Shirabu rolls his eyes. Terushima’s staring at him like he’s some sort of meal, pressing him against the wall. Maybe he’s trying to be intimidating. Shirabu laughs as Terushima kisses the side of his mouth, like he’s done hundreds of times before.

“Something funny?” Terushima asks against his mouth. He tastes like his lunch covered with mint. “Or are you ticklish and never told me before?”

Shirabu licks back into him. “You are far more ticklish than me,” he says, sneaking his hands against the hem of Terushima’s shirt. He delights in the way Terushima shivers a little, strains against the feeling.

“That’s true,” he says, aligning their mouths back together. “But I bet I want your dick more than you want mine.”

Shirabu snickers, scrunching his nose. One of Terushima’s hands has curled around the back of his neck, rubbing a thumb there, at the fray of his shirt.

Shirabu says, “I’m not sure if I want to take that bet.”

“Really?” Terushima pulls away suddenly. His eyes flicker across Shirabu’s face, and Shirabu tells himself to hold his expression still. “Why?”

Shirabu slides his hands out from rubbing on Terushima’s stomach, wraps his arms around Terushima’s neck. “Because if you want it I’ll just give it to you,” he says, pressing his lips to under Terushima’s chin, pressing a light kiss there. “Duh.”

Terushima growls. Before he knows it, Shirabu’s arms are back at his sides, and Terushima’s on his knees on the ground, sliding Shirabu’s trousers down. Shirabu quietly tries not to laugh at how desperate Terushima is – so maybe he’s been holding back from him to see how long he could last before he got like this. Terushima’s been coming home tired, slinging an arm around Shirabu’s shoulder, pressing lazy kisses on his cheek and the side of his neck. Shirabu doesn’t complain but doesn’t return, but when he comes back from his night showers Terushima’s always already passed out on the bed. The week’s been hard on him for work, and Shirabu would’ve easily treated him any time during the week if he’d just asked.

But now Terushima’s the one sliding Shirabu’s dick out of his boxer shorts, eyeing it greedily. And Shirabu? Well, he’s pretty okay with this.

“God,” says Terushima, holding his cock with his left hand and licking one stroke down the side. Shirabu’s insides clench and burn, even more when Terushima gazes up at him half-lidded.

“I love your dick so much,” Terushima says, and it kind of ruins the mood.

Shirabu laughs into the crook of his elbow. “And I love your dirty talk,” he says sarcastically. “So much.”

“Hey.” Terushima runs the ring of his fist down Shirabu’s dick to the base, and Shirabu tries not to buck into him. “I’m pleasuring you, babe.”

“You really are.” Shirabu doesn’t try to fight the grin this time. “And I’m not always easy to please.”

“Lies,” says Terushima.

He licks along him again, and Shirabu watches, feeling his legs beginning to tremble. Terushima really is good, the way his tongue slides from the base to the tip, his lips closing over the head. Shirabu tightens the space between his thighs, and Terushima pops off to look at him again.

“Feeling good, Bubu?” he asks, and even through the heat and tight coils in his stomach Shirabu manages to let out a laugh. That nickname is the only thing to make him do that.

“I’m feeling,” he starts, but Terushima goes at it again, really taking him in, hot and warm and wet. Shirabu strains himself, trying to stare at the way Terushima sucks at him with vigor, the loud noises echoing against the bedroom walls – but it gets hard when Terushima opens his eyes again and looks up at him, blown pupils and practically asking how he’s doing.

Shirabu closes his eyes and bucks into his mouth and groans, “Terushima.” The heat burns into him, white hot and tingling at his toes.

Terushima doesn’t stop though, pulls away and says, “Yeah, baby, you like that.” The last of Shirabu’s thrusts go into the air, and he peeks his eyes open to see Terushima sliding the tip of his index finger at his mouth, rubbing the heel of his palm against the front of his own pants.

When Shirabu speaks it comes out in little gasps. “What are you doing,” he asks, and his already pink cheeks get even warmer at how desperate he sounds.

“You’ll see.”

The one time he wants Terushima to talk and Terushima holds back. Shirabu rolls his eyes, but yelps when Terushima takes him into his mouth again. Terushima’s tongue is languid and slow, and his hands, damp and a little cool, roll back to cup around Shirabu’s balls. Shirabu whimpers – it’s enough to drive him to orgasm, though he keeps himself restrained – but then Terushima’s hand goes even further.

His finger presses against the outline of Shirabu’s hole. Shirabu bucks and opens his mouth into a quiet shout, and he feels Terushima smile against him. They’re both waiting for it, Shirabu can feel it: not yet not yet not yet. If Shirabu were into that sort of thing he would want Terushima that he’s being good so far. Actually now that he thinks about it –

“God,” he mutters, and presses the back of his fist against his mouth, bites against it.

Terushima slips his mouth off Shirabu’s cock. His wet finger is still tracing around Shirabu’s asshole, and Shirabu arches into him.

“Yeah?” Terushima says.

Shirabu tries to glare down at him. It’s kind of hard when Terushima’s millimeters away from fingering him.

“I said god, not you,” says Shirabu. He adds, “Don’t you even,” at Terushima’s grin, and actually pushes his head back down to his dick. “Get back to it.”

“Yes sir,” says Terushima, and puts his mouth on Shirabu again.

Shirabu hates how he enjoys the way Terushima says that – sir – imagines Terushima saying it again and again, imagines himself saying it to Terushima. He wonders if Terushima would like it, Shirabu calling him sir, fucking against his dick and sitting on him and whenever Terushima would tell him what to do Shirabu would say, “Yes sir.”

It doesn’t help that Terushima licks along the slit of his dick the same time he slides his finger inside Shirabu. Shirabu’s mind is dark and hazy anyway, and the combination of the fantasy and Terushima’s messy, taunting mouth, and the finger Shirabu fucks himself down on, needing more, especially the way Terushima seems all to be waiting for him to do this. Shirabu hates it, but he doesn’t, grabbing the back of Terushima’s head as he fucks into his mouth, needing more of him. Shirabu’s head falls to his shoulder and his orgasm hits him like it spills out of him, every inch of his body feeling it, rattling from the back of his spine to his dick, splaying into Terushima’s open mouth. Shirabu doesn’t pay attention the more he tightens his grip in Terushima’s hair.

(Except he does, hears Terushima’s needy groans, imagines the way he’s palming himself through his trousers.)

Shirabu rides it out on Terushima’s finger, slides him out as soon as he’s done. Terushima’s staring at him, eyes half-lidded again. His one hand is indeed down his pants, and around his mouth is sticky and white with Shirabu’s semen.

Shirabu laughs. “Need some help there?” he asks, wiping the side of his dick with his hand. That doesn’t help much except to transfer the spunk to his hands, but Shirabu’s a little too light-headed to care.

“Hold on,” says Terushima dazedly. “Give me a second.” He’s still staring at Shirabu, but either he’s staring into space, or what Shirabu looked like moments before.

Shirabu would take his guesses at the latter. “C’mon, don’t be lazy,” he says, offering out a semen covered hand.

Terushima takes it by instinct. That’s probably what jolts him out, when he looks at his hand with alarm. Shirabu laughs again.

“So,” says Terushima, taking his hand again. Shirabu thinks it’s romantic, the way he doesn’t mind that their hands are joined and sticky with his own come. “Did you, like, not even jerk off since the last time we had sex?”

Shirabu shrugs. “I was waiting for you,” he says.

“Well.” Terushima scratches behind his head, before realizing it’s still the hand that’s dirty. Shirabu hides a smile behind his own.

Terushima says, “I mean, you came a lot.”

“I’m quite aware.” Shirabu holds up his hand. “But that was good, you know. The best orgasm I’ve had in a while.”

Terushima smirks. “I’m willing to challenge that,” he says. “I bet I can give you a better one today.”

He puts his clean hand on Shirabu’s waist, and Shirabu fastens his arms around him. He kisses Terushima before he has a chance to react.

“That,” says Shirabu, “is a bet I’m willing to take.”

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Wide Berth

by aroceu

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© 2009-2026 aroceu