| [Apr. 22nd, 2018|09:00 pm] |
The pressure left his face. Kakashi nipped at Ryouma’s earlobe, and then the hinge of his jaw. He licked the delicate skin under the shadow of Ryouma’s ear, closed his teeth, and sucked. Ryouma strained against him, swearing, sweating. “Fuck, Kakashi, that’s good—”
The tightness in his pants was growing painful and far less pleasant. He fumbled a hand down between them, found the fastening, stopped. Kakashi hadn’t agreed, and it might be too much.
If he left it, the pain of the cup would wilt him quickly enough. But if Kakashi kept biting him—
Kakashi’s teeth set in the hollow of his throat, and Ryouma jerked. His eyes almost sprung open before he clenched them shut. “Ow. Fuck!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Kakashi gave the mark a quick, apologetic little kiss and rolled Ryouma’s high collar back up. His weight settled back on Ryouma’s thighs, and his palms explored down Ryouma’s sides. They hesitated at hip-level. Two fingers tapped the back of Ryouma’s wrist, over his belt. “Need some help?”
Ryouma almost opened his eyes. He caught himself at the first lash-fringed flicker of lantern light, and squeezed them tightly shut. “Just need the cup out. I can do it. Unless you want…?”
There was maybe the edge of a plea in his voice.
Kakashi laughed again, that unexpected rumble deep in his chest. He unlatched the belt, twisted the fastening open, and filched the cup out as quickly and economically as a man picking pockets. Ryouma barely felt his touch.
He was still breathing out relief when Kakashi’s weight shifted, lightly up and then settling back down over his hips. The cold metal of another open belt brushed Ryouma’s lower belly. Kakashi eased down again, flattening Ryouma beneath him in the grass, and nipped gently at his jaw. “You’re allowed to touch, you know. I took most of the knives out already.”
“Sorry. I’m not usually this shy.” That wasn’t the right word, but he couldn’t think of a better. Could hardly think at all, with Kakashi nosing and nibbling at his throat, Kakashi’s lean muscle pressing him down, the promise of Kakashi’s interest hardening against his hip. He turned his hand blindly between them, and grazed the cold blunt teeth of a zipper.
“Stop me if this’s too much,” he said. His fingertips brushed a swell of warm cotton.
Kakashi made a strangled sound on the edge of incoherency. His forehead dropped against Ryouma’s sternum. He ground his hips down into Ryouma’s hand, seeking friction.
This, Ryouma could give to him. He worked his hand inside the open fly, rubbing rhythmically, then pressing down. Kakashi groaned. His hips stuttered against Ryouma, and his hand flexed and closed against Ryouma’s bare flank, under the rucked-up shirt. The scent of his hair and the rising musk of his arousal warmed the air, intoxicating.
Ryouma rolled his palm over the round welcome weight of Kakashi’s balls, pulled back up to tease his thumb over the damp head pressing against the waistband of Kakashi’s trunks. Kakashi made a rough, muffled noise and bit at Ryouma’s chest. His teeth just missed the nipple ring. Ryouma gasped aloud anyway.
“Roll back,” he managed, when he caught his breath again. “Let me up. Wanna suck you.” |
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