru inhales as Satoru trails kisses down his neck. He lets his head knock back against the wood of Satoru’s office door, and he winces at how loud it must have been. “Fuck, baby, we can’t do this here. Don’t be a brat.”
Satoru pulls back with a pout, shiny pink coated lips puckering as he turns his begging eyes onto his boyfriend. They’re coated with layers of cobalt and turquoise, black eyeliner setting a stark contrast and carving out a pattern of butterfly wings amongst the colors.
“No one would have to know,” Satoru simpers, grinding down again and they both hiss at the contact, Satoru’s breaking off into more of a pathetic and needy whine. “We can be quick, Sugu, I promise.”
Suguru groans, running his hands down hot, exposed skin covered in glitter and gems. He was supposed to be sitting in on a photoshoot as per Satoru’s request, because he hasn’t really seen him in his full modeling action since their own photoshoot together a year ago. It was going well, and he’d even struck up a conversation with the photographer, and then Satoru had walked out in his ensemble.
A butterfly inspired festival outfit, courtesy of JPG. Suguru was kidding when he asked if this sponsorship would mean a plethora of skimpy outfits for them to take home, but it seemed that genuinely would be the case.
The outfit in question was a fitted butterfly corset, the tips of the wings delicately framing Satoru’s collarbones and overlapping his shoulders, whilst the body of the insect was flush against his chest, creating an illusion of breasts that was driving Suguru mad. The bottom set of wings on the butterfly were flared out pieces of fabric that framed Satoru’s waist and hips like a mini skirt. Gorgeous blues and subtle greens were paired with black and lacy shorts that were practically spray painted on the model. To add to the overall look, Satoru had donned a pair of glittery black garters.
As if the outfit and Satoru’s flirtatious nature weren’t bad enough, the poses that JPG had asked for were downright obscene, crawling across the floor, arching his back, straddling a fluffy white cushion, sitting cowgirl style on a chair with his shorts stretching to accommodate his thighs and ass, making them impossibly tighter and so hot.
Suguru is genuinely surprised he lasted as long as he did, his sanity holding on by a shred and his dignity protected by his constant shuffling in his seat. He’s very thankful for the laptop balancing on his lap as he types away at his emails, probably repeating the same sentiment to his business partners over and over.
So, when the photographer announced that they were going to take a small break whilst Satoru goes through an outfit change, Suguru was extremely thankful to find himself being dragged into Satoru’s office by his chain necklace, and shoved onto the small couch. Which leads him back to the way Satoru is grinding himself down on Suguru’s lap, toying with his piercings through his underwear.
Suguru groans as Satoru scrapes his teeth along his collarbone, grinding his hips down before reaching down to unzip Suguru’s pants. There’s a groan from Satoru, and a whiny huff from Suguru as his dick is freed from where it was being suppressed, and it hits the air with an angry red color that makes Satoru’s mouth water.
“Fuck,” Satoru’s voice is ruined, and they haven’t even done anything. Pupils blown wide, shiny lips licked and bitten as he runs a gentle hand up and down Suguru’s length, swiping his thumb across the tip to collect the pre-cum that’s started to bead. “Baby, you really want me to stop?”
“No,” Suguru practically whines, black hair falling in front of his face as his hips stutter up to meet Satoru’s hand, biting his lip so hard a little bead of blood bursts onto his tongue. “Satoru. I didn’t- Fuck, I didn’t bring anything with me.”
Satoru grins at him, beautiful pearly whites flashing at him with the little pointed teeth that Suguru loved so much practically beaming. He grabs Suguru’s hands, kisses every knuckle, before he slowly brings it down to his entrance, where he tracks Suguru’s expressions and commits them to memory, especially as he lets out a broken moan before gathering Satoru in his arms and kissing him hard, fingers ghosting over the base of the plug that Satoru just revealed to him.
“Baby,” Suguru groans, eyes rolling back up to the ceiling as he pushes against the plug and Satoru breathes out, a feeling of slickness staining Suguru’s stomach. “Fuck, the things you do to me, honey.”
“Please, Suguru.” Satoru practically begs, riding the plug as Suguru holds it steady, one hand on the silicone base and the other holding Satoru’s hips still. It’s filthy and wet, and it’s utter debauchery to be doing this in Satoru’s office when there’s still people working in the large building - not to mention poor Nanami might come looking any second.
“Satoru, you’re already dripping, baby.”
Satoru keens, hips lifting slightly as he tries to bully Suguru into fucking him with the plug harder, tiny huffs leaving his lips as Suguru purposefully drags the plug just out of reach, only the tip still inside. The lewd noises of the plug twisting in and out of Satoru’s cunt is enough to have Suguru straining against the other man's hand.
There’s a stretch of time where Suguru just takes the time to kiss all along Satoru’s collarbones, worshiping him the way he always needs to whenever he gets to have him - there’s something special about leaving marks no one else has the permission to with the man that’s the face of multiple brands internationally. He settled with Suguru above anyone else. Suguru digs his teeth into the sharp edge of Satoru’s right shoulder, reveling in the following angelic moan from above him. His hands wander to Satoru’s back, feeling his waist on the way and groaning as he takes in the shape the corset has made of him.
Slipping a finger between his boyfriends folds, the plug stretching an already tight hole, has Satoru squirming and almost flailing, so Suguru takes his free hand and pulls at the corset strings, making them go taut and Satoru stay still with a deep breath, red cheeks and eyes wild as he looks at Suguru with his lips parted.
“Stay still for me, Satoru.” Suguru practically purrs, before removing the plug altogether, vaguely registering the thunk it makes as it hits the floor behind Satoru. Another tug to the laces, smooth black cord in his hands. “You gonna be good?”
“Yes.” Satoru breathes out, back still arching from the iron grip Suguru has on the corset. The wings are getting in his way, though, keeping his hips from touching Suguru’s thighs properly. So, Satoru just grunts unhappily before reaching down and tugging at them, huffing a laugh as they detach from the poppers they were attached with.
Suguru laughs for a moment at the absurdity of where they are, before he notices the wetness of Satoru’s shorts and his brain short circuits. Fuck, he’s barlely even touched him.
Watching Satoru’s eyes and pretty mouth as he pants, Suguru brings his thumb down to trace gentle circles around Satoru’s covered clit, adding pressure as Satoru lets out little dry sobs and starts stiffly moving his hips, begging for Suguru to keep touching him because he can’t move in the grip Suguru has him in.
“So pretty, baby.” Suguru coos at him, letting his fingers wander and smiling with delight as they slip underneath the crotch of Satoru’s shorts and they circle the wetness between his folds before slipping one finger inside. He moans as he finally feels that velvety heat and tightness that he’s been daydreaming about all day. Despite the plug, Satoru is still so damn tight.
He starts with one digit, thrusting it in and out slowly as he collects the slick fluids Satoru is practically dripping out for him, taking his time and crooking his finger upwards, searching with no luck before adding in another, which seems to be the key. Soft, spongy and hot on his fingers as he relentlessly attacks that one spot that has Satoru open mouthed and breathing heavily, only focused on one thing. Suguru knows that after one orgasm he’s pliable, two he’s fiesty, anything over three and he’ll be completely fucked out. So, one on his fingers won’t hurt - and despite saying they need to hurry, Suguru can never hurry when it’s Satoru.
“Shit, Suguru, baby.” Satoru whines out, his hips moving more erratically as he rides Suguru’s hand, the slick-wet noises invading the room obscenely as Satoru feels his orgasm rapidly approaching despite being fingered for less than five minutes. The thought alone has him practically gushing and he grunts as Suguru moves his tongue to swirl around the sensitive spot beneath his ear. “More.”
Suguru laughs into Satoru’s neck, his fingers still making languid thrusts as they gather slick and come just to push it all back in. He loves Satoru like this, needy and wet and begging. It’s been a while since they’ve had the time to really take their time, and Suguru mourns the loss of one particular thing.
“Will you let me eat you out, Toru?” Suguru murmurs into his ear, teeth catching on his ear lobe, just enough pressure to have Satoru’s mouth falling open. Suguru’s free hand comes down to squeeze his thigh, helping him ride without burning his muscles too much. “We can beat our record.”
Satoru just whines, hips stuttering as Suguru relentlessly jackrabbits his fingers just right, hitting that spot that has his eyes clouding over and cunt gushing. He’s so close, and Suguru has barely started - three minutes of fingering is all it’s taken for him to be on the verge of cumming, the corset just slightly restricting his breathing but it makes everything so much hotter.
The thought of Suguru’s mouth, his tongue, fucking him and engulfing him in tight heat has him clenching with a sob, shaking as he cums for the first time today, creamy white coating Suguru’s fingers as he groans along with Satoru, keeping up the pace with his fingers as he catches Satoru’s spit-slicked lips in a dirty kiss.
Satoru grunts as Suguru pulls his fingers out, hips automatically going to follow as Suguru places an apologetic kiss to his collarbone. He jumps a little as Suguru’s hand slaps the apple of his ass, before he’s being manhandled and placed back on the couch alone - much to his displeasure.
“Suguru?” Satoru asks, balancing on his elbows as he poses on the couch with his top half, his legs standing and the state of creating the perfect vision of an arch, the corset framing his ass in a way that should be illegal. He can feel his own cum on his thighs, quickly cooling in the air but there’s a steady flow of wetness that makes it not so unbearable. “Please, I-”
Satoru cuts his own sentence off with a half moan half scream as Suguru places a kiss to his clit, delicate and loving. There’s a couple more ghosts of kisses, gentle as a butterfly's wing, before Suguru starts eating him from behind, his mouth sloppily making out with Satoru’s puffy cunt like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
Eating Satoru’s pussy is one of his favourite past times, the way it starts to swell and become pretty and pink and wet as he uses his tongue to fuck his hole with abandon is something Suguru wishes he could frame in a picture forever - the feeling, the way the air changes and becomes salty with Satoru’s tears begging to come greedily as if Suguru would ever leave him needing.
There’s something sweet about Satoru all the way down to his core, and Suguru groans into wet folds as he gets his first taste of cum that has dick throbbing in his pants and honestly, if they were home, the sight of Satoru crying into the couch cushions as he wears a tight corset that gives him the figure of a doll would probably have him coming in his pants - right now, though, he has a job to do.
He swirls the tip of his tongue gently along his boyfriends clit and smiles with his jaw wide open as Satoru starts letting little grunts with ‘shit, shit, fuck,’ out like prayers. Suguru is holding his hips open with two strong hands on either side, fingernails pressing in hard enough to make marks, and he almost misses the way Satoru clumsily reaches back to try and unlace the corset to free himself. Suguru frowns, grazing his teeth over Satoru’s clit as he slaps his hand against a larger one, taking in the way Satoru sobs.
Suguru can tell by the way that Satoru is pushing his hips back, messily grinding against his nose and jaw that he’s close - slickness glistening on his lips and chin in the dim lights of the office reminiscent of ownership. Making a split decision, Suguru reaches across Satoru’s back and grabs at the laces again, wrapping them around his knuckles best he could as he tugs again, but this time tighter, and he moans into Satoru’s pussy as he feels him start to convulse and come, slick gushing out onto his waiting tongue as Satoru sobs and pleads for more and to stop and it’s too much, with a slight slur as he continues to grind.
He lets Satoru ride it out, kissing and sucking gently at his clit as he massages his inner thigh with his free hand as an apology for the overstimulation and rough handling. There’s a moment of just heavy breathing, before the whines start up again and Suguru huffs out a laugh, withdrawing with one last suck and blowing cold air as Satoru jerks forward. He pats his ass once, twice, and then he’s flipping Satoru so that he can see his gorgeous, fucked out face.
And oh, what a sight it is.
Satoru’s white silky hair is pressed to his forehead, all red and sweaty with tear tracks evident on his face - his eyeliner or mascara has run and left rivers of black that have Suguru moaning softly, a thumb reaching out to smudge them, traveling down Satoru’s face to dip inside swollen, pink glossy lips and he swears as Satoru immediately swirls his tongue around it.
The corset has slipped down a little, the chest pieces now framing Satoru’s chest in a way that has him able to see the twin faded scars, nipples pert and fleshy pink as they stand out begging for attention, just like the rest of his perfect boyfriend. He takes his now spit soaked thumb and circles a nipple, smiling softly as Satoru wriggles underneath him.
“Suguru, get inside me already.” Satoru pouts, shimmying his hips and spreading his legs, pussy glinting with evidence of his orgasms, despite his bratty attitude. “I’m bored.”
“Bored?” Suguru huffs with amusement, but stripping himself down nonetheless. Giving into Satoru is something he does best, no matter the position situation between them. His dick is hard and heavy in his hand, and he strokes it slowly as leans down to kiss the older man, nipping at his lower lip as they pull apart. “Will you ever behave?”
“Probably not,” Satoru grins cockily, cheeky grin affixed to his face like it were just a casual joe between them in the moment, and not like he’s covered in his own cum wearing an expensive designer corset, fucking in his office like they’re above all others.
“You need to learn humility,” Suguru suggests, lifting one of Satoru’s silky covered legs, snapping the band of the garter playfully as he lines himself up, he’s got a feeling he won’t last very long but that’s alright, he’s had more than enough from this - he still has the taste of Satoru in his mouth. “You aren’t all-deserving, you know.”
Satoru rolls his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows once more.
“I own this entire building, Suguru. We could fuck right there in the studio, in front of everyone, photographers and all.” He grins, noting the way a red flush creeps down Suguru’s chest with glee. “If you’d want that, just say it.”
Suguru doesn’t grace him with a response, thrusting sharply all the way in with one movement, causing Satoru to cry out probably a little too loudly but Suguru doesn’t care - this man needs to learn to stop giving Suguru ideas that he could never morally complete.
Suguru groans as his dick is immediately encompassed in wet, tight heat, some of Satoru’s cum gathering on his lower stomach and inner thighs as he starts a brutal pace as Satoru shoves his own fist in his mouth to stop the increasingly louder cries. Suguru grins as he watches tears start to form again in Satoru’s pretty, icy blue eyes, and he hooks both of his lovers legs in his arms as he folds him into a mating press, making sure to get as deep as he can whilst hitting his g-spot every time. The end goal being, of course, to make his pretty boyfriend squirt all over him, crying and squirming in his beautiful outfit.
Satoru’s ankles are almost next to his face, and Suguru swears, feeling that familiar heat pooling in his gut already. If he was going to finish soon, he best get Satoru off first lest he neglect him. He rubs a soothing circle into Satoru’s right ankle as he sobs out broken pleas and remnants of Suguru’s name, before Suguru moves his hand down to press down on Satoru’s lower stomach, grinning at the immediate way Satoru snaps forward with a shout.
“Fuck, fuck, Suguru, baby,” Satoru blabbers, eyes wide and frantic as he tries to move away, always shy when it comes to this part of their sex life - he finds the uncontrollable orgasm embarrasing whilst Suguru thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. “I-Fuck, baby, it’ll go everywhere.”
Suguru hears some distant part of his brain nagging at him, reminding him this is Satoru’s office, and clean-up isn’t as easy as it is in the privacy of their own room. Whatever. Satoru will just hire some poor soul to clean, paying them more than they’ve probably ever seen before.
“C’mon, Satoru,” Suguru quietly demands, his voice gruff as he struggles to stave off his own orgasm in favor of his partners. Thrusts becoming sloppy, the only sound in the room being the wet plap plap plap of Satoru’s pussy. “Come all over me baby, be my messy boy, hm?”
Satoru sobs out Suguru’s name, and his body goes rigid in Suguru’s hold before he’s shuddering and his hands are trying to grab onto anything near him, settling for Suguru’s hair as he pushes himself all the way down onto the lean man. There’s the wet rushing sound Suguru’s come to love, before he feels the warm proof of Satoru’s orgasm splashing against him and that’s all it takes to have him grunting a ‘thank you, oh fuck, thank you,’ as he comes in thick spurts inside Satoru, feeling the way it leaks out of Satoru’s cunt and around him as he keeps thrusting out of synch.
They just stay in their positions for a moment, heavy panting in the now sex-scented room, before Suguru coos and presses a dozen kisses into Satoru’s hair, whispering sweet praises about his good boy. There’s a rustle of movement, and then a sharp gasp from Satoru as Suguru finds the discarded plug on the floor and slips it into Satoru’s full cunt, patting the base and kissing the side of his face near his eye as Satoru flutters his eyelashes.
“You play dirty.” Satoru huffs eventually, out of breath with pink cheeks and nose. He’s half-sat on the couch with his corset loose so that it’s only balancing on him instead of form-fitted. Debauched and beautiful, Suguru can’t help himself from snapping a couple of pictures on his phone, making sure to get the bite marks decorating Satoru’s thighs in the images.
“Don’t start things you can’t finish, then.” Suguru responds, voice light as he scrolls on his phone. He’s sat in his boxers in the office chair, legs spread and hair cascading against the support of the chair. “Always so confident, before you become a complete whore.”
Satoru laughs, loudly and with such joy that it has Suguru smiling as well.
“With you, I have every reason to act like a whore,” Satoru laughs breathlessly, letting his arm rest across his face, covering his messy eyes. “I’ll have to buy more corsets, I guess.”
Suguru contemplates his answer, before deciding that it wasn’t just the corset, but the entire ensemble that had him going.
“Or, I could buy them,” He offers, leaning forwards in the chair and placing a hand on his boyfriend's knee in comfort. “If you sit and look pretty everyday like you are right now, I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Don’ need a sugar daddy, Sugu,” Satoru grumbles, sleep creeping up on him like a familiar foe. “Make loads of money.”
“Mmhm.” Suguru smiles. It’s easier to pretend they were home at this point, in a moment he’ll get dressed and start trying to clean up, maybe put caution tape around the whole room, but for right now he’s pretty content to watch Satoru breathe and mumble his way through a nap.
There’s a knock at the door, and Suguru feels his heart promptly stop, grin dropping from his face in an instant.
“The photographer says he’ll come back on a different day.” Nanami’s monotone voice comes from the other side of the lacquered wood, somehow the tone of voice is more judgemental despite holding no emotion. “Get him home, I sent Ijichi for lunch.”
Suguru snorts.
Yeah, getting him home and personally making up for the photoshoot is probably the least he could do.