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Kuroko thinks his boyfriend is kind of pathetic.
Not in a way he’d ever say out loud — or not tonight, anyway. He’s too tired to tease properly, let alone argue, and Kise’s not even trying to win this time. He’s just looking up at him from between his thighs with that same desperate, reverent look he always gets when Kuroko’s cunt is bare and within reach — like he’s not sure if he’s allowed, even now. Like if Kuroko says no, he’ll cry.
Kuroko does not say no.
He sighs, one hand flopping over his eyes. “This isn’t going to help.”
“I think it will,” Kise whispers, voice already thick with awe, like he’s about to be allowed into a holy place. His hands are warm on Kuroko’s thighs — steadying him, spreading him just a little wider. “You’re tense, Kurokocchi. You’re all—wound up.”
“I have exams,” Kuroko says flatly.
“And I have a mouth,” Kise offers, inching closer, brushing his nose against the soft skin of Kuroko’s inner thigh.
“That’s not a counter-argument.”
Kise doesn’t answer.
Instead, he kisses him. Just there — high on the thigh, not quite close enough to count. Then another kiss, closer. Then one more, lips soft and reverent, right at the edge of Kuroko’s cunt.
Kuroko sighs again and lets his legs fall open wider.
Pathetic.
But warm.
He feels Kise’s breath first — a soft exhale over sensitive, slick skin. His cunt twitches, already warm from stress and the stupid softness of Kise’s voice earlier, how careful he was when asking, like Kuroko might shatter if he touched him wrong. Which is ironic, really — because Kise’s the one trembling, visibly, as he finally leans in and licks.
It’s not greedy.
Not even needy.
It’s slow. Careful. Almost chaste, if tongues on soaked folds can ever be called that.
Kuroko doesn’t gasp. Doesn’t moan. He just exhales, long and quiet, as Kise licks another long stripe from the bottom of his cunt to the top — then pauses, mouth hovering, tongue pressed lightly against his clit like he’s trying not to move too fast.
“You’re always like this,” Kuroko murmurs. “Like you’re afraid you’ll break it.”
Kise breathes something soft and broken against him. “I don’t want to ruin you.”
“You’ve done worse.”
“You still let me.”
Kuroko doesn’t reply.
Not in words.
He just reaches down, fingers brushing through Kise’s hair. Not to guide. Not to praise. Just to touch. Just to let him know he’s there.
Kise makes a sound at that — muffled and desperate, and then he presses in again. His tongue flicks softly over Kuroko’s clit, then down, parting his folds, dipping into the heat and wet. One of his hands slides up to hold Kuroko’s hip — not tight, just anchored, like he’s making sure Kuroko doesn’t float away.
Kuroko exhales again. Closes his eyes.
It’s been a long day.
And Kise’s tongue is slow and sure, stroking over him in tender, reverent passes — not searching for a reaction, not trying to push him anywhere fast. Just… worship. Just this. Warm breath, soft licks, the edge of a sigh every time Kuroko shifts slightly and Kise has to readjust.
Kuroko’s cunt pulses, already wet, already aching, but Kise doesn’t take advantage. He licks him slowly, tongue circling the edge of his entrance, then pressing in — not deep, just enough to make Kuroko’s thighs twitch once, subtly.
Kuroko doesn’t stop him.
He never does, not for this.
He doesn’t make a sound when Kise slides his tongue back up and sucks his clit into his mouth — just lifts his hips once, barely, and then settles back like it’s too much effort to move. He’s tired. Too tired to arch or grind or guide him. Too tired to pretend this isn’t helping.
His breath catches, just slightly, when Kise moans — moans into his cunt like he’s the one being touched.
Kuroko cracks his eyes open, gaze lowering, and sees it.
Kise’s hips twitching. His cock hard and untouched, pressed to the mattress between his own legs as he focuses entirely on Kuroko’s cunt. He’s rutting — just faintly, like he can’t help it, like even that much friction is more than he deserves.
Kuroko closes his eyes again.
He could say something.
Could tease him.
Could say “you’re so obvious,” or “you really are pathetic,” or “I know you’re dripping on the sheets.”
But he doesn’t.
Because it’s kind of sweet. Stupid. Desperate. Gentle.
Kise’s tongue circles his clit again, a little firmer now. He’s trembling. His hands are gripping tighter. Kuroko shifts slightly, and the angle changes, and his breath catches just right — the pull of pleasure warm and slow in his gut, no spike, no burn. Just heat. Just quiet. Like slipping under warm water.
It crests, soft and low. A slow-blooming orgasm that spreads through him like sleep.
Kuroko doesn’t cry out. Doesn’t even move. He just breathes deep, exhales slow, and lets his body flutter and tense around Kise’s mouth as he comes — barely a shiver, barely a sigh.
And Kise stays there.
Mouth pressed gently to his cunt.
Hands holding him like something fragile.
Breathing deep, shaking a little. His hips twitch once, like he might rut against the bed again, but he doesn’t. He just stays still.
Kuroko drifts.
Sleep comes like tidewater.
The last thing he feels is Kise’s breath — hot and damp, still pressed to the heart of him — and the faint, wet sound of Kise crying into his pussy.
When Kuroko wakes, it’s dark.
The room smells like skin and sweat and the faint trace of lavender from the shitty plug-in air freshener Kise insists on using. His limbs are heavy. His legs ache in that low, post-orgasm way that says he came hard and stayed relaxed after — completely spent, utterly undone.
He shifts slightly, blinking against the faint light of the hallway leaking in through the doorframe.
And that’s when he feels it.
Kise.
Still behind him.
Still hard.
His cock is pressed up between Kuroko’s thighs, the length of it nestled against the curve of his ass, throbbing against the soft heat between his cheeks like it’s aching. There’s a thin smear of slick across Kuroko’s skin — not his own, he realizes. Lube. Spit. Desperation.
Kise’s breath stutters behind him.
He’s still awake.
He must’ve stayed hard the whole time.
Kuroko doesn’t say anything.
He’s not surprised. Not really. Kise always touches him like he’s something sacred, like he can’t bear to take anything unless Kuroko offers it. He never assumes. He never moves without permission.
It’s sweet. Sometimes annoying.
Tonight?
It’s useful.
Kuroko closes his eyes, breath steadying. Shifts his hips a little—just enough to feel the thick head of Kise’s cock slide down, drag along his entrance.
Kise lets out a broken, panicked sound behind him. “K-Kurokocchi—wait—don’t, you don’t have to—”
“I’m already doing it,” Kuroko says softly.
And he is.
He tilts his hips back just slightly, fingers reaching down to part himself. The head of Kise’s cock is already leaking, already wet, and Kuroko takes a slow breath in as he begins to sink down onto it — no prep, no fingers, no teasing — just slick and stretch and Kuroko’s quiet, stubborn will.
Kise shudders violently.
“W-wait, it’s too much—Kurokocchi, I’ll come—don’t do it like this—!”
“You’ve been hard for hours,” Kuroko says calmly, voice soft, like he’s talking about the weather. “It’s going to happen. Might as well make it worth it.”
His cunt stretches wide — painfully slow — around Kise’s cock. Every inch feels like a challenge, his body fighting to stay relaxed, to take it. Kise’s thick and hot and so much, and from this angle — from nothing — it burns.
But Kuroko doesn’t stop.
He sinks.
Kise lets out a wrecked, strangled sound — somewhere between a moan and a sob — his hands fisting helplessly in the sheets. He’s shaking all over, hips frozen in place like he’s terrified to move.
Kuroko feels the way the head presses deep — past resistance, past pressure — and then the rest of him follows. A slow, agonizing stretch, the kind that makes his toes curl and his fingers grip the sheets.
He breathes through it.
Lets his body tremble.
Lets Kise’s cock slide in until he’s seated completely — full, every inch buried deep inside his cunt, his walls clenching on instinct as they adjust to the stretch.
“Kurokocchi,” Kise chokes. “I’m—I can’t—fuck—”
“You can,” Kuroko murmurs. “You always say it’s too much. You always survive.”
“I’m not gonna last, I’m serious—”
“That’s fine.” Kuroko finally shifts back, his ass grinding into Kise’s hips. His cunt flutters around the thick cock buried inside him, messy and too-wet, and he exhales slow, eyes slipping closed again. “It’s not about you this time.”
Kise whimpers. His entire body shakes. He tries — he tries — not to thrust up, not to fuck into that tight, slick heat, but it’s reflex now, instinct, pure need. His hips jerk once, shallow and helpless, and Kuroko lets it happen.
Kise’s cock drags along his walls, and Kuroko bites his lip as a wave of slick coats him from the inside — his own arousal blooming again, pulse hot and low, his cunt already pulsing around him like it wants more.
He doesn’t move much.
Just rocks, slow, back and forth — keeping Kise buried inside him, keeping the motion soft, lazy, like it’s for him more than Kise.
“You feel insane,” Kise gasps, voice cracking. “You’re so fucking tight, it’s—I’m gonna—Kurokocchi, I’m sorry, I can’t—!”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Kuroko says. And then, flatly: “Just come.”
And Kise does.
He slams up once, hips jerking, and Kuroko gasps as the heat of it spills inside him—thick and hot, deep in his cunt, and so much. Kise cries out, his whole body curling forward, arms wrapping around Kuroko’s waist like he might fall apart otherwise.
He doesn’t stop shaking.
He doesn’t stop apologizing.
But Kuroko just lies there, cock still twitching inside him, cunt slick and filled and sore, and lets him.
Eventually, he speaks again — voice soft, amused.
“I thought this was supposed to help me sleep.”
Kise is still breathless. Still pressed tight against his back.
“…Did it work?”
Kuroko hums, considering.
Then reaches down between his legs and gently presses two fingers to his swollen clit.
“No,” he says. “But it was a good start.”
Kuroko doesn’t expect Kise to stay still.
He knows better.
So when Kise starts shifting behind him — breath still ragged, cock softening but still twitching inside the slick heat of Kuroko’s cunt — he’s not surprised. Just tired. And a little sore. And very, very wet.
“Don’t,” Kuroko murmurs, voice still rough with sleep. “You already came.”
“I know,” Kise whispers, his lips brushing the curve of Kuroko’s shoulder. “I just— I’m still…”
“You’re being greedy.”
Kise makes a soft, wounded noise.
“I missed you,” he says, like it’s an excuse. “You’ve been studying so much. We barely even—”
Kuroko exhales sharply through his nose. “You had your mouth on me for half an hour.”
“I was trying to help you relax.” Kise slides his hand down, fingers splayed over Kuroko’s stomach. His palm is warm, damp with sweat. “And it worked, didn’t it?”
Kuroko doesn’t answer.
Mostly because Kise’s other hand is already moving — ghosting over the swell of his hip, then down between his legs, where they’re still joined. Kise’s cock is soft now, but not for long. He’s already twitching again, clearly aching to keep going, even though Kuroko can feel how oversensitive his own body is, how raw and tender he is from taking Kise in so deep, so suddenly.
“You’re leaking,” Kise murmurs, fingers dipping into the mess between Kuroko’s legs. His cum is slick and warm and starting to drip back out, smearing across Kuroko’s inner thighs.
“You put it there,” Kuroko says flatly.
Kise groans, his hand sliding back up to Kuroko’s chest, palm resting right over his heartbeat. “You let me. You took it. You were so good—God, Kurokocchi, I’m still—fuck, I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.”
“You always say that.”
“I always mean it.”
His cock is definitely hard again now — Kuroko can feel it, thickening slowly inside him, pressing more firmly against his sensitive walls. It makes his breath hitch, his cunt flutter involuntarily. Kise feels it. Of course he does.
“Kurokocchi…” Kise’s voice is a low whine, almost apologetic. “Can I just touch you a little?”
“You already are.”
“I mean more.”
Kuroko doesn’t answer.
So Kise takes that as permission — he always does.
He presses his mouth to Kuroko’s shoulder again, then trails down — kissing a slow path along his spine, all the way to the curve of his back. His hand strokes Kuroko’s stomach, then up to his chest, thumb brushing over one nipple in a lazy, testing motion.
Kuroko breathes in, slow and shallow.
“Still being greedy,” he mutters.
“I can’t help it,” Kise says, and now he’s grinding again, just a little — hips rolling forward, cock hardening even more where it’s still tucked deep inside him. “You feel too good. You’re so warm, Kurokocchi. You’re so soft, I could stay in you forever.”
“You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Kise laughs softly, lips brushing his back. “You say that like it’s new.”
His hands keep moving — one pressing against Kuroko’s stomach to keep him flush, the other slipping back between his thighs to gently spread them again. He’s careful this time, almost reverent, fingers gliding along where they’re joined, smearing his own cum across Kuroko’s swollen folds, up toward his clit.
Kuroko jolts.
“You’re going to overstimulate me.”
“I’ll be gentle,” Kise promises, kissing the back of his neck. “I’ll be slow. I just— I want you again. I want to feel you come while I’m inside. I want to make you feel good.”
“You already did,” Kuroko says, but it’s quiet now, almost sleepy.
He’s not telling him to stop.
Kise’s fingers stroke lightly around his clit, slow and steady, while he starts rocking again — shallow thrusts, gentle and wet, dragging his cock through the slick mess inside Kuroko with every motion. It’s sensitive, and a little painful, but good, too — just enough to spark something low and warm in Kuroko’s gut again.
“You’re really not going to stop,” Kuroko murmurs.
“No,” Kise admits. “Not until you tell me to. Or you come again.”
Kuroko huffs a laugh. “You’re putting a lot of pressure on me.”
“I’m the one under pressure,” Kise says, grinding just a little deeper. “You’re squeezing me so tight I could cry.”
“You already did.”
“Only a little.”
Kuroko’s breath stutters again as Kise flicks his thumb gently over his clit — and that’s it. The slow drag of Kise’s cock inside, the wet warmth, the insistent rhythm — it’s all building back up again. Not sharp. Not fast. Just there. Creeping up his spine, spreading under his skin.
“You’re really… impossible,” Kuroko says, breath hitching.
“I know,” Kise whispers, lips against his skin. “But you always let me.”
And he does.
He always does.