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“So how do you feel,” Rin began, lowering himself onto the bed with his hands pillowing his head, “now that the World Aquatics Championships are over?” He sank into the mattress slowly, like a stone dropped into quicksand, the bed creaking beneath his weight.
Haru turned onto his back with an impassive look that reminded Rin of one of the weathered statues they’d seen during the guided tour their coach had forced the swim team to go on the day before. He wondered what Haru would look like as a statue; if it was even possible to replicate his likeness in bronze. Probably not that different from how he usually looks, Rin thought, the stony-faced asshole.
He waited, patiently, for Haru’s response. He’d learned by now that the love of his life sometimes processed speech at the speed of a shitty computer running on Windows 95, that rushing him for an answer would only result in the Haru-equivalent of a blue screen. He was lucky if he even got a response at all.
He waited some more.
The silence was so deafening Rin found himself beginning to count each second ticking by.
1, 2, 3…
Haru sighed.
…14, 15…
“Tired,” he said, staring at the ceiling.
15 seconds.
“And hungry.”
Rin watched him from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t exactly the response he was looking for—not that he should’ve anticipated any sort of response that would suit his tastes considering the enigma/terrible conversationalist that was Nanase Haruka—but he dropped it, deciding this would be a conversation for their flight back to Japan. He made the rapid fire decision to pursue Haru’s line of thought instead.
“Well, good thing we lucked out and found a Japanese minimart on our way back to the hotel, huh?”
He bolted upright, decidedly ignoring the way Haru’s entire being winced at his sudden movement, in favour of seeking out their groceries. He padded across the carpeted floor towards the small table at the corner of their room, rifling through a plastic bag. “Even got you that gross-looking sushi at half-price.”
“Saba oshizushi is not gross,” Haru huffed, bristling. “It’s mackerel.”
“Exactly. Shit probably sat on the shelf all day too. Is it any wonder no one else bought it even though it costed—” Rin squinted at the plastic tray now resting in his hands, “—3 Euros? God, that’s cheap. Why was it so cheap. Is it expired.”
Haru frowned, sitting up. “Cheap is good.” He leaned forward, making grabby hands at Rin like a baby reaching out for its milk bottle. “Sushi is sushi. I’m not picky.”
“I’m not picky, says the man who—surprise, surprise—decided on fucking mackerel sushi out of all the options you could’ve gone with,” Rin grumbled, stretching his arm. “Like your diet isn’t already almost entirely mackerel-based. What are you, a dolphin?”
Haru swiped the tray from him with the aggression of a steroid-injected arm wrestler. “Nobody asked you to buy edamame for a late-night snack. If you’re jealous of my protein-rich choice of food, just say so.”
“Jealous,” Rin snorted. “Jealous is not how I would describe this. Why are you so hungry anyway? We literally just had dinner.”
“Leave it.” Haru muttered, jutting his tongue out in concentration. He scraped his nail against the tape encasing his sushi tray and peeled it off carefully, popping the lid off. “Pass me the chopsticks.”
Rin pursed his lips, puffing out a deep, exasperated sigh through his nose. He reached into the plastic bag for the aforementioned chopsticks and unceremoniously tossed it at Haru, the latter glaring at him with enough vehemence to fuel a petty fight shorter than the Anglo-Zanzibar war.
The (putrid, Rin would argue) scent of vinegar cured mackerel wafted into the air, and Haru found his vexation waning in two seconds flat. His stomach rumbled.
“Rin.” He said. “Wasabi.”
The eye-roll Rin subjected himself to rolled so far back into his head, he could’ve sworn he’d caught a glimpse of a visual projection of himself strangling Haru at the back of his mind. And still he complied, albeit begrudgingly. Sometimes he was a doormat, but only for Haru—a fact he had learned to make peace with.
“Yes, Nanase-sama.” He gritted out, rifling through the plastic bag once more in search of the tiny foil packet of wasabi the cashier had ever so kindly dropped into it for free.
He wedged his hand between a packet of edamame and a large bag of potato chips, feeling his way through the bottom of the plastic bag until his fingers caught on a single, smooth packet, picking it up. And—
It’s.. a bit too big for a packet of wasabi, isn’t it?
He pulled the packet out of the plastic bag and stared.
Why was it black? Rin vaguely remembered the packaging from when the cashier had retrieved it from a container full of condiments.
And it was not black.
Neither had it been this big. This was almost palm-sized.
He turned the packet around and began to read what was on the packet:
Durex: Intense Vibe Ring. Vibrating Ring.
Rin read and reread the words over and over, blinking his eyes in a comical mix of confusion and disbelief. He squeezed the packet tentatively, like he was studying it, carefully feeling the object nestled in its plastic—sure enough, he could feel the thick, rounded object giving beneath his hold, like it was made of silicon.
Am I seriously, Rin thought, hackles rising, holding a fucking cock ring?
“Haru,” he started slowly, willing the last tread of sanity he had in him to keep from fraying in case this was exactly what he thought it was. No, actually, he knew what it was, hadn’t felt the need to question his reading comprehension even if English wasn’t entirely his strong suit, but he needed some sort of.. confirmation that this was, perhaps, a practical joke. Or a mistake of sorts.
Maybe the cashier had dropped this thing into their bag by accident while slotting their little wasabi packet into the mix, because it couldn’t possibly be that Haru had consciously placed this into their shopping basket. Haru would never.
…Right?
“What…” He turned around, holding the packet up like he’d just found a stash of Coke in one of Haru’s luggages, “...is this?”
The vein at his temple pulsed. The itch to reach up and massage it before it grew into a full-blown (and likely inevitable) headache crawled up his muscles. He ignored the reflex, forcing his left arm to reach out and grab onto the edge of the table (to steady himself? throw it at Haru? who knows), and his right arm to remain raised with The Packet pinched between his fingers. He tightened his grip.
Haru looked up from the chopsticks he’d just split apart with a resounding crack, blissfully unaware of the fact that he had just provided Rin with the visual imagery of him separating Rin’s legs apart in order to put the ring on his—
No, no.
Protect your sanity, Rin. Let him speak.
Rin gnashed his teeth so hard he was positive he might’ve filed off its pointy edges in the process.
“Ah,” Haru said simply, turning back to his saba oshizushi. “You wanted a ring, so I got you one.”
There were two (2) thoughts plaguing Rin’s mind at this point; one perplexed, and the other vaguely innocent yet riddled in disbelief—both equally unnerving:
1. When did I ever say I wanted a ring?
2. Does Haru know that this… ring—if I really ever did ask for one—is most definitely, probably NOT the type of ring I meant when I asked for it?
Oh, and a secret third thing:
3. Does Haru know what a fucking cock ring is?!?!?!?
Rin’s nostrils flared.
Haru seemed to take Rin’s silence as a cue to elaborate. A rarity. He closed the lid of the sushi tray and set it aside on the mattress, looking up, slowly, at Rin, not unlike a sloth. His admiral blue eyes twinkled in the artificial light, and his carefully stoic expression gradually morphed into one of interest. Rin’s vein pulsed again.
For an entirely different reason.
“Last Wednesday,” Haru began, scanning Rin from head to toe like he was sizing him up for a meal, “we passed by a jeweller when we were on the bus to the stadium. You said, ‘Haru, we’ve been dating for so long. We should have rings by now.’”
Rin froze. It took several seconds for what Haru had just said to truly register in his brain, and by the end of it, an unbridled memory of the exact conversation they’d had on the bus more than a week ago hit him like a freight train. It had been, to Rin at least, only a passing afterthought—a thing he said out of reflex upon seeing the small jeweller out the window of the bus. He never thought Haru would’ve remembered it, or made it his mission to breathe life into the idea, even if his interpretation of it was all sorts of wrong.
Rin lowered his hand, plastic crunching in his knuckle-white grip. He nodded slowly, urging Haru to continue.
“We were at the minimart paying for our food earlier and you were flirting with the cashier—”
“I was not flirting with the cashier!”
“Let me finish.” Haru moved the sushi tray to the side table, turning back to Rin with an undeniably determined glint in his eyes. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and straightened up, walking towards Rin in slow, almost predatory steps. His eyes were dead set on Rin’s, and Rin couldn’t fight the bob in his throat.
“You were distracted, and I happened to look at the rack next to the counter. I saw it. They’re.. not the type of ring you wanted, but—”
The black packet fell to the floor with a dull thud. Rin noticed, with dawning realisation, that his hands were now shaking. Whether it be from anger, trepidation or from feeling intimidated, he couldn’t exactly pinpoint.
“I thought maybe tonight, we should celebrate.”
Rin cinched his eyebrows. “Celebrate what?”
“Our medals,” Haru answered, paying no mind to the way Rin’s tense expression was slowly easing up. “And I know it isn’t the type of ring you wanted but—I didn’t know your size, and I didn’t want to choose a proper ring that you wouldn’t like—and with this ring, you don’t have to worry about size because it’s elastic and it stretches and it’d fit so—” He was starting to panic a bit now, in that understated way of his one would miss if you weren’t already familiar with Haru’s micro-expressions.
He wasn’t fond of the way Rin’s face had settled into an expression that looked.. neutral. Unfeeling, and so very unlike Rin. Stoicism was his respite, not Rin’s. Rin’s entire being screamed emotion, but he couldn’t read him right now.
“You don’t like it.” Haru said, lowering his gaze, almost like he felt ashamed for having come up with such an idea. It wasn’t a question.
Rin grimaced.
“I don’t… dislike it,” he uttered quickly. The innate urge to dispel the doubt he was now witnessing on Haru’s features in real-time was too strong to ignore. He opened and closed his palms, fingers digging into the flesh in a bid to steel himself. To be openly vulnerable, even if it was mildly uncomfortable. To admit. “I just haven’t…”
…played with myself like this before, his mind supplied. With a toy. He thought of how the closest way he’d ever gotten to getting himself off with any object other than his hand had been when he was fifteen, sitting on the washing machine during a wash cycle after Lori and Russell had gone to work.
It made him nervous; almost shy even.
But he wasn’t ready to admit such a thing to Haru, so instead he settled on:
“I don’t know if I’ll be… comfortable.”
Haru’s eyes widened owlishly at the admission. Rin could almost see the gears turning in his head. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I—this was a stupid idea and I’m really sorry, Rin—”
“No!” Rin yelped, shooting his hand out to grab Haru’s wrist. Haru was retreating into his shell, and Rin needed him desperately not to. “No,” he echoed gently this time, loosening his grip. “Please don’t—I, I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable but I won’t know for sure unless we—unless we try.”
The mood shifted; what had once been tense was now dark, teetering on the cusp of being arousing even, because Rin had just admitted to wanting to give this a shot, and Haru now realised that perhaps there wasn’t such a disparity in the way they both perceived this at all. He darted his eyes at the packet on the floor once before looking up at Rin, eyes going dark.
“I’ll take care of you,” he purred, trailing his fingers up Rin’s arm and settling them under his chin. He swiped his thumb across Rin’s lower lip, eyes flashing when Rin opened his mouth to welcome it in. “You can tell me to stop whenever.”
The air was stifling, and this Haru, Rin thought, was very overwhelming.
Not that it was a bad thing.
Rin gulped. “Thought you said you were hungry.”
Haru had the cheek, the absolute gall, to smirk at this. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and it went straight to Rin’s groin like a shot of heroine. There was a sharp intake of breath that Rin wasn’t sure was his doing, or Haru’s.
“No,” Haru said lowly, a guttural sound. “Not anymore. Not for food.”
The fingers on Rin’s chin jerked him forward, and if Rin thought Haru had been overwhelming before, he was wrong, because this Haru—the one that had practically yanked him forward and was now exploring Rin’s mouth with tongue, lips and teeth, was so much worse.
The kiss grew desperate. Feverish. Overtly sexual. Rin was too distracted by Haru’s mouth to notice the tight grip on the hair at his nape, or how Haru had turned them around and was now backing him up. The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed just as Haru stopped to pant into his mouth, and they fell together in an intimate dance, sagging into the soft mattress. Their teeth clacked but the pain didn’t register. If anything, their new position was the perfect ammunition for Haru to carry on where he’d left off.
Haru was on top of him now, knees digging into the fabric on either side of his hips. He pulled away from the kiss in favour of licking a long, languid stripe down the side of Rin’s neck, and Rin couldn’t help but to arch his back, humming. Their groins, hard and stiff, met in the middle, and Haru took this as an invitation to grind down on him like a rabid dog in heat.
“Haru,” Rin croaked, digging his fingers into the duvet. “You—you gotta stop, or else I’ll blow my load before you even put that thing on me.”
Haru, the devil incarnate and certified sex fiend, ground their hips together once more before sliding up Rin’s body to ghost his breath against his ear.
“You won’t,” he said huskily, darting his tongue out to lick along the lobe of his ear. “I won’t let you. Besides, you know what the cock ring is for, right?”
Rin breathed shakily. He was so hard it physically hurt, but he would rather die than to rush Haru when he was being like this. He knew what the fucking cock ring was for—the shit keeps you harder for longer, prevents you from ejaculating faster than you can count on your fingers—he knew this much at least, even if he’d never experimented with toys on himself. But holy shit was he turned on enough to come in the next five seconds if Haru kept up his ministrations.
Not that Haru was helping. He was sucking a hickey into the skin below Rin’s jaw, hands roaming across his chest. And then he stopped, only to sit up and stare at Rin with half-lidded eyes and a smug look on his face.
“Even if you do come,” he murmured, “I’ll just make you come again. And again. It’s reusable, y’know—the ring.”
Rin craned his neck, scanning the floor for the black packet. He looked up at Haru and tilted his head, mustering his best impression of puppy eyes and a playful pout. “Then would you be so kind,” he whispered sweetly, “as to go grab the ring off the floor and gag my cock with it?”
Haru didn’t have to be told twice. He crawled backwards off the bed, rising to his feet with a newfound tenacity in each step. He turned around, offering Rin a perfect view of his ass, and stopped just two steps away from the bed to look over his shoulder and say, “By the time I’m back, you better be naked.”
The swallow that bobbed Rin’s throat was a hard, dry one. He raised an arm and draped it across his closed eyes, desperately formulating thoughts, any thought, that would at least partially flag the boner in his skinny jeans, lest he explode in his pants. Vomit. Stepping on dog shit. The smell of fish gone rancid.
He could hear Haru padding across the floor. The rip of plastic disturbed the otherwise silent (with the exception of their laboured breathing) room. He could picture, in his mind, the image of Haru popping batteries into the cock ring, or skimming fingers along the rubber edges of it. Not before long, the low hum of the vibrating ring came to life. Rin barely flinched at the sound, welcoming the thought of Haru stretching the silicon over the girth of his hard-on instead. Right, he thought, exhaling shakily, I should take my clothes off.
When Haru returned, Rin was in the midst of rolling his jeans and briefs off his legs in one fell swoop and tossing them haphazardly onto the floor. Haru knelt on the bed with the cock ring, now silent and switched off, pinched between his forefinger and thumb.
In any other universe, that ring would morph into one of yellow gold. Haru would be proposing, would’ve taken an arrow to the knee for him, and Rin would say yes like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.
And he was, but not right now.
They never did things the conventional way afterall. Rin was learning, as Haru shifted across the mattress on his knees, that rubber rings sometimes came before yellow gold ones.
“Rin,” Haru said reverently, raking his blue eyes across Rin’s stark-naked body in a way that made Rin feel like he’d been sculpted by the gods.
Haru darted a fleeting glance at the ring in his fingers, and then a more pointed one at Rin’s groin; a silent question, yet louder than anything Haru had ever said in his life. Rin sat up on his elbows, nodding his assent. He wanted to watch. He wanted to physically see Haru’s restraint crumble, to bear witness to any remaining composure he had shattering to smithereens.
Haru rested on his haunches and leaned forward, frowning in concentration. He looped his forefingers around the silicon band and pulled, stretching it over Rin’s angry, red cock. Rin watched the ring hover down his length slowly, stopping at the base. Haru released the ring, and they both gasped when the rubber snapped lightly against the flesh of Rin’s cock.
“Fuck,” was the only thing Rin could manage through the heady feeling dulling his senses. He scooched down the mattress, resting his head more comfortably against the pillow, flexing his fingers.
It was.. weird, he thought, the feeling of something wrapped around his base like a stopper, but it wasn’t painful or uncomfortable. It was a tight, perfect little thing, and it pressed into his flesh with just the right amount of tension; enough to stop him from ejaculating prematurely.
His counterpart wasn’t doing any better, it seemed. Haru’s hands shook as he tugged at the hem of his own shirt and peeled it off his body, throwing it aside, and he made quick work of unbuttoning his jeans and shedding them, along with his boxers, only to toss them in a heap on the floor too. Rin took it all in—from the ripple of Haru’s abdominal muscles shifting as he moved into a more comfortable position between Rin’s splayed legs, to the already leaking tip of his flushed manhood.
Rin wanted to taste it.
“Tell me when to stop,” Haru repeated, lowering himself bodily onto Rin—the only warning Rin received before his boyfriend surged straight into a deep, searing kiss, the kind hot and heavy enough to light a raging fire.
Their mouths moved with practiced ease, warm lips slipping and sliding against each other in a rehearsed dance fueled by passion and sex. They tilted their heads and licked into each other’s mouths, touching and grabbing whatever they could, squeezing whatever flesh they could feel.
Rin pulled back with a gasp at the sensation of Haru’s fingers ghosting across his nipple, and Haru’s eyes widened at the visceral reaction. He flicked his finger against the hard nub, mesmerised by the sounds Rin was making, his breathing having gone fast and shallow, back arching as if to push his chest up flush against the palm of Haru’s hand.
“You,” Rin managed between gasps, “must be really fucking horny.”
“I am,” Haru crooned against his neck, nudging him with his nose. “Been wanting to fuck you into the mattress since the first day we got here.”
“Yeah?” Rin asked, licking his lips. “Why didn’t you?”
“Competition,” Haru whispered, trailing kisses down his neck. He paused, expelling hot breaths against Rin’s collarbone. Rin’s entire body broke out into gooseflesh. “I have restraint.”
Rin snorted. “What restraint? Sure as hell don’t have any restraint now—”
His whole body tensed in response to the harsh sucking Haru subjected his collarbone to, sure to leave a purple welt in its wake, and the way he was now rubbing Rin’s purt nipple between his pinched fingers. He couldn’t help the way his lower body had taken to lifting off the mattress to desperately rut against Haru’s stomach in reaction to Haru playing with his nipple, smearing warm, wet pre-cum across the expanse of his torso like a painting. It felt good, too good, but he knew what would feel even better.
“Haru,” Rin said, high-pitched and breathy.
But Haru had moved on from his collarbone, trailing kisses down his chest. He threw Rin a sharp glance, pupils blown, before taking Rin’s other nipple—the one that he hadn’t already been flicking and pinching—into his mouth and sucking it. Hard.
“Haru!”
Rin squirmed. He reached his hands out, finding purchase in the mussed hair at the back of Haru’s head as Haru went to town on his chest, sucking and flicking and licking his nipples like they were his reason to live. Rin carded his shaky fingers through Haru’s hair, tightening them in his roots. He tugged hard, yanking Haru’s head off his chest, and if not for the cock ring wrapped around the base of his shaft, he was sure he’d have come from the sight of Haru’s red, swollen lips and the saliva dribbling down his chin. Haru lifted a brow.
He didn’t look annoyed, not exactly, at being interrupted, but that slight quirk of a brow was a question in itself, a wordless what?
“Let me,” Rin said, swallowing. “Let me suck you off.”
Haru lowered his head, resting his cheek against Rin’s chest with a fond smile. He shook his head.
“No.”
“Why not?!”
“Because,” Haru said hoarsely, “I wanna make you feel good.” He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, placing the flat of it at the base of Rin’s left pec before licking a long, wet trail across the expanse of it, over his nipple, never taking his eyes off Rin’s. Rin shuddered. “You don’t have to do anything for me. Not tonight.”
A bead of pre-cum bubbled at the tip of Rin’s cock before trickling down its length. Rin hesitantly nodded.
Haru was in one of his moods, and when he was, Rin knew better than to stop him from whatever he had in mind.
But still he wanted, so badly, to do something—to make Haru feel as good as Haru was making him feel. And so once again, he resorted to those pretty puppy eyes of his, delighting at the way they had begun to water. He quivered his lips and looked at Haru, doe-eyed and pouting.
“Could you fuck me then?” He asked, in the softest, gentlest voice he could muster, concealing how goddamn horny he felt, hoping it would urge Haru to just get on with it and pound him into the bed like he so wantonly needed. “Could you fuck me now? Or let me ride you?”
Haru smoothed his features and sighed an exasperated sigh.
“Soon,” he said tersely, snaking a hand down Rin’s body. “But since you’re so impatient—” he reached for the cock ring, deftly pressed a button, and the ring buzzed to life, “maybe this will help.”
Rin nearly screamed. The ring was vibrating now, an odd but extremely welcome, sensual sensation, at the base of his shaft, and the fact that Haru had returned to his spot on Rin’s chest to suck and nip and bite and abuse his hard nipple was.. it was a lot. And if that hadn’t been enough, one of Haru’s hands had gone back to flicking his free nipple, while the other reached under him to massage Rin’s balls.
A string of incoherent expletives poured out of his mouth like a waterfall. Rin was beginning to thrash against the sheets, feeling everything all at once deep in his bones. He let out a long-suffering, drawled out fuck into the air, and his hands trail along Haru’s biceps to settle a death-grip on his shoulders, and his hips—his hips were grinding sinuously into Haru’s torso, chasing a high, neglected cock rubbing frantically against flesh.
“Stop moving,” Haru ordered stormily, and there’s a flash of anger in his eyes that went straight to Rin’s cock, and Rin thought distantly, holy shit, how is it possible that that got me harder?
“I can’t not move, Haru!” Rin practically cried out. Haru’s eyes grew fractionally wider. Rin began to babble. “Not when—I feel so—it’s too much, and you won’t let me do anything and you—Haru, god, Haru—let me, let me suck you off, or hell, you suck me off. Please, Haru!”
His watery eyes were beginning to tear up, droplets spilling over the edge and trickling down his cheeks in a wayward path.
“Please, Haru, please.”
There was a glint of recognition in Haru’s eyes, that this was his Rin, slowly but surely coming undone, so desperate and raw was he that he didn’t have a care in the world for just how vulnerable he was allowing himself to be—a stark cry from the uptight, haughty version of him outside the bedroom.
Haru was not completely unkind.
So he moved down the length of the bed and rested on his haunches as Rin watched.
Rin was dazed, for the most part, and the low hum of the cock ring and its accompanying vibrations had morphed into a dull tingle.
The pop of a bottle cap filled the air— when had Haru even grabbed the lube? —and Rin let his eyes follow his lover’s every move carefully, like he was watching Act ll of some Haru-centric play unfold before his very eyes.
He stared, first, at the unruly mop of ebony-black hair atop Haru’s head, slowly trailing his eyes down his face. Haru’s eyes were a half-lidded, tired-looking pair now, and his lips were scrunched in concentration. It was flattering, Rin thought, that he could unearth so many expressions from this man in the privacy of their bedroom, that no one but him was privy to.
Next, he raked his eyes over Haru’s tense shoulders, and his heaving chest. It was only just occurring to Rin that his strong fingers had left grim, red impressions on the meat of his shoulders, and he wondered if they’d bruise.
He kind of hoped they would. He liked the thought of marking what was his.
Haru squeezed a generous dollop of clear gel onto his fingers. He set the lubricant aside and wedged himself between Rin’s thighs, glancing up at him. His face was stern.
Rin met his gaze.
“Spread.”
It was a simple one-word command. Rin had heard it many times before on nights when Haru had felt the carnal desire to dominate him, and it never failed to do a number on his insides. Tonight was no exception.
Rin bit his lip and let his legs fall open like a virgin touched for the first time.
Haru narrowed his eyes. “Wider.”
They watched as Rin slowly inched his thighs further apart—but not quick or far enough for Haru’s liking, apparently. Unsatisfied, Haru gripped his knees and jerked them apart so fast and hard that Rin let out an embarrassingly loud yelp, bolting upright.
The stern gaze Haru had fixed on him melted away, and in its place was his signature, subtle, fond smile.
“I’m sorry,” he cooed, cupping Rin’s face with the hand that wasn’t covered in lube. He rubbed his thumb against his cheek in a gentle, placating gesture. “Too rough. I wasn’t careful. Are you okay?”
Rin turned his head, nuzzling into Haru’s palm with his eyes closed. “I’m—I’m okay. Just surprised, is all.”
Haru pressed a kiss into Rin’s thigh and scooted further down the mattress, lying on his stomach.
“I’ll go slow,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, this time, on the underside of Rin’s shaft. He wrinkled his nose; he’d almost forgotten about the little vibrating device wrapping around him. “Lie back.”
Rin nodded and slowly lay back down, staring up at the painting hung above the headboard. He closed his eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath, nervous, for some reason.
He didn’t know what Haru had in mind. He knew Haru would never hurt him, with the exception of what had happened earlier (a small lapse of judgment, Rin believed), but with the little silicon band around him and Haru’s avant-garde way of approaching things sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder if Haru had anything else up his sleeve.
The man himself had taken to placing chaste, little kisses all over the backs of Rin’s thighs. There was a pause, Rin noticed, where Haru had placed his cheek against his inner-thigh and rubbed up against it, smiling to himself, much like a cat.
And Rin had opened his mouth to say something, to tell Haru I love you…
... but out of nowhere, the flat of Haru’s tongue pressed against his crack, and Haru began to languorously lick along his rim.
Rin wheezed, shooting his hands out to grab the back of Haru’s head. Haru continued to lick him, darting his tongue in and out of Rin feverously, and soon enough, the fingers that he had slicked up joined him, pushing past his orifice beneath his tongue. At first, there were two, scissoring him open in slow, careful motions. Then a third finger joined in, followed by a fourth. One of Rin’s hands slipped out of its grip on Haru’s nape in favour of crawling its way up to his groin to finally, finally touch himself, but Haru saw this and quickly slapped it away.
“Haru, my—” Rin gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, “my cock.. Suck my cock.”
Haru lifted his head, frowning. His fingers continued to stretch Rin open, sliding in and out of him lewdly. The squelching noises they made drove Rin insane.
“Beg,” Haru spat. Another command.
Rin wasted no time obliging, pushed to the brink, his pride thrown out the window. He started to blabber incoherently.
“Please, Haru, please. I—I need you, n-need you to wrap those pretty pink lips of yours around my hard c-cock and just—just blow me. Please let me fuck your throat. Wanna feel my cock against your tongue, feel that hot, wet mouth of yours around me.. I want you. I want you, Haru.”
The guttural growl that vibrated through every fiber of Haru’s being made Rin want to yank him by the hair and force him down on his cock more than anything.
Luckily enough, he didn’t have to; Haru was craning his neck and licking his lips so quickly, Rin barely had any time to comprehend what was happening before he felt the tight, wet, heat of his mouth sinking down on him. Haru didn’t even stop to breathe; he just kept sinking lower and lower till the head of Rin’s cock hit the back of his throat. He didn’t even gag. Rin would’ve been impressed if he wasn’t so busy fighting the urge to fuck his face like a feral beast.
Haru began to suck him in earnest, running his tongue up and down along the underside of Rin’s cock as he bobbed.
The fingers that were nestled deep inside Rin were pistoning frenziedly, rough enough to hurt, not that he was capable of registering the pain when Haru was blowing him like a fucking pornstar.
Haru lifted himself off his cock to trail his tongue along the pronounced vein on its underside before gingerly taking one of Rin’s balls into his mouth and sucking.
“Fuck!” Rin cursed, hurriedly wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and squeezing it because, no, fuck no, I can’t come now—he hasn’t even fucked me yet. The cock ring continued to whir.
“Soon,” Haru said, as if he’d read his mind. He licked up Rin’s shaft, swirling his tongue around the slit.
He looked pleased with himself. Rin, on the other hand, felt like he was going to die.
Haru pulled his fingers out and smeared whatever gel was left on them all over his own shaft. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, thumbing the slit, closing his eyes and tugging a few times with a bone-deep sigh. Rin couldn’t even feel ashamed of himself for being so single-minded about Haru satisfying him that Haru had neglected himself, or that Rin hadn’t even tried to help him.
“Can I fuck you now?” Haru asked, jacking himself off.
Rin’s response was to hold the back of his thighs and lift his legs into the air as high as they could go. The gaping hole in the cleft of his cheeks should’ve been enough of an invitation, he thought.
But Haru was a little lost in his own world, tugging vigorously at his cock with his eyes closed and his head thrown back. His jaw was tense, like he was gritting his teeth.
Then he opened his eyes, and the sight of Rin, split wide open and ready for him, threw his libido into overdrive.
Haru leaned forward, the front of his thighs pressed flush against the back of Rin’s. He gripped his cock and guided it towards Rin’s entrance, and he—
He hesitated, looking up at Rin like he was asking, with his eyes, for the go-ahead.
Clearly, the man was completely unaware of how desperately Rin needed him to fuck him raw and paint his insides in streaks of white. Idiot. Rin hooked his ankles behind Haru’s back and nudged him closer with his feet, furrowing his brows as if to say c’mon, don’t stop now.
“Breed me.”
With that, Haru rubbed his cock in a circle around Rin’s rim, smearing lube and pre-cum everywhere, before pushing the head of his cock past the ring. Rin’s muscles gave, swallowing Haru whole, and once he was balls-deep inside of him, they both let out the breaths they’d been holding, chests heaving. Haru didn’t begin to move immediately, even though he knew Rin would protest or snap at him for being so goddamn slow; he simply didn’t want to risk hurting him, even if the feeling of Rin’s tight, warm ass around his swollen glans felt fucking amazing.
God, he wanted to fuck him into oblivion.
Rin’s breath had gone shallow. He combed his sweaty fringe out of his face, nudging Haru again with the balls of his feet.
“Move, Haru, goddamnit.” He dug his feet into the flesh at Haru’s back. “What are you waiting for?!”
“I’m trying.. to give you time.. to adjust, you asshole.”
Rin scoffed. “I’ve waited long enough, now move.”
The last remaining thread of Haru’s self-restraint snapped. He began to move, slowly at first, fluidly rolling his body up against Rin’s body like he was doing a dolphin kick. Rin’s hands clenched the sheets. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
“Faster,” he demanded brattily, lifting his hips to meet Haru’s thrusts. “You said you were horny—wanted to fuck me into the mattress—since—we got here, so why do I get the feeling—you’re holding back—like the little bitch that you are?”
Haru’s hips stuttered and his nostrils flared. Rin counted this as a victory, because Haru was finally beginning to speed up, and his thrusts were getting harder, deeper, more unhinged.
Good. He needed Rin to rile him up sometimes. He needed the push.
“Don’t,” Haru ground out seethingly through gritted teeth, “tell me what to do.”
And suddenly his hands were gripping Rin’s thighs and pushing aggressively, folding Rin in half as he pounded him into the mattress so hard, they began to scoot up the mattress inch by inch, in time with Haru’s rabid thrusts. The bed springs squeaked and the bedframe creaked, and they wondered what their neighbours thought of the loud thudding reverberating through the wall each time the headboard rammed into it.
Rin’s jaw had gone slack and there was drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. He could feel the telltale heat of his imminent orgasm pooling in his guts, and each time Haru hit his prostate dead-on, he found himself reaching closer and closer to his peak.
He was moaning; they both were, out loud. The only sounds in the air right now were of their moans, the loud slapping of sweaty skin against skin, and that low, ever-present hum of the cock ring.
Rin wanted to come. He wanted to come so badly, to unravel and come undone and bask in that liberating, post-coital high with the man of his dreams, but for some reason, he couldn’t. He knew he was fast approaching that orgasmic release, could feel it in the way his toes curled and the muscles at his groins tensed—but he just couldn’t. And he thought, with fading clarity, that it must’ve been because of the fucking rubber ring around his dick.
“Ha-ru,” he stuttered, reaching up to hold onto Haru’s triceps, “take—take the fucking ring off.”
Haru didn’t hear him.
“Haru please,” he begged, patting Haru’s arm. “Take it off. It’s—it’s starting to hurt. You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”
Concern flashed across Haru’s features, and so he, ever the king of multi-tasking, reached a hand down to roll the ring up and off Rin’s cock, all while never missing a beat in his thrusts. He tossed the ring aside, leaving it to bounce once off the bed and onto the floor, rolling across the carpet.
Haru was grunting in that low, raspy baritone of his. It was louder than he normally was, but obviously not loud enough. Not for greedy Rin.
“Haru,” Rin said again, “let me ride you. I—I swear it’ll feel good for both of us.”
At first, Rin thought Haru hadn’t heard him again, because the latter still kept up at his incessant pounding, face scrunched and body bouncing against his cheeks. But out of nowhere, Haru let go of his thighs to wrap his arms around Rin’s back and swiftly maneuver them into a different position. Rin was on top now, straddling Haru’s thighs, and Haru was leaning back on his elbows, looking up at him.
Haru’s cock had slipped out of him during their little stunt, so Rin reached behind him and guided it back to his hole.
“C’mere,” he beckoned, curling a finger under Haru’s chin. “Come kiss me.”
Haru pushed himself up, meeting Rin in the middle in a slobbering, mess of a kiss as Rin sank down onto his cock. They panted into each other’s mouths as soon as Haru was buried to the hilt, holding each other.
Rin forced himself to fight the exhaustion that threatened to consume his soul, starting a shaky, stuttering rhythm of bouncing up and down Haru’s cock. Haru slid his hands down Rin’s back to cup his ass, squeezing the mounds of his flesh encouragingly.
The pace of Rin’s bouncing kicked up a notch. Rin was beginning to whimper.
“That’s it,” Haru grunted, “ride my cock, you little slut.”
Oh my fucking god, Rin thought, widening his eyes. He began to ride Haru in earnest, bouncing up and down with renewed fervour, chasing his high. The thought of Haru’s thick shaft filling up his insides and rubbing over and over against his prostate drove Rin batshit crazy, and soon enough, he could feel it again—that telltale sensation of blood pooling in his gut, the curl of his toes. His whimpers grew louder, and his hands were frantically slipping and grabbing and scratching up Haru’s back, sure to leave painful scars in their wake. He was so close.
“Haru,” he rasped. “Haru, I’m gonna—”
Haru wrapped his hands around Rin’s throat and squeezed, choking him hard enough to cut air for several seconds, and Rin’s breathing hitched.
Haru took the sight of Rin’s gaping mouth as an invitation to stick his tongue down his throat, moaning into his mouth, and when Rin’s eyes rolled back, he loosened his grip on his neck and slid his hands down Rin’s back to grab his ass. Rin was so tired he simply let himself go, giving Haru free reign over his body, and Haru reciprocated by manhandling Rin like a fucking doll, pushing Rin’s hips downwards to meet his violent, upward thrusts at a scarily fast pace.
Five more thrusts and Rin’s whole body seized. He came with a choked gasp, warm, white streaks of semen spurting out the tip of his throbbing cock and painting Haru’s chest, and Haru was quick to follow, reaching his orgasm with a final, garbled ugh, far louder than any of the sounds he’d made earlier.
Rin didn’t move. He simply sat there, straddling Haru, bodily slumped over Haru’s chest with his face pressed against the crook of his neck, letting his body milk Haru dry.
Haru was, surprisingly, the first one to break them out of their spell, wrapping his arms around Rin in a tight hug before kissing him on the top of his head.
Once their shallow breathing had slowed, Haru moved them carefully, laying them down in a sweaty tangle of limbs before pulling Rin close to his chest. Rin was so tired and spent, he didn’t even have anything to say about the gross smell of cum splattered across Haru’s body. All the fight had left him. He was sated, thoroughly blissed out, and more than grateful for Haru’s gentle, post-sex kisses.
Haru pulled away to look at Rin.
“Rin,” he whispered, “are you okay?”
Rin’s voice was scratchy from overuse. “More than okay. I feel like I’ve fucking attained nirvana. Nothing can hurt me at this point.”
“Was it really that good?” Haru asked, bewildered.
Rin nodded. “Fucking incredible, Haru, I’ll tell you that—although I’m still upset you didn’t let me suck you off. You know I enjoy giving you head.”
Silence greeted them like an old friend, stretching across a span of maybe a minute or two, and Rin was inclined to believe that maybe Haru had finally been worn down, giving in to sleep. He closed his eyes, more than ready to join him in his slumber, feeling the consequences of Haru’s onslaught of manic thrusts deep in his soul.
But then Haru spoke up.
“Later,” he said, breathing in the scent of Rin’s hair. “We have five more rounds to go.”
Rin’s eyes shot open.
“Five more.. Huh?”
“The ring,” Haru said, like it made any sense. And usually Rin would make the effort to decipher Haru’s weird, clipped responses, but he was just so fucking exhausted, he didn’t think he could. Thank god Haru had the sense, this time, to spare him the trouble. “The website said it’s reusable up to six times, twenty minutes each round.”
“Twenty—Haru, you made me wear that thing for a hell lot longer than twenty minutes, you jerk!”
“But you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
Rin wilted sheepishly. “I—I guess..”
“Good,” Haru hummed. Rin could hear the smile in his voice. He was content to leave it at that, to finally give in to his desire to sleep off the exhaustion—but Haru was Haru, and it wouldn’t have been Haru if he didn’t add a strange afterthought to everything he said.. which now came in the form of: “It’s waterproof, y’know. The ring. We could do it in the bath next.”
Rin sighed. “Aren’t you tired? No, more importantly, aren’t you starving? You haven’t even touched your saba oshizushi. Shit’s probably gone bad by now.”
“I don’t care,” Haru said, because of course Haru would say that after making a statement about two of his favourite things—sex, and a bath, or better yet, sex in a bath.
He nuzzled Rin’s cheek and whispered, “I love you.”
Rin smiled fondly, nuzzling back, but before he could open his mouth to whisper a sincere I love you too back, Haru beat him to the punch:
“Just five more, Rin.”
Not for the first time tonight, Rin thought he was going to die. Haru was going to be the death of him.
He wasn’t sure he’d make it back to Japan alive.