Chapter 3: Slick and Teasing
The peace was a fragile, heavy blanket. Choso floated in it, his ear pressed to the steady drum of Yuji’s heart. The world outside the tangled sheets didn’t exist. His muscles were loose, pleasantly sore, a map of the morning’s attentions written in aches and tingles.Yuji’s fingers never stilled. They traced the line of Choso’s spine, ruffled the damp hair at his nape, drifted down to skate over the curve of his hip.It was a mindless, possessive exploration. Choso sighed, nuzzling closer. He could feel the warm scratch of Yuji’s sweatpants against his bare thigh, the hoodie still bunched around his waist.
“You’re gonna roast in that thing,” Yuji murmured, his voice rumbling under Choso’s cheek.
“‘S yours,” Choso mumbled back, the words slurred with contentment.It was reason enough.
Yuji’s chest vibrated with a silent laugh. “Yeah, it is.” His hand slid under the fabric, palm warm against the small of Choso’s back. “And right now, it’s in my way.”
There was no urgency in his touch, only a slow, certain intention. He tugged at the hoodie until Choso, with a soft grunt of protest, lifted his shoulders enough for Yuji to pull it up and over his head. The cooler air of the room washed over his skin, raising goosebumps. Yuji tossed the pink fabric toward the foot of the bed, where it landed in a heap atop his own discarded shirt.
Now there was nothing between them but the thin, damp cotton of Yuji’s sweatpants and the drying sweat on their skin. Yuji’s gaze traveled over him, a slow, appraising look that made Choso’s breath hitch.He felt seen, cataloged. The pale plane of his stomach, the sharp brackets of his hips, the stark crimson marks under his eyes that he knew were mirrored by a flush high on his cheeks.“Better,” Yuji stated. His hand returned, splaying across Choso’s belly, holding him there.A thumb stroked idly over his navel.
Choso watched his face. Yuji’s expression had shifted, the drowsy satiation sharpening into something more focused. The golden retriever energy was simmering back to the surface, eager and undirected.Choso knew the signs. A familiar, sweet tension began to coil low in his own abdomen.Yuji shifted, rolling onto his side to face him. The movement brought their bodies flush.Choso could feel him, half-hard already, nudging against his thigh through the fabric. A shudder chased down Choso’s spine.
“Thought you were tired,” Choso whispered, his voice barely audible.
“I was.” Yuji dipped his head, catching Choso’s lower lip between his teeth in a gentle, biting kiss. “I got my second wind.” He pulled back, his eyes glittering.“You?”
Choso didn’t answer with words. He tilted his head, exposing the line of his throat, an invitation. It was all the confirmation Yuji needed.The kiss deepened, turning hungry. Yuji’s tongue swept into his mouth, hot and demanding. His hands were everywhere again, relearning the landscape of Choso’s body—gripping his waist, sliding up to thumb at his nipples until they peaked into tight, sensitive points, then trailing back down. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of his own sweatpants, pushing them down just enough to free his cock.
Choso felt it, hot and heavy, against his hip. He moaned into Yuji’s mouth, his own body responding instantly, a fresh wave of slickness betraying his arousal. Yuji broke the kiss, breathing raggedly.He looked wrecked, his pink hair mussed, his lips swollen.
“Roll over,” Yuji said, the command softened by the roughness in his voice.
Choso went without hesitation, turning onto his stomach.The sheets smelled like them—salt and skin and sex. He felt Yuji move behind him, kneeling between his legs. Hands urged his hips up, arranging him on his knees, his upper body collapsed onto the mattress.The position was submissive, vulnerable. It made his heart pound against his ribs.
He heard the wet sound of Yuji stroking himself. Then the blunt, slick head of his cock nudged against the back of Choso’s thigh, leaving a damp trail as it slid upward. It pressed, insistent, against the curve of his ass, then lower, seeking.
Yuji guided himself, the tip catching, just for a second, at his entrance.Choso held his breath, expecting the deep, filling push. It didn’t come.Instead, Yuji pulled back and slapped it against him.
The sound was obscenely loud in the quiet room—a wet, sharp crack. Choso jolted, a gasp tearing from him. The sensation was a shock: the impact, the heat, the intimate, vulgar contact.“Yuji—!”
Yuji did it again. Another slap, lower this time, the rigid flesh landing squarely against his soaked, swollen lips. A burst of sensation, sharp and bright, flared through Choso’s core.His legs trembled.Again. A third time, deliberate, painting him with the pre-cum that beaded at Yuji’s tip. Each strike was a promise, a taunt. The sound was rhythmic now, a damp, rhythmic punctuation to Choso’s ragged breathing.Splat.Splat.Splat.
“Look at you,” Yuji grunted, his voice thick with awe. “Look how wet you are for me.”
Choso couldn’t see, but he could feel it. The glide was effortless, each slap spreading the moisture, coating his clit, his folds, making him gleam. His own arousal mixed with Yuji’s, a slick, intimate claim.He was being marked. The teasing was its own sweet torture. His pussy clenched around nothing, empty and aching, craving the fullness it was being denied.
“Please,” Choso sobbed into the sheets, his fingers twisting in the fabric.He was a live wire, every nerve alight. The sensitivity was overwhelming, each impact sending shivers of desperate pleasure-pain through him. He was shaking, a writhing, desperate mess, his entire body focused on that one point of hot, maddening contact.
Yuji chuckled, the sound dark and pleased. He kept the rhythm, the slaps now lighter, faster, a relentless, teasing rain. “You want it?” he cooed, his tone deceptively light. “Gotta say it nicer than that.”
Choso couldn’t form a coherent sentence.Words had dissolved. He pushed his hips back, a silent, begging arc, trying to catch him, to take him inside.Yuji pulled back, just out of reach. The absence was a violence. “Choso,” he prompted, his voice a low vibration that went straight to Choso’s core.“Please,” Choso whined, the word fractured. “Please, Yuji.I need it. Need you.”
The confession hung in the air, raw and honest.The slapping stopped.For a second, there was only the sound of their harsh breathing. Then Yuji’s hands were on his hips, gripping hard, steadying him. The blunt pressure returned, not teasing now, but purposeful, insistent, aligning.
“Yeah,” Yuji breathed, almost to himself. “Yeah, you do.”
He pushed forward, not slow this time, but with a single, deep, claiming thrust that buried him to the hilt. Choso cried out, the sound swallowed by the mattress, as the delicious, filling stretch chased away the ache of emptiness. Yuji didn’t move, letting them both feel the absolute completeness of the join.
Then he pulled back and drove in again, setting a pace that was nothing like the teasing. It was deep, punishing, perfect. Each stroke was a culmination, the frantic energy of the last few minutes funneling into this singular, driving purpose.The bedframe resumed its soft, persistent knock against the wall.
Choso clung to the sheets, his cries rhythmic now, punched out of him with every plunge. He was unraveling all over again, the coil springing too fast, too tight. Yuji leaned over him, his chest plastered to Choso’s back, his mouth at his ear.“That’s it,” Yuji panted, his words hot and fragmented. “Take it.Just like that.My good… perfect…”
The praise tipped him over. Choso shattered, his climax ripping through him with a force that blurred his vision, his channel clenching tight around Yuji’s cock. The pulsing rhythm drew a ragged shout from Yuji, who drove in one final, shuddering time and stilled, his own release a hot flood inside.
They collapsed together, a tangle of spent limbs and damp skin. Yuji’s weight was solid, grounding. The room slowly came back into focus—the soft hum of the lamp, the distant cry of a gull outside.The musk of sex was deep and pervasive now.
Yuji softened inside him but didn’t pull away.He kissed the knob of Choso’s spine. “Okay,” he mumbled, his lips moving against the skin. “Now I’m tired.”
Choso’s laugh was a weak, airless puff.He couldn’t move. He felt liquefied, branded, profoundly used.And he had never been more content.
Eventually, Yuji shifted, pulling out and rolling onto his back.He tugged Choso with him, tucking him against his side. The silence was comfortable, filled with the slowing of their hearts.
“We never did get that tea,” Choso said, his voice hoarse.Yuji’s arm tightened around him. “It’ll keep.”