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Skating Toward Submission

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Joe tried to keep his skating persona and his everyday self separate, but Sakura-san — well, Cherry Blossom, at least — made it so difficult. Cherry was a damn good skater, as much as Joe hated to admit it, and their back-and-forth bickering coupled with the competition always got his blood singing.

He may be complicated in terms of balancing his normal life vs. skater persona, but when it came to sex, he was a pretty simple — and very bisexual — man. He wanted someone who didn’t look like they’d be a challenge to present themselves as one, and Cherry certainly checked that box on his list.

So when he walks up to the back door of the calligraphy shop a couple hours after their race, not for the first time this month, or even this week, he knows what to expect: absolute silence from Cherry as he opens the door, allowing Joe to walk past into the dark with a grin. And that he did, Cherry’s eyes not even following him as he sauntered cockily into the dark.

“How do you manage to do that consistently?” Cherry asked after he’d shut the door.

“Do what?” Joe asked, leaning back on the wide cushion chair he’d settled into. “Win?”

Cherry scoffed. “You hardly win with any consistency. I was referring to the arrogant attitude you bring to me every time you come here when you know I’m only going to break you apart.”

Joe swallowed in response, too aroused to come up with a biting comment, but his silence was enough to let Cherry know the effect his words had on him.

“That’s what I thought. Now let’s talk about our race.”

“What about it?”

Cherry hummed thoughtfully. “You seem to have a problem with Carla.”

“Carla—? Your board?” Joe asked incredulously. “Yeah, I have a problem. I don’t want some robotic voice involved in our races. Who would?”

“You sound a bit jealous, Joe.”

A scoff forced its way out of Joe’s throat. “Why would I be jealous of a machine?”

“You don’t like hearing Carla?” Cherry asked. “You don’t like seeing me turn on the perfect lines that she calculates?”

“No, I don’t,” Joe bit back. “It’s not real skating.”

“Hmm. Then for your sake, you won’t see or hear a thing today,” Cherry replied simply.

Joe snorted a snarky laugh. “Sure, Mister Cryptic, what’s that supposed to me—”

Cherry cut off his sentence by placing a gag in Joe’s mouth, practiced fingers moving behind his head to secure it in place. He skimmed his fingertips across the leather, back around to the front where the metal o-ring held Joe’s mouth open.

“Whuh th fuh?” Joe attempted to ask, but Cherry silenced him by pressing two fingers through the ring and onto his tongue.

“And for mine, you won’t speak, either.”

Joe glared at him and attempted to pull his tongue back, and Cherry laughed, a light sound that Joe refused to tempt him into submission, even if the feeling it sent seeping into his skin did leave him a bit high.

Pulling his fingers back, Cherry used them instead to catch Joe by the wrists. “Strip,” he demanded. Joe made a noise of annoyance, pulling his wrists away, but Cherry grabbed them harder. “Strip. And leave this on.” His voice left no room for argument as he gestured to the gag and backed up.

Standing up and unbuttoning his shirt, Joe eyed Cherry carefully in the dim light, but he wasn’t able to ask any questions.

“If at any point you want me to stop tonight, use your fingers and give me four taps anywhere, okay? And I’ll stop and check in with you.”

Joe took off his pants and boxers and shoved them aside on the floor, moving to replicate the motion against Cherry’s outstretched palm. One, two, three, four quick taps with a couple fingers against the smooth skin of Cherry’s hand.

“Good boy,” Cherry whispered, sliding his hand up into Joe’s hair. Joe melted into the touch without thinking, and Cherry fisted the hair in his grip and pulled. “Other than that, keep your hands to yourself. Now kneel for me, Joe.”

A groan passed from Joe’s open mouth as he kneeled in front of Cherry. Cherry, who still stood fully clothed in front of him, commanding the submission Joe could never admit he wanted to give.

From Cherry’s sleeve he produced a blindfold, as well as something smaller that Joe didn’t recognize, and he used his other hand to grip Joe by the chin, tilting his face upward and drawing an almost worshipping gaze from him.

“I’ll give you what you need.”

Joe really couldn’t tell you why he let Cherry do this to him.

He ground his teeth together a little just to hear them; the earplugs in his ears prevented him from hearing anything else, really. The soft cloth over his eyes cut off any vision he’d had in the already near-darkness of the spare room in Cherry’s calligraphy shop. He sat still on his knees, waiting for Cherry to move him, or even just touch him; the other man’s steps were so soft that if he was moving at all, Joe couldn’t even feel it through the floorboards.

Fingers against his chin surprised him, and more fingers dipped through the gag onto his tongue, swirling around the saliva he was unable to swallow. When Cherry pulled back the hand from his mouth, he left his fingertips against Joe’s chin, grasping his face enough that Joe understood to keep it where it was.

Joe’s thoughts raced with possibilities, the slightest touch from Cherry’s fingers feeling like electricity when it was the only thing he could sense. His brain faltered, however, as Cherry slid his length through the gag’s o-ring and into Joe’s mouth. The fingers Cherry had dampened with Joe’s spit now caressed his face as he pushed in almost agonizingly slowly.

Joe knew from experience that he could only take about two thirds of Cherry’s cock in his mouth without gagging, and that was with practice; he usually considered himself decent at oral sex, but Cherry was so much bigger than he had expected. He knew Cherry would never let him ask, much less measure it, but it had to be seven inches. Noticeably bigger than Joe’s, much to Joe’s dismay.

Cherry thrusted in and out shallowly, letting Joe work around him with his tongue, until finally pushing in as far as Joe would let him.

Breathing through his nose helped, but Joe still gagged at the attempt to push further than they’d gone before. Slender fingers sank back into his hair, stroking Joe’s scalp to soothe him before pulling back and trying again, meeting the same reaction. Cherry’s grip in Joe’s hair tightened, half-encouragement, half-warning.

Even though Joe couldn’t hear anything, his lust driven brain supplied words in Cherry’s voice: Be good for me, Joe. Just a little deeper. I know you can do that for me.

Despite the struggle, Joe moaned around Cherry’s cock, pushing his own mouth forward the fraction that Cherry’s grip on his head allowed, and swallowed around Cherry’s length.

The grip in his hair tightened, and Cherry bucked his hips forward, pulling another gag from Joe’s throat before he backed up, running a thumb over Joe’s bottom lip, slick and shiny with spit. He scratched his nails lightly from Joe’s hairline down his scalp, and Joe made a noise of comfort before Cherry guided his cock back through the ring, as deep into Joe’s throat as he could go.

Joe breathed through his nose again, relaxing his throat and letting Cherry fuck into it as deep as he was able. He worked his throat around Cherry, swallowing and squeezing him once, twice before he felt Cherry spilling into him, pulling out so Joe could breathe and attempt to swallow with his mouth still held open.

Joe’s jaw ached, but the pain felt good in a way that sent a sick thrill down his spine. Once again, he could never remember why he let Cherry do this to him until Cherry reminded him. And damn, Cherry sure did love to remind him.

Cherry led him back to the futon he’d lounged on when he arrived, guiding Joe until the frame touched the back of his legs. He sat, and moved to lay down, but it was still folded up like a couch instead of down like a bed, giving his back a place to rest.

Usually, Cherry toyed with him and then fucked him on the futon. He was always on his knees, facing away from Cherry, which he didn’t mind too much since it was objectively the best position. But if Cherry had already come, how was he expecting to fuck Joe? Was he planning to take the time to finger Joe long enough to get hard again? Was he going to--

The feeling of something cold and gel-like on Joe’s cock cut off his train of thought at the same time a weight settled next to him on the futon. Cherry’s hand, coated in lube, stroked Joe from the base to the tip and back down. A sigh escaped from his opened mouth, and he thrust a little into the sensation. I guess being jacked off isn’t the worst thing, Joe thought, but it does feel unusual for Cherry.

When Cherry pulled away after a minute, Joe’s hips chased the feeling, and Cherry pushed him back down with his hand. A small vibration hit Joe’s ear, but if Cherry spoke, he still wasn’t able to hear it.

Cherry’s knee brushed against Joe’s thigh, and Joe hummed, as well as one can with an open mouth. Cherry was limiting their skin-to-skin contact, and it made every brush of skin more exciting, made Joe more desperate for it.

He had hardly accepted the feeling of Cherry’s knee against him when the other man’s weight shifted. Joe nearly jumped as he felt the warmth of Cherry’s thigh resting on either side of his own, straddling him.

No. No, there was absolutely no way Cherry was going to—

Cherry’s fingers wrapped around the base of Joe’s cock as he steadied himself, sinking down just over the tip, spreading his knees wider until his ass was flush with the tops of Joe’s thighs. He squeezed experimentally around Joe, who was nearly sure he’d died aside from the hurricane of thoughts in his head.

He’s riding me. He’s facing me and he’s riding me, and he didn’t even stop since I’ve been here to prep himself which means that before I got here, he was waiting for me, fingering himself open because he wanted to ride my cock.

Cherry lifted himself up and dropped down hard and fast, a moan so loud coming from Joe’s mouth that Cherry shoved three fingers through the o-ring and onto his tongue in an effort to silence him. He swirled around some of his release that was still left on Joe’s tongue, and Joe desperately wished that he could close his mouth and suck on those delicate fingers.

He settled for lifting his hips up instead, meeting Cherry with every thrust down, and he had never been a godly man, but this felt like the closest thing he’s ever had to a religious experience. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, only tasting Cherry’s fingers and seed in his mouth and feeling Cherry’s walls clench around him. Everything was Cherry, Cherry, Cherry.

He could feel Cherry’s breaths on his face, could feel his soft moans through his body, and he desperately wanted to know what his face looked like. Were his eyebrows bunched up, eyes closed and mouth open, utterly shameless? Was his mouth closed, eyes looking intently at Joe’s face simply because Joe couldn’t stare back? Was it so good that he was crying? Was he faking enthusiasm just to get Joe off?

He thrusted up again, seeking more and more of that feeling, of Cherry, when Cherry leaned forward and threw his arms around Joe’s neck, holding their chests flush against one another.

Joe gasped at the sensation, loud and unabashed, and moved his until-now-obedient hands to Cherry smooth, naked hips, slamming him down harder than he was able to do on his own.

Cherry didn’t stop. He didn’t pull Joe’s hands away, didn’t force him back into obedience. He set his lips against Joe’s neck, sucking and biting marks, running his tongue over them, and all the while letting his moans vibrate through Joe’s skin.

Each kiss, each nip sent Joe closer and closer to the edge, but they hadn’t discussed this, they hadn’t set any ground rules, so when he felt Cherry tighten around his cock again, he slowed down, holding Cherry’s hips against his in an effort to keep himself from finishing.

He felt Cherry’s teeth against his jaw, following the strap of the gag up to his ear, and he spoke so close that Joe could hear him even with the earplugs in.

“Inside me, Joe. I want it.”

He punctuated his sentence with a grind of his hips, and Joe was gone, thrusting up into Cherry with abandon and reaching his hand down to stroke Cherry to his own orgasm. It only took a few strokes before Cherry was following him, spilling across Joe’s chest and abdomen and collapsing against his shoulder.

Cherry was quick to reach behind Joe’s head, mercifully unfastening the gag, and Joe reached a hand up to rub at his jaw while the other man took out his earplugs. “Damn, Cherry,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cherry mumbled into his shoulder. “Just be glad I’m not punishing you for failing to keep your hands to yourself.”

Joe chuckled and moved his hands up to remove the blindfold, but Cherry caught him weakly by the wrist. “Leave it on. I don’t want to move yet.”

“Why can’t I see you?” Joe asked. “You never let me see you when we’ this.”

Cherry hummed. “Have you considered that maybe I’m trying to make you desperate for me?”

“I’m pretty sure we’re past that point,” Joe laughed, tipping his face toward Cherry’s hair. He reached up with his dry hand to stroke Cherry’s hair, but Cherry sighed and pulled away before he could touch it.

“Rest,” Cherry said once he’d stood. “I’ll be back in a minute to help you get cleaned up.”

Once his footsteps had retreated from the room, Joe reached up to remove the blindfold. The room was just as dark as it was when he’d arrived.

He gazed thoughtfully in the direction Cherry had exited. He’s a pain in the ass, Joe thought, but I’ll figure him out eventually. He hesitated over his next thought, but he couldn’t stop it:

I think he’s worth figuring out.