Archive of Our Own

Suguru had told him to behave, to leave him alone so that he could finish his paperwork. I’m busy, Satoru, can’t you see that?

The thing is, Satoru’s never been all that good at following directions. Not when he was a kid, not when he was a teen, and certainly not now that he’s a full grown adult that can make his own decisions, thank-you-very-much.

Which was precisely why Satoru was now writhing in silk restraints, wrist tied tight to the carved headboard of their bed with a scarf, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead and mouth red from where he’d bitten his own lip trying not to come too fast. The sheets were a mess from all his squirming, knotted at the corners from how hard he’d yanked when Suguru had pressed his palm over the soaked bulge in his briefs and whispered, “You’re not allowed to come unless I say so.”

Satoru had scoffed, naturally. “Like hell I’m letting you boss me around—” but Suguru had just raised a brow and pulled the briefs down anyway, slowly, fingers catching on the curve of Satoru’s ass as he did. Then he slapped his cock once, just enough to make it bounce and redden, and said, “Try me.”

Now his cock was flushed angry pink and leaking, twitching with every shift of Suguru’s knee against the mattress. He couldn’t even grind up properly for friction because Suguru had gotten him all pliant with those deep, dragging kisses and then grabbed his hands to tie him down before he could blink.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” Suguru murmured now, seated between his spread legs with the sort of unbothered ease of a man who had no intention of being hurried. “You’ve been acting out all week.”

His fingers trailed up Satoru’s inner thigh, calloused pads brushing lightly—almost ticklish—but not nearly enough pressure. Satoru groaned, head falling back onto the pillow.

“Punishing me for being hot? That’s pretty ungrateful.”

Suguru smirked. “No, I’m punishing you for being a brat.”

He leaned down, licking a wet stripe up Satoru’s shaft from base to head before letting it slap against his stomach. The noise made Satoru twitch, hips jerking up involuntarily—but the moment he tried to fuck into that hot mouth, Suguru was gone again, sitting back on his heels, forearms resting on Satoru’s thighs to pin him in place.

“Keep trying that and I won’t let you come,” he said, so matter-of-fact that Satoru’s stomach flipped. “Or maybe won’t let you come regardless…”

“Fuck, Suguru, come on—”

“No. Not yet.” He reached down and wrapped a loose fist around the shaft, not stroking—just holding. His thumb brushed under the head, collecting slick precum and smearing it over the tip in slow, lazy circles. “I want you nice and desperate first.”

“I am desperate, fuck—”

“Not desperate enough,” Suguru said mildly. “Not until you’re begging.”

And Satoru wasn’t going to beg. That’s what he told himself. That’s what he always told himself. But his thighs were trembling, cock swollen and bobbing helplessly in Suguru’s grip, and it wasn’t fair that Suguru could look like that—hair falling around his shoulders in messy waves, shirt half unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder like he’d just wandered in from some ridiculous porno. Fingers trailed the edge of his cock, up the underside and down the top.

Satoru clenched his fists, wrists burning in the silk ties. “If I could touch you right now—”

“But you can’t,” Suguru said, leaning forward to press a kiss to the inside of his knee. “That’s kinda the point of the scarf, baby.”

And then his mouth was on Satoru’s cock again, not sucking, just letting it rest on his tongue, eyes trained up on Satoru like he was daring him to move. Satoru’s whole body went rigid—he needed to buck, needed to rut into something, anything, needed to feel that pressure around him because it had been forty minutes of edging, and Suguru had ruined him for his own hands. His own fingers wouldn’t be able to replicate the heat, the precision, the cruelty of that tongue tracing under the head before backing off again. 

“Nngh—fuck—” he groaned, spine arching, but Suguru backed off again with a wet pop, smirking as Satoru let out a ragged, almost sobbing gasp.

“Too soon?” he teased.

“You know it’s too soon. Give it back,” he whined, thrusting his hips into the air.

“If you ask real nice, this will all end,” Suguru murmured, leaning in again—this time to nip at the skin of Satoru’s inner thigh, hard enough to leave a mark. “Where’s the begging, Satoru? Where’s that pretty voice I like so much?”

“You’re the worst,” Satoru hissed, flexing against the ties again, his entire body quivering from the edge he kept being dragged back from. Two fingers wrapped around him, making a ring and dragging up… and down… and up… and down…“You’re evil—”

Suguru grinned. “That’s not what you said last time.”

“Last time you actually fucked me—” and then he broke off with a choked gasp, because Suguru had wrapped his mouth around the head and sucked, slow and deep, tongue pressing flat along the underside, and fuckfuckfuck—

“No coming,” Suguru said casually, pulling off again.

“I can’t—”

“You can.” His fingers wrapped around the base of Satoru’s cock and squeezed tightly. Satoru sobbed through his teeth, hips trembling. “You can do it baby.”

Satoru’s face was flushed bright pink, lashes wet with frustration, whole body taut like a bowstring. The restraints creaked faintly with every twitch of his wrists. His cock throbbed visibly, a drop of precum sliding down over the head and onto his stomach, where it mingled with the earlier mess Suguru had left there. He was literally going to explode if he didn’t get to come soon. He needed it, so badly, more than he could ever remember needing anything. He needed to come. He couldn’t—oh god he couldn’t think about anything else.

His hands instinctively reached down, and he winced as the silk yanked him to a stop. A soft whine escaped his lips.

“You don’t need your hands,” Suguru cooed softly, cruelly, “because I’m going to do everything for you.”

Satoru’s breath hitched.

“I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll see stars, but only after I’ve had my fun, and not a second sooner.”

His mouth descended again, hot and wet, and this time he took him all the way down—Satoru’s head slammed back against the pillow with a muffled thunk, a strangled cry escaping from between his clenched teeth.

“Ahhh—f-fuck—Suguru—god—”

Suguru hummed around his cock, vibration running straight through his core, then pulled off with another filthy wet sound and used both hands to spread Satoru’s thighs wider.

“You’re a mess,” he said conversationally. “Look at you, tied up and leaking like a needy little thing. Is that what you wanted, baby?”

Satoru shook his head but moaned anyway. “N-no—I—fuck, Suguru—”

“Yeah it is, you don’t have to lie.”

“No,” he whimpered. “I don’t—” Suguru cut him off, trailing a finger down the length of his cock, ever so softly. 

“Tell me. Say it for me baby,” he whispered. “You want me to fuck you.”

“I–I want you to fuck me—” His voice cracked as he said it. 

“You asked me to make you beg.”

“I wanted you to… make me beg.” Tears welled up in his eyes, one spilling over and trailing down the side of his face.

“That’s right, so you do remember,” Suguru said, smiling with satisfaction. “You gonna beg now?” He reached for the lube, and Satoru’s breath stuttered in his chest. “Go ahead, let me hear it. Plead your case for me, sweetheart.”

“I’ll be good,” Satoru said, almost frantic. “I’ll be good, just—just touch me—”

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Suguru hummed, and the click of the bottle cap sounded loud in the thick heat of the room.

“Please, please Suguru please I’ll—I’ll do anything I’m begging you please—” A sharp slap to his cock cuts the string of pleas and cries short.

Suguru slid two fingers into him with little preamble—Satoru was slick with spit from earlier teasing, and his body clenched greedily around the intrusion. He keened, legs trying to close on instinct, but Suguru shoved them open again with a knee and began to move those fingers in slow, unhurried pumps.

Every curl of his fingers hit Satoru’s prostate just enough to leave him gasping. His cock bounced uselessly against his stomach, twitching, denied of friction, red and soaked. Fuck, yes. This—this is what he needed. It felt so good, so right to be used like this, to be opened up and held down. Fingers grazed that soft flesh again, and sparks skittered across his skin. He needed to come so, so badly. He needs it. He can’t—oh fuck he’s—

“S–Sugu—” A whimper escapes him, hips bucking up to chase the friction that would push him over the edge. “Please, oh god…”

“Not yet, baby,” Suguru said, leaning over him, his breath warm against Satoru’s ear. His fingers slowed down, gently pressing in and out before stopping, holding them firmly against Satoru’s prostate. The pressure was amazing, but nothing that would help him finish. Suguru finally kissed him then—lips hot and firm and tasting faintly of his precum—and Satoru moaned into it, hips grinding down against those perfect, punishing fingers. He was so close he could taste it. He could barely think, much less breathe.

His wrists were raw from pulling at the silk ties, the headboard creaking under every desperate yank of his arms. But they held. They always held. Suguru tied knots like a sailor, and once he had them set, nothing was undoing them except his own hands. The bastard had been nothing but smug since the moment he’d straddled the bed, dark eyes raking over Satoru’s flushed, spread form like he was surveying a meal.

Which wasn’t entirely wrong. Satoru felt like a meal—flesh offered up on fine white sheets, his legs shoved wide, cock aching and untouched, twitching uselessly against his stomach. Suguru’s fingers slid out slowly, and Satoru let out a choked whine as the stretch left him. But he didn’t get a moment to recover before something thicker pressed in—blunt, slick with lube and hot to the touch.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck, Suguru—” Satoru cried, and Suguru didn’t even say a word, just pressed forward with a low hiss between his teeth, savoring every inch of tight, clutching heat swallowing him in.

God, he was so tight, even now, even after everything. He could feel himself stretch, the burn spreading through him. He heard Suguru grunt above him and still his hips just halfway in, giving Satoru a moment to adjust, but not because he was being generous. Suguru was rarely generous when he was in moods like these. No, this was part of the punishment too—making him feel every slow stretch, every deep, helpless inch sliding inside with no way to stop it.

“Tied up,” Suguru muttered, fingers spreading over Satoru’s thighs to keep him still. “Hands useless. No control, just lying there and taking it. Is that what you wanted?”

Satoru’s head rolled side to side, face flushed, lips parted in a broken gasp. “Y-yeah—I—fuck, yes—”

“Of course you did,” Suguru said, voice low and smug. “Fucking slut for it.”

He bottomed out in one slow push, groaning under his breath when his hips finally met the curve of Satoru’s ass, fully sheathed, cock throbbing inside that vise grip. Satoru let out a hoarse, breathless cry—something between a moan and a sob—and arched as far as the binds would allow, his cock twitching against his stomach.

“You feel that?” Suguru whispered, barely moving now, just grinding in tiny, devastating circles. He said something—something about how Satoru was clenching like he never wanted to let go—and Satoru felt heat spike down his spine, something filthy and desperate surging up from deep in his gut.

“Don’t—don’t stop—” His voice cracked on the last word, pathetic and raw. He didn’t even care anymore. His whole body was coiled around the sensation of Suguru inside him, cock throbbing, leaking so much it dripped into the curls of his pubic hair.

“Oh, I won’t.” His hands slid to Satoru’s hips, digging in, anchoring him. “I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, until you’re begging for me to let you come.”

He was already begging, what more did Suguru want? Every thrust was precise and punishing, angled to drag across that sweet spot just right, the headboard creaking with every forward snap of Suguru’s hips. He didn’t rush. Satoru was writhing beneath him, panting like he was burning alive. 

A low panic started to set in. Holy hell, he was never going to come. Suguru was going to keep him here and he’d never—He was never going to come, it will never end, and he was going to be kept here forever—If he could just get a hand free, just one, that was all he would need, but he can’t, he just… oh god he can’t…

“Nnnnh—ahhh—ah fuck, fuck—” Satoru whimpered, back arching so hard the veins in his neck stood out. The sounds were being torn from him, involuntary and humiliating. Please. Every thrust knocked another moan from his throat. His cock jumped with every slap of Suguru’s hips against his ass, and he needed to come, fuck, he was so close, but he couldn’t even touch himself. Oh fuck please please goddamnit please.

He couldn’t even beg properly with the way his voice was breaking. “Can’t—can’t baby c—mmffuuu—”  Please I’m fucking begging you.

“No.” Suguru’s thrusts stopped instantly. He pulled out almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside, and reached up to grab Satoru’s chin hard, forcing him to look up through wet lashes. “You don’t come until I say. You don’t so much as breathe until I say. You understand me?”

Satoru’s eyes were glassy, lips trembling. “Y-yes—yeah, mhm—” His voice was a wreck. His face was hot. He felt like he was about to cry and come and pass out all at once.

“Good boy,” Suguru murmured, voice pure molten praise, and then he slammed back in without warning, hard enough to jolt Satoru a few inches up the bed. A cracked, broken moan tore from his throat.

“Ghhhaa—aaahh—!”

Suguru set a pace now—harder, faster, thrusts brutal and relentless. The bedframe slammed against the wall with a dull rhythmic bang-bang-bang, silk restraints groaning with every desperate pull and yank of Satoru’s arms. His cock was leaking so much it smeared a glossy trail down his stomach and onto the sheets.

“You want to come so bad, don’t you?” he murmured, almost idly, like it wasn’t obvious. “You’re drooling for it. Fucking weeping.”

Satoru nodded frantically. “Please,” he gasped. “Please, Suguru, I—I can’t—”

“No, baby.” He slowed again, infuriatingly, rolling his hips with cruel control. Satoru cried out, voice ragged. “This is what happens when you misbehave.”

“Please— I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, just let me—”

Suguru’s hand slid between them, fingers curling around Satoru’s throat and squeezing. A strangled moan slipped out of his mouth as his air dwindled down. Satoru’s mouth parted wider, but the air came slow and thin, not quite enough to fill his lungs—and his vision fuzzed at the edges, the pressure on his cock blurring into the sharp, aching need for oxygen.

Suguru pressed his hips flush to Satoru’s ass, stopping when he bottomed out. He leaned in, voice smooth and patient against his ear. “Do you think you deserve it?” he murmured. “Think you’ve earned my forgiveness, Satoru?”

Satoru nodded fast. His hips bucked without permission, cock dragging against his stomach, desperate for friction, for release, for anything—but the restraints held. Suguru held. Fuck, he was on fire. His whole body felt hot, flames licking up his sides and filling his head as his vision wavered. He whimpered, rocking his hips as much as possible. He was going to pass out—whether from lack of oxygen or from overwhelming pleasure, he wasn’t sure. 

“I said tell me.”

But Satoru couldn’t. The pressure on his throat stuttered his breath into high-pitched hiccups, his voice jammed up behind a tight, shuddering moan. His lips moved but no sound came—only a wrecked gasp through his nose, a twitch of his tongue behind parted teeth. The more he tried to speak, the more his body trembled, chest heaving in tiny bursts around the restriction. And all the while, Suguru stayed close, unmoving, cock buried deep, heat pulsing against his trembling inner walls. Not fucking him, just keeping him there—caged in heat and restraint, between denial and permission. 

Please, if there ever was a god above that was listening.

“I asked you a question,” Suguru said again, quiet, devastating. “Do you deserve to come?”

If anyone could hear him— 

Satoru whimpered. He couldn’t speak, but he nodded—over and over, frantic and begging, hips jerking, eyes blown wide with tears pooling at the corners, mouth twitching around the soundless answer:

Yes. Yes. Yes. 

Oh fuck he needs it so bad, he’ll do anything, fucking anything, please—

Suguru’s fingers relaxed.

A sharp, burning gasp flooded his lungs, and with it came a rush of air so hard it punched the breath right back out again—right in time with Suguru’s movement. His hips pulled back and snapped forward, a brutal thrust that sent Satoru’s eyes rolling back, whole body seizing under the force of it.

His back arched violently off the bed, mouth wide in a silent scream before sound finally burst from his chest—a raw, broken cry as his orgasm rolled through him. He came hard, cock jerking against his stomach in thick, pulsing ropes. His legs kicked uselessly, thighs clamping around Suguru’s waist, toes curling and uncurling as his whole body convulsed under the weight of release. 

He wasn’t even moaning anymore—just gasping, blinking through the white haze in his vision, every inch of him soaked in sweat and cum and the overwhelming rush of finally being allowed.

Suguru kept going through the orgasm, relentless and merciless, fucking him through the aftershocks. He watched Satoru tremble and gasp and sob with oversensitivity, every thrust dragging another broken sound from his raw throat. He was going to die. He couldn’t do that again, he just couldn’t. Why did he ever want to come in the first place? This was too much, he should’ve just cut his losses and jerked off in the shower, should’ve left Suguru alone earlier instead of badgering him, should’ve begged Suguru for forgiveness instead of begging for release.

His lungs struggled to draw in air, pain and pleasure warping together as he whispered pleas of mercy, considering throwing the word yellow out for a brief moment before abandoning that thought. There was another flash of pleasure, a blinding white behind his eyes as he felt his muscles seize again, briefly registering his second orgasm. Behind the wall of nothing and everything that he was somehow simultaneously feeling, his whole body relaxed as the orgasm washed over him in a gentle wave. A small respite of glorious, glorious bliss before his muscles tightened again.

God, he was really going to die.

He felt Suguru groan low against his ear, felt him pull out and jerk himself twice, fast and tight. Warm spurts landed across Satoru’s trembling stomach, mixing with the mess already there, and all Satoru could do was lie there, wrists limp, legs still spread wide, shaking and panting and wrecked.

The air was so fucking hot, and the sheets were damp, clinging to his skin with sweat. He could feel the cooling drips of cum sliding down his side.

Suguru leaned in, thumb dragging through the mixture of both of their cum, then lifted it to his mouth and sucked it clean, a low hum reverberating through the air like he was savoring a dessert. “Next time,” he said softly, “you won’t talk back, will you?”

Satoru’s lips parted to say something—but the only sound that came out was a low, hoarse whimper. What did he say again? Fuck, his head was so fuzzy. Suguru’s thumb swiped through the stickiness on his stomach again, lifting it to Satoru’s open mouth and placing it on his tongue. Something instinctual broke through the haze of his mind, and Satoru’s lips closed around the finger, tongue swirling and suckling. Salt and bitter sweat bloomed on his taste buds, a taste so erotic it made his eyes roll back, fluttering closed with a soft whine.

“Good boy, Satoru,” Suguru purred, his voice soft and far-away. “My good boy.”

God, when was the last time Satoru felt this… relaxed? His mind was spinning in this relaxed, swaying way—everything felt floaty and impossibly perfect. The sharp pain of overstimulation made him whimper as Suguru’s hand brushed against his cock, the soft shh, shh of his lover’s voice soothing him. 

He barely noticed the silk being untied. His arms fell limp the moment the knots loosened, wrists red and aching, but Suguru caught them before they could fall to the mattress. He held them up for a second, thumbs brushing slowly over the bruised skin like he was memorizing the pattern the fabric had left, the pulse fluttering beneath the surface.

“Too tight?” Suguru murmured.

Satoru blinked at him, dazed. He tried to shake his head, but it was clumsy, uncoordinated. Every joint in his body had been unplugged, nothing working quite like it should. His lips parted, but no words came.

“Did so good for me,” Suguru said, lowering his arms gently and laying soft kisses across his wrists. “You’re perfect like this, you know that? All tied up and leaking, voice gone.”

A sleepy whimper vibrated in Satoru’s chest. His fingers flexed feebly against the mattress, like he wanted to reach up but didn’t know what to do with his hands now that they were free.

Suguru helped him, bringing one of Satoru’s hands up to his own chest and pressing it flat over his heart. “Right here,” he murmured. “You can stay right here.”

Satoru swallowed. His throat still ached faintly from the pressure—he could feel the ghost of Suguru’s fingers, the heat of them—but it wasn’t painful. It felt right, like the handprint should still be there. Suguru’s fingers carded slowly through the sweat-damp mess of his hair, combing it away from his face, over and over again in hypnotic motions. One hand stayed pressed to his stomach, right above the still-warm mess, smearing it in lazy circles as if he didn’t mind where it went.

And Satoru… Satoru didn’t think he’d ever felt more owned. He didn’t mean to whimper again, but it came out anyway, quiet and raw, the soft sound of someone entirely overwhelmed and trying to hold on. His hips twitched uselessly, his body still not realizing it was all over.

“I know,” Suguru whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I know, baby. You’re coming down. It’s okay.”

That kiss turned into another. Slower, then deeper. Satoru moaned into it, sluggish and soft, head tilting just enough to meet it properly. His lips parted on instinct, and Suguru’s tongue slid against his, tasting the remnants of sweat and salt and everything between them. It wasn’t even sexual anymore, just warm and grounding, like a hand on his chest, pressing his soul gently back into his body.

The mattress dipped as Suguru shifted, reaching for something. A warm, wet cloth passed over his stomach, slow and unhurried. He cleaned Satoru’s chest the same way he’d kissed him earlier—like it was an act of devotion. Satoru just let it happen, arms limp, eyes fluttering closed as he was wiped down and tucked into the sheets.

He didn’t realize his legs were shaking until Suguru slid between them again, fully clothed now, coaxing one of Satoru’s thighs over his lap as he settled in to hold him properly.

“Still with me?”

Satoru nodded, face buried in Suguru’s neck. “Mmmhm.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Suguru murmured, pressing his nose into his hair. “You know how many times I almost gave in? Almost let you come before I said?”

“I would’ve killed you,” Satoru mumbled, voice thick and ruined.

“You’d have tried,” Suguru corrected, amused.

Satoru huffed a laugh against his throat, breath fogging his collarbone. “You liked watching me suffer.”

“I love watching you suffer,” Suguru said, and kissed his temple. “But I love this more.”

A silence fell, the kind that wasn’t heavy or awkward—just quiet. Safe. The kind that came after surrender, after a scene so deep it left you boneless, floating, tethered only by the hands that held you after.

Satoru’s fingers curled weakly into Suguru’s shirt, exhaustion kicking in and slurring his words. “Mmllove you.”

Suguru chuckled. “I love you too, baby. Go to sleep.” 

The last thing he felt were Suguru’s hands tracing soft, soothing circles into his back, before sleep dragged him under.