Work Text:
Manhattan - 2003
The delicate seconds hand laid on the face of the stainless steel watch on Kento’s wrist quietly ticks as another minute passes. The gentle hum of the car's engine fills the silent air between Kento and the driver as they accelerate uptown. Expensive retail shops and evening joggers en route to Central Park woosh by as they pass. It’s the usual view Kento sees on his drive back from his office, and he considers it a rather enjoyable transition from the office. This evening in particular he feels lighter and relaxed, due in part by the merger he's been heading finally coming to a resolution. Months of gratuitous demands from his client that forced him to forgo plans to spend his summer in The Hamptons with his husband and son are over.
Speaking of Satoru, he eyes the wine-red gift bag sat on the seat next to him. A requested present to make up for his noticeable absence from home. Satoru had not-so-patiently been waiting for the merger to conclude months ago, and decided that this is how Kento would make up for it. Despite Kento’s often exasperation and indifference towards his husband’s high-end taste, he does enjoy indulging him more than he cares to admit.
Here in Manhattan from their Hamptons house for a mid-week visit, Satoru is currently awaiting his arrival at their apartment. Still unable to keep their hands off each other after years of marriage, the temporary separation caused by Kento’s work deemed it necessary for Satoru to make the trips out. Kento is looking forward to informing him that the trips would no longer be necessary, and he would be moving his office out to their summer home as originally planned. Particularly, their sex life will no longer be on a rigid schedule.
The car pulls in front of the Art Deco building and the driver promptly opens the door for Kento. Draping his suit jacket over his arm and grabbing the red bag, Kento gets out and walks through the lobby towards the elevators, the click of his dress shoes on the marble floor echoing around him.
The elevator climbs the floors and eventually dings open on the sixteenth. Kento stands in the hallway and reaches into the bag for the polished cork box to give it another look before going in. Popping the box open, the timepiece is perfectly nestled in the white soft leather padding. Diamonds encrusted around the face glimmer, even in the light of the hallway, and the white gold strap shines brilliantly. Satisfied, he shuts the box and places it back in the bag.
Once the door closes behind him, Kento can hear the sound of Satoru hurrying from their bedroom to greet him. He’s just able to slip off his shoes before Satoru rounds the corner of the foyer and pulls him into an embrace.
“Hi,” Kento says as he wraps his free arm around Satoru’s middle, his face softening from it’s perpetual stoicism.
“God, I missed you,” says Satoru before tilting Kento’s chin up to meet him for a kiss.
As they always are, Satoru’s lips are soft and invite him to deepen the kiss, moving his tongue into Satoru’s mouth. Kento drops his hand to the crest of Satoru’s rear, feeling the nothing he has on under the robe that he’s wearing. Satoru takes it as a signal and backs Kento to the front door, pressing into him.
Kento breaks the kiss by tipping his head back. “Not yet,” he says, brushing his fingers along the ends of Satoru’s snow white hair and down the side of his neck. “I have something for you, as promised. And news—good news.”
Taking notice of the red gift bag in Kento’s hand, Satoru smiles. “Two for the price of one? And you say I can't budget.”
“Hmph, let’s go to the living room,” Kento replies, mildly humored. “I need a drink.”
Satoru gives him a quick kiss and turns on his heel to walk towards the living room. The space is nothing short of decadent: dragonfly and heron-print wallpaper that Satoru had talked him into, chic furnishings expertly placed throughout, a chandelier from some artist he'd never heard of from Berlin hangs from the ceiling, and accented with photos of them together throughout the years and with their baby. If nouveau riche has a look, this is most certainly it.
“Is that new?” Kento asks as he watches Satoru mosey to the bar cart with the intricately embroidered dark blue fabric of the robe billowing behind, his waist perfectly cinched by the belt.
“It is! My stuff came today,” Satoru explains as he opens a bottle of bourbon. A single ice cube clinks into the crystal glass before the mahogany-brown liquid is poured on top of it. “I was trying some of it on, seeing if anything needs to be burned.”
Kento gives him a once over as he walks back, admiring how the robe drapes over his lean, muscular frame. He doesn't care to be inconspicuous about it as he takes the glass in hand and sips it.
“Do you like?” asks Satoru as he loosens the tie knotted around Kento’s collar.
“Mm,” Kento mumbles in affirmation with the glass still on his lips, enjoying the smooth burn of the alcohol down his throat. “Very much.”
“‘Very much’, look who’s in a good mood.” Satoru smiles as he situates himself on the couch, gesturing for Kento to come and sit. “That dirty slut Greg get fired or something?”
Carefully putting the gift bag on the coffee table in front of them, Kento joins him. Satoru scoots in a comfortable distance to caress the back of Kento’s neck, and drape his bare legs over his thighs clad in suit pants.
“Unfortunately not,” Kento replies, although amused at the thought of his dirtbag of a coworker getting terminated by the firm. “The Dumont-Prix deal closed, finally. They signed the contract this afternoon, and I'm free from all of their shit.”
“Seriously?” Satoru perks up, face brightening. “That belligerent zucchini finally gave in and signed?”
Kento gives him a short nod.
“And here I thought I'd have to pull whatever plug is keeping that raisin alive to save you.” Satoru grins and pulls him into a succession of congratulatory kisses.
A quietly pleased smile rests on Kento’s lips as they part, sitting back into the cushions. The light playing off of the platinum linked chain around Satoru's neck draws his attention to the skin exposed by the deep V of the loosely wrapped robe. The muscle of his abdomen is a tight and defined as ever, filling out his lean frame like he was born this way. It tempts him, but he decides to keep himself to his own word and wait, despite his growing desires to celebrate the success.
Satoru places a runaway piece of hair back in it’s place on Kento’s head. “Now I don’t have to worry about that boy accidentally slipping and falling onto your dick.”
“How many times do you want me to repeat myself?” Kento says in exasperation. “My assistant is doing his job, not trying to have an affair with me.”
“Please, Kento, don't be dense,” Satoru scoffs at the suggestion of presumed innocence. “That little twink is dying for you to bend him over your desk. I see how he looks at you, blushing every time you notice his existence like a fucking schoolboy.”
Kento takes a deep breath and throws back the rest of his drink. There's no disputing Satoru's long and storied history of possessiveness that predates their marriage or move to New York; the accusations, a healthy smattering of toothless threats, public fights that ended with a desperate fuck in a bathroom stall. Ego drives insecurity, after all, and Satoru's conceit has yet to be matched.
That can't be entirely to blame for the current object of his jealousy, though. Out of the vast majority of Wall Street financiers and bankers, Kento is primarily alone in the fact that he isn't having at least one affair or hiring hookers to blow him under his desk. Not exactly the sort of environment to breed fidelity to one's spouse.
“Enough,” Kento states dryly, his empty glass tapping down on the table punctuating it. “I would never.”
Satoru frowns and touches his hand to Kento’s cheek. His voice strategically softens as he says, “I know you wouldn't. It's him I don't trust, spending all those late nights with you when you should be home with me.”
“That’s about to change,” Kento offers, melting at the pouty expression on his face.
“You’re right,” Satoru says with a coy smile. “Daddy's all mine again.”
Kento feels himself get warm at the name, and brushes his knuckle against Satoru’s cheek to feel the satiny smoothness of his fair skin. Satoru knows exactly what he's doing to him, and he does it very well. Every look, movement, word, tone, Daddy, makes him want to fuck him into whatever floor they happen to be on.
Satoru takes his hand and kisses it. “Now we have an excuse to celebrate,” he says slyly, putting their hands in his lap. “We need to have a little fun.” He settles into the cushioning of the couch and takes a conspicuous glance over to the gift on the table.
Kento takes the obvious hint and pulls his hand away. “Before I hear how you propose we do that,” he says preemptively, leaning forward and gingerly hooking his fingers under the handle of the bag. “Open this.”
Eagerness and excitement overtakes Satoru’s expression as he takes the package, swinging his legs off of Kento and sitting up to place it evenly in his lap. Looking to savor the moment, he slowly pulls the box from the bag. Kento sees Satoru’s face illuminate as he pops open the jewelry box, his eyes and grin growing wide at the sight of the wristwatch glimmering with diamonds. As he looks on, his lips turn up ever so slightly. Spoiling him like he does has always probably been a bad idea, but he can’t help himself when this is the reaction he gets. The glowing smile would be enough, but the sex that comes after never hurts.
“It’s perfect,” Satoru exclaims as he takes the piece from the leather cushioning. He holds out his wrist and the watch to Kento, now comes his favorite part.
Kento slips it over his long fingers and large palm, latching it around his wrist. He holds back a sigh of relief that he doesn’t need to have the band altered to fit him properly. Satoru slightly twists his wrist to watch the diamonds catch the light, biting his lip as his grin persists. It’s the most expensive singular item that Kento’s bought him, save the G-Wagon he had purchased him prior to the birth of their son.
“Are you wearing yours?” Satoru asks, tearing his eyes away from the timepiece.
“I am,” Kento answers.
Satoru grabs his hand and places their watches next to each other. The stainless steel and white gold pressed side by side, the tiny lettering of Patek Philippe is embossed just below the twelves on both of them. “Now we match,” he says happily, letting go of Kento’s hand.
“I’m glad you like it,” says Kento coolly.
“I love it,” Satoru corrects him, taking his chin in his hand and kissing him. “You’re so good to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Kento meets his lips again, placing his hand on the back of his neck as he slips his tongue into Satoru’s mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Satoru removes the jewelry box from his lap and haphazardly puts it on the edge of the coffee table.
That obstacle out of the way, he shifts himself on the couch, swinging his leg over Kento’s thighs to straddle him. The silk robe parts with his legs and exposes more of his skin. Kento slides his hands around his waist to the small of his back, pressing him in closer. The only kind of celebration he’s interested in right now is a celebratory fuck. He breaks from Satoru’s lips to go down and aside, planting kisses along his neck.
“You should come to the bedroom with me,” Satoru suggests, taking a fistfull of Kento’s hair and pulling his head roughly backwards. “Come see some of my new things.”
“Are you going to be a tease tonight?” Kento asks, his sexual frustration beginning to come to a peak.
Satoru smirks down at him. “Don’t you want a little taste of how good I’m going to look this season?” he asks innocently, tracing his finger down Kento’s temple and cheek. “How good I’ll look just for you?” Tapping the same finger on the tip of Kento’s nose.
Kento gently knocks his hand away from his face. “Fine. I’d love to see the coat that cost me five grand.”
Satoru lightly laughs at his comment, unphased by his dry sarcasm.
After Satoru tops off his empty whiskey glass, they make their way to their bedroom. Kento's eyes wander over his backside as he walks behind, nursing the drink in his hand and thinking about his cock disappearing inside of it. There's a part of himself that's tempted to lift up the robe and take him against the wall in the hallway, he can see his new wardrobe later. But by the time he makes any sort of move to do so, the door to their suite is already opening and Satoru is stepping inside.
Boxes and bags of all different colors are being thrown up by the closet and slipping out into the bedroom. Half of them Satoru hadn’t gotten the chance to open, it looks like it would take hours to get through all the items. On a portable rack garments hang with designer’s names splashed across the protective covers.
Kento can't complain too much about the presumed excessive cost considering his his bespoke suits are upwards of ten grand each and rotate out seasonally. They have different routes in how they dress themselves considering their different vocations and Satoru's pedigree, but it's flagrantly lavish all the same.
“Organizing tomorrow,” Satoru mentions as Kento takes in the outlandish sight. “Probably, maybe, or whenever.”
“Christ,” Kento murmurs, placing his glass on the nightstand and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Leaving himself in his undershirt, he gets on the bed as Satoru unzips one of the coat covers on the rack. He takes his wallet uncomfortably poking into his thigh out of his pants pocket and lays it alongside the glass.
The black leather jacket is trimmed with dyed sheepskin, the designer's name obnoxiously printed on the the collar, and it couldn't look better on him. The black of the coat brings out all of his eye-catching features, and the shearling will give him an irresistible warmth in the dead of winter. He looks expensive, and it's suiting.
“Isn’t it nice?” Satoru proudly pushes the cuff up to show off the new wristwatch. “I think it goes,” he says with a wink.
“It suits you, everything does,” Kento says, sipping on his whiskey.
Satoru’s mouth lifts into a content smile as he slips his arms out of the jacket and replaces it on the hanger.
“I got things for Haruki too; our baby is gonna look like a pimp,” Satoru says, zipping up the cover. “I'll turn him into a mini version of me.”
Kento gives a dry laugh into his glass and downs the rest of it. “I’ll inform our accountant about the future trouble I'll be in.”
“Future?” Satoru wades over to him. “You have been in trouble from the beginning.”
“Mm,” Kento agrees as he takes Satoru into his arms as he straddles him.
Their kiss is far more eager as they both instantly open their mouths to let their tongues glide against each other. Kento lets one hand fall to Satoru’s ass and begins to grope it as his other travels over his back. Satoru arches his back into the touch, his fingers brushing up the buzz of the golden-blonde undercut and knotting into his hair.
Sliding his hand down Satoru’s thigh, Kento's comes across something hidden away in his pocket. He breaks the kiss to look down at the foreign object covered by the silk. There’s something about the shape of the outline that’s familiar to him. “What’s this?” he asks, raising his head to meet Satoru’s eyes.
A devious grin tugs at Satoru’s lips. “A celebration,” he answers.
Kento lifts an eyebrow at him. “Enlighten me.”
Satoru cocks his head to the side as he reaches inside of his pocket and pulls out what looks like an oversized heart shaped locket. It slowly spins as it dangles from the chain in his hand. So Kento’s inclination was correct, and it is the locket he had been familiar with throughout their years together. His eyes go from the heart to Satoru.
“I thought we had agreed we wouldn’t anymore after Haruki was born.”
“Haruki is two and a half hours away, asleep in his crib with a nanny to take care of him,” Satoru convinces, cradling Kento’s face in both hands. “Daddies are still allowed to have fun.”
Kento lets out a deep exhale as he considers. Satoru is right, their son is all the way in The Hamptons being taken care of, and they’re together in their Manhattan home. He stares at Satoru for a few more moments as his cheek is stroked by Satoru’s thumb, then reaches for his wallet. Opening it he takes out a crisp hundred dollar bill and holds it out in between his two forefingers.
“Yay,” Satoru says, taking the bill in his hands.
Leaning over to the nightstand, Satoru opens the locket and shakes some of the white powder onto the surface. He takes Kento’s credit card and shapes it into four thin lines. He rolls up the bill in his hand and uses it to quickly snort up two of them. Sitting up, he shakes his head and sniffs as he wipes any excess away.
Kento takes the rolled bill from him and does the same to the remaining two, the burn from the powder shooting up his nose.
When Kento takes his hand away from his nose, Satoru grabs his jaw in his hand and presses their lips into a fervent kiss. Satoru pulls the tucked undershirt free from Kento’s suit pants and breaks the kiss to pull it over his head. Caressing over Kento’s chest, Satoru’s thumbs rub over his pert nipples.
Kento sighs as he gropes Satoru’s rear, a wave of blood rushing to his groin.
“Get this off of you,” Kento says, pulling at the belt around Satoru’s waist. He parts the robe and slides it off of his shoulders, the fabric pools around him in a sea of blue. Exposed is Satoru’s half hard shaft with a meticulously groomed nest of white hair around it.
Kento’s eyes travel from his cock, up his torso, to his widened, dilated eyes. The bulge in his suit pants grows at the sight of his husband’s naked body, just as he feels the cocaine begin to take effect on him.
“I wanna do a line off your tits,” Satoru says, grabbing the locket from the nightstand.
Kento is unable to hold back a short laugh. “Why do you call them that when you're high? Stop it.”
“I’m so sorry, Baby,” Satoru says sarcastically as he sticks his lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Your very masculine pectoral muscles that I love very much and want to do coke off of all day long.” He shakes out more powder down the middle of Kento’s chest in a haphazard line.
This time he forgoes the rolled bill and opts to snort it directly with his nose. When the line is gone, Satoru dips down and licks the remnants of it. His tongue connecting to Kento’s as he meets him for an open mouthed kiss.
Satoru goes for Kento’s belt as their mouths move desperately against each other. He unzips the suit pants and shimmies himself down Kento’s legs, pulling the slacks and his underwear off as he inches backwards.
Kento’s breathing begins to get heavy as his heartbeat speeds up from the combination of anticipation and cocaine. He wets his bottom lip as he watches Satoru wrap his hand around the base of his cock and taps the flushed head playfully against his stuck-out tongue.
“I’ve wanted to suck you off so bad,” says Satoru, stroking his hand over him and giving the tip a wet kiss. When he drags his tongue underneath the length of Kento’s shaft and makes him sigh, he smiles at the sound.
As Satoru flits his tongue at the slit and circles around, Kento scoops out some of the powder with the corner of his credit card and sniffs it away. His breath catches as Satoru swipes his tongue under the head and he tosses the metal card to the floor with a clack.
Disappointingly, Satoru stops working his tongue to press Kento's shaft to his cheek like it's his new favorite toy and hums happily. “So fucking perfect,” he mumbles with his squished cheek, then gives it more kisses along the side. “Let me rip a line off it.”
Kento looks at him in disbelief. “Off my dick?”
Satoru grins up at him. “Yes.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Kento says, trying to keep focus as Satoru’s thumb rubs a pattern of circles around the head, moistening it with the little pearls of precum forming.
“I’m an innovator,” Satoru replies, taking his hand away and reaching for the locket. He hops off the bed and gets on his knees on the floor, waiting excitedly.
Kento stares at him for a second before he gets up and stands in front of him. Satoru takes his cock in his hand and carefully spills out the substance in a messy line across it. He takes a glance up at Kento with excited eyes.
“I might need two breaths,” he says, making Kento lightly snort at the implication. He proceeds to inhale the powder, actually having to take it in two sniffs as said, then licks a line to pick up any residue leftover.
“Happy?” Kento asks as Satoru brushes away the excess.
“You know I’m always happy when I have your cock in my mouth,” he answers, and sinks his mouth over his shaft, wrapping his lips around him.
A heavy sigh is released from Kento at the sensation, his hands instinctively combing Satoru’s hair away from his forehead and holding it tight in his fist. His head lolls backwards and his eyes flutter closed as Satoru takes him further into his warm, wet mouth.
Satoru breathes heavily through his nose as bobs his head, the hand he had been using to cover the space his lips hadn’t been reaching is taken away. He places his hands on Kento’s hips as he opens his throat to take more.
Breaths turn shaky as Kento feels the end of Satoru’s nose press into his pubic hair. The sound of him gagging reaches his ears and he tips his head forward to get a look. Crystal-blue eyes welling with tears and an unholy amount of saliva leaking from his lips, Satoru blinks up as he gently tugs on his balls. He pulls his head back only to do it over again and again, making Kento's voice quiver considerably before finally pulling off with a loud gasp.
“Get back on the bed,” Kento say through a heavy exhale.
“Mm-mm, I'm not done with you,” replies Satoru, and looks up at him with a questioning brow as he wets his finger with saliva.
Kento nods as he feels the tip of Satoru’s finger circle his asshole while his hand strokes his cock.
“Relax, Baby,” Satoru says, increasing the pressure on the tight ring of muscle.
“I am.” Kento’s tone is slightly frustrated, and he takes a deep breath. “A-Ahh.”
The stuttering gasp comes as Satoru’s finger slowly slides inside of him. His eyes pinch closed and he bites down on his bottom lip as he feels it push in deeper, then joined by a second. He lets it go as Satoru takes him back into his mouth, a moan coming up from his chest.
“Shit.” The curse hitches in his throat as Satoru presses down on his prostate, the sensation making him nearly come. Hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks, Satoru bobs his head faster as he continues to crook his finger inside of him. Kento’s breathing becomes more erratic and heavy, involuntary groans escaping him. “I’m gonna—Mm! I’m gonna come.” Kento’s eyebrows knit together as he grits his teeth.
Satoru hums in satisfied acknowledgement.
Just as he feels the vibrations from the hum around his erection, his hips twitch and he’s comming hard into Satoru’s mouth. A shudder runs up his spine as Satoru suckles on the head of his cock. His eyes open and he looks down at Satoru swallowing, then giving his shaft a few more kitten licks as he removes his finger. The withdrawal of Satoru’s fingers from him makes his jaw clench, but his tongue still lapping at his cockhead soothes it.
A satisfied smile forms on Satoru’s face as he gets off of his knees, and he pulls Kento into a kiss. The saltiness of his orgasm is tasted by Kento as their tongues meet each other. Reaching down to grab Satoru’s thighs, Kento lifts him off the ground and disposes of him onto the plush comforter. He bounces at the impact of his back hitting the mattress, laughing giddily as he backs himself to the pillows with Kento crawling into the bed after him, his arousal still on full display.
Their lips meet for a few seconds before Kento goes to open his nightstand drawer, taking out a bottle of lube and the heart-shaped locket. The cocaine is shaken out onto Satoru’s chest and he holds down one nostril as he inhales it. Satoru reaches up and brushes his finger gently on his nose.
“You better fuck me senseless,” Satoru says, pulling his legs back.
The shadow of a smirk can be seen on Kento’s lips as he pours the lubricant onto his fingers and warms it up. Impatient to be inside him, he rubs his two fingers against Satoru’s asshole once before pushing them in. As he starts to pump his hand, Satoru lets out low moans as he’s stretched open.
Dipping down to kiss and nip at Satoru’s neck, Kento curls his fingers to press on his prostate, pulling moans of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ from him. The sounds make Kento’s cock ache to replace his fingers, at this point he’s painfully hard and beads of precum are leaking from him. He slowly removes them and grabs the lube.
“Turn around,” Kento says as he slicks the product over his shaft.
“Anything for you,” Satoru says playfully, a little breathless and gets on his hands and knees.
Positioning himself behind Satoru, Kento lines up with his opening and pushes inside of him. The throaty groan that comes up from Kento’s chest is met with a loud whine from Satoru at the insertion. Steadily, Kento begins to thrust his hips, inching deeper and deeper inside of him.
“Come on, Kento,” Satoru swings his hand back and smacks him hard on the ass, making him jerk forward, "fuck me.”
That was all he needed to firmly grasp onto Satoru’s waist and pull him back onto his cock as he thrusts into him fast and hard. The skin slapping sound which Satoru had been clearly craving fills the room. Satoru's chain is swinging back and forth with such force it keeps hitting his chest. His knuckles turn white as he fists the bedding tightly in his two hands, keeping himself upright on his arms as Kento fucks into him.
Falling forward, Kento wraps his arm around Satoru’s chest and presses his lips to the back of his neck as he keeps his rhythm. The thrusts are rougher than they need to be, should be, but he can't stop himself from pounding into him. The sound of the guttural whines leaving him and hitting his ears are heavenly, and he needs them.
“You’re gonna make me— Fuck!” Satoru shouts as he feels Kento’s cock rub his prostate in just the right place. “Touch me, fucking touch me,” he begs desperately. “You’re gonna make me come.”
Kento unhooks his arm from around Satoru’s collarbones and reaches down to pump his hand over his cock, precum spilling out of it. Right as Kento knows he’s about to reach his release, he suddenly stills and squeezes his hand around the base of Satoru’s shaft. Not yet, not this fast, he's enjoying it far too much to let him finish now.
Satoru’s eyes pop open as he winces. “No, please, I wan-I want—” he hisses air through his teeth as Kento swiftly pulls out. Turning around with a pouting face and bloodshot eyes, he whimpers, “Daddy?”
Kento's cock twitches in his stroking hand, because of course it does when he says it like that. He rips his eyes away from Satoru's face to take a single glance down to his puckering hole; puffy and pink and begging to be filled up.
“I always give you what you want,” Kento says breathlessly as he flips Satoru onto his back. “You’ll live.”
Sweat covers Satoru’s face, neck and chest in a clear, glistening sheen. The white locks of hair that so effortlessly flow across his forehead have separated into damp clumps. His eyes are glassy with wide pupils. A gorgeous mess. God knows what he looks like himself, Kento thinks as he feels droplets of sweat run in between his shoulder blades and down the side of his temple. Taking a second, he pushes the clumped white hair back away from Satoru's face.
One of his greatest discoveries when they first began dating was how absurdly flexible Satoru is. The way that he can be bent every which way when they were fucking is a gift that never stops giving. So when Kento pins Satoru's legs back like he's folding up a lawn chair, the position couldn't be more welcomed.
Kento noisily kisses him before he pants, “I love fucking you like this,” then pushes back inside of him.
It isn’t long before Kento can feel himself quickly climb to his climax, the pleasure of the friction and speed becoming overwhelming. With Satoru whining and moaning slack jawed below him, he can hardly keep himself together. He's not sure if it's in his head, or if the bed is actually thumping against the wall. He takes Satoru’s shaft in his hand.
“Yes, fuck me,” Satoru gasps as he looks up into Kento’s eyes, his fingers tugging on the golden blond hair. “Please, please, please, fuck me, Daddy—fuck—"
Only a few pumps is necessary, and Satoru is shooting heavy spurts of cum onto his stomach, the ribbons of white making it all the way up to his chest.
The pulsating tightness around Kento’s cock has his hips sputter out of time as he cums inside of Satoru. He’s sure that if he kept his eyes open his vision would’ve dotted black from the intensity. His head drops down against Satoru’s cheek as he evens out his breath and regains some semblance of steadiness.
Satoru grabs his jaw to kiss him. The kiss is sloppy and loud, their tongues moving together between their open mouths. Kento takes the opportunity to ease out of him, his cum slowly rolling out in beads.
“You’re so mean,” Satoru says, gently pushing Kento’s cheek.
“You deserved it,” Kento replies. “I spoil you too much for my taste.”
Satoru smiles weakly. “Tell your taste there's no such thing.”
“So you may think,” Kento says, quickly kissing his lips then getting up off the bed. He takes the new watch off of Satoru’s limp wrist and casually places it next to his. “Let’s get in the shower; we're both a mess.”
“You’re hilarious if you think I’m walking anywhere after you fucked me like that,” Satoru says, reaching his arms up to him and making grabby hands.
“Fine,” Kento resigns and slips his arms underneath Satoru's upper back and knees. After lifting him off of the mattress with a grunt, Satoru drapes his arm around his shoulders, and makes happy sounds as they head to their en suite bathroom.
“I think you should do this every time,” Satoru says with a grin as his feet touch the tile of the floor.
Kento snorts as he turns on the water. “Maybe if you want me to develop back problems by the time I’m thirty.”
“That’s impossible with your fucking body,” replies Satoru, giving Kento’s ass a smack on his way to the water raining down from the showerhead.
Kento rolls his eyes with a subtle smile as he follows him inside the steaming shower, immediately pulled into an embrace as the droplets of water hit his skin.