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With a gentle shake Shuichi clears the fuzz from his head, realizing he hasn’t left the floor of Yuki’s living space. His legs still splayed and uniform in disarray from their fervent exchange, he’s unsure how that got heated so quickly.
Yuki draws back, patting him on the shoulder to console, “Hoo-kay. So that… went too far. Uh, I understand how you feel now... very very well.”
Regaining his composure, he leans into Shuichi’s ear one last time to whisper in his teasing tone, “While this may have been enough for you, a little groping isn’t enough to set me off.” He stands to stretch and walks away before continuing, “We both need some time to cool off, so you should run along home.”
Picking himself up and moving toward the door, Shuichi snatches up his jacket a little too forcefully from where it was tossed aside. The rush he’d felt earlier was already waning into a mix of embarrassment over how things ended and pissed‑off that Yuki was being such an ass about it. His afterglow was gone, leaving behind a buzzing irritation.
Yuki had already returned to the couch and was dismissively waving him away. Left standing alone, Shu is out of reasons to stay. His hand hovers just short of the doorknob when the quiet is broken by the soft click of a lighter, followed by a barely audible moan of satisfaction as Yuki takes a drag from a freshly lit cigarette. The unexpected sigh sends a flood of warmth through his body, his arousal flickering back to life.
His desire rekindled, Shuichi momentarily dismisses concerns about his lingering presence upsetting the writer again. For him, it’s Yuki’s fault for pushing them into this mess in the first place. Well… maybe. Is it his fault too… for being unable to stay away, for being so easily drawn in and riled up by the author’s bullying? He tries to shake the thoughts away, instead they continue spiraling: He really can’t stay away. He wants Yuki to kiss him again. He wants Yuki to touch him again. He wants to touch him again too.
Realization bubbles to the surface: Though he was still hazy, Shuichi had caught the other man slyly adjusting himself when they broke apart. Yuki might have thrown biting comments at him, but he’d been affected too! Never one to be easily outcompeted, he turns from the door before he can change his mind. Shrugging his coat off once more as he moves toward the sofa, he’s driven by the stubborn need to prove that Yuki’s unaffected attitude was complete bullshit.
Closing in, he sees the writer relaxed into the cushions, one arm draped across the back, the cigarette hanging from his lips. Thinking he’s gone unnoticed, he slips his arms over the other man’s shoulders and gently draws him back. To his surprise, Yuki leans into him, tilting his head to expose more of his throat and letting out a quiet hum. Encouraged by the response, and on a mission to elicit a heated reaction, the singer presses in a little closer. He dares to trail kisses up the author’s neck and along his jaw as far as he can reach.
Using the hand draped across the couch, Yuki removes the cigarette from his mouth. He slowly exhales the smoke as he bends forward just long enough to set the still‑burning cigarette in the ashtray. When he settles back, he’s now reclined enough for Shuichi to see over his shoulder, close enough that the heat rushing to his face is impossible to hide from the writer.
His cheeks burn in a deep blush, halting the kisses advancing toward Yuki’s mouth. In the momentary pause, Yuki meets him eye‑to‑eye, so close that the smoke and tobacco on his breath wash warm over Shuichi’s face. His voice rumbles low, “Like what you see, brat?”
Shuichi is stunned by the casual confidence of this man who has consumed his thoughts since meeting. He can now clearly see that Yuki’s shirt is fully unbuttoned, the fly of his pants is undone, and his mostly hard cock is in the hand that hadn’t just been holding the cigarette. His first thought is that it’s huge! His second thought is that at least it’s bigger than his own, and he’s never seen another man’s dick like this before… well except for that one time he & Hiro compared sizes, but that was totally different and definitely not helpful here!
Breaking Shuichi’s thought spiral, Yuki quirks his head up, half mocking, “If you’re going to stare…, “ he pauses and provocatively strokes up his entire length, swivels his palm over the head, and then back down until his hand is pressing into his neatly trimmed pubic hair and boxer briefs, “At least do it where I can see the ridiculous faces you’re making.” With a single nod toward the open seating of the couch, he invites Shuichi to stay.
Eyes still fixed on Yuki’s exposed body, Shuichi admits to himself how much this little exhibition is turning him on. He tries to stammer through a mix of an apology for overstaying his welcome and a lame attempt at excusing himself, but doesn’t manage to get either out. Instead, he maneuvers toward the offered seat. He attempts to shrink into the other corner of the couch, shuffling to make his own growing erection less noticeable, uncertain how this interplay is supposed to continue.
Taking clear pleasure in Shu’s discomfort, the author lifts the cigarette back to his lips and slouches deeper into his corner of the sofa. Extending one leg along the space between them, he opens himself more toward Shuichi, inviting a generous view of the smooth planes of his chest, slim but fit waist, and revealed length. Enticed by the evocative display, Shuichi’s eyes flick down once more to Yuki’s cock: smooth; straight; thick. He bites at his lip as he burns with need to touch all the naked parts offered up in front of him.
He must’ve been staring too hard or making a weird expression, maybe both, because Yuki takes another drag from his cigarette and cracks, “You really don’t have any experience, do you?” Shaking his head as he expels the smoke, “I don’t know how I let a brat like you wind me up like this. Maybe it’s been too long and I’ve suddenly turned desperate."
Slighted by the mockery, Shuichi defensively crosses his arms over his chest and fires back, “Well, who jerks off without making sure their guest has left?! You said we need to cool off. This looks like anything but that!”
Still lazily stroking himself, Yuki shrugs, “Cool off. Blow off some steam. Same difference.”
Rising to the taunt, Shuichi shouts, “Those are NOT the same…”
Finally stubbing out the cigarette, Yuki sharply quips, “I didn’t think you’d actually just sit there and stare.” He purrs low and teases, ”What happened to all the enthusiasm from a few minutes ago?”
He pushes the toes of his extended foot between Shu’s legs, firmly pressing against his hardness. “Doesn’t seem like you’ve lost it at all.”
He pauses before directing, “Come here.”
Drawn in by the order, Shuichi slowly moves to close the distance between them. His knees slightly sink into the soft cushion between the spread of the writer’s legs. Caught off balance, he reflexively braces against the other man and the arm of the sofa. Their bodies are now pushed so close together he can feel the naked erection against his thigh.
Yuki takes advantage of their new position by weaving his hand through Shuichi’s hair and pulling him further down toward his mouth. With their lips so close but not yet touching Yuki coaxes, “Brat, I asked you a question.”
Overwhelmed with all the sensations surrounding him: the hand in his hair, their lips a breath apart, their dicks pressing hard into each other, Shuichi lightly nods.
The writer softly rolls his hips up, continuing to provoke, “Say it. You’re enjoying this.”
Growing flustered at the demand to give a verbal response, Shuichi bites back, “Isn’t it obvious?”
Yuki spurs him on, “If I’m keeping a voyeur in my company, I need to know that my efforts weren’t in vain.”
Shuichi rolls his eyes. “I’m not a voyeur.” Following up, he grunts in resignation, “Ugh… Yes! Are you happy now?”
Still holding the singer firmly in place, Yuki flicks his tongue out, licking at Shuichi’s lips and replies, “For now.”
Finally closing the remaining distance between them, the author presses them into a deep consuming kiss. Shuichi is prompted to further open his mouth, allowing the sweep of Yuki’s tongue inside. He tastes the tobacco, smoke, and hint of cigarette filter menthol, all layered over the sweet-bitterness that is the man entwined with him. He is enthralled by the taste and the dance of their tongues. So thoroughly devoured, he moans low and raw.
Yuki doesn’t break the kiss as his fingers skillfully work open Shuichi’s uniform jacket. The jacket drops to the floor, leaving only his undershirt between them. Unsure where to place his hands once free of the sleeves, he defaults toward his previous position. Yuki takes advantage of the pause, bringing one of the singer’s hands to his bare abdomen. Slowly, he guides their hands together down his lean muscle and hot skin, until they stop at the base of his cock.
The larger hand over his own, and the heated arousal against his fingertips, cause Shu to waver. His mind cascades: Even though he’s a guy, Yuki is so beautiful, so unbelievably sexy! Just minutes ago he’d been so sure of his need to touch the writer, so why won’t his body move? Is he really being invited to… do what exactly? Is he being set up for another joke at his expense?!
Seeming to sense his hesitation, the older man shuffles upright to close in again. He licks and nibbles along Shuichi’s ear, easing some of his doubts. Yuki huskily whispers, “Earlier you looked like you were going to eat me alive, and now you've frozen up.”
Trailing his tongue from Shuichi’s ear to his neck, he coerces, “Be honest about what you want.”
Shuichi retorts, “I did not look like that!”
Yuki gently bites into his neck, enough to elicit another needy moan from the younger man. He continues, “You sound a little cute now. All flustered.”
Their hands are still rooted together on Yuki’s naked body. He continues licking down, lapping at Shuichi’s collar bone, “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me. A dead give away you’ve never watched before.”
He rumbles deeper, “But I can tell. You want to see me get off.”
Caught between the sensations of Yuki’s teasing mouth and taunting words, Shu mumbles, “Stop saying weird stuff.” He leans in to initiate another kiss, distracting himself from admitting how much the dirty talk is affecting him.
Yuki pulls away, prompting Shuichi’s eyes downward instead. Shu watches the other man steer his hand to firmly wrap his fingers around the writer’s thickness. For several strokes they move in tandem up and down his entire length. Yuki eventually frees his hand, relaxes into the rhythm, and loftily gazes at Shu working him on his own.
Shuichi continues stroking with the pace and grip that was set for him. Losing himself in the scene playing out between them, his own need twitching between his legs. His body desperately seeking friction, he subtly pulses his hips along with the motion. So absorbed in the man sprawled out before him, he’s no longer nervous or overthinking about being with another guy.
The author’s hand slides up Shuichi’s thigh to cup his straining hardness. Surprised by the abrupt groping, his attention falters. He grinds against the writer’s hand, softly moaning at the contact.
Yuki’s expression deepens—the shift is sudden. He’s on his feet in a fluid motion, hands locking around Shuichi’s waist as he pivots him to face forward. He steps between Shuichi’s legs, sweeping them wider to make space. He quickly slides his pants down his hips, freeing all of him. As Yuki leans in over him, bracing a hand on the back of the furniture, Shu is enveloped in the heat and scent of him. He’s fully hard now and mere centimeters from his face.
Captivated, the singer’s breath hitches. He forces a show of confidence, slouching back just enough to meet the writer’s gaze. Their eyes catch, and Yuki goes back to stroking his cock. The soft hums and sighs tug at Shuichi’s core. He reaches down to squeeze hard at his own arousal, trying to delay his release. His other hand drifts behind Yuki’s thigh, hand twining into the fabric still clinging there.
Not missing a beat, Yuki quietly teases, “Coming again already?”
Trying to steer his thoughts away from coming, Shuichi shakes his head no.
Yuki continues to provoke him, “You’re making that hungry face again.” He angles close to Shuichi’s ear, “You want to know what it tastes like?”
Shu whispers, “I don’t know… Yes?”
“Open your mouth,” the writer instructs.
Jamming his eyes shut, Shu timidly opens his mouth. He feels Yuki trace two fingers along his bottom lip. When he doesn’t pull away the other man slowly inserts them into his mouth, gently probing at his tongue. Shuichi eagerly laps at the digits.
Yuki urges him on, “Tell me you like it.”
He pushes a third finger in. “Tasting it on my fingers.”
Shuichi hadn’t known what to expect, but realizes a faint tang of clean skin is all that clings to his mouth. He answers by nodding and continuing to swirl his tongue around the intruding fingers, fully coating them.
“Good,” Yuki firmly replies. Withdrawing his fingers, he continues in his low voice, “You should open your eyes.”
Shuichi slowly unfurls his eyes. He watches the soaked fingers move from his mouth back to the writer's body, rolling down his entire length, sliding head to base. Squeezing all the way back up, pre beads when he reaches the tip. Yuki exhales with a hum, looks back down and prods again, “Wow kid, you’re really into this.”
The singer lifts his eyes back up and retorts, “You’re one to talk.”
“Idiot,” Yuki grumbles and instructs again, “Stick your tongue out.”
Shuichi follows this new order, rolling his tongue out as far as he comfortably can.
Yuki flexes his hips closer. Firmly gripping his shaft, he grazes the head against Shu’s outstretched tongue, and slowly glides up as far as he can reach. Shuichi involuntarily pulls his tongue back, registering that his mouth now tastes saltier but not unpleasant. He really is into this! Humming deeply, he rolls his tongue back out, encouraging the author to do it again.
Yuki indulges them both, continuing to work his length while gliding along Shuichi’s tongue. Thinking of how he had just been tasting the other man’s fingers in his mouth, Shuichi begins lapping at Yuki’s cock every time the tip reaches the end of his tongue. Increasing their pace, Yuki’s breath starts to come quicker.
A flash of realization stabs at the back of Shuichi’s mind. Yuki is getting close, which he won’t deny is incredibly hot, but he hadn’t exactly had time to figure out how this was going to end! He doesn’t have to think about it for long though. Yuki pulls back from his mouth, increasing the rhythm of his strokes. Between pants he asserts, “I’m going to come. Soon.” Glancing down to meet Shu’s eyes, he lets the next question fall off, “Where…?”
Shuichi admits to himself how much he wants to watch this man get off… but not with it shoved down his throat! Refusing to let that break the mood, he lifts his undershirt over his head to reveal his chest. He bites at his lip to momentarily consider. Deciding, he angles his face slightly higher and gives a barely noticeable nod.
Yuki registers the consent with a single nod of his own. He dives back into dirty talk between the sounds of his escalating pleasure, “You’re such a dirty brat.”
“Winding me up like this.”
“Going to really mess you up.”
Shuichi returns his hand to the back of Yuki’s thigh, further signaling him to do just that. Concurrently, he unfastens his own bottoms to slip his other hand inside, squeezing his cock again. He’s so hard and dripping. Yuki falling apart right in front of him is going to make him lose it.
Finally reaching his limit, Yuki exhales deeply, “Coming.”
“Right now.”
He groans as his body shakes through his release. Milky-white fluid spurts out in pulses, splashing across Shuichi’s bare chest and face. Watching Yuki stroke through his orgasm, Shuichi sticks his tongue out one final time. The writer swipes the head of his spent cock over it.
Shuichi sweeps his tongue over the sensitive tip, tasting all of Yuki now. This final act takes him over his own limit. He loses control. His hand on Yuki’s thigh flexes tight. He moans loudly, and shudders as he comes hard.
Yuki stays close until Shuichi’s trembling stops. He pushes the singer’s hair back from the mess of his face, continues the caress along Shuichi’s ear, and finally down to give his cheek a gentle pat. He takes a small step back, loosening Shuichi’s hand from its grasp on the back of his thigh. He brings his pants back up over his hips, not bothering to fasten them.
Spotting his cigarettes on the table nearby, he shakes one out and lights it. Taking a deep drag he quips, “I need a drink.”
Looking down at Shuichi, he smirks and continues, “You need cleaned up.”
For the second time that day Shuichi shakes the haze of afterglow away. He looks down at himself: stripes of ejaculate cooling on his skin; his underwear an absolute wreck. He can’t believe he came in them twice! The high of his orgasm dissipated, he feels somewhat self-conscious again and mumbles, “And some fresh clothes.”
Yuki offers Shuichi use of his shower and laundry. Though he wastes little time returning to his usual prickly tone, implying that somehow it’s all Shuichi’s fault for the mess. Something about how he can't be held responsible for sending a kid away looking like the total degenerate he is.
Hot water cascades over Shuichi as he scrubs himself clean. He replays the whole experience over in his mind. He oscillates through a series of emotions about the exchange, when something from earlier clicks.
Shuichi rushes from the bathroom, hair dripping wet, and freshly laundered clothes clinging to his damp skin. He points accusingly at the writer relaxed on the sofa once again, a can of cheap beer in hand. “Earlier… You said, ‘efforts weren’t in vain’!”
He dramatically shouts, “You did that on purpose! You asshole!”
Yuki just shrugs and shoots back, “Who’s to say. Now get out of here.”