anything you want
InuKai, 400 words, NC17.
No plot, just sex. Sorry about that. Or not.
Kiss me, Inui says, and turns his face to Kaidoh. Kaidoh blushes, blinks, opens his mouth and Inui slides their tongues together, slick and rough and wet. Inui's hand is up the back of Kaidoh's shirt on hot hot skin, curving over corded muscles and bumps of vertebrae: cervical, thoracic, lumbar, sacrum, coccyx.
Kaidoh arches his back, like he does, he can't stay still, and somehow Inui always thinks of eel. It shouldn't be a sexy thought, but the shiver, the shimmer of his body, of Kaidoh slipping through Inui's hands, alive and moving, is almost more than Inui can bear.
Inui pulls off Kaidoh's shirt and mouths his collarbone, his shoulder. He rubs his face under Kaidoh's arm. He wants to tell Kaidoh not to bathe for a week, so he can dizzy himself in the smell.
Senpai, Kaidoh says and pushes Inui down, straddles him, uncovers him a piece at a time. His hands are never gentle and Inui likes it, likes the dull glow in Kaidoh's eyes, the way his mouth falls open as he breathes.
Inui puts two fingers into Kaidoh's mouth and Kaidoh sucks them, licks the ridges of Inui's fingerprints. He's good at sucking, he's good at everything. Inui pulls him down and kisses him until Kaidoh turns his head away, please, now, he says to Inui, please.
Yes, yes, Inui says in Kaidoh's ear and slides his tongue in after. Kaidoh jerks beneath him, no, please, bites his lip. Inui licks his palm and wraps his hand around Kaidoh's cock, up and down and up and no please yes. Inui swallows the words, deep into his belly, and rubs the jizz into Kaidoh's skin.
Kaidoh wilts, dead panting weight, and Inui tongues his throat. Now me, he says, wake up, my turn, and Kaidoh rouses himself to sit, bend over, rub Inui's cock against his cheek. He sucks it down, lips, tongue, fingers, and Inui's fucking drowning, no breath in his lungs, the sea singing in his ears.
They cling together after, sleepy, blind with pleasure. What do you want? Inui says, I'll give you anything you want. Kaidoh's mouth on Inui's arm, in the crook of his elbow, nothing, senpai, nothing.
Kaidoh's hair is black and damp and almost curling in the summer heat. Inui hides his fingers in it, finds them, loses them again. Kaidoh puts his tongue to Inui's skin.
Kiss me, Inui says.