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“You’re so impatient.”
Samatoki frowns as he straddles Sasara’s hips, “Is that some new revelation to you?”
“No, you’re impatient about everything - ”
“Fuck off.”
“ - but especially during sex,” Sasara finishes, fingers tracing the waistline of his boxers and brushing the skin of his hips. “Ya’ act like you’re gonna die if you don’t come in two minutes.”
Samatoki rolls his eyes, because there’s a perfectly good explanation for why he’s impatient in bed with Sasara, “That’s cause if I don’t take any control, you’ll drag out the foreplay for three hours with some shit puns along the way.”
Sasara has the audacity to pout, “You don’t like my puns?”
“Not when you’ve got your dick in me,” he complains, raising his voice. “I’m tryin’ to come, not bust my gut.”
“What’s so wrong with achieving both?” Sasara chuckles, fingers traveling upward and the muscles of his abdomen jump at the playful touch.
“Ruins the mood, dumbass.”
Sasara hums, like he’s thinking - considering something, and Samatoki knows nothing good is going to come from whatever the fuck Sasara’s got going on in his mind. He stifles the groan in the back of his throat when Sasara sits up, groin flush against Sasara’s hard on. And Sasara had the gall to call him impatient when he’s hard enough to cut diamonds.
“You need to relax,” Sasara begins, hands gripping the underside of his thighs before Samatoki’s world turns upside down and he’s on his back, “lemme set the pace.”
“I’ll be more relaxed once ya’ shut up,” and Samatoki means it.
“Oh, don’t worry. I plan to keep my mouth plenty occupied,” Sasara smirks, kissing Samatoki before he can have any say in the matter.
Sasara’s lips travel to the underside of his jaw and his throat, nipping at the skin and teeth scraping over his pulse point. It’s not nearly as rough as Samatoki likes it, and if Sasara plans on just leaving hickies like some teenager then Samatoki might as well get off by himself.
“How long - ” Samatoki inhales sharply when Sasara’s lips reach his sternum, trailing kisses lower and lower until teeth catch the piercing on his navel, “ - are you gonna do this shit before you fuck me?”
“I appreciate that you like my dick so much,” Samatoki rolls his eyes once more, “but seriously, settle down. I have plans.” Sasara’s smile is wicked when he sits up to hook his fingers into Samatoki’s boxers.
Samatoki lifts his hips to make the process easier, boxers sliding off his hips and legs when Sasara pulls, “Your plans always suck.”
“There is some sucking involved in this plan.”
If he wasn’t so horny, Samatoki would kick Sasara right off the bed, “You’re so annoying.”
“Shucks,” Sasara brings a hand to his chest, “love you, too.”
Samatoki nudges him with a foot, not indulging in Sasara’s bullshit, “Just get to your fuckin’ plan already.”
Sasara snickers, maneuvering himself down the bed, head between his thighs and Samatoki thinks there might be some potential behind Sasara’s plans, “Remember how I said you're impatient?”
Samatoki closes his thighs, squeezing Sasara’s head between them. Honestly, it’s not a bad look for him, he thinks.
“Once or twice,” he smirks.
“While I wouldn’t mind dying between your legs,” Sasara pats at one of his thighs with a hand, tapping out, “at least lemme get ya’ off first.” And well, Samatoki can’t argue with that and drops his thighs back down to the bed. “Thanks, now can you relax so can I put my mouth to good use?”
As if Samatoki needs to even answer that question. While Sasara’s mouth can be a nuisance at times, it’s devastatingly skilled in the bedroom, like he was made to eat Samatoki out every day of the week. Samatoki reconfirms this when Sasara finally gets his damn mouth on him, breath and tongue hot against his center. He’s unable to suppress the way his body shudders at the first contact; a soft, tentative lick like Sasara wants to savor the taste of him.
Sasara repeats the same motion again and again, tongue dragging up and over his folds before mouthing at his dick. It’s almost teasing, annoyingly slow, but Sasara doesn’t seem intent on changing the pace. The pressure of his tongue is just enough for Samatoki to feel something, but it’s nowhere near enough.
Samatoki hates that Sasara is right, that he’s horribly impatient even while in bed.
His hips cant upward, trying to grind himself against Sasara’s mouth for more. Though Sasara, the bastard, is quick, pinning Samatoki’s hips back down to the bed with both his hands, grip tight. He’s unable to stifle the whine that rips from his throat.
“Shit - how damn long are you gonna do this?” Desperation laces his voice, overpowers his annoyance, and he’s mortified.
Sasara hums against him, and Samatoki can feel himself pulse against Sasara’s mouth at the sensation, “Until ya’ come.”
Another teasing lick, tongue just barely dipping between his folds and Samatoki punches out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, “That’s gonna take hours…you ass.”
“That’s the plan,” Sasara sounds all too satisfied between his legs.
Maybe he’d been too optimistic in thinking there was potential behind Sasara’s plans.
Despite his complaints, Sasara doesn’t change his pace, and continues to leisurely lap at him like he’s out at some Sunday brunch. His tongue slowly swipes against him and flicks at Samatoki’s center, jolting Samatoki with only hazy moments of stimulation that barely last for a second.
It’s agonizing the way Sasara drags it out and takes his time, yet Samatoki’s body betrays his mind as he feels himself become wetter and wetter as time passes. And he’s not sure how long Sasara continues at it - hell, it almost feels like hours that he’s been kept in this limbo. It’s not until Sasara’s tongue prods against his entrance, lips then latching around his dick with more pressure than before that Samtoki finally feels the arousal pool in his gut. The tips of his toes and his fingers tingling, pleasure slowly creeping into his body and he’s overcome with relief, sighing with a shudder.
His fingers frantically thread through Sasara’s hair, pulling, desperately trying to bring him closer but the grip Sasara has on his hips is still just as strong as earlier.
“Whatever you do, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop,” he pleads, breathless.
And thank fuck for whatever higher power, because Sasara doesn’t remove himself from the task to deliver whatever bullshit gag to his begging.
Sasara’s mouth is still slow and lazy and Samatoki wants to scream as the climb to his climax is torturous and long and miles away. The pressure builds gradually, steadily while Sasara alternates between dipping his tongue into Samatoki’s entrance and teasing his dick with gentle flicks. It isn’t until Sasara finally focuses on dick, lapping and sucking at him with a greater intensity that Samatoki feels dizzy and rushed to the edge.
He pants, chest heaving and back arching off the bed as if pulled by an invisible string, and Samatoki desperately tries to rut against Sasara again, squirming and chasing the high.
The edges of his vision grow fuzzy, and the pressure turns to something sharper, almost painful and overwhelming and he forces himself to choke down a sob.
“Sasara - ” he tries, voice hoarse and pathetic to his own ears, “ - I’m - oh, fuck - ” it’s only happened a handful of times, but Samatoki’s always too far gone to properly warn Sasara.
Samatoki is hardly sensible enough to care that Sasara hasn’t abandoned the spot between his legs, still lapping and sucking at him in earnest until the pooling pleasure in his gut crests, bursts, and he’s gushing. The moan that escapes him leaves his throat raw and dry as the muscles in his legs and abdomen twitch. His eyes snap closed at the excruciating ecstasy of his climax, head thrown back. Every nerve of his feels like it’s been set on fire as Sasara’s tongue coaxes him through it, eats him out until Samatoki is nothing but a quivering mess.
He releases Sasara’s hair and hurriedly slaps at his shoulder, too overstimulated and too wrung dry for any more. As Sasara gets the hint and pulls off, Samatoki collapses back onto the bed, pulse pounding in his ears and his breathing shallow. Samatoki feels boneless, floating in whatever the hell dimension Sasara’s sent him into as he tries to catch his breath, still overwhelmed by the intensity of his climax.
Samatoki watches as Sasara wipes his face with the back of his hand then sits up and reaches into his sweats to jerk himself off. It doesn’t take more than a minute until Sasara comes, strands of white spilling onto Samatoki’s stomach. Sasara’s breathing comes out heavy, lips wet and red and eyebrows pinched from his orgasm, and Samatoki feels an odd sense of satisfaction that Sasara’s able to get off so quickly just from making him come alone.
He swallows, slowly coming to his senses. “I hate you,” it doesn’t quite carry the gravity and venom as he intends, voice still laced of someone who’s had their brains fucked out.
“I let you come on my face and you hate me?” Sasara laughs, wipes at his face once more and Samatoki would feel a pinch of guilt if Sasara hadn’t likely enjoyed that more than he did.
“Just a little,” because Sasara did put him through a metaphorical hell until he finally came. “And I tried to warn you.”
“Key word here is try,” Sasara runs a gentle hand along his inner thigh, sending a shiver up his spine. “S’fine, was feelin’ a little peckish anyway.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
Samatoki rolls his eyes, still too fucked out to put up much of a fight.
Sasara maneuvers himself from between his legs and steps off the bed and into the bathroom, returning with a washcloth to clean up their collective mess. A tremor wracks through him as the cool cloth runs over his still sensitive skin, but Sasara doesn’t drag it out, tossing the washcloth to some corner of the room that they can worry about later.
Sasara collapses beside him, propped up on an elbow and cheek resting against his palm, “You good?”
“Mm, tired,” he mumbles, drowsy now that his climax has fizzled out and left his body heavy.
“That good?” Sasara looks so damn proud of himself.
“We gotta wash the sheets,” he snorts. “What d’ya’ think?”
“Not so bad to take it slow every once in a while, huh?”
“Hell no,” Samatoki groans, leveling him with a glare that’s probably weak, considering he’s still gelatin after one of the best and worst orgasms he’s ever had in his life. “I wanted to die.”
Sasara laughs, pinching Samatoki’s side just to further irritate him and he bats his hand away, “Ya’ know you’re only proving my point.”
“Whatever,” he huffs, rolling into Sasara’s warmth and letting his eyelids droop.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me. We haven’t had dinner.”
Samatoki smirks, “Didn’t you just eat?”
“And you called me disgusting,” Sasara says with mock offense, hand sneaking around his waist to pull Samatoki closer. “That was only a snack.”
It was only a matter of time before Sasara’s mouth went back to being a nuisance.
He kicks at Sasara’s legs in retaliation, which only makes him laugh . Annoyed, Samatoki uses their close proximity to shove Sasara off his side and onto his back before straddling him. His limbs do protest and shake at the effort, but it’s worth it to see the questioning look on Sasara’s face.
“Not fair if you got your snack and I didn’t?” Samatoki raises an eyebrow, smirking.
“Oh…guess not,” and Sasara may squirm beneath him with an awkward chuckle, spurring Samatoki on.
He positions himself between Sasara’s legs, tugging at the waistband of his sweats while Sasara eyes him restlessly, “So do me a favor and don't rush me.”
If there’s one thing Sasara should know by now, Samatoki thinks, is that even some of his best plans have the potential to backfire.