Chapter Text
"Suguru rides Satoru’s thigh like it’s the only thing keeping him alive—and then he decides being filled twice over isn’t enough. Not until the strongest is trembling under his hands."
Power Bottom Suguru, Grinding (thigh riding), Overstimulation, Wall sex (rough, desperate), Hand pinning & light restraint, Praise + subtle degradation, Sweat, mess, and clothing partially on, Soft aftercare (cleaning, water, kisses)
Suguru was already in his lap by the time Satoru realized this wasn’t just casual teasing anymore.
The couch creaked softly under their combined weight. Satoru’s long legs were sprawled wide, one knee bouncing with barely contained energy while Suguru straddled his thigh, all liquid grace and quiet malice. His long hair was loose tonight, slipping forward to curtain his face as he pressed down, hips rolling in a slow, deliberate grind.
“You’re making a mess,” Satoru murmured, blue eyes glinting with mischief and tension alike. His hand twitched against the cushion like he wanted to grab Suguru’s waist, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the smug set to Suguru’s mouth. Or the low, pleased sound he made as he rubbed himself harder against Satoru’s thigh.
“That’s the point,” Suguru replied, voice smooth, languid, almost mocking. “I told you not to touch. Just watch.”
And watch Satoru did.
Suguru’s sweatpants were already clinging damp between his legs where his cock strained, dragging over the muscle of Satoru’s thigh again and again. Each roll of his hips was perfectly controlled—like he wasn’t fucking himself desperately but instead orchestrating a slow, exquisite torture for both of them.
“Fuck, you’re obscene,” Satoru muttered. His grin was sharp, but his throat bobbed when Suguru deliberately rocked down harder, letting the friction drag a low moan out of him.
“You like it,” Suguru breathed, his voice catching. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”
Satoru’s hands flexed again, his fingers curling into fists against the cushions. “You’re testing me.”
“I am,” Suguru admitted freely, meeting Satoru’s hungry gaze with a calm, devastating smile. “What’ll you do if I don’t stop?”
Satoru’s laugh came out strained, breathless. “You really wanna find out?”
Suguru’s hips stuttered slightly, the first crack in his composure. He exhaled shakily, head tipping back for just a moment. “Not yet,” he whispered. “Not until I’ve wrung every bit of restraint out of you.”
Satoru groaned low in his throat, tilting his head to the side. His lips parted like he might say something, but no words came. He watched Suguru’s face instead—watched him bite down on a whimper as he ground harder, his fingers digging into Satoru’s shoulders for leverage.
The sound of wet fabric shifting filled the room. The smell of sweat, faint soap, and something sharper—lust heavy enough to choke on.
“You’re gonna cum like this, huh?” Satoru rasped. “Without me even touching you?”
Suguru’s answer was a soft, almost defiant moan.
That was all it took.
Satoru’s hands shot up, gripping Suguru’s hips so hard his thumbs dug into bone. “Enough.” His voice was lower now, rough around the edges.
Suguru’s eyes snapped open in surprise just as Satoru surged forward, standing abruptly and carrying him with shocking ease. The world spun around them as Suguru found his chest pressed to the nearest wall, Satoru’s body pinning him there.
“You’re smug as hell, y’know that?” Satoru growled, his mouth brushing Suguru’s jaw as his hands yanked at the waistband of his sweatpants. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
Suguru barely had time to smirk before Satoru sank to his knees.
Satoru’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Suguru’s sweatpants and tugged, dragging the fabric down past his hips in one swift, unceremonious motion. The elastic snapped as it caught on Suguru’s thighs, leaving him half-naked and pressed flush to the cool wall.
“Fucking gorgeous,” Satoru muttered, his breath hot against the curve of Suguru’s neck. His hands slid down to cup the back of Suguru’s thighs, spreading him wider. “You know how hard it was not to touch you back there?”
Suguru smirked, though it faltered as Satoru’s thumbs dug into sensitive skin. “It was fun watching you squirm.”
“Oh yeah?” Satoru chuckled low, but there was no humor in it now—just hunger. “Bet it won’t be half as fun when you’re the one begging.”
He pressed forward, his clothed cock grinding between Suguru’s bare cheeks as his hands pinned him in place. The friction made Suguru’s breath hitch audibly.
“Still cocky?” Satoru’s voice dropped to a near-growl, his teeth grazing the shell of Suguru’s ear.
Suguru’s lips parted like he wanted to throw back a retort, but the words dissolved into a soft, caught moan when Satoru’s fingers trailed lower—skimming over his inner thighs before dipping between his legs to cup his cock.
“So hard already,” Satoru murmured approvingly. “You really were gonna cum just from riding my thigh, huh? Fucking filthy, Suguru.”
Suguru gasped as Satoru’s hand wrapped around him, squeezing just enough to make his knees buckle.
“You’re talking a lot for someone still fully dressed,” Suguru managed, voice strained but teasing.
“Oh, don’t worry.” Satoru’s grin widened as he pressed a kiss to the back of Suguru’s neck. “I’ll ruin you dressed or not.”
One hand fumbled with his sweats, shoving them down far enough to free his cock. The other stayed firm on Suguru’s hip, holding him steady.
“Spit,” Satoru ordered.
Suguru turned his head slightly, brows arching. “Excuse me?”
“Spit on your hand. Get me wet.”
For a moment, Suguru hesitated—then his lips curved into that slow, dangerous smile. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucked them shamelessly wet, then reached back between them to slick Satoru’s cock with deliberate strokes.
“Better?”
“Perfect,” Satoru hissed through his teeth, hips jerking forward into the touch.
He didn’t wait long. The first push was shallow, a tease of what was coming, but the second had Suguru’s eyes fluttering shut, his hands bracing against the wall as Satoru buried himself to the hilt.
“Shit—Satoru—” The name came out hoarse, broken, as Satoru rolled his hips slow and deep.
“You’re tight as hell,” Satoru groaned, his fingers digging bruises into Suguru’s skin. “Tight and dripping already. God, you’re fucking perfect like this.”
He set a punishing rhythm, hips slamming forward again and again until Suguru’s body jolted with each thrust. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed obscenely in the quiet room, punctuated only by Suguru’s sharp breaths and Satoru’s low curses.
“Fucking take it,” Satoru growled, his voice rasping against Suguru’s ear. “You wanted this. You wanted me to lose control, didn’t you?”
“Yes—” Suguru gasped, his fingers clawing at the wall for purchase. “Fuck—harder—”
Satoru’s laugh was dark, breathless. “You’re so damn greedy.”
His hand snaked around to stroke Suguru’s cock in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation had Suguru’s voice rising into soft, choked moans, his composure unraveling with each ragged breath.
“C’mon, pretty boy,” Satoru murmured, lips ghosting over Suguru’s jaw. “Cum for me. Want to feel you clench when I fill you up.”
The words—filthy, commanding—pushed Suguru over the edge. His body tensed, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he came hard in Satoru’s hand, painting the wall with streaks of white.
Satoru didn’t stop. His thrusts grew erratic, desperate, as he chased his own release. A few more rough strokes and he was spilling inside Suguru with a groan so guttural it sent shivers down Suguru’s spine.
For a moment, neither moved—just panting, bodies slick with sweat and still pressed tight together.
“Still smug?” Satoru asked finally, his voice soft but edged with amusement.
Suguru chuckled breathlessly. “A little.”
Satoru grinned and nipped his shoulder. “Good. I like a challenge.”
The silence in the room stretched long after their bodies stilled, broken only by their ragged breathing. Satoru’s forehead pressed against Suguru’s shoulder, his arms still locked tight around his waist like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting go just yet.
“You good?” Satoru asked eventually, voice softer now, stripped of its earlier cocky edge.
Suguru hummed in answer, his chest rising and falling steadily as the last waves of release faded. “I’m fine,” he murmured, eyes fluttering open. “You’re heavy, though.”
Satoru chuckled but eased back, slipping free with a quiet groan. His hands ghosted over Suguru’s hips, fingers tracing the faint bruises already blossoming there.
“Sorry,” Satoru said, and for once it wasn’t a tease. His tone was low, careful.
Suguru turned his head, catching Satoru’s gaze. There it was—that fleeting vulnerability, a rare crack in the man who usually carried himself like nothing could ever touch him.
“Don’t be,” Suguru replied. “I asked for it.”
Still, Satoru’s touch gentled as he pulled Suguru’s sweatpants back up and smoothed a hand down his spine. He pressed a soft kiss to Suguru’s shoulder before finally stepping back.
“Shower?” Satoru offered.
Suguru shook his head faintly. “Later. I don’t trust my legs right now.”
That earned a laugh. Satoru guided him carefully to the couch, tugging him down to sit sideways in his lap this time. Suguru didn’t protest when Satoru grabbed a discarded hoodie from the armrest and wiped at the mess streaking down his thighs.
The movements were tender, unhurried—so unlike the rough urgency of moments ago.
“You’re so damn pretty like this,” Satoru murmured as he worked, eyes drinking in the flush on Suguru’s cheeks and the faint sheen of sweat along his hairline. “All wrecked and quiet.”
Suguru’s lips curved faintly. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
Satoru tilted his head, one snowy eyebrow arching. “Oh? Planning something?”
Suguru didn’t answer. Not with words.
Instead, he shifted so he straddled Satoru properly again, knees bracketing Satoru’s thighs. His hands slid up Satoru’s chest, fingers curling in the collar of his t-shirt.
“Your turn,” Suguru said, his voice a dangerous purr.
Satoru blinked. “Huh?”
Suguru’s smirk widened. “You think I didn’t notice? You didn’t even cum inside me properly—too busy showing off.”
Before Satoru could get a word out, Suguru’s fingers tightened, yanking his shirt up and over his head. He tossed it aside with deliberate carelessness.
“Relax,” Suguru murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over Satoru’s jaw. “I’ll take care of you.”
Satoru’s breath hitched as Suguru’s hands dragged down his chest, nails scratching lightly over his abs before finding the waistband of his sweats.
“Suguru—”
“Shh.” Suguru kissed him, slow and deep, swallowing the rest of whatever Satoru was going to say. His hips rocked forward lazily, and he felt Satoru’s cock twitch back to life beneath him.
“Already hard again,” Suguru whispered against his lips, smug as ever. “Figures.”
“You’re evil,” Satoru groaned, his head tipping back as Suguru licked a wet stripe down his neck.
“Mm. You love it.”
By the time Suguru lifted himself and reached back to guide Satoru’s cock to his entrance, Satoru was clutching desperately at Suguru’s hips, his composure unraveling fast.
And when Suguru sank down—slow, deliberate, the stretch making him shiver—it was Satoru’s turn to bite back a broken moan.
“Fuck—Suguru—”
“Quiet,” Suguru murmured, setting a punishing rhythm as he rode Satoru hard enough to make the couch creak beneath them. “Just take it. Be good for me.”
Satoru’s fingers dug into Suguru’s thighs like he was trying to anchor himself, his grin long gone now—replaced by parted lips and ragged breaths.
“Oh, fuck—Suguru—”
Suguru smirked down at him, hair sticking to his damp forehead. “Stronger than everyone else, huh? Not right now.”
Satoru’s answer came out as a strangled groan as Suguru shifted his angle, grinding down hard enough to make his vision blur.
“Yeah,” Suguru whispered darkly, voice low and wrecked. “Take it, Satoru. Be as loud as you want. No one’s here to hear you but me.”
And Satoru did—hands gripping desperately, voice breaking with every thrust as Suguru fucked him into blissful submission.
Satoru’s head thumped against the back of the couch as Suguru rode him mercilessly, thighs flexing as he worked himself over Satoru’s cock with punishing precision. The slap of skin meeting skin echoed through the dimly lit room, sticky and obscene, matched only by the raw, breathless sounds tearing from Satoru’s throat.
“F-fuck—Suguru—” Satoru’s voice cracked on the last syllable, hands clamping tight around Suguru’s hips. His knuckles whitened from the force of his grip, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Couldn’t seem to catch his breath.
Suguru smirked down at him, flushed and sweat-slick, strands of his long hair sticking to his face. “What’s wrong, Satoru? Can’t keep up?”
“Bastard,” Satoru gasped, though his grin had been reduced to something fragile and desperate.
Suguru leaned down, bracing his hands on Satoru’s chest as he shifted his angle. The next thrust had Satoru’s back arching sharply, a strangled moan punching out of him.
“There it is,” Suguru murmured, his voice low and wrecked but still edged with triumph. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”
Satoru could only nod weakly, his jaw slack as Suguru bounced harder, faster, chasing the sound of Satoru’s moans with single-minded purpose.
“Go ahead,” Suguru whispered. “Cum for me. I want to feel you.”
Satoru’s entire body locked up as his orgasm ripped through him, violent and overwhelming. His hands clutched at Suguru like he might fall apart otherwise, his voice breaking on a choked cry as he spilled deep inside him.
But Suguru didn’t stop.
“Wait—Suguru—” Satoru’s protest came out hoarse, wrecked.
“No,” Suguru said simply, his pace relentless. “You can give me one more.”
Satoru’s thighs trembled, his breath coming in shallow pants. His fingers scrabbled weakly at Suguru’s arms, but Suguru only grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, leaning in so close their noses brushed.
“Be good for me,” Suguru murmured, hips snapping down hard enough to make Satoru’s vision blur. “Take it.”
Satoru’s second orgasm built too quickly, the overstimulation leaving him raw and shaking. He came again with a strangled groan, his body jerking under Suguru’s hold.
This time, Suguru let him go.
He slowed his pace at last, rolling his hips lazily until he sank down with a sigh. Satoru’s chest heaved beneath him, sweat glistening across his pale skin as he tried to catch his breath.
“Look at you,” Suguru said softly, running his fingers through Satoru’s damp hair. “Completely wrecked. Can’t even open those pretty eyes.”
Satoru managed a faint, breathless laugh, his lips curving weakly. “You’re… fucking evil.”
Suguru chuckled and pressed a kiss to Satoru’s temple. “And you love me for it.”
Suguru eased off him gently, careful not to jostle Satoru’s trembling body too much. He tugged Satoru’s sweats back up, though the effort was mostly symbolic—the fabric sticking damply to his skin.
“C’mon,” Suguru murmured, helping Satoru shift so he was lying stretched out along the couch. “You need water. And a shower.”
“Can’t… move,” Satoru mumbled, voice slurred with exhaustion.
Suguru’s lips twitched in amusement. “Then I’ll bring it to you.”
He disappeared briefly, returning with a glass of water and a cool cloth. Satoru’s eyes fluttered open just enough to watch as Suguru knelt beside him, dabbing sweat from his flushed face with surprising tenderness.
“You’re dangerous,” Satoru whispered, his voice soft, raw.
Suguru smirked down at him, brushing damp strands of white hair back from his forehead. “You knew that already.”
Still, his hands were gentle—steady as he wiped at Satoru’s chest and throat, lingering to press light kisses to each fading bruise.
“Next time…” Satoru’s voice trailed off as sleep threatened to pull him under. “I’m… on top.”
“We’ll see,” Suguru murmured, his tone fond and teasing all at once.
He pulled a blanket over Satoru, curling up beside him on the narrow couch. One arm looped loosely around Satoru’s waist, anchoring him even as his breathing evened out.