It’s quiet in the apartment when Koutarou gets home.
Well, it’s always quiet when it’s Keiji home alone, but somehow it’s a thicker quiet today, with the light on only in the kitchen and the gentle clinking of a spoon against a bowl fading into the distance.
Koutarou kicks the door closed, hangs up his coat like Keiji always tells him to, puts his boots on the shoe shelf like Keiji always tells him to, and pads across the room to the kitchen, quiet, like Keiji sometimes tells him to be.
Keiji is currently finishing off a bowl of ice cream with a solemn look. Koutarou wonders if he should interrupt him, or if there’s some kind of serious meaning to that bowl of ice cream. He teeters in the doorway, waving his arms a little.
“Welcome home, Koutarou,” Keiji murmurs, instead of telling him to stop being so antsy.
“Hi!” Koutarou cries.
There’s silence again. Keiji doesn’t look at him, just stares down at his bowl.
“Whatcha doin’?” Koutarou asks after a long while. A medium while. A shorter while than he’d meant.
“I’m contemplating how I could make my entire personality less exhausting for myself,” Keiji says.
Koutarou takes that as an opening and bounces over to Keiji, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Did something happen?”
“Work,” Keiji says. “We’re in a bit of a rough patch and half the time I’m driving myself insane by coming up with a thousand scenarios for every decision and the other half I’m estranging my coworkers by being cruel to them whenever they can’t keep up.” He sinks his head into his hands. “We’re all overworked right now but I feel as though I have been doing a great deal of it even though no one particularly likes me for it.”
“I like you,” Koutarou says.
“Today that is a mystery to me as well.”
“Do you want me to explain?” Koutarou asks.
Keiji drops his hands and starts picking at them. There are scabs all along the skin below and around his nails. “No,” he says. “No, I have been mean and overcontrolling all day and if you are kind to me now I will only feel inadequate by comparison.”
Koutarou refrains from kissing his neck right under his ear where Keiji likes it. “Then how about a spanking?”
Keiji pauses. “Yes, that would be better.”
“You won’t be mean to yourself, though, right? You’ll tell me when to stop and all?”
“Yes, of course,” Keiji says. When Koutarou eyes him warily, he sighs. “First of all, Koutarou, I am frustrated with myself, not looking to cause myself psychological damage. Second of all, I know you would be horrified and distraught if I used you to cause myself psychological damage, and I would never do that. I’ll safeword as responsibly as always.”
“Ok,” Koutarou says. “Just cause sometimes, you know, when I’m really upset, I want to do stuff that I don’t want… you know?”
“I know,” Keiji says. “I will be careful, I promise.”
“Thanks,” Koutarou says. “And if I find out you didn’t I’ll be really mad!”
“You will be sad,” Keiji retorts.
“Yeah,” Koutarou replies, trying not to feel put out. “Come on, to the bedroom.”
Keiji almost smiles at that, reaching for his bowl to set in the sink as he leaves. Koutarou slaps his hand away. “I said bedroom, Keiji,” he says. He’s glad he has a chance to remember the role before they get to sex things, because it’s kind of distracting when he has to think through things while Keiji is naked.
Keiji snatches his hand back and looks up at Koutarou, caught between annoyed and turned on, but he gets up and walks to the bedroom without another protest.
When they get to the bedroom, Koutarou goes for the closet. Keiji watches him, eagerly, as he searches for their box of toys. “Clothes off, Keiji,” Koutarou calls. He hears the slide of Keiji’s tie as he pushes aside a few blankets he’s crammed in the closet to find the little shoebox. It’s been a while since they’ve had really involved sex.
When he finds the box and walks out with it, Keiji is sitting on the bed, naked. Koutarou looks away before he gets distracted, and searches for the white little toy he’d been thinking of. He pulls it out and Keiji sucks in a breath through his teeth.
It’s a prostate massager, one of their smallest and thinnest, but it works without either of them using their hands. They’ve used it plenty of times, back and forth, but they haven’t tried it at the same time as spanking. Given the amount Keiji squirms and clenches when Koutarou hits him, it’ll probably drive him nuts.
“Lube,” Koutarou says, and Keiji hurries to get it from the bedside table.
He tosses it to Koutarou and waits, patiently.
Koutarou chews at his lip, wondering how best to do this. Over his lap? On his knees?
“Uh,” he says. “On your knees and your face on the bed.”
Keiji complies without question, though usually he makes at least one snide comment.
Koutarou squirts lube over his fingers and slowly presses one in. Keiji clenches his teeth and doesn’t make a noise. Koutarou works his finger in and out, then adds a second after Keiji looses up. He pumps them and scissors them until he feels like it’s safe to slide the massager in, and he does exactly that, settling the outer arm of the massager against Keiji’s perineum.
“Good?” he asks.
Keiji flexes his muscles a little, then nods. “Yes, it’s right.”
“Safeword?” Koutarou asks.
“Red-yellow-green,” Keiji intones.
“You don’t have to count today, baby,” Koutarou says. “But I’m not telling you how many there’ll be either.”
Keiji nods, looking eager at the thought.
Koutarou tries a slightly lighter slap than usual at first to test how well Keiji can take it with the massager in him. Keiji hisses, but he doesn’t seem uncomfortable. Koutarou tries one harder slap. Keiji squirms this time, then makes a little noise when the motion jostles the massager.
“Is this ok?” Koutarou asks.
Keiji nods. “Perfect,” he says.
“Alright,” Koutarou says. He chews at his lip. How many times should he hit Keiji? Something that will annoy him, maybe, so he gets worked up faster. He grins and lands six hits in quick succession. Keiji groans, bringing a fist up to press against his mouth. Koutarou allows him a moment, then lands another seven, making sure to switch up the slaps between Keiji’s cheeks.
Thirteen. A prime number. He hopes Keiji will notice.
Keiji pants below him, his cock already dripping. Koutarou flips him over.
“Was that it?” Keiji asks.
Koutarou grins. He did annoy Keiji after all. The impatient, biting tone in the question is familiar and Koutarou takes it as a good sign.
“So mean, Keiji,” he says. “And here I was gonna get you off for taking your spanking so well.”
He wasn’t. He was counting on the fact that Keiji would do something to warrant another spanking.
He flips him back onto his stomach, lifts his hips, and gives spanks him in bouts of three, giving him only a few pauses in between. He doesn’t bother counting sets – it’s either three or four – but he keeps it up until Keiji’s jerking, breathing hard, and then he gives him a set of two. He can feel Keiji go rigid as he waits for the third, then annoyed as he realizes there will be no third.
“Koutarou,” he tries, but Koutarou just flips him back onto his back.
“Alright, maybe now I’ll get you off,” he says. He wedges his leg between Keiji’s legs. He tries to make it seem accidental, but he knows Keiji will see he’s intentionally setting up an invitation. He’s clearly worked up, but not enough to stop thinking just yet.
He swallows hard, watching Koutarou. Koutarou freezes for a moment, waiting for him to take the obvious bait, then remembers that he’s supposed to pretend he’s doing something else, and he slowly moves his hand towards Keiji’s cock.
Keiji is clearly too desperate for what he has planned, because he has mercy and does what Koutarou hoped he would. He grinds up along Koutarou’s thigh, a few times, shivering when the motion stimulates his prostate too.
“Keiji,” Koutarou says. “You’re not suppose to grind against me, you know that.”
Keiji rolls his eyes but lets him have it.
If Koutarou does this right, soon it’ll be a lot easier to toy with Keiji. And he doesn’t mind being a little awkward at the start. Keiji knows that all this is kind of hard for Koutarou, and he knows that Koutarou does it for him happily.
Koutarou flips him over yet again and hits him another 13 times. This time it draws a few lovely sounds from Keiji, a long groan. When Koutarou pauses in the middle he shakes and whines for more, and when Koutarou starts back up again, he gives a moan that could melt ice.
This time, when Koutarou flips him over, he doesn’t even bother to pause before humping Koutarou’s leg desperately. Koutarou grins. “Keiji,” he says. “You’re not even trying to be good today.”
He flips him onto his stomach and slaps him hard enough that he can see the imprints of his hand on Keiji’s round ass Keiji cries out with the blow. He does this another three times, two for each cheek, and Keiji’s face is red and streaked with tears when Koutarou pulls him onto his back. He grabs at Koutarou’s shit and uses it to steady himself enough to thrust against Koutarou’s hip, nearly sobbing with desperation.
This time Koutarou pulls him over his thigh, his cock dripping along Koutarou’s jeans, before spanking him hard seven times.
Keiji moans into the pillows, fists clenching. Koutarou hears a muffled, “Shit,” as Keiji’s hips jolt into his thigh repeatedly.
“Can’t even stop while I’m spanking you for it, huh?” Koutarou says. “You’re that desperate for it?”
Keiji nods vigorously, hips twitching under Koutarou’s hand. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep spanking you until you stop.”
Keiji shudders underneath him at the thought. Koutarou stops, though, frowning, then gets up. Keiji starts up, getting up onto his elbows to look back at Koutarou. “Just getting out of my jeans,” Koutarou says with a grin. He pulls them off, leaving his boxers on, then drizzles lube onto his thigh before tugging Keiji back onto it, slinging his other leg over Keiji’s knee. Keiji stays on his elbows, but his head drops down between his arms.
Koutarou stops trying to focus on the number of spanks and instead focuses on Keiji’s reactions.
He lets Keiji rub himself along his thigh, meeting his clumsy movements with sharp blows. Keiji whimpers with the stimulation of his dick and his prostate at once, eyes squeezing shut, but his fingers grab at the covers and he keeps up his feeble thrusts. Whines catch at the back of his throat and eventually he shudders, hips speeding up as he moans his way through an orgasm.
“Keiji,” Koutarou says.
“Did I say you could come?” Koutarou asks.
Keiji is silent for a moment, so Koutarou tugs at his hair, pulling his head so that Keiji has to look at him over his shoulder. His eyes are glassy and he’s panting hard, but he looks like he would easily let Koutarou do anything he wanted.
“No,” Keiji breathes.
“Do you think I should punish you for it?”
Keiji trembles. “I think you’ll have to,” he manages.
Koutarou grins. “I think you’re enjoying this spanking too much,” he says. “Let’s try something else.”
Keiji’s breath comes out in shuddering pants as Koutarou pushes him down onto his back, going back to the box and pulls out a vibrator. Keiji looks at it for a moment, clearly trying to guess what Koutarou is planning. When Koutarou touches him, though, he melts, whimpering and going limp when Koutarou hauls him into his lap, clothed dick slotting against the massager still in Keiji’s ass.
Koutarou can’t say he ever figured out how the kind of dirty talk that Keiji likes works, but he hopes he can fake it for tonight. Keiji needs to rest his mind a little, which is only going to happen if Koutarou can make him lose it entirely.
“Such a slut, Keiji,” Koutarou says. “You can’t even stop getting yourself off on my leg when I’m bruising your ass for it.”
Keiji gasps, hips shooting up into the air. Koutarou switches the vibrator on.
Koutarou would like to be nice to Keiji. Being nice to Keiji is his favorite thing. But sometimes being nice to Keiji means being mean to Keiji, and Koutarou doesn’t get it, per se, but if it’s for Keiji, he doesn’t have to. He’d blindly follow Keiji anywhere.
“Do you have any idea what you look like when you’re like that?” Koutarou whispers, touching the vibrator to Keiji’s dick. Keiji mewls and tries to shy away, his hands pressing at Koutarou’s thighs to push himself up, but Koutarou holds him fast. “Like a bitch in heat, Keiji. Like a dog. A mindless, horny dog.”
He slides the vibrator up Keiji’s dick.
“Kou…” Keiji gasps. “Koutarou… please.”
“What?” Koutarou says. “Is it too much for you?”
Keiji’s legs spread and twitch as his head falls back onto Koutarou’s shoulder. “Koutarou,” he wheezes. “Koutarou, it’s so much, please…”
“I thought you couldn’t get enough?” Koutarou says. “I thought you were a little bitch who’d take anything?”
“I will, I will,” Keiji whines. “Please, Koutarou, I want to come.”
“You just did come,” Koutarou whispers. His voice is husky, and he knows Keiji likes that. He slides the vibrator around the head of Keiji’s dick. Keiji squirms, nearly sobbing. “You came like a little slut, just because you wanted to.”
Keiji’s back arches and his dick twitches. He’s close, so Koutarou pulls away the vibrator. Keiji cries out with frustration, twisting and clenching. Keiji’s never managed to come untouched, though, so the massager just builds up the tension, leaving Keiji writhing and wanting without any satisfaction.
“You don’t come because you want, though,” Koutarou continues. He waits until Keiji slumps back into his arms, defeated. “You’re not in control here.” He touches the vibrator to the base of the head and Keiji screams. “You’re my little slut.”
“Yes,” Keiji groans, hoarse.
“You come when I let you,” Koutarou says.
“Yes, yes,” Keiji says, trying to thrust into the vibrator, but unable to as Koutarou holds his hips still, letting the vibrator rest against that sensitive spot. “Koutarou.”
“You come when I want,” Koutarou continues. He’s really glad he’s thought through a lot of this before, because he doesn’t think he could come up with this shit on the spot.
“Please, Koutarou, please,” Keiji cries, throwing his head back and forth in the absence of any movement along his dick.
“Make me want it,” Koutarou says. “Come on, convince me.”
“Oh gods,” Keiji keens. “Oh, gods, Koutarou, please, please, let me come, please, I’ll do anything.”
“What kind of anything?”
“Koutarou, please, I… I don’t know… anything…” he cries.
Koutarou takes pity on him and slides the vibrator up and down and around the head, wrenching a breathless shriek from Keiji.
“What kind of anything?” he says.
“I don’t know,” Keiji sobs. “Please, Koutarou, I can’t… I can’t think just… let me come, please, I’ll… I’ll suck you off, I’ll… I’ll… gods…” He cuts off, mewling and whimpering.
“Suck me off?” Koutarou murmurs. “You’re mine. I could just do that whenever I wanted. Shove my cock into your pretty little throat until you choke.” That one had been on the fly. Koutarou tries not to show you proud he is of himself.
“Oh gods,” Keiji gasps. “Please.”
Koutarou lazily circles the vibrator around the head again. “What else would you do?”
“Anything, anything, Koutarou!” Keiji shouts. He’s getting close again, so Koutarou pulls away the vibrator and he cries out, kicking wildly. “Y-yellow,” he wheezes. “Yellow, Koutarou, I… I don’t know what you want, I can’t…”
“Sssh,” Koutarou says, dropping the vibrator and stroking Keiji’s hair instead. “It’s alright. You’re doing fine.”
“Please, I… I want to come,” Keiji says with a sniffle. “I’m so close, I want to… I don’t know…”
“Ssssh,” Koutarou says, picking back up the vibrator and slipping it up and down Keiji’s shaft. “I’ll let you come, but you gotta listen.”
“Ok,” Keiji whimpers, squirming. “Ok.”
“After this,” Koutarou says. “I want to spoil you. I’m gonna massage you and make you a bath. And I want you to stay like this, ok? No thinking, no being mean to yourself.”
“Ok,” Keiji says, gasping as Koutarou slides his hand down from Keiji’s hip to his cock, so he can wrap his hand around the shaft and thumb at the underside while he teases the crown with the vibrator. “Fuck.”
“Remember, no thinking,” Koutarou says. “Promise.”
“I pro-promise…” Keiji whimpers. “Oh fuck,” he adds, going rigid, mouth hanging open as he arches back on Koutarou’s shoulder. “Kou… Koutarou!” He comes with a violent shudder, splurting over and over again over Koutarou’s hand. Koutarou tosses the vibrator away, stroking Keiji through his second orgasm with firm, quick movements, until Keiji whines and snatches at his hand.
Koutarou slides out from under him. “I’ll be right back,” he says, laying Keiji down as he twitches with the aftershocks.
He gets a warm washcloth from the bathroom and a bottle of massage oil and another of aloe vera and hurries back. Keiji is still boneless on the bed, so Koutarou gently swipes off the cum from his stomach. Keiji shivers. “Sorry,” Koutarou says sheepishly. “Just a sec.”
He pulls away, folding the washcloth and tossing it on the floor. Keiji doesn’t so much as open his eyes. “Alright,” Koutarou says, sliding his hands under Keiji’s back and rolling him over. “Just relax.”
“Ok,” Keiji murmurs. Koutarou squeezes the aloe vera onto his ass, rubbing it in as gently as he can. Keiji still hisses, but he lets Koutarou squeeze massage oil over his hands and lower them to Keiji’s shoulder.
“I’m relieved to know you’re still my boyfriend,” Keiji says, after a while of Koutarou rubbing his shoulders, easing every last bit of tension out of those muscles. “I was growing concerned you were replaced. Perhaps by aliens, or some kind of sex demon.”
Koutarou laughs. “Well, if it makes you feel better I had to think a lot about that dirty talk! It’s not easy! And I feel bad about it, but I know you like it.”
“I do,” Keiji says, sleepily. “It was good.”
“Thanks,” Koutarou says.
“I’ll have to pay you back, probably,” Keiji says, his voice a little muffled as he sinks into the pillows “But I can’t think of anything.”
“I told you not to think.”
“I know,” Keiji says. “It was quite effective, my brain feels like molasses. Maybe it is. Maybe you’ve melted it.”
“I don’t think I can move either, anymore. Maybe you’ve melted my whole nervous system.”
“Sorry,” Koutarou laughs, though he doesn’t mean it.
“You’ll have to feed me ice cream before it all drips out my fingers,” Keiji continues.
“Really?!” Koutarou cries. Keiji is a greedy monster when it comes to food, and he’d much rather curl up in a corner and eat alone than relinquish control of his food for long enough that Koutarou can feed him.
“Really,” Keiji says.
“Holy shit, ok,” Koutarou says, charging out of the room to get ice cream, knocking over a stack of books by the door. He can’t even wait long enough to get a bowl, so he just brings a spoon and the whole container and running back.
He sets it down beside the bed and hauls Keiji up so he’s sitting, lumping the pillows under him. Keiji settles back with a content sigh, and Koutarou settles in beside him with the ice cream, scooping it out and gently sliding it into Keiji’s mouth.
“I want a bath, too,” Keiji says, after a while.
“Ok,” Koutarou says.
“And then I want to be carried out because I’ll probably fall asleep there.”
“Alright,” Koutarou says.
“I love you,” Keiji says finally.
“I love you too,” Koutarou laughs.