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The best thing about having a wealthy friend isn't the endless flights to foreign countries or yacht trips the moment someone mentions "weekend." No, it's easy access to the expansive pool that sits in their backyard.
A private oasis that doesn't come with screaming children doing cannonballs, splashing constantly in your face, or worse, a subscription service.
On hot days like these, when the heat clinging to your skin, you can feel the irritation bubbling at the surface at any minor inconvenience.
The chill of a pool sends all your worries away. The water is always the perfect temperature, the expensive system keeping it neither too cold nor too warm.
Your apartment pool could never.
Thankfully, Satoru was willing to lounge around on floaties with you, his presence comforting despite his tendency to be annoying about fifty percent of the time. The other fifty percent makes it worth it, and today, that fifty percent is in full effect.
The sun beams down towards you, warming your backside as you lie flat on the clear inflatable that Satoru insists is "the superior floatie" because it lets you see the water beneath you.
Not that there's much to see besides the occasional leaf or the faint shimmer of the pool's blue iridescent tiles, but he seems to take great pride in his floatie collection.
Occasionally, Satoru will push your floatie towards the waterfalls that cascade into the pool, claiming he's just "helping you cool off" before splashing your hair to get it wet.
He tricked you once, claiming he was improving the angle so you could tan better, his voice full of faux sincerity—which you naively believed— only for cold, hard water to be dumped on your face from the waterfall.
You should have seen it coming from a mile away. His laugh echoed across the pool, and you craved revenge, but the free pool was too good to give up, so you let it slide. For now.
Anything for the free pool.
You could hear the water splashing as Satoru swam, his movements creating gentle ripples that disturbed your peaceful float.
Your floatie shifted, your body being pulled away from your perfect tanning spot, catching the optimal amount of rays without frying you to a crisp.
"Satoru, swear to god, if I feel a single drop of water, you're dead," you warned, lifting your head and pulling the sunglasses over your eyes so you weren't blinded by the sun.
"You're so scary," he laughed, elbows resting on the edge of your inflatable, his chin propped up on his arms. "You want a bomb pop?" he asked lightly. His tongue was already dyed purple, a telltale sign he seemed to have indulged himself in one already while you were busy sunbathing.
You were craving something sweet, your mouth watering at the thought of that icy, sugary goodness, so this was perfect timing.
His hair was tousled and wet with water, the white strands darkened to a soft silver where they were soaked through, and his skin was even a little tanned from the sun, a rare sight that made him look like a surfer from California.
The contrast was pretty on his white hair and cerulean eyes. You hummed, nodding your head, "Pull me back."
Obliging, Satoru pulled you with him to the pool's edge, his hands gripping the sides of your floatie with surprising care. Your floatie had traveled quite the distance across his expansive pool, and as you moved, you took in the sheer scale of his pool deck.
His home was beautiful; your own family's wealth wasn't anything to laugh at, but Gojo's was on a different planet entirely. He even had his own golf course named after him back home, a fact he brought up too casually.
You would jokingly call his family the Crazy Rich Gojo's when you found out how wealthy he was.
Your pool at home was nice, sure, but Satoru's was pretty damn close—if not better. The carefully curated landscaping that surrounded it, the infinity edge that made it look like the water went on forever. It was picturesque, residing in someone's dream home pinterest board.
Rolling over, you let the coolness of the floaty cool the warm skin on your back, the plastic slightly sticky from the heat but still refreshing. It felt nice, relaxing you further onto the floatie as you surrendered to the heat.
You kept your hand pressed to the ledge so you wouldn't float away again, your fingers gripping the edge.
You watched as Satoru climbed out of the pool, his body dripping wet from the chlorinated water, droplets cascading down his back in rivulets that caught the light. Even though you were in the deeper end, he didn't need to take the ladder; the pros of being tall meant he could just hoist himself up like it was nothing, muscles flexing with the effort.
It took a minute for him to come back with your sweet relief, his footsteps padding against the stone tiles as he made his way to the outdoor fridge. He carefully unwrapped the red, white, and blue bomb pop, holding two others in his hand.
Crouching down in front of you, his strong calves bending towards you, he waved the cold treat over your lips, the cool air touching your lips ever so slightly. You reached out to snatch it away, your fingers grazing the white wrapper, but he happened to be faster, pulling it back with a grin.
Holding the popsicle in the air, his arms reached higher than where you could grab it comfortably, his height advantage making this game incredibly unfair. He waved it back and forth, and you felt that familiar irritation prickle at your skin once again.
"Satoru, stop," you groaned, sitting up from the floatie to take it out of his hand, the movement causing water to slosh around you. You were planning on playing nice with him today, being the bigger person and all that, but he always found a way to scratch your nerves, pulling them taut until you snapped. Nevertheless, you enjoyed his company.
Knowing Satoru since your freshman year, through friends of friends who had somehow dragged both of you to the same party, you happened to become friends with Satoru; it felt practically inevitable.
When you first met him, you thought he was an egotistical prick. But the more you got to know him, the more you realized he wasn't that bad. He was there for you during breakups, letting you cry on his shoulders while he fed you ice cream and told you that your ex was "a shit loser anyway."
He was there for rough hangovers, making you drink water and bone broth even when you insisted you would die if you moved. He was there for late-night drives, windows down, music blasting, the two of you screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs like you were the only people on the quiet streets. The plentiful noise complaints proved you definitely weren't.
And you were there for him, even when he drunkenly threw up on your vintage Kelly, a bag you had gotten for your sixteenth birthday—She will be missed. He ended up buying you two more as an apology, one in the original color and one in a shade that matched your eyes, but still, Satoru was a great friend.
Even if the lines are blurred in the friend portion.
"Satoru, stop!" he mocked in a high-pitched voice, his impression of you absolutely terrible. You definitely didn't sound like that, and you snatched the already melting popsicle from his hands before he could pull it away again.
Your tongue hurriedly reached out to lick the melted juices, the sweet flavor exploding on your taste buds as you started from the base to the top, not wanting to waste a single drop. The UV was making it melt faster, so you took a bite out of the tip, crunching through the icy layers. Might as well eat it before the sun does first, you thought, chewing happily.
You hadn't noticed Satoru's gaze as he watched, his eyes fixed on your mouth, wincing slightly as you bit the bomb pop with more force than necessary.
"Don't look at me like that, you're double-fisting bomb pops over there," you rolled your eyes, lifting your glasses to the top of your head to get a better look at his face. His face was crunched up with a look of amusement.
"You're the freaky one," he mused, licking both of the popsicles at the same time, his tongue darting out to catch the melting drips with practiced ease.
You were tempted to bring up the time you found him and Suguru passed out on his bed with two other girls, a scene that had been burned into your memory forever, but you decided to let it slide. But you're the freaky one, right..
"Whatever," you said instead of bringing up his freak escapades, taking another bite of your bomb pop. You wouldn't let Satoru live that one down, but you'll live past his greed, saving that ammunition for a later date when you really need to win an argument.
"I feel bad for any of your victims," he said, his eyebrows furrowed in mock sadness, kissing up to the sky like he was praying for the souls of your hypothetical head receivers.
He sat down on the ledge, his legs dangling into the water, the ripples spreading outward from his movements.
"Luckily, there are none," you said, the words coming out louder than you intended.
He paused dramatically, his entire body freezing as he stared at your face to see if you were serious. Realizing you weren't lying, a smirk twitched at his lips, one that usually preceded with more irritating and unnecessary comments.
Much to the dismay of your many hookups, you had never given head before. Too nervous to mess up and bite someone's appendage off, you never tried. It was a confession you rarely made, one that usually got you a mix of shock and pity, but with Satoru, it felt different.
"Not even-" he started until you shook your head firmly, cutting him off. He thought for a second, his expression contemplative, before asking, "You want to practice?"
It's not like you haven't tried to practice before, using fruit and various objects in an attempt to gain some semblance of skill, but a banana is much different than a real dick. The texture, the shape, the way it moves—or lack thereof. It's just not the same.
You stared at him momentarily, thinking about his offer, your brain running through all the possible outcomes. It's not like neither of you had crossed lines before; you're the one who taught him how to make out with someone after he claimed he didn't know how.
A claim you still weren't sure was true or just an elaborate excuse to get you to kiss him.
Once, led to twice, and whenever either of you was feeling lonely enough, your lips would find his. It was convenient, and a line you had long since stopped pretending existed.
This wasn't much different, right?
"You'd really show me?" you questioned hesitantly. If you wanted to practice on a real person, you might as well do it with Satoru. He nodded, leaning closer to the edge, looking down towards you. His gaze was almost eager, excited maybe.
"Of course, I mean, what are friends for, right?" he tilted his head slightly, the sun catching the water droplets in his hair. He looked pretty, glittery even. "The same way you were eating that, just less biting, more sucking, and inside action." You nodded, taking in what he said patiently.
Lifting from your floatie, you climbed onto the sun-warm pool deck. Swallowing the rest of the bomb pop, you sat next to Satoru, ready on the ledge, your eyes hinting at the lounge chairs. He stared at you for a moment. "Oh- I see, yeah, over there m-might be better," he stuttered, getting up to go to the chairs.
He sat down on the much cooler chairs, shaded by the umbrellas from the sun. "Do I sit here?" You knelt on the pool deck's smooth concrete, your body kneeling between his spread legs.
He looked down at you, confused and partially nervous. "Don't tell me you're getting nervous about me, Satoru," you teased, laying your head on his knee.
"N-nervous? No, I was just… surprised," he muttered, clearing his throat, "Didn't think you meant practice on me." he paused for a moment, his empty hand carding through his hair.
"Not that I am opposed, practice makes perfect, you know?" he smiled, licking the remainder of his bomb pop.
"You expected me to practice on a bomb pop?" you chuckled. "I need to practice on something real," you sighed. By the hardness growing in Satoru's swim shorts, he definitely didn't seem opposed.
"Why? Tried before?" he half-joked, but you only glared at him; he didn't need to hear how you embarrassingly choked on a banana after it broke in your throat. "Well, first, you need to set the tone; it's better if the little guy is awake first," he instructed, handing you a pillow.
"Doesn't seem like you need any help with that," you murmured, getting more comfortable on the pillow.
"What can I say, I'm a healthy guy," he commented nonchalantly, the pink tinging his ears telling a different story. "You want to take it out," you followed, your hands nervously pulling at his trunks.
His breath hitched the second your fingers brushed against the waistband of his swim trunks, the fabric damp from the pool water he'd been lounging in moments before.
The bomb pop had long since melted down his hand, sticky sweetness dripping onto his knuckles, but he made no move to clean it off. His focus was entirely on you.
"There you go," he murmured, voice dropping as he lifted his hips just enough for you to tug the trunks down his thighs. His cock sprang free, already half-hard and flushed pink at the tip, curving slightly to the left. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the slit, catching the sunlight like a tiny pearl.
"Very healthy guy," you joked, trying to distract yourself from being too nervous. You swallowed, staring at it with wide eyes. It was big. Thick and long, veined and heavy, resting against his lower stomach with an almost casual weight.
Not really what would be your first as a beginner. You wouldn't boost his ego any further, or he might explode.
Your hand hovered over it, fingers trembling slightly, and Satoru's lips curled into that familiar smirk. "Don't just admire it, babe," he teased, reaching down to wrap his sticky fingers around yours, guiding your palm to wrap around his shaft. The heat of him seared against your skin, velvety smooth over rigid hardness. "You gotta touch it. Get familiar with it. Not gonna bite."
"Says you," you mumbled, but your fingers tightened experimentally, and his breath caught in his throat, a tiny, almost imperceptible hitch that made your confidence bloom.
"Start slow," he instructed, his voice a little rougher now, the playful edge sharpening. "Just... wrap your hand around it. Feel the weight. Get it, wet, get a rhythm going. Don't just-" You nodded, spitting onto the tip. You stroked him, once, clumsily, your grip too tight and your angle wrong. He winced, but the sound that escaped him wasn't entirely pained.
"Okay, okay," he laughed breathlessly, his head falling back against the lounge chair. "That's-that's a start. But loosen up. It's not a weapon, alright? Gentle. Like you're holding a baby bird."
"I've held birds; this does not feel like a bird," you shot back, but you adjusted, lightening your grip, letting your fingers slide down to his base and then back up. His hips twitched involuntarily, and you grinned at the reaction.
"There you go," he breathed, his hand coming up to card through his wet white hair, pushing it back from his forehead, his gaze making you even hotter. "Now, use your mouth. Just the tip, first. Get used to it."
You leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to the head of his cock. He tasted salty, like chlorine and sweat, and you found yourself licking your lips before you even realized what you were doing.
"Don't overthink it," he murmured, his hand dropping to rest gently on the back of your head, not pushing, just there. "Just take it slow. Let it- ah-"
You parted your lips and took him in, just the head at first, your tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge. His hips buckled up involuntarily, and you gagged, pulling off with a wet pop.
"Sorry, sorry," he panted, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink beneath the shade. "Fuck, you just-your mouth is really cold, okay? Give a guy some warning."
"Maybe you should give me some warning," you snorted.
"Fair enough," he conceded, "How about this, you get back down there, and I'll return the favor. Make it fair."
"Fair?" you echoed, your hand still wrapped around him, feeling the steady pulse of his heartbeat through the velvety skin. "You think you can keep quiet while I'm down here?"
Satoru's laugh was low, almost a purr, as he settled back into the lounge chair. His white lashes fluttered half-closed, those piercing blue eyes watching you through the slits. "I've kept quiet through worse."
Your thumb traced the ridge of his tip, spreading the glistening bead of pre-cum across the sensitive skin. His stomach muscles flinched, and you felt a surge of power at the small reaction. "Yeah, sure."
"Attagirl," he breathed, one large hand coming to rest on the back of your head again. His fingers resting gently in your hair. "Now, take a breath. Relax your jaw. You're thinking too much."
"How do you-"
"You're clenching your teeth," he interrupted, "I can feel it." You exhaled slowly, forcing your shoulders to drop, and leaned forward again. This time, when you took him into your mouth, you focused on the weight of him on your tongue. Your lips stretched around the head, and you hollowed your cheeks experimentally.
"Fuck," Satoru hissed, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Yeah, that's-that's good. Just like that. Don't try to take it all at once. Work your tongue."
You obeyed, swirling your tongue around the sensitive underside of his tip, tracing the little vein that ran along his shaft. His hips twitched again, but he held himself still, letting you explore at your own pace. His hand stayed heavy on your head, occasionally stroking your hair in a way that felt almost encouraging.
"Breathe through your nose," he instructed, his voice growing rougher. "And, mmngh- use your hand on what you can't fit in your mouth. Make it part of the same rhythm."
You pulled off with a wet sound, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his flushed tip. "You're a lot better than a tiktok video."
Satoru's laugh was breathless, his chest heaving. "What am I not good at? Now get back down here before I get lonely." You rolled your eyes but complied, taking him back into your mouth with renewed determination. You wrapped your hand around the base and pumped in time with your bobbing head.
The angle was awkward, your neck starting to ache, but the way Satoru's breath hitched every time you took him deeper made it worth it.
"Sloppy," he murmured, his thumb stroking the shell of your ear. "Get sloppy. Use more spit. You're not trying to make it pretty, you're trying to make me come." You pulled off just long enough to gather a generous amount of saliva in your mouth, letting it drool down your chin and onto his shaft. The sight of it, the way his cock glistened in the dappled sunlight, made something hot curl in your belly.
You licked a stripe up the underside, from base to tip, and Satoru groaned, deep and guttural. You were starting to understand when your friends would remark that their mouths were watering.
"Fuck, okay, okay," he panted, his composure finally cracking. "You're a fast learner. That's—yeah, right there-"
You took him back into your mouth, deeper this time, pushing past the resistance in your throat. Your eyes watered, but you forced yourself to relax, just like he'd said. You focused on the sounds he was making: the broken moans, the way his breath stuttered, and the feedback loop of pleasure and power it created.
"That's it, baby," he crooned, his voice dropping into something silkier. "That's my good girl. Taking me so well, you're a natural, shit-" His hips bucked upward, and you gagged, pulling off with a cough. Saliva dripped down your chin, and you wiped at it with the back of your hand, glaring at him through watery eyes.
"Warning?" you croaked.
"Sorry, sorry," he panted, but he wasn't sorry at all. The smug look on his face was a dead giveaway, even as his chest heaved and his flush spread down to his collarbones. "You just got me excited."
"Asshole," you muttered, but you were already leaning back in, licking a slow, teasing stripe across his tip.
Satoru's hand tightened in your hair. "Watch your mouth, princess. Or I'll make you." The challenge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.
You took him back into your mouth, sinking farther than before, feeling him hit the back of your throat. You held there for a moment, breathing through your nose, before pulling back and repeating the motion.
"That's it," he groaned, and his control was sliding, melting away with each bob of your head. "Just like that. You're doing so good, so good for me-" His grip tightened, guiding your pace faster, and you let him. You wanted this, wanted to push him over the edge, wanted to taste the proof of your progress.
His cock twitched in your mouth, opening your throat to take him deeper. "Fuuck-" he moaned loudly. He motioned for you to pull off, but you kept your head still. His seed sputtered onto your tongue. You held there for a moment as he caught his breath above you.
His cum didn't taste horrible, just foreign, a bit salty. Nevertheless, you swallowed. Wiping the outside of your mouth of spit.
"Did I do well?" You asked slowly, pulling his cock from your mouth.
"You- yeah, you did great," he breathed. Tossing the melted popsicle into the trash, licking his hand clean of the popsicle. "Since you did so well, let's make it fair."
Before you could ask what he meant, he was shifting, grabbing you by the hips and manhandling you with surprising strength, flipping you around until you were positioned over him, your knees on either side of his head, your face hovering above his already hard cock.
"Pretty skilled here too," he announced cheerfully, his voice muffled by the fact that he was already pressing his mouth to the inside of your thigh. "Best way to learn. You get to focus on your technique while I keep you...distracted."
"Distracted?" you squeaked, but the word dissolved into a moan as his tongue licked a broad stripe up your slit, through the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms. He hooked a finger under the material, pulling it aside, and the first real taste of you seemed to make him groan.
"Shit," he breathed against your cunt, his nose nudging your clit. "You taste better than those bomb pops."
"Focus, Satoru," you managed, your voice shaky as you lowered your head back down to his cock. "You're supposed to be teaching me."
"Right, right," he chuckled, the vibration of his laughter against your pussy making you jolt. "Then get to work, pretty girl. And remember-"He licked into you, slow and deliberate, "-tongue's your best friend. Use it."
You moaned, the sound vibrating around his shaft, and he groaned in response, his hips twitching up to meet your mouth.
You tried to remember his instructions: gentle, start slow, don't overthink it. It was hard when his tongue was doing that, curling inside you, tasting every inch of your slick heat.
"You're-" you gasped, pulling off his cock for a breath, "-you're not making this easy."
"Not supposed to be easy," he murmured against your folds, his lips brushing your clit with each word. "Supposed to be fun."
His thumb found your clit, rubbing lazy circles while his tongue dipped back inside you, and you cried out, your hips grinding down against his face without your permission.
He let out a pleased hum, his free hand coming up to grip your ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave marks.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a low rumble. "Use those pretty hips. Ride my face." You took him back into your mouth, deeper this time, your head bobbing in a clumsy rhythm.
Your teeth scraped against him, and he hissed sharply. "Teeth, angel," he reminded you, his voice strained. "No teeth. Just lips and tongue."
You sucked hard, and his hips bucked, pushing himself deeper into your throat. You gagged, tears pricking at your eyes, but you didn't pull off. You were determined. "Good," he praised, his voice dripping with approval. "That's my girl. Taking it like a pro."
His tongue speared into you, and you moaned around his cock, the vibration making him shudder beneath you. His grip on your ass tightened, his hips thrusting up into your mouth in shallow, desperate little movements.
"Just like that," he breathed, his words muffled by your pussy. "Fuck, you're so beautiful. Suck it- yeah, just like that." You were drooling, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his shaft, your jaw aching, but you didn't care.
He pulled his mouth away from you for just a moment, his breath hot against your slick folds. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Gonna make me cum again if you keep that up-" You doubled your efforts, taking him deeper, your hand pumping what your mouth couldn't reach. His hips bucked erratically, his fingers digging into your ass, his whole body tensing beneath you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-"
He came with a choked cry, hot and thick down your throat, and you swallowed instinctively. He kept twitching in your mouth, his hips still jerking as you milked him through it, not pulling off until he went limp beneath you.
Although he had just come, he didn't let off. His moans vibrated against your cunt, pulling you closer and closer.
You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Satoru's tongue was back on you, lapping at your dripping folds like a man starved. His grip on your ass tightened, spreading you wider, and you felt the cool air against your slick skin before his mouth descended again.
"F-fuck, Satoru-" you gasped, your forehead dropping against his thigh. His cock was starting to grow half-hard beneath you, twitching against your cheek, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through the velvet skin.
His tongue circled your clit, slow and deliberate, and your hips stuttered against his face. He laughed, the sound vibrating through you. "You're so responsive," he breathed, pulling back just enough to speak. "I can feel every little noise you make-" He licked a broad stripe up your slit. "-Don't think I can stop after this."
You cried out, your hips grinding down against his face without permission, and he groaned in approval. His hands gripped your ass harder, pulling you closer, and you could feel the wet sounds of his mouth against you; it was obscene. "'Toru-" you gasped, your hand tightening around his thighs.
His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles while his tongue plunged back inside you, and you shattered. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, your body convulsing above him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.
You could feel him smiling against you, his tongue still working you through it, drawing out every last tremor.
"That's it," he cooed, his voice soft, almost tender. "That's my girl. Let go for me."
Your hips rocked against his face involuntarily, riding out the aftershocks, and he let you take what you needed. When you finally stilled, trembling and breathless, he pressed one last kiss to your clit before gently nudging you off him.
"Okay?" he asked, sitting up to wrap his arms around you. His voice was rough, but his eyes were soft as he looked at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
"Yeah," you managed, your voice hoarse. Turning towards him, you positioned your body over his lap. Your hips were still trembling from the aftershocks as you settled over his lap, the wet heat of your cunt sliding along the thick length of him. Satoru's hands found your waist immediately, fingers digging into the soft flesh there like he was grounding himself. His chest was heaving beneath you, that stupidly pretty face.
His grip on your waist tightens the moment you settle over him, fingers pressing bruises into your skin before he's even inside you. "Fuck," he breathes, the word coming out almost reverent. "You're gonna kill me, you know that?"
You don't answer with words, just roll your hips forward, letting the slick heat of your cunt drag along the underside of his cock. The sensation makes him hiss through his teeth, his head falling back against the lounge chair.
"Look at you," he murmurs, one hand leaving your waist to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His thumb traces along your bottom lip, and you part your mouth instinctively, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. He groans.
"So fuckin' eager. That mouth of yours-" He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as you sink down, just the tip, just enough to make him see stars. "Shit, baby. Don't tease."
"Thought you wanted me to take what I needed," you counter, voice breathy but carrying an edge of defiance. You lift your hips again, letting him slip out, watching the way his jaw tightens. "You said I could-"
"Sassy," he cuts you off, but there's a grin splitting his face, all teeth and mischief. His hands find your hips again, and this time he doesn't ask; he just guides you down, slow and steady, watching your face as he fills you inch by inch.
Your breath catches in your throat, fingers curling into his shoulders. The stretch is obscene, almost too much, but you take it, sinking down until you're flush against him, his cock buried to the hilt.
You moaned, feeling every ridge and vein of him inside you. Your hips start to move on their own, small, experimental circles that make him groan low in his chest.
His eyes flutter shut for a moment, and you take the opportunity to lean in, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you," you murmur against his skin, and his eyes snap open. "Satoru-"
"Don't." His grip on your hips is almost bruising now. "Don't thank me, not when you're-" He bucks his hips up, just once, and the sudden jolt steals the breath from your lungs. "Not when you're doing this."
You laugh, breathless, and it dissolves into a moan as you start to move in earnest. Up and down, slow and deep, letting him watch the way your body takes him. His eyes are glued to where you're joined, watching the way your cunt glistens around his cock with every slide.
His thumbs trace patterns into your hips, not guiding, just feeling— like he can't get enough of the way your skin feels under his palms.
"Faster," he says after a moment. His voice is thick, almost strained, and there's a flush creeping up his neck. "Come on, pretty girl."
You raise an eyebrow, even as you pick up the pace. "What, you want me to-"
"I want you to ride me like you mean it." His hand comes down on your ass, sharp and sudden, and you jolt forward, a squeak escaping your throat. He grins, satisfied. "That's more like it. Now come on. Don't make me ask again."
You plant your hands on his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath your palms, and you move. Hips rolling, thighs burning, you find a rhythm that has both of you gasping.
His head falls back again, his hands gripping your waist as you might disappear, and you feel it, the way his breathing quickens, his hips start to meet your thrusts with increasing urgency.
"Yeah," he breathes, and his voice is ragged now, all pretense of control gone. "Just like that. Fuck, baby, you feel so good-"
You lean down, pressing your forehead to his, your breath mingling. The position changes the angle, and you feel him hit something deep inside you that makes your vision white out for a second. Your nails dig into his chest, and he groans, snapping his hips up harder.
"Right there," you gasp, and he grins, that infuriatingly beautiful grin, because he knows. He knows exactly where you need him, and he's gonna give it to you. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced precision, and you cry out, your rhythm faltering.
"Don't stop," he commands, and his voice is a low growl now. "Don't you fucking stop, baby. You're so close, I can feel it. Just let go."
You're shaking, trembling, every muscle in your body tense as he works you higher and higher. He's watching your face, eyes dark and hungry, like he's memorizing every expression you make." 'Toru," you gasp, "I can't-"
"Yes, you can." His fingers on your clit are relentless, his hips driving up into you with a pace that's almost punishing. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't you? Gonna soak my cock like the good girl you are."
The words break you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your whole body seizing as you cry out his name. Your walls clenched around him, milking him, and he groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge.
You feel the heat of him filling you, pulse after pulse, and the sensation sends another ripple of pleasure through your oversensitive body.
When you come back to yourself, you're collapsed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like you're something precious. His heart is pounding against your ear, and you can feel his breath ruffling your hair.
"Fuck," he murmurs, and his voice is soft now, almost sleepy. "That was-"
"Stop talking," you mumble against his skin, but you're smiling. "You'll ruin the moment."
He laughs, and it's warm, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. "I just saved some lucky guy from getting his dick cut off, thanks to me." Smugness filling his tone.
You smacked his chest, playfully, your palm connecting with his pectoral in a light thump. "I would not do that," you rolled your eyes, but your hand stayed resting on his chest, your fingers splayed across the firm muscle.
It was soft, the skin warm and slightly damp, and you didn't feel like moving it. He didn't mind either, his fingers finding the strings of your bikini top and toying with them absently, twisting and untwisting the fabric.
"Let me use your shower. I feel disgusting," you groaned, the words muffled against his skin.
The chlorine and sweat had dried on your body, leaving you sticky and uncomfortable, your skin tight and pulling with every movement. The heat didn't make it any better, the sun still bearing down even as the afternoon wore on.
He nodded, his chin brushing against the top of your head as he played with strands of your hair, twirling them around his finger.
You missed his shower; the water pressure was perfect, hitting your shoulders with just the right amount of force.
You'd even set up the same one in your own apartment after the first time you used it, but it never quite felt the same. You were staying the night here anyway, not like Satoru was going to say no. He never did.
"Sure, what are friends for, right?"