A chair.
Shouta's capture weapon.
Those two things sounded perfect when spoken on their own, didn't they? But together? Having those things come together is what Hizashi wanted the most. While he had admitted many times to his husband to wanting certain kinks for a while, there were some that he never breathed a word of until the chance presented itself. Some he had been hesitant to tell his husband. This one was no different.
While he wished he could claim that he had no clue where the fantasy came from, where the wet dreams gained their origin, he knew that would be a lie. A horrible, filthy lie. When Shouta had first received his capture weapon, they had both been curious about it. Hell, the black-haired male refusing to let him see a single moment of training with it until he was good and ready for him to see.
While he didn't breathe a word of it when Shouta looked at him with that scalding look, he always told Oboro how he was dying to see just how good he was with nothing more than to see how it worked more than anything. With no one to teach Shouta, with not a single person helping him, how would he manage? He had been training but how good was he with it?
And while it seemed at first that they had been amicable and quite polite presences in one another's life with Oboro often being their buffer, it was the time of their Sports Festival that he had begun considering Shouta a very good friend. Only to be knocked off his feet when he faced the black-haired male. And quite literally. He had done his best, used his quirk to its best capabilities for his age.
However nothing had prepared him for when that capture weapon shot out and wrapped him tightly.
How fast it had bound his arms to his sides, squeezing him like a python, and rendering him absolutely useless. Unable to even squirm or wriggle to find a way out, squeezed tighter if he dared to try and wriggle his way out of the cloth. And when those glowing eyes landed on him? Black locks lifting upwards with the activation of that quirk? Oh, if he hadn't suspected himself of holding a bit of attraction to Shouta before it then it was clear then.
Blasted him right out of the damn water with how intense of a reaction it held on him. All of it had struck him more breathless than being knocked off his feet and squeezed with the cloth. He'd been in awe. It was the first aweing moment he'd felt in years over someone else's quirk. He found himself intrigued by other quirks, could appreciate their uniqueness to each person but awe? It had been a long time for a quirk to leave him wide eyed and slack jawed.
And that night was the first wet dream he'd had over his "friend". That was an awkward situation when he had to face Shouta that next morning, but his awe had still remained even if the black-haired male was bitter when the blonde had gotten a brief upper hand. However, he had still lost to Shouta. And Hizashi accepted his loss graciously but Shouta? He'd been unsatisfied. He knew what the black-haired male wouldn't say.
That he felt that he'd let him win. He knew that was exactly why Shouta had been tightlipped and short with his answers at the time whenever he spoke to him. Knew it when the Shouta would glare at him, snap and hiss his words if he asked even the slightest of silly questions. Would walk far ahead of him when they left school which was awkward given they walked in the same direction every day.
It was an awkward bit of time. How he had been unable to look at Shouta to meet the pointed, scathing glares Shouta had aimed at him, unable to settle Oboro's worry and far too bothered by Nemuri's sudden hawk like interest. After that dream he had just found it impossible to provide any answers. Couldn't even meet those eyes that would flicker at him and how quite a few times they flared with that yellow hue.
Slitting at him like a cat. And he wanted to murder himself because he couldn't exactly tell Shouta that those looks weren't helping one little bit for him. And to make matters even worse that pesky little wet dream came to him again and again. Then it turned into a fantasy that plagued him during the day. A beautiful, amazing fantasy that he carried with him for years. Always popping up at the worst of times, never ceasing.
Tormenting him during the day like those dreams at night. It was just like how that fantasy had formed even though they had gotten caught making out in one of his mother, Yuki's, car in the parking lot of that damn Costco. This fantasy had wormed, formed, and burrowed into his brain for years. He had been amazed that it clung so long, even after he got together with Shouta, but it refused to be ignored.
Refused to abate and even now it drove him crazy. He didn't know if seeing his husband use that capture weapon during their teaching hours made it worse or what but he had to admit he was helpless to deny that he wanted it. Wanted that cloth wrapped around him so tightly he couldn't breathe properly because of how constricting it would be. Squeezing out every wisp of air, every bit of his wits, right out of him.
Squeeze until he was a mindless whimpering creature. Oh, he liked that though a lot. But lately, very recently, that fantasy had changed. Adjusted its perspective with a single element; a chair. He wanted to be squeezed tight in that cloth while being bound down to a chair. Oh, that was a good idea he had. It was far more tempting than the initial idea of using their shibari rope or their handcuffs.
The idea of him being twisted in that cloth, bound so tightly he couldn't move, as his husband rode him with all the wild abandon that he possessed. To be held so tight he couldn't get a proper breath in as Shouta sat on his lap, squirming only to have that cloth bite and squeeze him viciously rendering him still again. To watch Shouta bounce wildly only to look over his shoulder with those black locks flying around his face.
In his mind, in his fantasies, those full lips would always be quirked into a smirk. That mean, vicious little smirk as that mouth of his spit the most vicious, acidic things at him. Bouncing with all the strength and speed he could muster on his lap, skin shimmering with a sheen of sweat. All while he remained tied to that chair, watching in awe as the man took what he so freely gave.
It sent shivers down his spine even now to imagine. It was always right there behind his eyes, in his dreams, and had been for years now. So long that he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it to himself. But how did he admit that? How did he say it? Surely he couldn't just drop it real fast in a conversation, could he? It would be like getting whiplash.
However, this challenge had been opening many doors for them as a couple but this? This was something he held dear to his heart; just like the backseat sex he'd wanted for years. He wanted it more than anything but had never been sure of how, of when, or why he should bring it up without spooking his husband away. He didn't want to push things in the past and so he had contented himself.
Until now. Until the challenge.
"Zashi? You alright?"
He blinked himself out his thoughts -memories? Fantasies? - and turned his gaze to his husband sitting on the edge of the bed frowning at him, brows tugged together tightly giving him a faintly worried look. Perhaps more curious than anything. His skin held a light red flush to his shoulders and his forearms from sitting in the backyard with Eri. She had all but pulled him outside the moment she ran in from school, claiming she needed to show him something.
That something had lasted three hours outside in the sun until he had called them in so they could begin making dinner together as she had insisted on helping with tonight. So pretty. It was almost akin to the blush it gained when he squeezed, clawed and slapped at that pale skin. "I'm fine. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
Ahhh shit, he should've known Shouta would ask. But realistically, how long was he going to keep it to himself? A day? Three days? It wouldn't have been long, that much he knew, given he wanted very much to tell his husband what he wanted to do next off of the list. So that just meant, rationally, that it was bound to be said out loud. But to admit to a fantasy, a deep desire for so many years?
One that was so simple? Personal even? To say it out loud was a touch awkward after all this time. Even if he didn't feel he have to be awkward after spending sixteen years with this man. Surely, that was enough time to not be shy about his own kinks. But this felt like a completely other thing to explain why he wanted this particular kink and admit that close fantasy he'd held for years.
Sure, he'd blabbed everything out to Shouta when they fucked in the car but this was different. He had a cool, rational head right now and he wasn't lost under the heat. Lost under the erotic sensations of being in a situation like that. This was him, standing before his husband, and admitting a fantasy he's had since he was about seventeen years old.
A fantasy he'd been sitting on for years.
How did he say something like that? There was no way he was going to be flamboyant, casual about it so did he sit and make it serious? Or did he really say it in an offhanded way? He- Wow. This was strange; he never felt loss for words around his husband, not since he had confessed his crush on him but now? Now he felt like he didn't know how to go about this.
He knew what he wanted to say but how did he just go about it? "Zashi, I can smell the cogs turning in your head. Just say what you have to say. You know I'm the last person to judge you about anything."
He hadn't realized he let his gaze drop until he lifted it back up to his husband who was standing up now with that same curious look to him though the worry was definitely clawing it's way up in those dark eyes. He flicked his gaze over those soft red flush marks on his husband's shoulders, his forearms and he noticed a very faint flush to his cheeks.
It wasn't a blush, that much he knew, but more like a light burn from the sun giving him a flushed appearance which did little to help him think. "Come on, just tell me already. I'll assume it's something worse if you don't say something, so just spit it out."
"Okay, just don't look at me weird." He paused, swallowing as he then fidgeted on his feet, his hands raising to do- what? Coax Shouta closer? Or ward him from coming closer? They fluttered uselessly when he took a deep breath; it was now or never.
Now or never. He wanted to say it. He needed to say it, and God help him did he want this to be it. For one of his long-time fantasies to become reality. To be real even if it was only a single night. He'd been absolutely euphoric after the backseat so would this be any different? Any different than the omorashi? He was sure if he just sat those simplistic words that his husband wouldn't balk or judge him.
If he just told Shouta what he wanted, if nothing even happened, then at least he said it, right? At least he put it out there? Got it off his chest after all this time? After all it was a long time fantasy just like the car and it was a very long time to hold, to carry, and to fuss with a fantasy like that. A long time to keep it to himself even after they got together. He didn't know why he didn't just say it before; what was so odd about it? Being tied to a chair was fine!
Fucking in a chair? Fine! But why had he always felt so choked up just because it involved Shouta's capture weapon? How could that be any different than rope?So he should just say it. Spit it out as Shouta had just said. He swallowed, cleared his throat and licked his lips as he pieced the words together. Did it matter what he said? As long as he said it with confidence, with that boldness, then did it matter if he stuttered somehow?
Just say it is all he had to do. "I want you to tie me to a chair with your capture weapon."
It was quiet after those words flew out of him, trembling with how fast he said them. He bit his lip wondering if he had said it too fast and if he would need to say it again but right as he considered it, a burst of sound that left his husband. A bark really though it was high and strangely giddy. He snapped his gaze right up to those dark ones finding a relieved, perhaps even mildly surprised look on the man's face.
It took a second for that sound to connect in his brain as a laugh. By the time that registered the black-haired man was stepping forward, his hands reaching out grabbing his face and bringing it down to press their foreheads together as another laugh left Shouta making his heart flutter in his chest. It was always an amazing feat to make his husband laugh without tickling him or anything of the sort.
It was a barking, rich sound that made him want to join in. Infectious depending on how it came out. "That's it? That's what has your brain boiling in your skull? Damn, Zashi, you could've said that anytime! You don't have to wrack your brain like that, love, just because you want something. Isn't that what you always say to me? If you want to do it, then we can do it. When do you want to do it?
"Tonight?"
"Well, go get a chair then. I never thought I'd be delighting in chair bondage on a Tuesday night but crazier things have happened lately, now haven't they? So go. Before I change my mind."
The second those hands left his face, he felt a wave of warmth rush right up to his cheeks as he spun on his feet rushing around the bed, his heart racing in his chest already as that relieved, exhilarated feelings flooded right through him from head to toe. It was happening. It was happening! That image, that fantasy, was going to be reality. He ran up to the bedroom doors, flicking the lock, and sliding them open just enough for him to wriggle through the space then slip them shut behind him.
He then took a moment to lean against them for a second. Then two. Then three. And launched himself into action once again. His stomach was knotting, twisting, and clenching up so fervently that he had to wonder if he would bring up his dinner from the intensity of it; wondered if his heart had some deal with his stomach to make the sensation worse. Swallowing, he rushed through the kitchen right into their little dining room grabbing the first chair he saw.
Then he the shake to his hands with a touch of awe. Was all of him shaking like that? Now that he was still, he felt not shaking but a weakness in his legs? Like they would give out any moment. His breath was shaking gently with hitching breaths and his face was uncomfortably warm. His heart thumped quickly, sickeningly hard against his chest when his stomach gave a horribly airy drop that had him taking a deep breath.
To soothe the excitement that was ripping into him. It was- This is what it felt like? To be this excited? To feel like he was finally going to have what he had felt for so long was the impossible to be possible? He'd forgotten how excited he'd felt in the car, how excited he'd been on the drive there, and now it was coming back with a vengeance. He was drowning, choking on the feeling as he slid the chair away from the table and lifting it up.
Even his legs felt like they were shaking. Weak beneath him. It was amazing and terrifying to be so damn excited. All because Shouta said yes.
He then twisted on his feet stumbling from the quick turn as the legs of the chair struck the door frame with a deafening bam that was Earth shatteringly loud in the darkness of the house making him hiss out a curse. It wouldn't do any good if Hitoshi came down thinking it was an intruder or Eri waking because of the loud noise. After all, what could reason would he have for bringing a dining room chair into his and Shouta's bedroom?
None. There was no reason. At least not one that wasn't the truth and one he could think of off the top of his head. He caught his footing then held himself still. A minute to reset. To catch his breath. He took a slow breath through his nose, pulling, pulling, pulling until his lungs felt tight with the rush and then let it all out through his mouth until his chest deflated.
One. Two. Three. Pause, breathe, and reset. He flexed his shaking fingers out then lifted the chair up again, navigating it carefully through the doorway. He then rushed through the kitchen carefully trying not to hit or kick any collars he heard jingling by until he got to the bedroom where he tapped the legs of the chair on the doors. It took a few seconds but they slid open allowing him to navigate his way inside.
The doors thudding quietly shut behind him was then followed by the click of the lock being flipped into place as he put the chair down near the foot of the bed. It was strangely reminiscent to the night Shouta had used the dildos on himself; when he'd been allowed to watch his husband for the first time. Now that was a damn good night. Definitely made the top ten of his favorite nights. He was taking another quiet breath when yelped as cloth wrapped around his waist tightly.
Oh, it was shiver worthy how it dug into him as he was spun on his heels then yanked towards Shouta. His mouth dropped open as he stood a mere few inches away as the man smirked at him. He hadn't looked twice at his husband when he'd stepped into the room with the chair, too focused on getting in quietly and getting the chair down, that he'd failed to notice his husband's appearance.
It wasn't a drastic change in appearance, not at all but goddamn if it didn't leave him breathless either way. Shouta had not only gotten his capture weapon but had shed his pajama bottoms leaving him in his boxers. Showing off the absolute droolworthy lengths of his legs he was only a touch disappointed that black tank top remained but it was like a tease how it rested just over the waistline of them. He'd even tugged his hair up into a proper ponytail.
Sexy as hell without even trying. He looked damn good. The cloth squeezed his waist tightly making his heart jump right into his throat cutting off his words. It felt- Wow, that was a tight grip, wasn't it? He wasn't even tied to the chair yet and he already knew if he tried to back away, it would be in vain. To fight his way out of the cloth, would be in vain. He shivered when those dark eyes lit up at him.
As if he were following the same line of thought. He then offered a playful little grin to his husband who returned it with that wicked, disturbing Totoro-esque smirk. "So, how do you want to do this? Do you want to get me ready? Or do you want to be tied down first?"
"I-" Oh, was that his voice cracking like that? Him? Hizashi Yamada, Voice Hero Present Mic, stuttering over his words? His voice cracking? He had to stop, to swallow and clear his throat as his cheeks burned; wow, wow, wow.
This was really getting to him, wasn't it? He then reached up nudging his glasses up on his nose, fiddling with the frames a bit, then letting his grin widen at his husband. He just needed to be confident. This was no different than any other time they had sex, no different than making one fantasy come to life, so surely it wasn't any different. And yet that excitement, that clawing and sickening squeeze of his stomach screamed a different story all together.
That this wasn't the same. That this was going to be a dream come true, fantasy made reality, and it had his hands shaking when he dropped them from his face. One more throat clear to make sure his voice didn't crack. God, he didn't want it to crack again. He had to be confident! "Tie me down. Real tight, so I can't get out. And then I want to watch you get yourself ready so I can make sure you don't rush it. Got it?"
"Absolutely."
The cloth loosened, sliding away from his waist as he was then walked backwards; he had to focus on those steps to keep from stumbling over his feet and hurting himself somehow. God knows he'd hate it if he fucked this up by hitting his head off of the chair before he could even sit in it. His heart was pounding against his chest, hard and fast as if intent on sending that heat through his veins faster as those dark eyes remained locked on his own.
Challenging, daring him to look away as the heel of his foot hit the leg of the chair. He didn't look away when the chair wobbled, didn't look away when fingers reached out curling into the waistband of his pajama shorts. He didn't look away when they were then tugged down his legs where they then dropped to his ankles which he kicked away. There was a light pain in his heel yet that didn't deter him from sitting down in the chair quickly.
He was unable to suppress a shiver just how cold the wood was from the air conditioning of the house but he wasn't going to complain. Not one word of complaint, not a whine of protest, would leave his lips tonight. Not when he was finally getting what he wanted for sixteen years. He took a moment to wriggle in the seat until he was comfortable; then he lined his feet up to the legs of the chair, pressed his arms to his sides and curled his fingers over the seat of it.
Clinging to it as he squeezed his thighs together feeling the heat swelling under his skin. Tingles of excitement. How he wasn't hard yet was a rather surprising feat; he thought he would of gotten there already by just thinking about that beautiful, awe-worthy image his brain had created. An image that had merely updated to his husband's appearance. Fuck, how he hadn't gotten hard when that cloth gripped his waist like that?
It was a damn miracle. Something that was awing in itself. He held himself still, fighting the urge to shout with the excitement when the cloth shot out again. It wouldn't cover every inch of him tonight, he knew that much and was perfectly fine with that. A full binding isn't what he was after tonight. However he was giddily delighted when it targeted the areas he had hoped they would. Around the legs of the chair pinning his legs to the chair, sliding underneath the seat then over it across his thighs.
It then slithered up around his stomach then wound itself up further, covering his chest. It tied him down. It- He let out a fast breath that then wheezed on its way in when the capture weapon tightened around him. Squeezed him tightly, the chill from the wood sinking into his skin, and he felt that wave of tingles rush downwards creating that all too familiar ache between his legs as his dick twitched excitedly.
It was tight. It was so tight and it was exactly how he imagined it would be. He felt dangerously breathless as he stared down at the cloth, forgetting for a mere second about the twitch of his dick until he looked up at Shouta. He didn't have the thought of how obvious a little twitch would be to his husband given he was on display from the waist down. Free for those dark eyes to rake over him greedily.
And they were. God, they were tearing him apart bit by bit, burning right into him with a heat that had his heart jumping in his chest. That's one of the looks he loved to see on his husband's face. It made his stomach and throat squeeze, prompting him to swallow to soothe the tightness as his legs tried to fidget. To wriggle but couldn't. And when his dick gave another happy little twitch of interest there was the fact that his husband was watching it happen.
And then there was the fact that it still didn't sink in as the reason as to why his husband was staring at him with such heat. Such hunger. Couldn't. Not when his mind was marveling at how the cloth squeezed him, bit into him as if intent on tearing right through his skin in order to keep him in place, and it felt good. It was like those few initial moments of a pressure cuff; it felt good, good, good, until it began reaching that point of "too much, too much" before it was released.
Only there was no little voice screaming in his mind that this was too much. No, there was a much different voice in his head. A voice that was screaming for more. For tighter. To have every wisp of air squeezed out of him. He had to try his best not to fight against the cloth only for it to get him nowhere. He blinked when he heard the drawer beside their bed open prompting to look over as his husband pulled out the condoms, the lube, and their wipes.
Taking a moment to shut the drawer with his knee. How he failed to watch Shouta walk over to it, he'll never know. Then Shouta turned to face him once again. He could see the flutter of those lashes with those little blinks, the red flush that was smothering itself over his face now, and the light shake to those hands as his husband walked around the side of the bed placing down the wipes, lube, and condoms.
It was aweing watching Shouta smirk at him before he reached down to lift that tank top up over his head in such a quick, fluid motion. He already felt so giddy but now he felt greedy. So unbelievably delighted as he raked his own eyes over Shouta's body. Happily, greedily, scanning over every little damn inch of that man and admiring his physique. His pale skin. Looking to the scars he had memorized after all these years then to the scar on his elbow from the USJ attack when Shigaraki had touched his elbow.
The others weren't nearly as big but they had been given over their careers. Their school life. Years of scars. And he was beautiful. Every inch of that pale skin, every little scar, he wanted to smother in kisses and bites. He took a slow, deep breath as he watched those thumbs hook into the waistband of his boxers, watching the smirk on his husband's face twitch before it inevitably widened as he fought the urge to squirm.
Watched as Shouta bent down pushing the fabric down his legs. Let them fall down once they hit his knees, then stepped out of them. He scooped them up then tossed them onto the bed; no doubt he was going to put them back on right after they were done and he didn't blame him. His own shorts would be back on given they were still clean. Tearing his eyes away from the pieces of clothing on the bed he turned them to Shouta.
Not turning immediately nor shying away. Standing there with all the confidence in the world and he felt blessed. Really and truly, he was blessed. Whether Shouta believed it or not, he really did have a beautiful body. Far more beautiful than his own. It was thicker than the slender proportions of his youth, growing muscular over the years together rather than remaining in that delicate slender manner.
And while his husband wasn't gratuitously muscular like others, like All Might, he was still muscular. He was strong, very much thick and he could stare all day long. Watch the light hit that pale, scar covered skin and watch the muscles flex, tremble, and move while he twisted and pirouetted in front of him the way he did when he wore the scantiest clothing, he'd ever seen him in. Every inch of him, from head to toe, was gush worthy.
He let his eyes flicker over his body up to his face, at the flush in his cheeks that seemed a tad darker than before with a fresh rush of heat no doubt. The way his smirk remained in place with an amused look to his own face as if he was relishing in having those eyes on him. And the little blooming exhibitionist Shouta was, he knew he was without a doubt enjoying it. He let his gaze drop to his chest admiring the curls of chest hair there.
Then downwards to his stomach that did seem to hold a softness to it. It wasn't wild, it wasn't overly noticeable, but it was perfect for him to gawk at and he hoped this next change in appearance would give Shouta a softness. Something else to delight in holding. He then followed down the sight of that happy trail, right down to his chaotically groomed pubic hairs. God, he should really convince Shouta to let him groom them sometime.
They may be touched and fussed with but they were wild. If his husband said no, then he said no, but he could always stand to look a touch neater even if Hizashi was going to be the only one seeing. "Ah, you excited too, Sho? Or do you just like having me gawk over you?"
He didn't think twice before letting that question fly out of him when he narrowed his gaze down on the twitch his husband's own dick gave. Letting his lips curl up to grin widely when he lifted his gaze up to that red face that was smirking so widely at him, that he gave a playful whistle and a click of his tongue at the black-haired man. Oh, the man liked it. He could fucking see it just by the confident manner in which he was standing there.
Not hiding a thing from his gaze. Not even the red flush to his cheeks nor that wide smirk of his. "Maybe I am. So what?"
"So what? Well, well! Cheeky man! The hella confidence rolling off of you right now, Sho, is pretty damn sexy! I mean, you're always sexy no matter what you do, but right now? Your confidence and sexiness is off the scales! I fucking like that shit."
"I could say the same to you, Zashi. You look pretty sexy tied up to a chair. If I knew that all it would take is tying you down to make you so calm, so focused, I would've done it a long time ago."
Shouta's head then tilted with that wide smirk on his lips. It was stunning; he was always so pretty when he smiled, when he grinned and smirked like that. It was damn sexy and so beautiful on him when he was so stoic every other moment. How much freer Shouta was at home when not an eye was on him was amazing. Where he would blush, smirk, smile and grin with such delight that it never failed to leave him breathless.
"Isn't that crazy we're just now figuring these things out, huh?"
"Definitely crazy! Now, are you going to get yourself ready or are you going to let me gawk at you all night? Because I'd much rather you get yourself ready and then come fuck me. So, tick tock, baby! Can't you see I'm waiting so patiently? So, why not give me a show? C'mon, let me see how much you want me!"
"Oh, you wanna see? I can give you a show, Zashi, but can you handle it being all tied up like that? You might just go feral."
"And I bet you'd love it if I went feral wouldn't you? Come on, baby! Don't you want to show me what a pretty little slut you are? Let Daddy see how you can fuck yourself with your fingers just like he can?"
That did it. He saw the shiver roll over his husband, the twitch that his dick gave and he grinned with a rush of that victorious feeling when as he watched his husband begin hardening. He delighted as he watched the man spin on his heels, his ponytail brushing his upper back with the movement. He then hummed at just how fast his husband was sliding down onto his knees. The black-haired man reached out grabbing the lube, cracking the top open.
And he couldn't help it. He squirmed. He wanted to see his husband spreading the lube over his fingers, to put the image to the slick sound he heard and as he strained to lean forward only for the cloth to tighten around him. He swallowed down a moan as he then let his gaze flick up to find Shouta peeking over his shoulder with that wide smirk in place, a hungry look to his face that had him shivering with the excitement.
Oh, he was going to die long before his husband even climbed onto his lap. Swallowing, he watched his husband lean forward then on an arm, knees spreading slightly against the carpet and he felt his dick twitch again when slick fingers reached backwards, glistening in the yellow light of their bedside lamps. He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip before biting down as he watched fingers slid between those cheeks to rub at the hole that he knew had to be twitching when that wet, slick noise rang out after a few rubs.
He loved it. His jaw was slack, his mouth hanging open as he tilted his head and fought the urge to lean forward again; to wriggle and squirm to the edge of his seat to see closer. He let out a tiny wheezing breath as fingers slid slickly a few more times before that first finger pushed in; and he was enraptured. His face was painfully hot now, no longer uncomfortable. The blush was throbbing lightly in his cheeks from the force of it.
His eyes felt dry prompting him to blink a few times much to his regret. If only he knew how to keep his eyes open as long as Shouta did even if the man suffered horrible dry eye from the use of his quirk and that little trick. He didn't want to blink, however, as he didn't want to miss a thing. He'd seen this sight countless times, had done it countless times, and yet it was far superior to any dirty picture or video he could find online.
To watch his husband, sitting on his knees on the carpet, a finger being thrust into himself lazily as a quiet little sound left the man was horribly erotic; it got him burning like nothing could ever hope to. He could sit here forever watching this sight again and again. There was just something in watching Shouta do this. There was something in seeing his husband touch himself and knowing his husband was without a doubt getting off on being watched.
It was like a never-ending cycle of lust that was filtering back and forth between them. If he could squirm, he would; his thighs were already so tight together, yet they tensed with the urge to squeeze against one another with the ache that had settled itself into his groin like a pressure that was making him positively crazy with each passing second. He tore his gaze away from Shouta for a second, a mere second, to gawk down at himself.
Marveling at just how fast he'd finally managed to get hard. He was a bit taken aback but then again, he was living out one of his fantasies. He was living the dream he'd had for years. Surely, it was fine to be so hard so fast, right? It was a soft, quiet moan that pulled his gaze away from his erection, up to his husband only to moan out himself at the sight of that second finger wriggling in alongside that first one.
That was a sight he didn't think he would ever find tiring. He didn't think he had ever been more absorbed in that simple little thing than ever before; was it because he couldn't move? Because if he tried it would tighten again? His teeth dug painfully into his bottom lip as he swallowed a moan at the slow, lazy pace his husband had settled on as he thrusted those fingers in and he could see the twitch of his hole around them.
It was useless. A low moan flew out of him as he squirmed against the cloth only for it to bite into him rendering him perfectly still; if he had thought he was able to move before was nothing. He wouldn't be able to move a damn muscle. And God if that wasn't good! Better than rope, it was better than handcuffs, because his husband could tighten the cloth if he so desired and squeeze the damn life out of him.
His breaths hitched before settling into a fast rhythm, he did his best to keep quiet as his erection twitched and he moaned at the urge to buck, to arch his hips up and beckon his husband over but he couldn't- no, he can't. He can't. It was everything he ever wanted it to be; everything he ever imagined it to be. He gasped in a breath as he shuddered, the heat ripping and tearing right into him when he watched those fingers spread apart stretching his hole open.
And God, it was a sight that could make a man drool. In all of his fantasies of a moment like this, of all the ways he imagined it could go, this was living up to every single one of those hopes. Every one of those dreams. It was impossibly erotic, impossibly hot and he was fucking melting as he trembled watching those fingers beginning to speed up. The slick sound created from the lube as those fingers thrusted in and out.
God, the sight of Shouta pushing them in so deeply his hand was pressing against that twitching hole was a damn good sight; erotically, burningly, arousing. He knew Shouta was far too impatient when it came to preparation, knew that his husband always rushed it, and yet the black-haired man seemed to be taking his time. Thrusting those fingers faster yet still holding that lazy edge to them somehow.
He shivered when the fingers spread apart again, the muscles twitching as if protesting that stretch, and he released his lower lip when the pain shrieked at him when he bit down a touch too hard. There wasn't a chance he could keep it shut, not a chance and so his mouth dropped open again with those fast breaths he'd been taking. Shouta's breaths were no better as they rasped in and out, hitching quietly when his fingers spread.
He was squirming when Shouta thrusted his fingers in that Hizashi had to wonder if he was possibly getting off harder than he was. Or if he was, quite possibly, just as painfully aroused. He moaned loudly when he saw the black-haired man's ring finger jump up, pressing next to his middle finger as they continued thrusting. His muscles tensed with the urge to squirm; knew he'd be doing so if he had even the slightest give from the capture weapon.
The very thing that seemed intent on squeezing the life out of him. He whined out, encouragingly to his husband as he couldn't find those words, can't focus on them when he was eagerly waiting; excitedly, impatiently, curiously. He wanted to see it. He couldn't tell who moaned louder when that third finger was wriggled in; him or Shouta. He watched with a damn near giddy lust as those three fingers thrusted in and out slowly.
Taking their time rather than that fast speed Shouta had begun using with those first two and he was loving every second of it. Of sitting there, strapped to the chair unable to move a single muscle in order to squirm like he wanted or to rub his thighs together as if it would ease the ache radiating throughout him and it left him feeling like a strange gawker. Someone who was watching, observing, and yet unable to leave.
Unable to move away. He wriggled his feet, the only things aside from his hands he found that he could move freely and even then, it was awkward fidgeting little movements as he whimpered with delight; it was hard not to feel so delighted, so painfully aroused that he wasn't sure he'd last long. He, of course, knew he could but God if this wasn't by far the best thing, he could have asked for tonight.
Shouta hadn't been shy in letting him know what he wanted tonight but him bringing this to light? Him mentioning it to his husband? Oh, he was so glad his husband noticed something was off tonight with him thinking so hard. He had to swallow, pausing his fast breaths to soothe his dry throat, only for his mouth to drop open once he'd done so and it wasn't anywhere near as satisfying if he had just had a drink of some kind.
God damn him, he wasn't going to ask for water and make this sight stop. He'd rather feel dehydrated and weak than ask for a drink and make this beautiful, euphoric sight from stopping. He shuddered listening to his husband's muffled moans as those fingers thrusted into him, gaining some speed. He swore he could feel the clammy sheen forming on his forehead despite the cool air of the air conditioning.
He gawked at the sight of that stretched hole taking three fingers so easily. It was erotic. It was unbelievably arousing just to see that. Just like seeing his husband take a nine-inch fucking dildo the way he had that night even if he limped around two days afterwards requiring time to recuperate. He tore himself out of his thoughts when he was treated to a shiver worthy sight that he honestly couldn't be more thankful for.
More than grateful to see. Three fingers spreading outwards, carefully this time, and the moan that flew out of him had his husband cringing and he quickly bit down on his lip in an effort to muffle it the best he could as he let his head fall back. It was hard. So hard to sit there, unable to move an inch and having that tempting sight in front of him. It was like watching presents be handed out on Christmas.
It was torture waiting for his turn but he'll be damned if Shouta wasn't ready. He could handle it. He would handle it. He straightened his head up when Shouta cried out, the sound muffled as if he were pressing his mouth to the arm he had braced on the floor, and he shivered knowing perfectly well his husband had gotten too confident, too bold, and managed to hit his prostate. The squirms.
The way those breaths hitched and flew out as those fingers sank in again until fingers pressed against him. He could see the little wiggling movement that meant he was rubbing and pressing against the spot as he jerked and twitched with those high, enthusiastic moans he loved. He shivered as he curled his toes and he dragged his nails across the wood of the chair, clutching at his seat tightly.
Clutching at it until his hands were trembling from the tightness of that grip and he whimpered wishing he could squirm and writhe the way his husband was. To wriggle, buck and arch eagerly. He was never more delighted than to watch those fingers pull away from the spot, spreading outwards again pushing at the muscles before coming together in a frenzy of thrusts that created that slick noise of the lube.
Fuck, his breaths were positively racing, drying out his throat as he panted. Eager. Excited. It was as if he had given an order, a demand, as Shouta began focusing on scissoring out his fingers; spreading them with every frenzied thrust of his fingers. He could help how he moaned each time he saw that hole twitching around those fingers when they pressed together to thrust was hot. As if the black-haired man wanted more himself.
And it made his head spin to think about; to think his husband could be so shamelessly greedy to want more than just fingers. As if he wasn't sitting there, bound to the chair and dying for Shouta to climb onto his lap already. To complete the fantasy. Bring the image he'd been holding in his mind to life. He had never wanted to wriggle, squirm and writhe than he did now when he watched those fingers stretch outwards.
When he saw that twitch Shouta's hole gave when they came back together to thrust again, again, again. How long had they been here? How long had he been watching? He couldn't remember, can't when his entire mind was being swallowed up by so many thoughts at once and the sight of his husband's fingers thrusting into himself again and again as he moaned into his arm, squirming freely on the floor just steps away from him.
It was when those fingers spread out, the stretch seeming far easier than before, that he tilted his head considering it; did he- Should say now? Or wait a little longer? His hands clutched tighter at the wood, trembling from the readjustment of the tightness, and he whined low in his throat when his husband spread his fingers out once again. He blinked slowly, lazily when Shouta's head rose, his heart jumping with those foggy dark eyes found him.
He was shivering when he saw those lips trembling wordlessly for a second. A second. "Za-Zashi, please? Please? Can I- Nngh! I wanna ride you, so please? I'm ready, I promise! I just- Mmm! I want it! Wanna fuck you, Zashi! So, please?"
He shivered again at that whimpered tone as he let his gaze drop from his husband's flushed face down to those fingers that thrusted relentlessly, his brows tugging together briefly with a stab of hesitancy. Did he allow it? Would it really be alright? He groaned when those fingers spread out, trembling lightly as they pushed at the muscles as those black lashes fluttered in a lazy blink at him.
He didn't want to let his impatience rule his decision making skills; limited as they were through the cloud of lust that was making it hard to think outside the twitching, aching erection between his legs and especially when it felt like every bit of blood was focused on flowing down. Down, to his dick, rather than up to his head like he needed. To see his husband looking at him so pleadingly wasn't making anything better.
But fuck if he didn't love it. Oh, he loved when Shouta looked at him like that. "Please, Zashi? 'm ready! It's- I want your cock, so please? I don' want fingers anymore! I promise I'm ready! It's not- I can't b-be perfectly loose but I promise it won't hurt! Please, please, please, please, Zashi! Please!"
"Y-You really wanna fuck me so bad? You want my cock that bad? You wanna ride me good?"
He watched that head bob quickly, eagerly and he swallowed then looked over to the bed where the condoms rested dangerously close to the edge then back to his husband with a pointed look. Those fingers spread out once more, pushing as if preparing again before tugging his fingers out with a slick sound that had his breath hitching as Shouta pushed himself up eagerly to grab the box of condoms.
He then tugged the chain out and ripped off the first one his fingers touched. He swallowed again as Shouta picked up the lube he'd abandoned after lubing his fingers up then shuffled over to him, ripping open the condom so quickly it flew out of the wrapper to the floor making Shouta growl in annoyance as he turned back to the chain of condoms he'd failed to put away. "Slow down, Sho, it's okay! I'm not going anywhere!"
A sharp look had him shivering with delight when the black-haired man then ripped off another condom though this time, he took care to rip it open with his teeth far slower than the other one and pulling the slippery ring out then turning back to him rolling it onto him. He watched his erection twitch from the soft brush of those finger tips against him as the condom was rolled on. Biting his lip when Shouta squeezed a good-sized dollop onto his palm.
Fighting the urge to squirm, to buck, when that hand reached out. It was fascinating to his foggy mind to watch that hand twisting, curving and rubbing the lube over the condom as he swallowed a low whimper of impatience when Shouta then looked up from under his lashes, a few locks of his bangs slithering from the ponytail to brush against his face. Such a simple little thing, two little locks out of them all, and it had him burning.
Again, he had to fight the urge to wriggle against the tight cloth when the black-haired man stood up. He noticed a little tremble to his legs as they planted apart on either side of the leg chairs, his toes brushing the backs of his calves when the man then began lowering himself. It was as if he were merely going to sit on his lap, like he would any other time, until he reached back grabbing at his erection.
He angled his hips down until he was pressing against that twitching hole feeling his own impatience clawing upwards. He whined at his husband before he could stop himself, fighting that urge to squirm, and his husband turned his head to look over his shoulder, blinking at him a few times before smirking. Oh, he smirked. And it was mean, teasing, coy all in one. Whining out again he squirmed now, unable to stop yet the cloth refused to let him move.
His muscles tensed and jumped with that squirm yet his husband's smirk merely widened at him. Another challenge. He narrowed his eyes at the black-haired man, growling at him with that impatience ringing loud and clear in the sound making a wave of heat rush to his cheeks at the sharp stab of embarrassment that he was letting it slip. That he was showing his impatience just as freely.
Just as intense as Shouta displayed countless times. But was there a point in denying it? A point in hiding it? That wicked, wide little smirk of his merely deepened as his hips ground down and he groaned low in his throat bucking his hips, straining against the cloth only to remain immobile; unable to move even a bit. Rendered to a mere strain and tensing of muscles with it. He whimpered out watching his husband's lashes lowering.
His full lips parting with those quick breaths and he tried to move again; anything to make those hips drop already. His nails dragged against the wood of the chair, the sound making his husband shiver and perhaps it was that sound, perhaps it was his whining and whimpering that did it but Shouta's hips pressed down. Finally, finally, finally! It took a mere second of pressing, pressing, pressing against his husband.
Then hips were moving down, the heat making him groan loudly; he wanted to squirm and writhe as he threw his head back at the heat. At the squeeze. It was glorious. It was amazing. He shivered at the moan that left his husband; it was far quieter than his own sound. Throatier. A lustful sound that had him groaning out again. God, this was it. Everything he had ever wanted. Everything he imagined it to be.
He raised his head, swallowing only for his mouth to drop open with a moan as he watched Shouta sinking down until he was settled on his lap. He could feel Shouta's legs quivering, twitching against his own and he watched those hands flutter around awkwardly. As if he were unsure of what to do with them. It was pretty adorable watching those hands twitching, fluttering and shifting awkwardly despite the way his husband had smirked at him just moments ago.
He closed his mouth swallowing, opening it again to speak only for Shouta to press firmly against the floor judging by his adjustment and an arm to slide around his shoulders. He knew Shouta had to be clutching the back of the chair, much like he was clutching at the seat, and without a mere prompting word the black-haired man then shifted his legs again. Spreading his legs wider, settling backwards a touch more.
A breath being taken only for a little moan leaving both of them from the squirming movements. Then those hips began to rock slowly; back and forth, back and forth, until he felt damn near dizzy watching the lazy movement. He was burning, burning, burning, as he strained at the cloth that held him tight, held him still, and his fingers ached from clutching at the seat of the chair. He moaned when his husband began to move in those slow, lazy rocking.
Switching it up occasionally to roll his hips wickedly in that circular motion that his toes curling. It was damn good. He loved the little noise that left his husband; as if he were humming out a soft moan, the sound making him shiver as he dragged his teeth over his lip before biting down fiercely on it. Oh, his husband was damn wicked tonight. All because he was tied up. It was annoying. It was frustrating.
He hated it. He loved it. He loved, loved, loved fucking loved it. He always knew it would be so much better than using a set of handcuffs or using rope; knew it the second he'd been wrapped up in the cloth at their Sports Festival, knew it when he had that first wet dream over it. Knew it when he had been twisted in the cloth countless times in his adult life. It was just pure coincidence he wanted this more than rope or handcuffs.
God, he was so damn grateful he had the feeling that it would be so good. But that didn't compare to the actual scenario; how the heat, the lust, would burn through his veins as he tried so hard to move, to squirm, to writhe and buck up into the heat that was squeezing him so tightly it was aweing he was even sliding in and out the man so easily. It felt as if Shouta were going to break his dick in half.
How he was sizzling, whimpering, whining for something as his nails clawed at the wood. He wanted to be let go. He wanted to clutch at his husband. He wanted to squirm and writhe. He wanted to stay right there with the cloth biting into his skin. To be unable to move. He wanted reach out and touch that pale skin that was flushed a soft red from his afternoon in the sun. Wanted to squeeze and wrap his arms around his waist.
To claw at those wickedly rocking and rolling hips. He moaned when his husband looked over his shoulder, those dark eyes so unbelievably glazed with the lust in them that he wondered if his husband was actually focusing on his face. If he could really see the heat that was sizzling, throbbing in his cheeks, or the way his mouth seemed incapable of closing. How the muscles in his forehead ached from how tightly they were tugged together.
His glasses were slipping a bit down his nose, lungs positively aching for faster, shallower breaths to get more air into them. Every bit of him wanted to writhe and buck until the chair was rocking and he was able to knock it over or find a give of some kind even if he knew he'd find none. Goddamn, did he love that. This- It was everything. Everything was exactly as he had hoped all these years it would be.
He moaned loudly when those hips abandoned their rolling and rocking to begin lifting upwards and coming down in a shallow bounce. A bounce that was repeated again, and again, and again. A steady, up and down rhythm that had that next moan in his throat bubbling out as a groan as he fought the urge to let his head fall back as he didn't want to miss a second. He wouldn't allow himself to miss anything.
Not a damn thing did he want to miss. He wanted to watch those hips rise and fall, watch the sight of his erection disappearing into his husband again and again. The way the muscles in Shouta's back were flexing, those black locks brushing and trembling lightly against his back though it would be far more tantalizing if they were tugged out of its up do. How he could feel the muscles in his husband's thighs also flexing, tightening and shifting as he pushed with his feet.
Leverage to feed into those bounces. It was beautiful; the sight of Shouta on his lap bouncing no matter how wildly or shallowly was aweing. His pants trembled when he looked down in response to those hips raising higher, coming down faster; no longer shallow. As if he were too impatient for them. He was coming up farther and falling down faster causing those black locks to tremble and bounce against his upper back.
And then an arm wrapped around his shoulders tightened. The hand on the back of the chair squeezing the wood judging by the scratching sound he heard from behind him and he moaned encouragingly as the man moaned back. Oh. Oh, fuck, was that good. Shiver worthy. It was as if it were some kind of call and response. He listened to the rasping, scratchy panting from his husband mixing with his own.
A clawing, dry sound yet he knew much like his husband that closing his mouth, breathing through his nose, wouldn't be enough. Not for the hungry sensation in his lungs and he wasn't even moving to meet those thrusts. But God he wanted too. He wanted to meet them so bad and he couldn't do a damn thing about that. Strange how amazing it was for his husband to take that control from him, to comply so easily with his request.
How it took little convincing to get Shouta to tie him down to the chair with his capture weapon so readily, and to ride him the way he was? It was the best, greatest fantasy of his come to life. A reality he didn't want to step out of. Just like with the car. God, he loved that day just as much as he was loving this. He would have to encourage Shouta to live out a few of his fantasies as well; after all, they both put kinks on the list, so why shouldn't he?
Everyone should live out a fantasy, sexual or not, and everyone should have that oppurtunity. Shouta was no different. He just needed to find which ones were personal fantasies of his husband's, no matter how old or new. Shouta even claimed to have achieved a few but Hizashi didn't believe it was only a few. Far from it. No, he believed there was more on that list that could be possible fantasies of his husband.
And God help him, he was going to make Shouta admit that. The moan that tore its way out of him surprised himself with the frequency; it made the feedback of his hearing aids claw at his eardrums that were already so damaged but God that harsh slam against his lap ripped it free. The squeeze, the heat, and the way his husband seemed to be slowly, slowly, slowly throwing caution to the wind was what he wanted.
There was a little twisting movement, those bounces coming faster, faster, faster, and coming down hard, hard, that when lips covered his own, he was a touch surprise yet he didn't mind it; oh, he didn't mind it at all. It was a sloppy, messy thing of teeth banging together, lips moving sloppily and tongues meeting in such a gratuitously lewd way he knew his husband would be embarrassed by it later.
He, on the other hand, would replay it again and again. He twitched each time his piercing hit off of someone's teeth, his or Shouta's he had not a clue, as he was far too focused on twisting, licking and undulating his tongue with Shouta's as if it would make up for the lack of his hands. As if it could make up to the damn urge to thrust up each time Shouta slammed down that was eating him from the inside out.
He huffed his breaths frantically, desperately through his nose and he felt those similar breaths on his hot cheek as his glasses pressed annoyingly into his cheek bone and eyebrow respectively but he didn't dare complain. Not when Shouta was riding him damn good. Riding him like his very life depended on it. And all while he remained immobile, unable to touch or caress that pretty, pretty pale flesh that was flushing delicate red's in areas.
Little highlights courtesy of the heat. His husband, riding and fucking himself with delight while him? He was reduced nothing more than a damn chair with a dildo strapped to it. He moaned into the kiss, listening to a whimper be his response this time, and he was drooling shamelessly but it didn't matter; nothing mattered. Nothing but the fact his husband's own lips were slick, had to be drooling himself.
The slick, wet noise of each bounce his husband gave that was often accompanied by those squelches he loved when they used additional lube. The squelches that came with the hard, fast thrusts they often settled on. The huffing breaths, the high reedy noises trapped in the back of throats. The disgustingly lewd sound of their sloppy kissing. It was his aphrodisiac in that moment, more potent than any quirk or natural or man-made one could be.
He swore it. He was burning, burning, burning, and he was being squeezed so tightly by those internal muscles he wasn't sure if he could handle this much longer. The kiss broke, wild gasps being taken as if it would somehow bring a relieving breath as his hips bucked in vain against the tight restraints holding them down to the seat of the chair that he was clawing at wildly. How has he not damaged his nails yet?
No idea. Not a damn idea and it didn't matter at that moment. It was the least of his damn concerns. His fingers trembled with their tight clutch as Shouta sat forward causing that arm to slid from around his shoulders to reaching backwards over his left in a tight hold on the back of the chair above it. His air flew out of him on a wheeze, a quick one hissing in and he then used it as he cried out throwing his head back.
Gasping for air as that fast bouncing became a wild, frenzied pace. The new angle was a delightful one; he knew if he looked now, he could see so much better the sight of his erection slipping in and out again and again yet he couldn't focus. He couldn't think yet. Not with those muscles trembling, squeezing and the heat that was making his muscles jump and tense with the urge to squirm and writhe.
Something he knew he'd be free to relish in the moment it was over. But he didn't want it over. Not yet. Not yet, not yet, not yet. It was better than sinking back into a dream and picking it back up; it was better than imagining and masturbating by himself in a dark room. It was real and there were no words as to how-how euphoric he was with it. He wanted the night to go on and on, to never end.
He wanted to be lost in this heat for hours if it meant his husband would ride him like this all night long. If he could then caress those trembling, flexing thighs. Claw at his hips. Fuck, he wanted to buck up into the tight heat until his husband was wailing. He wanted to touch. To claw. To bite. To suck and leave little hickeys. To slap at that skin until it was glowing red from each hit. He wanted to record and document that this happened for his personal use later on.
Wanted too but he he knew his memories would be bursting with the heat. His brain more than happy to recall the tight squeeze of his husband's hole around his erection. The tight grip of the capture weapon biting into his skin squeezing him fiercely. The chill of the chair. The sweat covering his skin like a sheen that itches but was so, so easy to ignore. The fact that his mind was capturing every moment, was aweing.
To know every second in perfect clarity despite that lustful fog was being committed to memory? So good. So fucking good. To know this was going to sear itself into his mind was making him cry out. How would he ever forget biting tightness of the capture weapon securing him to the chair and rendering him motionless? The sight of Shouta on his knees, stretching himself open? How his husband was riding him with such wild, frantic abandon?
How would he ever forget this? He wailed out then in time with Shouta; it was strange how the same sound could come out completely different. He could hear the delight, the encouragement in his own wail while Shouta's was trembling, a strung-out noise that meant this change in positioning had managed to at least once or twice hit upon his prostate. Oh, it was good, good, good and he just needed-!
"Yes! Yes, yes, yessss, baby! Fu-Fucking ride it! R-Ride my cock like the pr-pretty little thing you are! Squeezin'- Mmmm! Oh, fuck! Like that! Li-Like that, baby! Ah! Fuck, I wanna touch you so bad! So bad but- Nnnnghn! I love this! Ah, ah! Hnng, yes! Such a g-good boy riding me the way you d-do! Give it to me, baby, give it to me so goood! F-Fuck me harder! Harder, Shouta, h-hhharder! Faster!"
He was gasping, heaving air down to shout those words but God if they weren't worth it; God if they didn't have his husband crying out as those black locks trembled against his back, made those muscles flex as he began moving with his words. Felt the muscles in his thighs tensing as he pushed off the floor and he loved the moans spilling out of the black-haired man. They ranged from those high, stuttered pitches right down to those low throaty pitches.
Oh, they made him tremble each time they rang out. His husband rode him fast, fast, faster. Hard, hard, harder. He was panting raggedly, his lashes fluttering with a fast blink and he moaned loudly as those black locks brushed against his upper back. The light sheen of sweat covering his skin was mesmerizing; to see the light red flush from the sun covered in the sheen of sweat was beautiful.
So, so beautiful. He moaned when the man then squeezed tightly around him, dropping down as hard as he dared. Fast as he dared. He twitched against the cloth as his moan crested upwards making Shouta whine. Wanting nothing more than to buck his hips, to slam them up against the black-haired man until he was wailing and squirming on his lap like he always did. To squirm, to writhe, to twitch just like Shouta.
He cried out breathlessly as Shouta tightened up around him, the man moaning in such a high manner it sent chills down his spine at the way his husband seemed to be having the time of his life. Like this had been a shared fantasy somehow. Maybe it was, he had not a clue. He'd bring it up later. His ow moan had him twitching at the frequency, his muscles tightening as his husband flinched but seemed far more focused on other things.
Focused on lifting and dropping himself quickly. Harder. Faster. And god if it wasn't fucking good.
"Mmmm, fuck yeah! Just like that, baby! Mmmmfff, fuck, fuck! Oh, fuck me! Fuck me, Shouta, fuck me! I'll fu-fuck you all night long! Fuck work! I don't- Ahhhn! Oh, God, yes! C'mon, baby, fuck yourself on me good! Ri-ride me like you w-want me to fuck you ag-again and again tonight! Fu-Fuck yourself on my cock like a bitch in heat! Show me w-who I belong too, Shouta! Show me, show me!"
"I do! I do, I do, I do! I-I'll fuckin' show you!" Shivers ran down him at how breathless, how airy his husband's voice sounded as it cracked lightly from the force of his shout and he threw his head back moaning out; heard it reaching that keening, high pitch that had Shouta wincing lightly yet the man didn't breathe a word of complaint. He'd do it later, scolding him playfully as they curled together.
"Yes, yes yes! Fuck yeah, baby! Mmmm! You love i-it that much? Te-Tell me how much you love it! Nnnghn, c'mon, baby!"
"Mmmnn, love it! L-Love your cock, Za-Zashi! So good! It's- Ahhh! Be-Better than anythin'! I wa-want you to fuck me again and again and again! Fu-Fuck me into the bed all night long! In the sh-shower! T-The floor! All over! Just- Nnnnghn! Just touch me tonight an-and fuck me! Nnngh, yes! I want- fuck me all night! Ma-Make me choke on your cock! Fuck me t-til' I cry!"
God, he loved this man. He'd do anything he wanted tonight just for making his dream, his fantasy, come true. Another one of his deepest fantasies breathed to life. The heat was raking underneath his skin, his lungs were burning for a proper breath that wasn't those rasping breaths that were drying his throat, and his body wanted to move. He wanted to move. He watched with such awe at the sight of his husband slamming down again and again.
God, he didn't know how he could even speak much less think when he was moaning delightedly with his husband. It was damn good and he'd do anything to make his husband's own dreams come true. Anymore he had hidden, he'd poke and get them out of him one way or another. How hard it was to remember to swallow, to keep from continuously drooling like he wanted. Fuck, his lashes quivered with the strength to keep them open even halfway.
To keep them open. To keep watching his husband's hips working faster, harder, bouncing quickly as he yanked himself up higher as he dared before slamming down again. The chair was rocking lightly with the strength, the speed, and it was so good. So, so good. He hoped the legs broke; he hoped they fucking wrecked the chair and that there would be no hope for using it again. And he didn't think it would.
If this chair could take such activities in it then it would live in their closet if it survived tonight and he wouldn't dare let another soul sit in it. No one but him and Shouta. He knew he should invest in a proper sex chair but this? This was far better. The coiling low in his stomach had him whimpering as his muscles again trembled with that urge to squirm and writhe as if he could physically get away from it.
As if he could rip himself free and fight the orgasm the best he could. Yet he knew it was inevitable. So, unbearably inevitable. He had nowhere to run, he didn't have the choice to edge himself, and if the new rhythm of frantic, frenzied bouncing from his husband said anything then this was it. They were nearing that cresting point. Nearing the end. He was gasping in air, dangerously close to those whooping and dizzying hyperventilating ones.
He struggled to pull as much air down to his hungry lungs as he could when his husband leaned backwards again. He was twisting towards him, that foggy look to his eyes that was positively smoldering him to the bone as lips parted. His face was so pretty when it was flushed; so, so pretty. God, how did he get so lucky as to have this man even look in his direction in the first place? Gain his affection and love somehow?
Such a pretty little thing his husband was. He could admire that face, that body of his, for hours. For days even. He sucked in a lungful of air then parted his own lips allowing those full ones to come crashing on his own in a kiss similar to the one of earlier. Sloppy, messy, and hard; lips pressing harshly, desperately before parting lips and opening mouths up. As if it was some kind of unspoken agreement.
It was only made better the moment he began twisting his tongue again delightedly, happily with his husband that he felt Shouta's right shoulder thudding rhythmically against his chest. Oh, the pitch of that moan that spilled out of him into the kiss excitedly as a fresh droplet of drool rolled down his chin had Shouta moaning back. Oh, this just got so much better. So much more tantalizingly hot.
He loved what a kinky bastard his husband was turning into and he wanted to feed into that as much as he possibly could. Because he didn't have to see to know that his husband was jerking himself off. Those light rhythmic thumps, the loud moans flying out of his husband back-to-back were all the confirmation that he needed; he could even make out a quiet, slick sound when his fingers rubbed against the head.
He wondered, wondered, wondered if he was dripping like he knew he had to be. He moaned at the thought, the image behind his eyelids at the thought of that hand flying up and down his erection, slick with the pre-come welling and smearing across his fingers as he bounced himself with that frantic, frenzied manner. It was hot, hot, hot. He was burning and he could feel his stomach tightening up. Clenching tightly.
Whimpering out, his hips did their best to wriggle as his orgasm clawed its way upwards. It was hard to move, to breathe, as he pulled breaths in through his nose frantically but it wasn't enough. Not enough. This prompted him to break that sloppy, wet kiss to gasp frantically as equally fast breaths fanned against that throbbing heat in his cheek. He wanted to focus on something, anything else, yet it was all mixing together.
Mixing and swirling make the most delightful situation he'd ever been a part of. Everything had its place in that orgasm that was rearing its head making those reedy, breathless noises sound out in the back of his throat; to him they sounded like tiny moans he strangled off to keep from hurting his husband's ears. Anything to avoid that. But God help him, the cloth that seemed to be squeezing him so tight he knew he'd be sore after this.
He knew his body would bear some kind of bruising from being held so long like this was just one thing that was making his heart positively thud against his chest. The muscles around his dick squeezing, trembling and clenching tighter, tighter, tighter as Shouta moaned in such an enthusiastic manner that he knew he was done for. He'd been done for the moment Shouta ordered him to get the damn chair to begin with.
It was only when his husband threw his head back against his shoulder, his own arm, jerking as his bouncing held that hint of desperation to it that he tipped over. He gnashed his teeth together when those muscles clamped down around him, clenching him tightly and yet the second it snapped through him. He turned his head away from his husband as he sucked in a fast breath knowing that he couldn't stop the wail that left him.
Howling out in bursts, his muscles clenching and trembling with the wild writhing they wanted to twist into; his nails clawed fiercely at the wood of the seat when he felt one of his finger nails- do what? Bend? Rip? He didn't know but there wasn't pain; that had to be the edge of his nail then? He didn't know. He couldn't focus when the heat was sizzling him alive and he couldn't move under its weight.
He tensed up gasping only for another high, keening sound to fly out of him response as his husband twisted frantically in his lap before tensing himself with a high moan flying out of him. Trembling, high and cracking was that sound that flew out of the black-haired man and if he hadn't just had the orgasm of a lifetime, he was sure that sound alone would have tipped him over. He was gasping, his chest heaving against the tight cloth.
So tight it was. It was only when his husband then slumped against it with wild gasps of his own that he realized how quiet it was now. How the room seemed emptier with that the room being filled with the moans, the light creaking of the chair, or the squelching of the lube and condom working in tandem with those bounces. How quiet it was with their wild breaths. He blinked slowly, fighting the urge to close his eyes.
He then groaned at the smearing along the bottoms of his lenses, the corners of them and the upper rims from the sweat and heat. It was annoying yet he was paying more attention to his husband sliding off of his lap on legs that trembled so viciously, that he had to twist to land on the bed. He swallowed then when the cloth began loosening, slowly at first and he could understand why.
The rush of blood was painfully coursing through his veins noticeably and the relief that flowed into him as it continued loosening up had him moaning weakly. It felt just as good as that cloth tightening up at him. Like he was being brought to life again after being held so tight, squeezed so deliciously and that blood seemed all to eager to rush through his veins so fast it felt like it was positively throbbing through him.
"Are y-you okay, Zashi?"
Was he okay? Was he really asking that? "Am I okay? B-Baby, I'm fu-fffucking fantastic!" His voice was slow, slurring and stumbling over itself as he smiled widely at the flushed, panting man as the cloth continued to loosen and slither away from his skin. "That- God, that was ev-everything I coulda ever wa-wanted and more!"
"S-So, you've been wa-wantin' this for a while?"
"You have no i-idea how long I've wanted t-this! Thank you, baby!"
There was a warmth, an affection in those foggy dark eyes that Hizashi found himself melting over; it was so sweet, so tender in the aftermath of his orgasm that he wanted to crawl into the man's lap rather than tug him into his own. He was both surprised and pleased when his husband stood on legs that trembled beneath his weight. Shuffling over to tug the capture weapon from around him.
He hummed softly as he tipped his face up. Lips then attacked his hot cheeks, his freckles, his forehead and the tip of his nose softly, again and again. Melting, melting, melting. He could feel himself sagging into the chair for once when his husband then began murmuring softly to him. A croon to him making his racing heart flutter. A soft, gentle tone that had his stomach squeezing delightedly.
"How a-about I pamper you tonight, hmm?"
"Mmm, I can gi-give you some good pampering t-too, baby! Bath?"
"Bath."
"Dear fucking God, I really do l-love you, Shouta! Thank you again, baby!"
"I love you t-too, Zashi. Now, come on. Let's go get the b-bath running. I think we've both earned a good, long soak, h-haven't we?"
"Yes, we have! L-Lead the way, my love!"