“Azumane!” Terushima calls exuberantly as he walks into the coffee shop, and Asahi allows him an eye roll and an exasperated smile.
“Your usual?” he asks, and Terushima grins.
“You know me so well.” He slides his card across to Asahi, deliberately leaving his fingers on it so that their hands brush when Asahi goes to pick it up. Asahi blushes and slides the card through the reader, setting it back on the counter and turning to prepare his coffee without allowing Terushima time for a retort.
Making coffee is methodical; it’s one of the things Asahi loves best about his job. The hundreds of recipes for all the drinks the shop has to offer are stacked in his mind, and he can flip through them and pull them out at will. When it’s busy, he can drown out everything else and focus on the scent of the beans, the sound of the liquid filling the cup.
Until Terushima walks in.
It’s clockwork, this interruption in his morning in the form of the attractive blonde tattoo artist from the studio down the street. Terushima’s been getting a coffee (three sugars and a splash of almond milk) on his way to work every morning for the seven months he’s been working at the studio, and he’s been flirting with Asahi for six and a half of those months.
It’s not that Asahi’s not interested, because he definitely is (despite also having crushes on his two best friends). Terushima is attractive, funny, smart. He’s also...extremely intimidating.
“I’ve always wondered about that blush,” Terushima says conversationally, coming around to the side of the counter. He has a better view of Asahi from here, and Asahi turns his body away to hide the red still creeping over his cheeks. “You know, when some guys blush it goes all the way down. I wonder if yours is like that, Azumane.”
Asahi deliberately doesn’t look at Terushima. He goes to retrieve the carton of almond milk from the refrigerator. If he slams the door a little harder than he intends to, he can chalk it up to the extra rep of bicep curls Daichi had pushed him into the day before.
“Ooh, strong guy,” Terushima calls. Asahi tosses him a raised eyebrow before adding the milk to his coffee. He carries it over to where Terushima waits and slips a sleeve onto it.
“Large, three sugars, almond milk,” he rattles off, setting the coffee down in front of him.
“Shame all those muscles are wasted on pouring coffee,” Terushima comments. He doesn’t pick up the cup. “Bet they’d be good for other things, too.”
“I do still play volleyball, you know,” Asahi comments. There’s no one else in the shop at the moment, so he allows himself to take a break. He puts a hand on his hip. “Lots of appointments today?”
“Not too many,” Terushima answers. “Just two, I think. I’m gonna get some design time in. And volleyball isn’t quite what I was thinking you could use those arms for.”
“Of course not.”
Terushima checks the time on his phone. “First one’s an early one, though. I should get going.”
“Have a good one.”
Terushima fishes some coins out of his pocket and shoves them in the tip jar. He’s halfway out the door when he turns back to Asahi and tosses him a wink. “If you want to put those muscles to good use, daddy, you know where to find me.”
Asahi goes red everywhere, and Terushima stays just long enough to watch him try to splutter out a response before smirking and heading out the door.
Suga comes out from the back just in time to see Asahi slam his head against the counter.
It’s been four hours and thirty-six minutes since Terushima casually ruined Asahi’s life.
He can’t. Stop. Thinking. About it. The look in Terushima’s eyes, the easygoing smirk on his face, the lilt in his voice as he called Asahi “daddy.” The moment has run through Asahi’s mind over and over since Terushima stepped out of the shop.
And worse, still: the rare moments that he’s given a reprieve, that he doesn’t have to relive what might be the most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to him, he pictures Terushima saying it in a different context. In the bedroom, pinned under Asahi’s arms, completely at his will; he pictures Terushima powerless beneath him, whimpering “daddy” while Asahi fucks his ass.
Needless to say, work has been next to impossible since Terushima left.
At the five hour and eighteen minute mark, Asahi throws in the towel—literally. He flings the rag he’d been using to wipe out mugs in the general direction of the laundry basket and heaves a huge sigh.
“Suga!” he calls.
Suga pops his head into the kitchen. “Hi, daddy,” they respond with a grin.
Asahi groans. He should know better by now than to tell Suga anything, ever. “I’m going home early. You’ve got Ennoshita in half an hour and Yachi an hour after that, will you be alright?”
Suga’s grin becomes wider and takes on an evil quality. “Big plans tonight, papa?”
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Asahi sighs, “and also you’re being demoted.”
Suga laughs and offers him the middle finger, and Asahi unties his apron and hangs it up. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone!” he calls as he heads out the door.
He stands outside the shop for a solid minute. Then he turns left and heads for the tattoo studio.
It’s a five minute walk, tops, which gives him five minutes to work out what the hell he’s gonna say. He doesn’t want to admit that it only took one word to break down six and a half months of resistance on his part, but it absolutely only took the one word, and he’s going to have to go in there and explain that and—oh, gods. He’s doing this. He’s really doing this. He’s seeking out Terushima, for the first time ever. He’s never been in any tattoo studio, much less Johzenji, and now he’s going to march in there and ask Terushima out. What if he’s with a client? What if he’s not?
The anxiety is almost enough to get him to turn around, but then suddenly he’s there, standing in front of a garish yellow building that has JOHZENJI painted across it like graffiti, and he’s pulling open the door and now it’s way too late because the receptionist has caught sight of him and offers him a friendly smile.
“Welcome in! Do you have an appointment?”
“Uh, no.” Asahi rubs the back of his head. “I was hoping to see Terushima? I’m a...friend.”
A look of what might be understanding passes across her face, followed by something that might be irritation. It’s all replaced quickly with another smile. “Let me go check and see if he’s available.”
She walks off, and Asahi contemplates running out the door one more time. He grounds himself by flipping through an art book on the counter. There’s a section toward the back of the book labeled “Terushima,” and Asahi finds himself turning to it without making the conscious decision to do so.
His art is impressive. He specializes in watercolor, it seems, and the book boasts photo after photo of his completed tattoos. Asahi can’t remember seeing a watercolor tattoo on Terushima himself, though. He files the confusion away for later.
“Like what you see?” a voice asks, and Asahi slams the book closed as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Terushima is leaning against the counter, and the receptionist is back in place and offering him an eye roll.
Asahi swallows, hard. Terushima is somehow even more relaxed than usual, here in his own territory. He’s got an easy grin on his face, but his eyes study Asahi carefully, and Asahi suspects he knows the motivation behind Asahi’s visit.
“You’re very talented,” Asahi says honestly, and Terushima’s grin turns vicious.
“You haven’t seen the half of it yet, Azumane,” he answers.
Asahi chokes as the receptionist reaches over and punches Terushima’s arm without even looking up at him.
“Maybe we could talk somewhere more private?” Asahi questions, his voice very small, and Terushima’s eyebrows raise a fraction before he settles again.
“You can come back to my workspace,” he says, turning and heading away from the lobby. “Thanks, Hana!”
“Fuck off,” the receptionist answers. Asahi hurries after Terushima.
Terushima doesn’t make another remark until they reach his workspace, in the back corner of the shop. The desk where he’s working has a tablet, open to a drawing that he must have been working on before Asahi came in. The only chair not occupied by Terushima is the one where clients sit while they’re being worked on. Asahi stands next to Terushima’s desk and tries not to wring his hands.
“What are you working on?” Asahi begins, and Terushima glances down at the tablet.
“Lion design for someone next week,” he answers. “But that’s not why you’re here.”
Asahi bites his lip. He glances nervously at the door, and then back to Terushima. “You have a scrap paper or something?” he asks.
Terushima cocks his head but produces a post-it and a pen. Asahi scribbles his address on it and hands it back.
“If you were being serious, earlier.” Asahi takes a deep breath. “If you were being serious be at my place at nine tonight. Don’t be late.”
Asahi spins on his heel and walks out before he can change his mind. If Terushima says anything to him, he can’t hear it past the roar in his ears.
Asahi keeps his apartment fairly clean to begin with, but he still does a thorough examination of it while he waits to see if Terushima’s going to show up. He scrubs the bathroom and vacuums the bedroom and puts away all of the little things that have accumulated in various places they don’t belong.
He changes the sheets. He checks the expiration date on the condoms in the bedside drawer.
And then it’s 8:45 and there’s nothing left to do but wait. He’s pacing a pattern through his kitchen, his socks sliding against the tile.
What if Terushima doesn’t show up? What if all the flirting had been just that, and the whole thing was a joke to him? At first, he’d been sure that’s all it was on Terushima’s part, when one side comment became daily side comments. But then flirting had eased into actual conversation, when Asahi wasn’t too busy and Terushima wasn’t running late, and somewhere along the way he’d started considering Terushima an actual friend. An extremely flirtatious friend, but a friend nonetheless. Asahi doesn’t want to admit that he’s been allowing hope to grow in his heart for several months now, especially if it turns out he was wrong.
Asahi takes a beer out of the fridge and downs half of it in one go.
There’s a knock at Asahi’s door.
A flood of relief threatens to drown him. He sets his beer on the counter and goes to the door. He nearly throws it open in his haste.
Terushima’s changed into a plaid and a pair of jeans that has probably seen better days. Unless it’s a fashion thing, all those holes; Asahi wouldn’t know. He does know that Terushima looks amazing in them, looks amazing in general, and he finds himself thankful for the usual effortless grin on Terushima’s face.
“Hi,” Asahi says, a little breathless.
“Hey,” Terushima answers. They stand there for a moment, Asahi a little caught up in the circumstances and Terushima’s gaze and his own head. Terushima raises an eyebrow. “Are you gonna invite me in?”
Asahi flushes. “Sorry, come in,” he says, standing out of the way.
The way Terushima brushes against him as he passes has to be deliberate. It sets off nervous, excited sparks in Asahi’s gut.
Asahi closes the door behind him. Terushima goes over to the kitchen and picks up the bottle of beer off the counter.
“Nervous?” he questions.
Asahi blinks at him. He locks eyes with Asahi as he takes a long sip of the beer. When he’s done, he offers it to Asahi.
“You wanna finish it off?” he asks.
Asahi crosses the space between them, takes the bottle and sets it down, and presses Terushima into the counter, their mouths meeting in a sloppy kiss. It’s not ideal, because Terushima wasn’t exactly prepared for Asahi to jump him, but then he laughs into it, bringing his arms up to encircle Asahi’s neck. Asahi runs a hand through Terushima’s hair, the way he’s wanted to for months, and is delighted to discover how soft it is. He holds Terushima by the back of the head as they part.
“It was the daddy thing, wasn’t it?” Terushima questions, a wild smile on his face. “That’s what made you finally give in.”
“Shut up,” Asahi grumbles, bringing their mouths together again. Terushima parts his lips and Asahi licks his way past them, his free hand falling down to the lowest part of Terushima’s back. Terushima hums softly, a quiet noise against Asahi’s mouth. Asahi falls in love instantly with the noise, so out of place from the noisy persona Terushima puts up for the world. He wants to know what other noises he can draw out of him tonight.
“You’re a perv,” Terushima says when they part. His hand slips down from Asahi’s neck, his nails scratching down Asahi’s back, before settling on Asahi’s ass. Asahi blushes, from the contact and the comment.
“You’re the one who said it,” he points out. He leans in and mouths at Terushima’s neck, and Terushima tilts his head back to allow him access, humming softly again.
“You’re the one who got turned on by it,” he retorts. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m just glad something finally got through.”
Asahi nips the skin under his teeth, and Terushima’s breath stutters. “You scare the hell out of me, Terushima.”
Terushima huffs a laugh as Asahi moves along, toward his throat. “Back at you.”
Asahi pauses and moves away from Terushima. “What?”
Terushima swallows and looks away, and the grin falls from his face for the first time. “I don’t...I don’t want to fuck this up, Azumane. Is this just sex for you, or do you want something more?”
Asahi inhales sharply. He knows the answer; he didn’t think he’d have the chance. “I...I want more. If that’s what you want.”
Terushima hesitates, and then nods. “I want more, too. And that’s what scares me.”
Asahi shakes his head, a smile gracing his lips, and then leans in to kiss Terushima again. Terushima’s lips are soft, and Asahi has a feeling he could kiss them all day and not get tired of how wonderful they feel against his own. “That’s not something to be scared of,” Asahi says against his lips.
Terushima nips at his lip and then trails downward, sucking softly at Asahi’s neck. Asahi relaxes into his touch, letting himself go a little limp, loosening his hold on Terushima. He runs a hand up Terushima’s side. Terushima squeezes his ass, and Asahi moans into his mouth.
“You like that, daddy?” Terushima breathes, and Asahi shudders.
“Come on,” Asahi says, his voice low, grabbing Terushima’s wrist and tugging him into the bedroom. He all but throws Terushima down on his back on the bed and follows him down, slotting their lips together again. Asahi’s hips pin Terushima to the bed easily, and Asahi can feel the beginnings of Terushima’s erection pressing against his leg. He grinds down into it, and Terushima breaks away from Asahi’s mouth.
“You really liked it,” Terushima laughs. Asahi nods quickly, looking away. Terushima lifts his head and grasps Asahi’s earlobe between his teeth.
“Teru,” Asahi gasps, and Terushima lets out that quiet little hum again, right into Asahi’s ear. It sends warmth down Asahi’s spine. A moment of doubt grips him. “Was that okay—calling you that?”
Terushima releases his hold on Asahi’s ear. “It was great, Azumane. You don’t have to worry so much, you know.”
“Easier said than done,” Asahi admits.
Terushima shakes his head. “Relax.” His hands find the hem of Asahi’s shirt and lift it away, revealing his stomach, and he runs a hand across Asahi’s abs. Asahi sits up and removes the shirt altogether. Terushima follows him up and sucks one of Asahi’s nipples into his mouth.
“Fuck!” Asahi swears loudly, his hand flying up to hold Terushima in place. Terushima swirls the ball of his tongue ring around the raised flesh, causing goosebumps to erupt over Asahi’s skin. He removes himself with a pop and looks up at Asahi, his gaze heavy.
“Daddy’s sensitive, hm?” he questions.
Asahi growls, grabbing him again and guiding him to his other nipple, and he repeats the same motions with his tongue.
“Fucking—hell, Terushima,” Asahi manages, and Terushima’s wearing a lazy smile when he looks at Asahi again.
“I told you you hadn’t seen the half of my talent,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.
Asahi suspects he still hasn’t. “Take your shirt off,” he directs, and Terushima works the buttons quickly, opening his shirt to reveal his chest.
There’s a large, colorful tattoo across his upper right chest: a lotus flower, a variety of warm colors bursting past the confines of the lines. Asahi reaches out a hand without thinking, running his fingers against the tattoo.
“I guess that answers that,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, and Terushima cocks his head.
Asahi looks up at him. “You specialize in watercolor tattoos, right? I wondered why you didn’t have one, but you do. I just hadn’t seen it.”
Terushima freezes, looking up at Asahi with wide eyes.
“What?” Asahi questions, anxiety rushing through him.
Terushima shakes his head and tackles Asahi into another kiss, their teeth clacking together when Terushima goes at him with too much enthusiasm. He ends up in Asahi’s lap, his shirt unbuttoned but not removed, his legs wrapping around Asahi’s waist. For the moment, Terushima has control; Asahi lets him run his hands all over his bare back, shoulders, and stomach, and just holds his waist tight as they kiss. Terushima’s hands slide past the waistband of Asahi’s jeans and knead into just the top of his ass, the only part he can reach.
“You’re—really sweet,” Terushima says, punctuating his words with kisses to Asahi’s neck. “Too—sweet. Too sweet—for someone—who’s actually—so dirty.”
Asahi blushes, but he manages to laugh, too. “You bring it out in me,” he answers earnestly. He lifts one hand and winds it through Terushima’s hair, tugging him away from his skin so they can look at each other. Asahi bites his lip; Terushima’s eyes have gone hazy, and he’s pliant under Asahi’s touch.
“I think that’s enough,” Asahi says. “Lay back down. And get your pants off.”
Terushima nods quickly and disentangles himself from Asahi, removing his clothes and tossing them in a haphazard pile on the floor. He lays back against the bed and Asahi half expects him to sit up, to look cocky, to make a smartass comment. Instead he watches Asahi with wide eyes, waiting for his next instruction. Asahi unbuckles his own jeans and slides them down slowly, reveling in the way Terushima follows the fabric down to his ankles. Terushima’s eyes slide back up to his cock, and Asahi strokes himself once. Terushima swallows, hard.
“Shit, Azumane,” he chokes out. “You’re packing some serious heat over there.”
Asahi straddles him and leans down over him. His hair falls down and frames Terushima’s face. “What did you call me?” he asks slowly.
Terushima shivers underneath him. “Daddy,” he says, blinking, “I want to suck your cock, please.”
Asahi moans; it isn’t what he had in mind, but it’ll be a good warmup. “That’s fine,” he says, going for nonchalant. He’s certain Terushima knows better, but oh well. “Can you take it like this?”
“Yes,” Terushima agrees.
“Lean up for me,” he directs, and Terushima does so. Asahi arranges the pillows underneath his head. Terushima makes a pretty picture, laying back against them, looking ready and eager to take Asahi’s cock down his throat. “Tap my hip twice if you need me to pull out, alright?” he says, suddenly uneasy.
Terushima nods. “I will.”
Asahi bites his lip before going on. “You’ll be good for me? You won’t hurt yourself?”
Terushima heaves a breath. “I’ll be good, daddy, I promise. I want to make you feel good.”
Asahi shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and pushes forward until the head of his cock brushes against Terushima’s lips.
“Open your eyes,” Terushima says. “Please.”
Asahi does so; Terushima presses a sweet, soft kiss to his cock before opening his mouth.
“Fuck, Teru,” Asahi mutters. He thrusts into Terushima’s waiting mouth and moans, his eyes falling closed again. It’s hot and wet and perfect, and Terushima works his tongue around Asahi’s length with practiced ease. Asahi tangles his fingers into Terushima’s hair and grips him tight, and Terushima moans around him, the vibrations ricocheting all the way through Asahi’s body. “Fuck, fuck. Teru,” he gasps. He moves his hips forward, just a little, and Terushima’s jaw drops open to accommodate his length. “Terushima!”
Asahi is going to come if he lets Terushima suck him for much longer, but gods, his mouth is amazing. He thrusts forward once, his tip pressing into the back of Terushima’s throat, and Terushima just swallows around him like it’s nothing. He thrusts once, twice, three more times, Terushima taking him with no trouble at all, and then he has to back out. He slips his cock out of Terushima’s mouth; Terushima chases after it, licking up the precome dripping from his head. Asahi almost sobs. He slides down him so he can rest his forehead against Terushima’s.
“Teru,” he mumbles, and Terushima hums. “You’re very, very good at that.”
“It helps when your cock is as perfect as it is,” Terushima answers, his voice a little raw. “I wanted to swallow, you know.”
Asahi groans and ruts himself against Terushima’s leg. He wants it too, wants to fuck Terushima’s mouth until he’s seeing stars, but that wasn’t his plan for tonight. Asahi has to take a deep breath to remind himself of that.
“Next time,” he says, and he’s too close to see Terushima’s smile but he can feel it.
“What’s the plan for tonight, then?” Terushima asks.
Asahi leans down and presses his mouth against Terushima’s. He tries not to let himself be embarrassed by his own dirty talk when he answers, “Gonna fuck you into this mattress.”
“Fuck, yes,” Terushima moans.
“Flip over for me,” Asahi says, and Terushima scrambles out from underneath him. Asahi reaches over into the drawer and grabs a condom and the lube. “Hands and knees.”
Terushima does as he’s asked, presenting his ass without shame. Asahi warms the lube between his hands and pours some out over his fingers.
“You’re good?” Asahi confirms, placing one hand on Terushima’s low back.
“Please,” Terushima replies, thrusting his hips backward toward Asahi. “Daddy, please.”
Asahi moans and pushes two fingers past the rim of Terushima’s entrance. Terushima moans loudly, smothering the sound by shoving his face into a pillow. Asahi reaches forward and grabs his hair, lifting up his head and making him hiss.
“Don’t—don’t cover it up,” Asahi says. “I want to hear you, please.”
“I won’t,” Terushima answers in a gasp.
Asahi lets him go, petting through his hair and scratching at the spot where he’d tugged. He scissors his fingers, a little harder than he’d do to himself because he knows Terushima wants it that way. Terushima thrusts his hips backward again, making Asahi’s fingers sink further into him. The tip brushes against Terushima’s prostate, and Terushima nearly screams.
“That feel good, baby?” Asahi asks, and Terushima wails.
“More, more, please, daddy, I can take it,” he cries.
Asahi adds a third finger and finds Terushima’s prostate again, rubbing against it with purpose. Terushima moans nonstop beneath him. His legs begin to tremble with effort, and Asahi leans down and places soft kisses against the back of his thigh.
“Azu—daddy, fuck,” Terushima shouts. “I’m ready, I’m ready, just—fuck, please, just fuck me already.”
Asahi ignores him, spreading his three fingers out inside of Terushima. Terushima groans and fucks back against his fingers insistently, but Asahi takes his time, curling and flexing his fingers. Terushima writhes beneath him, begging and pleading with Asahi as he carefully pushes a fourth finger into his ass.
“Relax,” Asahi murmurs, kissing Terushima’s other thigh. “Relax, I’ve got you.”
Terushima takes a deep breath, quieting for a moment. Asahi keeps kissing him, sucking at the soft skin of Terushima’s legs. Terushima breathes in shaking, shuddery gasps, each one causing butterflies to erupt in Asahi’s stomach.
“Alright,” Asahi says finally, and Terushima swears as Asahi withdraws his fingers.
“Please,” Terushima whimpers, and Asahi shivers. He reaches over and rolls a condom on himself quickly.
“Here, come here for a minute,” Asahi directs. Terushima gets up and faces Asahi, sitting up on his knees. Asahi hands him the lube, and Terushima grins as he takes it. He pours it out and takes Asahi’s cock in his hand, giving it several strokes as he lubes it up. Asahi presses their foreheads together.
“Alright,” Asahi says, and Terushima withdraws his hand. “We’ve waited long enough.”
“Whose fault is that?” Terushima teases, and Asahi nips at his lip.
“Hush. Hands and knees.”
Terushima goes, waving his ass in the air. Asahi places a hand on his lower back and lines himself up with the other.
And then he’s pushing in, Terushima’s moans the background noise to the roaring in his ears. He has every intention of taking it slowly, of letting Terushima get used to the feeling, but Terushima fucks back against him and suddenly he’s completely buried within him.
“Fuck, Teru,” Asahi gasps, holding his hips in place so he can’t move. “Fuck, baby, have some patience.”
“I need you, daddy,” Terushima answers. He turns his head to look at Asahi. “Need your cock, please , will you move?”
“Teru,” Asahi groans. He’s certain this is going to be the death of him: Terushima’s gorgeous face, flush with sweat and desire, his perfect ass, his hips shaking with restraint to keep himself from fucking back against Asahi. “Goddamnit.”
He snaps his hips backward and then forward, and Terushima’s face falls back into the pillow as he cries out. Asahi sets a quick pace, fucking him hard and fast. The old bed frame creaks beneath them, but Asahi can barely hear it over Terushima’s constant, wonderful noise, only slightly muffled by the pillow.
“Wait,” Asahi mumbles, pausing.
Terushima looks like he’s going to sob when he turns back to Asahi. “Please, fuck , please don’t stop now—”
“Not stopping,” Asahi assures him. He pulls out and Terushima does choke on a cry. “Just wanna switch positions. Wanna see your face, baby.”
Terushima bites his lip. Asahi lays beside him and touches his face gently, and he leans into it, letting his eyes shut.
“Ride me?” Asahi asks, and Terushima opens his eyes again and nods enthusiastically. He hops up and straddles Asahi’s lap, and Asahi holds his cock so Terushima can sink down onto it. Now Terushima has more control, and he fucks himself on Asahi’s cock. Asahi likes this new angle, really likes it, because he can study each twitching movement of Terushima’s face, each wince, each jaw drop. Terushima is gorgeous, single mindedly seeking his orgasm, his head thrown back toward the ceiling so Asahi can see the tendons in his neck working. Asahi reaches for his cock and takes it in a shaking hand.
“Daddy!” Terushima shouts as Asahi thumbs over the slit. “Fuck, daddy, thank you, it feels so good, fuck .”
Asahi’s hips buck up of their own accord, and Terushima slams himself down into Asahi, taking him as deep as he can go. Asahi inches closer to the edge with Terushima screaming above him. He strokes Terushima in rhythm with the thrust of his hips as heat coils in his gut.
“Teru,” he grunts, “Teru, I’m close.”
Terushima leans down without interrupting his urgent movement. “Come in me, daddy.”
Asahi’s orgasm bursts from him like it’s being ripped out of him. He moans through it; Terushima gets very quiet, studying Asahi’s face while waves of pleasure overwhelm him. Asahi catches his breath, and Terushima leans down and kisses his neck.
“Can I come on your stomach?” he murmurs, and Asahi moans quietly and nods.
He pulls himself carefully off Asahi’s cock, and Asahi sits up.
“Sit on your knees, baby,” Asahi says, and Terushima cocks his head in confusion. “Gonna fuck you with my fingers.”
Terushima laughs as he does as Asahi asks. “You’re spoiling me, Azumane.”
Asahi only raises an eyebrow at him as he slips his fingers back into Terushima, who moans and pitches his head forward. Asahi slips four inside easily and curls them, seeking and then finding Terushima’s prostate. Terushima leans into Asahi, his head falling against Asahi’s shoulder.
“Weren’t you going to touch yourself?” Asahi prompts.
Terushima lifts his head and smirks at Asahi. “Getting there. Now who’s being impatient.”
“Don’t get too smart,” Asahi answers, biting at Terushima’s neck.
Terushima strokes himself as Asahi scissors his fingers inside him. He rubs against Terushima’s prostate with purpose, seeking out his pleasure, and it’s not long before Terushima is shaking and gasping.
“Can I come, daddy?” Terushima asks.
“Yes,” Asahi answers. “Yeah, come for me, baby.”
Terushima strokes himself twice more and splatters his release over Asahi’s stomach. Asahi uses his free hand to grab the back of Terushima’s head and bring him closer, and Terushima’s chest heaves with effort. Impulsively he runs two of his fingers through the mess and sucks them into his mouth. Terushima stares at him, mouth agape.
Asahi smiles. “You taste nice.”
“I can’t believe the unassuming coffee shop owner is actually such a fucking pervert,” Terushima says, and Asahi blushes. Terushima runs his hands over Asahi’s chest. “Hey, look at that. I was right.”
“Right about what?” Asahi asks.
Terushima grins. “It does go all the way down.”