Rating:

Explicit

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Haikyuu!!

Relationship:

Daichi/Suga

Tags:

hqkink, kink negotiation, pwp, spanking, swag 2016

Stats:

Posted on:

2016-01-26

Words:

1,726

The sex usually doesn’t end up to the point where Suga’s begging. Suga’s not much of a beggar, Daichi’s learned — at least, so says the number of times they’ve fucked, Suga happy to comply with how fast or slow Daichi ends up going. Daichi likes to think himself as patient; he holds himself up pretty well.

But today Daichi is fucking into him and holding Suga’s hips so tight. Suga is flexing and flexing all over him, fire hot around Daichi’s dick. Daichi breathes. He thinks inanely of when in the winter, it’s so cold that you can see your own breath. It’s so hot that he’s surprised that steam isn’t coming out of his nose right now.

And that’s when Suga speaks.

“Daichi,” he moans. “Daichi, please.”

Daichi is surprised. They’re not typically vocal during sex, and maybe Daichi likes seeing how much he can hold off, because orgasms are always better that way. Suga has a habit of coming after Daichi, probably because he thinks it’s polite or something.

Daichi drives his cock in deeper.

Suga thrusts around, moans again. “Shit, Daichi.”

Bruises are already beginning to bloom on his hips, where Daichi is clutching him. Suga twists himself in Daichi’s grip, so hard that it must burn around his skin. Suga doesn’t complain about it, doesn’t try to stop, just keeps going until Daichi’s fingers feel raw and Suga’s usually pale skin is so red that it must hurt.

Suga keeps going and going. As Daichi feels it, it grows hot and tender.

“Shit,” says Suga, and comes first.

Later, after they have taken care of each other and are drinking tea in their living room, hazy-eyed and glowing under the afternoon sun, Daichi looks at Suga. He is peaceful-looking as he pours from the kettle.

They don’t turn the kitchen lights on because the sun is still high in the sky. The light from the open window peeks through the kitchen’s, dappling Suga’s skin honey-yellow. He contrasts with the dark blue shadows of the kitchen.

Daichi says, “So. You orgasmed first.”

The kettle nearly falls from Suga’s hands. He fumbles, keeps it steady.

“I did,” he says, flickering his eyes over at Daichi in the living room. Daichi’s watching the TV — some soap opera that his mother had recommended to him. He and Suga are already in the middle of the eighteenth episode.

Suga says, “I also made that observation.”

“Do you,” Daichi starts. He supposes that asking if your boyfriend is a masochist isn’t usual tea talk, but he does want to make Suga happy. And Suga hadn’t even tried to edge himself off, came without Daichi’s permission.

Not that they had that sort of thing, Suga needing to listen to Daichi in the first place. Daichi shivers in delight at the thought, files that away for later.

“Do I what?” Suga asks, coming into the living room. He’s holding his teacup precariously.

Daichi scoots on the couch to make room for him. “Do you,” he says. “Do you like that sort of thing? The pain, I mean.”

Suga blinks at him.

“What pain?”

“When I was — ” Well Daichi can’t certainly say when my cock was in your ass. He could, but Suga would just laugh at him and not take him seriously. “When I was holding onto you,” he says, instead. “My grip was pretty tight.”

Suga nods. He takes a sip of his tea. “It was.”

“That was why you — ” Daichi gestures.

Suga doesn’t usually try to be subtle, but Daichi can see the way his cheeks faintly color that he wasn’t supposed to notice. Or supposed to ask about this, really. Daichi’s not sure why — maybe Suga thinks that Daichi would think that he’s weird or something, enjoying the way his skin grows tender and raw under Daichi’s hands. Daichi’s heard about it before, and he doesn’t consider himself similar of the type — right now, at least.

Suga writhing, begging for Daichi to bruise him, though?

Daichi feels his limp cock twitch in interest, under his pants.

Suga says, “Okay, you caught me,” and gives Daichi a smile like he thinks Daichi will drop it.

Daichi asks, “What else do you like?”

Suga is bent ninety degrees over their bed, cock leaking filthy all over their bedsheets. Daichi finishes unraveling his trousers at Suga’s ankles, dragging them in a bunch at Suga’s feet, kicking them toward their dirty laundry.

Suga’s ass is naked and exposed in the air. Daichi is fully dressed and painfully hard; he can feel a wet spot starting at his underwear already. He thinks of getting at least half naked, too, but that would be thinking too much about him and not Suga, who is the focus of his attention right now.

Daichi rubs his warm hands over Suga’s cheeks. He is cool to the touch, perfectly round and just sensitive enough that he usually makes a desperate little noise every time Daichi grabs his ass.

Right now, Suga whines against their blanket.

Daichi inches up. He can see the flush running down Suga’s cheeks, pink around his collarbone and disappearing under his shirt.

“You sure about this?” Daichi asks.

“I could get on all fours and beg,” Suga teases.

The thought — mental image of that makes Daichi’s vision white out for a second. He must make it obvious, because a smile teases at the edge of Suga’s lips as he watches Daichi, even though he’s the one here, bent forward and vulnerable.

Daichi draws back and nods. “Okay,” he says.

He goes back to Suga’s ass again, rubbing his palms over Suga’s freckly skin. Gooseflesh has started to creep up his thighs, all the way up to Suga’s spine. Daichi holds Suga’s tight ass, so round and soft in his hands. Suga is trembling, underneath him. From anticipation, likely.

Daichi rubs his thumb on the outside of Suga’s crack, up and down until Suga makes a small whining noise from further up the bed. Daichi watches the way Suga’s toes curl, legs shake even though he’s already leaned forward on the bed, with plenty of support, nothing to give away to.

He draws his hand back for the first time. Smacks one of Suga’s ass cheeks, straight where it’s soft, a bright white mark.

It echoes around the room. It is loud, and stinging in Daichi’s ears, though he imagines the impact on Suga’s skin burns even more. Suga groans.

He bucks his hips up, closer to Daichi.

Daichi bites down on his bottom lip. His cock throbs, and he spanks Suga again, on the same cheek, this time lower and closer to the thigh. Suga’s skin is starting to get red; Daichi’s hand is a bright white mark on his skin, before fading into red again.

“Shit,” Suga pants, from up above. “Shit, shit, shit.”

It’s good. Daichi knows, even though they haven’t done this before — Suga curses when he likes something. (He also curses when he dislikes something, but that involves dropping things, which only happens every once in a while.) Daichi can’t imagine Suga swearing at him if he disliked this unless he was trying to get himself away or make Daichi stop, which he can easily do since he’s only bent forward on their bed, not tied up or anything.

Daichi saves that thought away for later, too.

He rubs his palm over the warmth of Suga’s other ass cheek, the one he hasn’t touched. Suga’s thigh trembles in anticipation.

Daichi hits it hard with the flat of his palm.

“Fuck,” Suga goes.

Daichi brings his hand back, again. He slaps Suga’s ass, full with one hand, several in quick succession. His palm makes perfect contact, reddening Suga’s skin darker every time. Above near their headboard, Suga moans and writhes.

Daichi cups one of Suga’s cheeks. It looks red and raw and painful and Daichi drags his fingers down it, once, before smacking, hard and loud. The noise bounces off the walls, and his handprint is so fucking clear like Daichi is branding the outline of his fingers onto the globes of Suga’s ass. He grabs Suga’s ass again, watching as his fingers make stark marks against the hard blush of Suga’s skin.

He is like fire. Daichi hits him again, and again, cherishing the burning sensation on his palms.

He’s so captivated by the effect of his fucking hand on skin that he doesn’t realize the noises Suga is making until he hears one enunciated word. “Please,” Suga begs, straining from where he is, trying to look behind at Daichi. “Daichi, please — ”

His eyes are watering. Daichi holds his gaze and spanks him again, familiar with the shape, the map of Suga’s ass.

Suga cries out this time. His hands are fisted into the bedsheets.

“Daichi — ” Suga pants. He is drooling a bit and can’t close his mouth, too open like that’s where he wants it.

Daichi smacks his ass cheeks again, running his hands over the gooseflesh, palm stinging from numbness and not numbness and Suga solid underneath him. He spanks him and watches as Suga’s body starts to jerk back, oversensitive and scarlet.

He hears a sobbing.

“Fuck.” Suga’s head is bent forward between his elbows, trembling. Daichi can only imagine how hard he is, how much Suga wants to get off. He wonders if Suga can get off just from his hand on Suga’s ass.

Daichi hits him again.

“Fuck,” Suga moans.

And it’s — it’s a dream, but it’s too much, as Daichi runs his palm down Suga’s throbbing, burning ass once more, kisses him, hears Suga’s moan out from above him. Daichi makes his way up the bed to see the tears streaking down Suga’s face. Daichi kisses him there too, drags Suga onto his lap. Suga smiles into the kiss, shivering a little as he props himself up on Daichi’s thighs.

“Jesus,” says Daichi, wrapping his hand around Suga’s dribbling cock. Suga tucks himself into his grasp, smiling still. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Suga laughs at this, panting as Daichi strokes him off. “Okay,” he says, bouncing and grinding his ass down on Daichi’s cock, through his trousers.

They are both shaking and giggling as they come together.