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Summers in Texas are unconstitutionally hot. Satoru realizes this when the heat of July envelopes him like plastic wrap that clings to ganache, contact in all spots, suffocating him. The cicadas buzz in the Bradford pears and oaks that line the ranch, their symphony loud during the heat of the day, their sound like rattlesnake nests in the desert. At least, that's what Satoru thinks they sound like, since he's only ever heard a rattlesnake in the westerns he watched before coming here, wondering if that's what Texas is like.
He’s already pissed enough about having to be here, some long distant relatives taking him in for the summer, allowing him to be their ranch hand despite him not knowing a goddamned thing about ranches or cows or farms. He feels like everything is moving syrupy slow in the heat. The plants grow slowly, the rain comes slower, he's in a viscous slurry of cornstarch and water and he wants to get out .
He thinks this the entire summer until he meets Suguru, a horsebreaker who’s been stealing his breath away since the beginning of the month. Satoru had shown up in mid July, delaying his visit as much as he could before his father practically kicked him out of the house, sending him and his bags across the ocean to some ranch in Lubbock, directly in the panhandle of what is apparently the United States biggest continental state. Suguru showed up just after the first of August, and Satoru thanked his lucky stars that he did, because he was tired of the lonesomeness he felt.
He learned quickly that Suguru’s role was to break in the new horses that had arrived to the ranch recently. Four or five of them, all purebred and beautiful, settled into the barn on the property. When Suguru had stepped out of that trailer with a paint in tow, Satoru's entire heart stopped circulating blood. He nearly dropped dead at how damned gorgeous this man was. His hair was long and dark, pulled halfway up his head in a bun, strands falling out of it. When he introduced himself to Satoru, with his pierced lips and eyebrows, he nearly died at hearing the thick accent that came from his throat, honeyed and sharp tongued, syrupy sweet with the way he enunciated his words.
Satoru’s from Japan, and though he spoke English nearly perfectly, he found himself at a loss for the language as Suguru gripped his hand in his very calloused one, heat scorching down from his scalp to his toes that were shoved hastily into his cowboy boots. He still hadn’t broken them in, and so his toes were pinched and every night he had to doctor the severe blisters he received from the harsh leather.
At some point, Suguru had started calling him darling, but not the kind of darling that someone from Europe might call you. No, this darling was cut off at the end, the g nearly silent, ending in a lilt that had Satoru nearly falling over on the ladder he was perched on as he attempted to hammer in a few nails to hang up new ropes. Satoru had no idea where the pet name came from, but one of the other ranch hands told him Suguru had a nickname for everyone; a southern thing, she had said, though a blush coated her cheeks and Satoru saw red for a moment.
There were moments in the quiet hush of the evening before supper when Satoru would stand out in the tree line, having come back from chopping wood for the gas stoves in the house – he realized quickly upon arriving that his distant relatives must live in the fucking 1800s – and watch as Suguru attempted to mount the paint in the fields. It was trial and error, Satoru noticed, in trying to sequester a horse into a corner to ride it, to get it to trust you and get used to barebacking before you threw a saddle over its spine and rode it into the wind.
Satoru had learned a bit about barebacking, how it’s a hard thing to do, no saddle and no reins to hold onto, only you, the horse and the wind as your companion. Most horses on a farm or a ranch were saddled, the compartments of the leather filled with tools and things you may need while on horseback, but with barebacking, Satoru understood how insane it really was. It was trust between a rider and his horse, and Suguru had been trying to earn that trust for the past two weeks.
In the heat of the summer sun, Satoru would watch as Suguru coaxed the horse into trust, how he would get on its back, holding on with his fingers gripped in the long mane, how he would position himself in just a way that allowed his weight to sit fully on the horse. Satoru would watch the determination in Suguru’s eyes, even from far away, how his tongue would stick out of his mouth in concentration as his spur kicked the back of the horse to put it into motion.
Even when Suguru is bucked off, hand holding onto his hat as he’s knocked over, his other hand still gripping the reins and kicking up dust as he’s dragged along before finally releasing and getting out of the way before he’s trampled, Satoru watches, unflinching in his gaze.
Suguru had told him over the quiet of supper a few nights prior that he used to be a barrel racer. Used to win competitions and get prize money, used that money to buy his nieces their own horses, to teach them how to bareback and barrel race just like him. Satoru listened, enraptured at the story, their heads bowed together as they sat at the dinner table, everyone else around them involved in their own stories and tales of the day.
It was only a matter of time before everything came to a head, when the pet names and the stares became too much for the both of them, and before they both knew it, Satoru was pinned up against the side of the silo where they stored the grain, Suguru’s lips on his, that dastardly tongue shoving against his teeth, their hats long forgotten on the muddy ground beneath them.
He was just surprised it took this long, how all it took was one rainy day for them to finally, finally get somewhere. Now, he’s here, his pants damp from how wet he is with Suguru’s tongue shoved halfway down his throat, the twin rings in his bottom lip cold against his mouth. He doesn't even quite remember how they got here, what argument they had to bring them to this point, but as Suguru’s hard on presses against Satoru’s clothed dick, he finds that he doesn't really give a fuck.
“ Inside –” Satoru moans as Suguru licks into his mouth, the tang of blood fresh on their tongues from where Satoru bit his lip in anger. Suguru isn’t listening, hands cradling Satoru’s face as he presses his lips harder to his own, chapped and warm, saliva and rain water mixed in, and Satoru whines as one of Suguru’s rough hands trails down his side, thumbing the belt strap of his pants where they meet his chaps. “Sugu–”
“Shut up,” Suguru growls out, that accent thicker in the heat of the moment, and Satoru’s legs go slack, nearly falling to the ground. Suguru’s lips trail from his own to Satoru’s jaw, leaving biting kisses and licks as he goes down down down his neck and chest, popping open buttons on his shirt as he goes, revealing his chest. When he pulls open the shirt, gets a good look at Satoru, flushed and quivering, the scars that adorn the skin just under his nipples and groans, suckling one of the pert buds into his mouth. Ever since his surgery years ago, his chest has been less sensitive, but Suguru must have a way with his tongue and teeth, because Satoru feels everything .
He cries out, head thrown back against the metal of the silo, the clang of it ringing out against the light drizzle they're caught in. “Oh, God.” He moans, biting his lip as Suguru takes the other nipple into his fingers, twisting the nub until Satoru cries from it, the pleasure turning into pain then back into pleasure. “Please,” He cries, thrusting his hips into nothing.
There’s a distant rumble of thunder when Suguru’s mouth pops off his chest, and Satoru nearly comes at the sight of his sultry eyes, golden and hazed in the twilight of the evening. His hair is matted to his forehead from the earlier downpour, his hat long forgotten in the dirt, the bun that was perfectly done on his head is now in shambles from where Satoru had gripped at it, pulling the strands free from the elastic that held them together.
“Let's go inside,” Suguru says, and Satoru nearly sobs at the words as he’s led to the back of the house, through the mud room and up the stairs to the bedroom that Satoru stays in. Most of the ranch hands and stable guys left earlier, just after supper since it's the weekend, but Satoru is living here until September when university starts back up, and he’s forever grateful for it as Suguru practically pushes him through the bedroom door, shrugging off his vest and feeling for the light switch on the side of the wall.
With the light illuminating them, Suguru is quick to capture Satoru's mouth in a bruising kiss again, and Satoru's eyes flutter shut as he pushes back, shoving his own tongue up against Suguru’s who's bucking his hips up into Satoru’s, chasing any sort of friction he can possibly get.
The feeling of kissing Suguru, of tasting the sweat and spit and the slight metallic tinge of blood is invigorating, something Satoru truly never thought he would get the chance to do. He’s only here for the summer after all, and he knows he’ll probably never see Suguru again after this, because he's pretty sure he won't be back the next year since he’ll finally be graduated from university and working full time, taking over the company and solidifying the plans his parents had laid out for him. For now, though, he enjoys the feeling of their tongues touching, how Suguru’s hands wrap around his neck, his waist, grab at his ass and spread his cheeks under his blue jeans.
“Please,” He whispers as Suguru pushes him towards the unmade bed. He starts to pop the rest of the buttons of his shirt, untucking the bottom from where his belt cinches his waist. “I’ve been waiting all summer,” He moans when Suguru’s hands trail south, undoing the belt buckle and pulling it from the loops. His clothes are still on, and Satoru doesn't like it. “Off, off ,” He paws at the clothes still adorning Suguru, pants when he trails open mouthed kisses down his neck.
“Patience, darlin’,” he whispers, the sound honey sweet as it’s said into his neck, and he’s licking a bold stripe up to his ear lobe, catching it in his teeth. “You’ll get what ya deserve in due time.” The idea has Satoru’s eyes rolling back in his head, Suguru sucking a teasing mark at the junction where his shoulder meets his collarbone. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises for me, yeah?”
There's a bare bones feeling to being spoken to like you're the most precious thing in the world, of having someone look at you in reverent awe that way Suguru looks at Satoru, his shirt hanging off his shoulders, exposing his rosy and swollen nipples, the trail of white hair that descends from his belly button into the unbuttoned denim of his pants. When Suguru pulls away from Satoru's neck, his lips are spit shined and red and Satoru whines lowly, bucking his hips into nothing.
“I just – I want you to touch me.” Satoru admits, swallowing down his anxiousness, chest flushed with embarrassment as Suguru sits above him, knees on either side of his. He’s still fully clothed, the only notion of their kissing on him being the frazzled state of his hair as it cascades over his shoulders. “I need you to touch me. I've needed it since I first laid eyes on you.” It's raw emotion, a real confession that he’s kept harbored to himself this whole time.
Suguru stares at him, chest heaving with exertion, and he nods, whispering out, “Yeah, okay.” He undoes the collar of his shirt, nearly ripping off the buttons as he pulls it from his shoulders, leaving him in a white wife beater underneath that's slightly stained with sweat and dirt. Satoru moans at the sight as Suguru shimmies down the bed, pulling his jeans off his legs, then his own shirt which Satoru mourns for a moment. They're sticky with sweat and the rain that dowsed them earlier, but Suguru is quick to yank them down to his knees before gripping the bottom of Satoru’s boots and pulling them off in one fell swoop.
He's basically naked now, save for the briefs that cling to his pussy like a second skin, the arousal between his legs sucking in the fabric and Suguru groans at the sight as he finishes pulling the stiff jeans off Satoru’s legs.
In the month and a half or so that Satoru and Suguru had been on this farm, Satoru had slowly adapted to the heat and the life of being a ranch hand. Though he still grumbled when he had to wake up with the rooster crows and only eat when he was called to the porch, he found himself a bit more amenable when Suguru was around. He now rolls out of bed a little quicker, takes a little more time to style his hair even if his hat sits on his head all day, even takes the time to press his jeans after his cousin showed him how they did it.
Where Suguru’s a true southerner, Satoru is playing dress up, and right now, he truly feels like he’s out of his element as Suguru peels the briefs down his legs, tossing them in some vacant corner, lost to the carpet. His cunt flutters as the cool air of the room blows over it, and Suguru is quiet as he surveys the feast splayed in front of him.
Satoru’s core glistens under the overhead light, the harshness of it glaring across his skin. Suguru gets up, much to Satoru's disappointment, and turns off the light. They’re shrouded in darkness and while Satoru shivers in anticipation, Suguru flicks on the lamp next to the bed, washing them in an orange glow. Satoru notices how hard he is in his jeans, and he makes grabby hands to beckon Suguru down to him.
Suguru, who is weak to Satoru's whims, goes willingly, unbuckling his belt and hastily unzipping his pants. He wastes no time in pressing his lips to Satoru’s, his tongue swiping along the seam, coaxing his jaw open as he runs his hands down Satoru’s thighs to his knees, down his ankles and around his feet.
The sound of Satoru’s moans and the groans that Suguru let out filled the room, the air growing hot and heavy with their lust. Suguru pulls away and settles himself against the sheets, his chest right between Satoru’s spread thighs that he pushes even further apart.
Satoru’s center is spread open, revealing his tight hole that Suguru nearly whines at, pressing open mouthed kisses to his thighs, breathing in the heady scent of him. Satoru feels almost embarrassed because he hadn't showered, had been out working all day, the sun growing hot on his back and his skin getting darker with each passing day. The farmer's tan he has, despite his incessant use of sunscreen is shown in the low light of the bedside lamp, but Suguru doesn't seem to care; he only has one goal in mind.
When the first swipe of his tongue meets Satoru’s middle, he cries out, arching off the bed and gripping the sheets below him in a vice, panting as Suguru’s tongue pokes and prods at his swollen dick. He’s been on hormones for a few years now, his clit having grown into a substantial t-dick, and Suguru sucks at it like it was fully grown, like it was a few inches, like it would hit the back of his throat if he sucked down far enough. The sight’s insanely erotic, and Satoru nearly comes then and there.
“Oh–oh God.” He cries as Suguru keeps sucking, as he presses his fingers against wet folds, spreading them apart so he can suck at the slick pouring out of Satoru’s hole, slurping it up with obscene noises that have him embarrassed. “ Ah –not–no no not there please pl–” he’s cut off as Suguru listens to his wants, moaning deep and taking his cock into his mouth instead, rolling around the head in his teeth. The vibrations of Suguru’s sounds against him have him seeing stars, grabbing at Suguru’s hair, pulling harshly, and Satoru is gone.
He doesn't think he’s ever come so fast in his life, but he blames it on how pent up he’s been, how he’s been thinking nonstop about Suguru inside him, pumping him full of come until he’s dripping with it, until their DNA’s merge together and they become one entity. It’s obscene and disgusting and shameful but Satoru is too fucked out to care right now.
Suguru, though, isn't done. When he comes up for air, his chin and lips are glistening with Satoru’s spend, some of it even drips down onto the bed beneath them, and in the haze of Satoru’s post orgasm, his stomach constricting and hole fluttering as he breathes in harshly, he notices the glint in Suguru’s eyes, in how there’s mischief there.
“What?” He asks, near delirious. He thinks he might have drooled a bit, the spit trail already drying on his chin. He wipes it away discreetly as Suguru leans over him, and Satoru can smell his arousal on his mouth, can taste it as Suguru dips his tongue into his mouth, dragging a hand down his torso before lightly brushing the head of Satoru’s dick.
Suguru is quiet as he kisses Satoru deep and slow before he speaks again, but it's with a tone Satoru has never quite heard before, other than at the church where he’s dragged to every Sunday, when the preacher tells everyone to bow their heads and pray, when he's on his knees and asking God for forgiveness of his sins. It’s spoken so quietly and so softly that Satoru almost doesn't hear it.
“You’re so handsome. I wanna worship that ground ya walk on.” Satoru pulls away, watches as the string of saliva between them breaks. He watches as Suguru stares at him, unflinching, golden eyes bright in the lamp light, and Satoru thinks he might be in love.
“Be my guest.” He whispers, and Suguru smiles at him, those piercings in his lip pulling at his mouth, taught, and Satoru wants to feel them against him again, to have that wicked mouth pry him open and give him everything .
“Oh, darlin’,” Suguru groans, pulling away to finally, oh God, finally pull his wretched jeans off his legs, the boots getting stuck in the bottoms as he struggles. Even in the struggle, Satoru finds him ethereal, all muscle and tanned skin, a tattoo Satoru didn’t realize he had snaking along his ribs down towards his waistline. He realizes it's a dragon, the tail end of it dipping into the crease where his cock hangs low, the base of it hidden between lush and curly hair. His mouth fills with saliva at the thought of that cock hitting the back of his throat, the taste of him musky and raw. “‘m gonna ruin you.”
Satoru knows as well as anything that what Suguru says is a promise, a premonition of what's to come, and he feels it in the way his cock jumps from between his legs, his cunt spasming with the way Suguru looks at him. He looks like he wants to eat him alive, to rip the flesh off his bones and suck the marrow from him, leaving him as nothing and everything all at once.
He whimpers, because what else is there to do when you have a hungry man above you, his dick long and hard, the tip dripping with unshed precome, pulsing and hot from where it settles near his own core? Satoru has no idea how that is supposed to fit in him. Call him cliche for saying that, but he's not a virgin, he’s had his fair share of dick, but Suguru is a different breed.
He feels like he has no accurate way to describe the cock in front of him, but his throat dries up, pussy spurting out slick when he notices the underside, the way the light catches on piercings. Five barbells are nestled along his frenulum down to his balls, spaced evenly apart. Satoru shivers, his heart racing.
“Your dick is pierced.” He observes. Suguru looks at him and smiles. It’s a glint in the light, teeth shining and Satoru is nervous again. “God.” He moans out, leaning up against the headboard. “Oh, God.”
“That’s not my name, sweetheart.” Suguru grins at him, leaning back over Satoru, that pierced cock slides in between his legs, the head catching slightly on his hood and he bites his lip. Suguru’s cockhead is thick, the feeling of the metal aches against Satoru’s growth and he throbs, arms coming up to hold Suguru’s face.
Satoru makes a face at him. “You’re stupid.” But it’s not an insult, it's just a thinly veiled compliment that's disguised as one, and Suguru knows it. He presses his mouth to Satoru’s again, softer this time, their bodies pressed against each other and Satoru is lifting his legs up and locking them behind Suguru’s waist. Suguru’s cock is pressed against Satoru’s, and the pressure is delicious, a moan leaving his mouth that's swallowed by Suguru’s greedy tongue.
The soft noises of their kisses fill the quiet room, the feeling of his swollen dick throbbing between his open legs where Suguru shallowly thrusts his hips, the underside brushing against his folds, the cold metal jarring against his hot skin. Satoru needs more, needs that cock inside him, coating his walls in spend, sealing them together. He says as much, the sound of it needy and demanding, but Suguru hushes him with more kisses, one of his hands wrapping around Satoru’s neck in warning, his fingers loose but holding enough weight to taunt. It makes Satoru gasp out, those long and rough fingers gripping the vulnerable bit of his neck as he tilts his head to the side.
He’s not sure what he looks like, but he knows he’s drooling again, knows there's spit shine on his torso from where Suguru runs his tongue over his chest after pulling away from their kissing. He hopes he looks good, that this version of him will be in Suguru’s mind when he goes back home, when Satoru inevitably returns to Japan at the end of the summer, that he’ll be ruined for anyone else, and wants to be ruined for everyone else.
“Tell me what ya want, darlin’.” Suguru murmurs, his body descending from Satoru’s, lower and lower until his mouth is hovering over his pubic mound. His mouth latches over Satoru’s dick again, his nose pressed flush against the hair there, sticky with sweat and glistening with arousal. “Make sure ya use your words, yeah?” Satoru knows it’s an order, a demand to speak, to communicate, but he feels like his head is filled with nothing but jelly.
He swallows down his moan as Suguru’s tongue prods at his entrance once more, the lewd sound of spit and slick mixing together causing Satoru’s body to flare red. “I want–” He whines, bucking his hips up as Suguru’s hand moves, parting his folds with two of his fingers. “I– ah –I want you to– fuck– fuck me. Please, God, just fuck me. ” Suguru groans, pulling back from Satoru with a pop.
“Good boy.” He murmurs before spitting directly onto Satoru’s hole, pressing in a hot finger that immediately has Satoru squirming. “God, look at’cha. Look how ya suck me in.” He’s pressing open mouthed kisses to Satoru’s dick, flicking his tongue over it. “I think you’ll take me with no issue, huh, sweetheart?” The pet names are sending Satoru over an edge he didn’t think he was close to, nearly tipping over that already thin line. Suguru pumps his finger in and out before slowly slipping in a second, Satoru’s pussy taking it like a champ, the slick from his arousal lubricating the area. He pauses for a moment, looking at Satoru. “Are you okay with it here? I can fuck ya elsewhere, too.”
Satoru shakes his head. “There is fine. It’s more than fine.”
Suguru groans, low and heady. “I think I wanna eat’cha alive. What do you say, darlin’?” He’s ruthless as he fingers Satoru, squelching noises filling the space.
If Satoru wasn’t drooling before, he certainly is now as his eyes roll back into his head, his own hands fondling at his chest and pulling his nipples with force, enjoying the pain it causes as it mixes with the pleasure. He’s a mess, panting and swearing, hips bucking up into Suguru’s hand that mercilessly pushes him over the edge. A third finger is added, and then a fourth, and soon Suguru is so close to just shoving his entire hand into Satoru, but he has restraint, so he doesn’t, but Satoru is so loose he should have no problem taking him to the hilt now.
“I think you’re more than ready, baby.” Suguru says, and Satoru notices how husky his voice sounds, how deep and reverberating it is as he sits up on his elbows. He held out on another orgasm, edging himself as best as he could, wanting nothing more than to come on Suguru’s cock, to milk him dry until nothing was left. “D’ya have a condom?” Satoru stares at him. “What?” Suguru asks, eyebrow raised.
“Why would I have a condom?”
It’s Suguru’s turn to be confused. “Why…wouldn’t ya?”
“Maybe because I never expected to fuck someone while I was here?” Satoru sighed. “Did we do all of this for nothing?” He asks, a little annoyed to be blue balled so close to the finish line.
Suguru shakes his head. “I’m clean. Haven’t had sex in a year or so. I do an annual ‘n I’m always good.”
“Me, too.” Satoru supplies, because he is. He always wore protection with his last partners, always got checked before and after, always made sure to check for oral and genital. He would never risk it, but with Suguru he was kind of glad they didn’t have a condom. “Please just fuck me.” He whined, and Suguru could do nothing but nod, nothing but hold his weeping dick in his hand and press it against Satoru’s entrance, teasing him. “If you’re worried about pregnancy, don’t be. We’re safe.”
“I assumed, “ Suguru grins. “I’ll go slow.” He finishes before placing Satoru's legs in a way that would make him more comfortable. Bent at the knees and wrapped around his waist. Satoru shakes his head at Suguru’s words.
“Don’t be gentle.”
Suguru groans, gripping Satoru’s thigh, leaving indents from the force of his grip. “If ya tell me that I won't hold back, sweetheart.”
Satoru whimpers, biting his lip as he grabbs the hand that’s gripping his thigh, pulling it off and bringing it to his neck. “Don’t hold back. Give me everything.” He’s shaking, shivering like the ripples of a pond where a leaf had fallen onto it, breaking the still surface. “Please.”
It’s all Suguru needs to hear, and he’s feeding his cock inch by inch into Satoru’s wet heat. They both groan, Suguru at how hot and tight Satoru was, Satoru groaning as each barbell popped past his folds. Every piercing was a stopping point, allowing Satoru a moment or two to catch his breath, to suck in lungfuls of air as he was stretched on Suguru’s girth.
He’s an incoherent mess by the time Suguru bottoms out, the hand around his throat tightening with every passing moment until his breaths come out in shallow puffs, each lungful hard to come by, and he cries out, the sound crushed and broken. Suguru moans as his hips press flush against Satoru’s, his cock buried all the way to the base, his balls hanging heavy from how full they are.
“Goddamn, Satoru.” He groans out. Satoru, who had never felt so full, nearly comes at the sound of his name as it falls from Suguru’s lips. They’re quiet for a moment, Suguru allowing Satoru to adjust, to suck him in as much as he could, before Suguru slowly pulls out, shallowly thrusting back in. “You’re suckin’ me in. You're so tight, God. I could die buried in ya.”
The thought of that has Satoru’s heart racing, his breath still cut off partially. His mouth had produced so much saliva in the last hour that he felt like he may be dehydrated after this. “Harder.” He whispers, and Suguru is a weak, weak man who would never deny this beautiful person, so he pulls all the way out until just the tip of his cock is inside Satoru before slamming his hips back.
Satoru gasps out, a choked moan cut off by the asphyxiation of his airflow, spit dribbling from his mouth. Suguru bends down, licking around his mouth as Satoru's eyes close in pleasure. He can't find it in himself to keep them open as he’s fucked within an inch of his life. He knew he was close to crying, the sides of his eyes burning with unshed tears as he let out pathetic little noises, soft ah’s and uh uh ’s leaving his mouth.
A particularly hard thrust has Satoru's eyes slamming open, Suguru panting and moaning above him being the first thing he sees. He cries out as Suguru’s hand pries open his mouth, pushing into the joints of his jaw to unhinge it. He’s still being fucked into, the headboard above him creaking with the force of it and he wraps his legs tighter around Suguru’s backside, nails scratching along his shoulder blades. Suguru’s hand presses down on Satoru's tummy.
“Ya see that?” He asks, and Satoru has to blink away the haze as he looks at what Suguru is pointing to. “Look how full ya are, precious.” And Satoru feels himself come as he notices how deep Suguru is, how his belly is extended from the force of the thrusts, the onslaught to his organs. “‘M–” He groans, deep. “‘M so deep in ya.” His words sound winded, and Satoru knows he’s just as affected. He can barely speak as Suguru presses his jaw open just a bit more, and Suguru spits directly into his mouth, and Satoru is so stunned he can't move, can't do anything until Suguru is shoving his tongue down his throat and he can taste himself on his lips, can taste their spit mixing and dribbling down his throat in a gross and disgusting way.
Satoru has never been more turned on in his life.
It’s only after a particularly hard thrust that Satoru realizes something is wrong. His previous orgasm didn't feel like this, didn't feel like it was building up lower than his belly, just under his dick. “Su–” He’s seeing stars, lightheaded when the galaxies erupt behind his eyelids. Suguru’s tongue is still down his throat, his hand tight around Satoru’s neck as he fucks into him like he’s nothing more than his own personal sex toy. “Suguru–” He tries to say, to tell him something is wrong, he feels like he’s gonna pee.
“Ya g’na come, baby?” His accent is thicker now, almost intelligible as he removes his hand from Satoru’s neck and pulls away. His chin is covered in spit and maybe some of Satoru’s tears when he realizes he’s crying.
“Hng–” Satoru tries. “Somethin’-- I can’t, ngh. ” Suguru is sitting up now, untangling Satoru’s arms from him and watching as his cock disappears between Satoru’s puffy and swollen folds. His clit is so engorged, so red and begging to be touched, so Suguru licks his fingers and touches him softly, contradictory to his harsh thrusts.
It takes Satoru no time at all before he’s coming, clamping down on Suguru’s dick. This orgasm is different, though, and he blinks his eyes as he arches his back and watches as he squirts all over Suguru, painting him in liquid that hits his chest and shoulders, some splattering on his chin. “Fu– fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck .” He cries out, thrusting his hips as Suguru keeps working him through it, holding his hips still. “ Please please please please pleasepleaseplease.”
“ Please , ‘Toru.” Suguru whines. “Let me come in ya, please? Please, precious? Can I come in ya?” Satoru is full on sobbing now as he nods, overstimulated as Suguru keeps rubbing his dick, keeps thrusting shallowly before he groans, gripping Satoru’s hips so harshly it hurts, and Satoru knows he’ll be bruised.
Then, Suguru comes, filling him up with so much seed that Satoru feels like he’s going to have to plug it up, lest it drip out. “Fuck, baby. Fuck, fuck yeah take it,” Suguru is babbling as he keeps going, his whole body shaking violently as he empties his balls deep into Satoru. “You’re so good, so good. Ya take it so well.”
A third orgasm washes over Satoru then, less forceful than the last, the remnants of his arousal releasing from him in soft waves, and Suguru is pulling out slowly, quick to plug his fingers into Satoru’s hole to keep it from spilling out. He barely gets a reprieve, though, before Suguru is bending him at the waist, pulling his bottom half into the air before attaching his mouth to his hole and sucking harshly.
A quick breath punches itself out of Satoru at the sight, and it’s the hottest thing he has ever seen. He’s delirious as Suguru unceremoniously drops him back onto the bed, pulling Satoru's face up from the pillows with his hand and pressing their lips together. A salty mixture coats Satoru’s tongue and his cock pulses as he realizes Suguru has just sucked his own come from Satoru’s ruined hole and spat it into his mouth.
He whines as Suguru pushes his tongue deeper into his mouth, keeping his jaw open as Satoru clenches around nothing. He wants to go again, swallowing up the come and spit and his own arousal, sticking his tongue out to show Suguru his work. The other man just grins at him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and stretching his arms above his head.
Suguru looks back at Satoru, still grinning, and stands up from the bed before making his way to the bathroom connected to Satoru’s room. A few moments later he rounds the corner, holding a small towel and the glass that Satoru keeps next to his sink to rinse his mouth out. The glass is filled with water, and the towel is wet, so Satoru sits against the headboard as Suguru carefully wipes him down, handing him the glass so Satoru can drink from it.
The water is refreshing, cooling his throat and settling in his tummy. The towel is chilly on his skin and he shivers as the fan blows cool air on his now frigid skin. Suguru is gentle in his ministrations, wiping down Satoru’s thighs that’re sticky, runs the cloth over his neck, the clean side over his face, places a kiss to his forehead.
When he’s cleaned off, Suguru settles beside him, tossing the towel into some corner of the room and brings Satoru into his lap. They don’t talk about the inevitable, the way they will depart from each other soon, the fact that, when September comes, they’ll go their separate ways, an ocean's length between them, fourteen hours of time. They don’t talk about how this seemingly changed everything and nothing at all, or how they don’t have a game plan for the future. Satoru knows he doesn't want this to be a one time thing, but while he rests against Suguru’s chest, head tucked under his chin with his heart beating steadily in his chest, he thinks Suguru doesn't, either.
They don't speak for the rest of the night, instead opting to lay down, Satoru as the little spoon, his back pressed against Suguru’s chest. They fall asleep like that, and when Satoru wakes the next morning, the sun rising through the window, blinding him, he finds Suguru gone, the space where he lay cold. There’s a note on the bedside table, and Satoru grabs it, blinking away the sleep from his eyes.
Good morning, sweetheart.
Had a horse to break in. We’ll talk more at lunch. Thank you for such a wonderful night.
Suguru
As Satoru wakes up fully, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his neck, he smiles and watches the sun rise in the sky, sees Suguru out in the pasture in clean clothes, not yet dirtied by an errant horse, and feels a giddiness well up inside him. He thinks it’ll be fine, they’ll figure things out, but for now he’s got things to do. There’s a hole in the roof of the barn that needs mending and chickens to catch for dinner, so as he gets dressed, he looks forward to their talk at lunch, and hopes more than anything that this won't be the last time he’ll find himself in bed with Suguru.