I wrote this some time ago, under another name, but the past (while it does simultaneously occur with the present) is the past. Please enjoy.
He moves like a jungle cat and that always gets you. You imagine those muscles shifting under those perfectly tailored custom-made suits and it turns you on whether you want it to or not.
And when he moves toward you, you can't help but shudder with heat that you can't explain, or would just rather not explain. He leans over you and looks at you with molten eyes and you feel the blood rush downward and your hand sometimes slips between your legs even if you didn't intend it to.
He notices and wrenches it away and dear God, can't he do anything gently?
"Eager, aren't we, my sweet little Akihito?"
And you hate the way he smirks at you, it's so condescending and you growl a little. "Sh-shut up."
So he does, but he does so by kissing you, his tongue in your mouth, never the reverse and it's always too much, but it's not like you can ever complain and maybe you like it anyway.
His hand is in the small of your back, pulling you tight to him and now it's obvious you're not the only one aroused, but he's not ashamed; he's never ashamed. Not like you because some part of your mind won't let go of the fact that he's a man, but when was the last time you liked a girl anyway and who cares because he's grinding his hips against yours and oh.
His fingers are teasing your nipples and oh, oh... stop that.
You said it out loud so he says, "No."
"Don't you ever get tired?" you ask, knowing the answer but you have to put up the fight.
"Don't you?" his expression asks but he laughs instead and pinches one of your hardened nipples, tugs on it a little and nearly makes you lose your mind. "Of you? No."
It surprises you every time he says something like that, lets it slip that you are in some way important to him. It's like it is too difficult to comprehend. Your lips part without your knowing, waiting for another kiss.
He laughs and he has the best laugh, deep and warm like being wrapped in a blanket until you remember he's the cold, possessive bastard who raped you and consistently tries to rob you of your freedom.
It doesn't matter though as his fingers tilt you chin up and all of this is so familiar and yet not boring. He never fails to make your heart race and your face flush and your... well.
Thoughts race across your mind like how did he get so good at this and why do you keep coming back and letting him do it to you over and over again, but so little of that seems to matter when you're in his arms and it all fades away.
He lifts you onto his desk as if you weigh nothing and you idly wonder how much he works out because he has to work out, but your wonderings are silenced by a bruising kiss.
The way his tongue caresses the top of your mouth makes you moan and you feel him smirk against your lips as his hand finds its way between your legs, squeezing and you arch into the touch. Yes, yes more and you hope you didn't say that out loud.
"You really are hopeless," he grins, thrusting his hips against you. "How badly do you want me, Akihito?"
You look away from him, your face turning a deeper shade of red. "Isn't it obvious enough?" you mumble.
He grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. You avert your eyes because you just can't stand how he looks at you, almost like you're something precious. "Tell me anyway," he says.
You tremble and slip your hand between his legs, gulp and answer, "Really bad, you jerk."
"Good boy," he sighs, leaning into your hand.
You hate that it thrills you to be called that, but whether you'll admit it or not, even to yourself, you want to please him. You insist you owe him nothing, but the truth is you owe him everything and that makes it so hard to say no, especially as his hands flick open your jeans.
He arches his eyebrow and you feel some satisfaction at having surprised him.
"No underwear today, my Akihito?"
"What? A guy can't come prepared?"
He smirks (he never smiles) and kisses you as he thumbs the head of your cock. You moan again, louder this time, and cling to his neatly pressed shirt.
He breaks away, leaving you breathless with a whimper escaping your throat. Spreading your legs apart, he kneels before you, tongue darting out to follow his thumb and you have to brace yourself on the desk in order to keep from falling back. Oh God.
"I didn't know you thought so highly of me," his voice is practically dripping with smugness because damn it you said that out loud again.
You are about to respond, but he takes the tip of your cock into his mouth and sucks and you think, one of your last coherent thoughts for the afternoon, that he really is rather generous and gives at least as much as he takes in bed... or on the desk, or against the wall, or wherever he sees fit to fuck you senseless.
He sucks you in deep, deeper than you can take him, but then he is much bigger than you are and now you do lose your mind. His tongue caresses the underside of your cock, that sensitive vein and then licks the head, tongue playing in the slit.
"So good, ah! Asami!" you practically scream and it doesn't sound like you at all, sounds like some person that half the time you don't even want to be.
And that is when he stops, rises up off of his knees and kisses you, as deep as he took you in, and you taste yourself and him and has the room just gotten hotter or what?
He leans in so that his lips brush your ear, "Never forget who you belong to, my little Aki." He nibbles your earlobe, sucks on it lightly and then laves his tongue over the shell of your ear before lifting you off the desk and setting your feet on the floor. "Your turn."
And it is only fair, you think as you sink down onto your knees, his hand pushing on the top of your head, but dear God, he just can't do anything gently.
You shake as you undo his belt and unzip his perfectly creased trousers. His arousal is poking out of his black silk boxers and rather than licking it or sucking on it, you simply open your mouth and wait.
He leaves you like that for a long pause, probably just so he can revel in your humiliated position. He strokes one hand through your hair, a paltry gesture of affection, before he enters your mouth, holding the back of your head now.
He thrusts into your mouth, just barely, but it's enough to make tears prickle in your eyes.
"Mmph," you protest, because he's so big it hurts your jaw and honestly, you want him inside of you elsewhere.
"Shh, I know what you want," he says and it's almost soothing, would be so if anybody but him had said it. He pulls your head back, bringing you up and flipping you around so you are bent forward over the desk. He drags his finger between your exposed cheeks and you hiss between your teeth and then there is cool gel replacing his finger.
"That's cold, you bastard."
He hums idly and slips two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out and stretching you and you admit to yourself for once that this is why you came here. It almost never hurts anymore, it's just the pleasure of him pushing against that one little spot inside of you.
He adds a third finger and you squirm, knowing what comes next.
When his cock enters you, you openly, wantonly moan. Damn him for making you like this even though you know it's not his fault.
You wriggle and thrust back against him and feel so deliciously full and you squeeze him, savoring the grunt he makes since he isn't a very vocal lover.
Heh. Lover. If you could call him that, but there's really nothing else to call him. He's certainly not your boyfriend.
"Oh God," you groan as he pushes in deeper.
"Really, Akihito, there's no need to address me so formally," his voice is full of mirth.
"Shut up, would you and just fuck me."
"So demanding," he chides, but he doesn't stop. Instead, he snakes his hand around and takes your cock into his hand, stroking you rough and fast, all the while pressing against your prostate.
After that, it only takes you a few moments to come and he follows shortly after which is unusual because the majority of the time, he likes to keep going. He doesn't pull out anymore, not since that time you told him not to and you feel so, so full.
He pulls away after simply breathing against you for a moment. He uses a tissue to wipe himself clean before dressing again, as if nothing ever happened. "You need to leave now," he says.
You know he's never really been much for cuddling, but you stare at him dumbfounded. He always at least lets you clean yourself up. "What the hell?"
"I have a very important meeting and it is vital that I attend." He looks you up and down, a glint of smug satisfaction in his eye. "Get dressed now. I don't want to keep them waiting."
You convince yourself that you're not tearing up as you tug your pants back up and you can feel hot sticky fluid trickle down your leg and if there were ever a reason to cry over him, that would be it. So humiliating.
He ushers you out with your tongue full of three words you know wouldn't make a bit of difference to him at all.
