"If you've gotta ask," Ryouma said, "you haven't been paying attention."

From this angle he could catch only a foreshortened slice of Raidou's face: the strong line of his jaw, harsh angles of nose and cheek, the hint of dark brows rising. "Have I come yet, smartass?"

There were at least three answers to that, but two of them might get him smacked, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that, yet. Maybe he'd ask later. He took the third option for now, tilting his head against Raidou's thigh to tease around the base of the shaft with light sucking kisses. "Have I earned my hands back?"

Raidou tugged lightly at his hair. "You can have them on credit, if you really need them."

"That doesn't even make sense," Ryouma complained, releasing his grip on his wrists. He worked his shoulders, flexed his fingers, and curled one hand around the hard line of Raidou's hip. He slicked the other hand with spit, wrapped it around the shaft, and took the head into his mouth again.

This time he didn't start off with the showy stuff. He moved slowly, using lips and tongue and hand together, swirling, stroking, slipping his hand down to cup and cradle, flicking his tongue against the sensitive spot just below the head. When Raidou's hips jerked, he relaxed his throat and took it.

Raidou groaned, soft and deep in the back of his throat. His grip tightened in Ryouma's hair, on Ryouma's shoulder. Muscles flexed under Ryouma's fingertips, then deliberately, carefully relaxed.

Here on the floor of his bedroom, thin carpet under his knees and dim lamplight gilding his skin, Ryouma could hand over control and get off on doing it. But if Raidou was going to dial it back again, refuse to take what Ryouma was offering—

He couldn't speak, but he dug blunt fingertips into Raidou's hip, pulling him closer. Raidou made another rough, breathless sound and rolled his pelvis again, not quite a thrust, but nearly there. Ryouma took it down, pulled back when Raidou did, and met the next movement with lips and tongue again. His hand slipped, slick with saliva. His jaw was beginning to ache, but he didn't pull off.

Raidou's slow, shattering rhythm was beginning to quicken. Nearly there. He was harder, hotter. This time, when Ryouma took him deep and held him, the back of Ryouma's throat rebelled at last. He gagged, eyes burning, and Raidou made a strangled sound. His hand tightened in Ryouma's hair.

"Ryouma—" he said, a bitten-off warning, and that was all.

Ryouma eased back, before he choked, and swallowed salt and bitter until the end.