[ ichiro can’t help it: his mouth draws up into a grin, teeth just shy of biting into his lower lip. it’s mischevious and greedy at the same time, the look of someone who knows he’s about to get something he wants. a distinctly ichiro look, stop and go eyes shining with the suggestion. he meets him head on, and maybe he doesn’t have to say anything— that face is answer enough.
granted, it’s not what he was expecting or even thinking about wanting, but now that samatoki said it.... ]
( samatoki was, and still is, learning to keep up with ichiro's pace, having no experience dealing with someone who has all the energy and eagerness in the world. meeting ichiro surely brought a lot more than he bargained for but he isn't really complaining. if it means he gets to see that bright smile for the rest of his life...
there's a chuckle that rumbles deep from his chest, amused by what's in front of him. he doesn't need to hear ichiro say anything to get the confirmation that the boy wants to be pierced with something samatoki owns, and isn't that a little bit intimate? he has nothing to describe the feeling it reels out of him.
something close to satisfaction, at least.
but instead of giving ichiro what he wants, his hand moves away from his ear and pinches his nose instead. )
Maybe not today. If we do it now, you look like you'll explode. But soon, yeah?
Mmf-- [ that noise is complaining when his nose is pinched shut, ichiro's eyes shutting briefly and his cheeks coloring a little pink at the hair ruffle. it helps to loosen some of the frankly blazing sexual tension between them, and his shoulders hunch up a little, childishly, as he bats his hand away from his hair. ]
I'd be fine, jeez. [ but it's not heated or mean or anything--he still sounds like a puppy dog. besides, samatoki has a point: that kind of shit takes time and sanitation and ichiro's pretty damn content with his spot on samatoki's lap at the moment.
he huffs and leaves it at that, though, because let's be honest, he's not really interested in chasing that particular squabble (for once) when samatoki's right in front of him, and ichiro brings his hands up to touch one of samatoki's piercings instead, thumb brushing over the ring, a stud, the bar at the top. the gesture's a little intimate, too. ] Were you just screwing with me, or do you seriously have more?
( everything ichiro does in retaliation just reminds samatoki just how young he really is. his boyish charm and attitude are making the whole puppy dog thing a whole lot more effective than it should be, and so he finds himself feeling like he kicked a dog while it was already down. shit. is he just doomed from now on?
it's probably even too late to worry abour that now considering ichiro is still on his lap and there's nowhere else samatoki would want him to be. it just feels right, at this point, that this is how he should be spending his sunday night, caught up in the presence the boy he kept lowkey flirting with for some time now.
his head changes its angle if only to give ichiro better access to what caught his interest, red eyes fluttering shut at the curious touches. )
Thought the whole point of you comin' here was so you could find out?
( if ichiro needs an even more blatant invitation than that, samatoki might not have the patience to give it to him. )
ichiro grins at him again, the slightly puppy-dog pout almost melting off of his face with the sheer glee it inspires; it digs in his dimples and makes him shine. samatoki has all of his attention (he often does, when they're together, practically magnetized), and he watches the spread of his lashes against his cheek when they close, as his fingers brush a trail across the shell of his ear just to feel the bumps. ]
Just checking. [ so, yeah. he's going to find out. his mind spins with the possibilities, just briefly, but ichiro takes the newly reminded invitation and ducks in--a bit past his face, to press his lips where his fingers were, mouth closing around the piercing in his lobe as his hand finds a place in the front of his shirt. it lets him trace a trail, from ear down to his neck, wet, warm kisses exploring as much exposed skin (and it's samatoki, so god knows there's plenty) that he can. ]
( even with his eyes closed, samatoki can imagine the delight radiating from ichiro, happy to get what he's been wanting. he settles into a more relaxed position as ichiro explores what he has access to right now, and he has to stop himself from counting how many kisses he's been given inside his head. it's stupid, really, so he tries a distraction by way of placing his arms around ichiro and slipping them inside his shirt to feel bare skin.
he moves, just so he can deliver hushed words by ichiro's ear. )
Where do you wanna look first?
( slowly, he starts tracing lazy patterns on the other's back, maybe to encourage him to make up his mind soon. )
[ samatoki’s voice is gravelly and soft right by his ear, the cigarette smoke always near him in aural form: it’d make him shiver if he wasn’t so distracted putting his mouth all over samatoki’s skin instead. his brows pinch just briefly, though, and he lets the words slink down his spine, stopping where his teeth brush against his collarbone.
everywhere, his brain supplies helpfully, and though he’s loathe to pull much further up, ichiro glances upwards to look at samatoki through the thick curtain of his bangs, eyes dark with want. ] Nowhere I can reach that well here. [ maybe samatoki’ll let him pick him up. ] Bedroom?
( samatoki almost laughs, loud and booming, amused by ichiro's honesty. it bubbles deep within him but he manages to catch it before it escapes, settling for a soft snort that still translates his own amusement. he doesn't remember the last time he's dealt with someone so open and simple with what they want, so this is something he can appreciate and reward with a quick kiss on the lips.
when he pulls back, he can't stop from curving his mouth into a sly grin. )
Sure, but you gotta get off me or I'm not going anywhere.
( even if ichiro asks if he could pick him up, the answer would always be no, but when has that ever stopped anyone? )
[ wow, he really doesn’t want to do that, actually, but the faster they move onto other things the better. ichiro doesn’t quite lean in after the second kiss, but he takes a second longer to properly pull away and process. it’ll be worth it, after all.
despite being fairly eager, he manages to unfold himself from samatoki’s lap easily and steps back. he’s giving samatoki enough space to stand, but he offers his hand to pull him up anyway—it’s a guide or a support, or maybe he’d just like to hold his hand for a second.
...or maybe he’s just eager to get going. he’s not been back towards samatoki’s bedroom...hardly ever, so it’s not the most familiar route. (Otherwise he’d definitely be getting carried.) ]
( samatoki isn't too keen to let ichiro go either, since he fits so nicely in his lap, but he knows other things are in store for them so he doesn't protest... too much. his expression might have some hints that he didn't like suddenly moving spots as he takes ichiro's hand, standing up in front of him.
they linger like that for a while, before samatoki is jerking his head in the general direction of his bedroom. )
It's this way.
( the walk over to his bedroom doesn't seem like much, but there's still a lot to look at on the way. like how clean his kitchen is of takeout containers, or the photos of his mom and sister tucked away in a small shelf — little bits of his life that are just on display.
they barely get through the bedroom door before samatoki is kissing ichiro again, rough and heated this time. impatient. )
[ ichiro’ll have to test his luck with picking up samatoki later: he’s perfectly content with being led off by the hand. his curiosity helps to dissuade some of the embarrassingly warm feelings in his chest at the fact they’re holding hands, and his gaze tracks away from samatoki’s back to the apartment itself.
he kind of wonders what his room will look like: will it show his personality any more? who knows: he doesn’t get much time to think about it, or even look, though, because samatoki’s mouth on his, and suddenly ichiro doesn’t give a shit anymore. he responds to the pace of the case easily, immediately winding his hands into samatoki’s hair. ichiro’s got the half brain enough to kick the door shut behind him with his heel, but he’s right there with him, starting to walk samatoki back towards the direction where he thinks samatoki’s bed is. maybe. ]
( neither of them really bother with flicking the lights on once the door is shut closed, but it doesn't really matter since it's neither necessary or wanted. samatoki's room is still illuminated thanks to the pulsing bright lights of yokohama's city life. it's not las vegas but the rows of well-lit high-rise buildings and cosmo world's ferris wheel offer practically the same vibe. the view is all his room really has to offer, a singular window tall enough to reach both the floor and ceiling, making it look like it's so easy to fall —
and samatoki feels himself falling too, all caught up in ichiro's space and presence. everything about him. he deepens the kiss by encouraging him to open up, hands clinging to the fabric of his bomber jacket as ichiro guides them to the bed. when he feels the edge of the mattress, he gradually lowers himself and drags ichiro on top of him, kissing him the entire time.
he only really pulls away to start trailing kisses down ichiro's jaw, the side of his neck, and where his shoulder starts. it's like he can't make up his mind where he wants to settle — and maybe mark him. )
[ the window just briefly catches ichiro’s eye—his gaze flicks outwards and the sense of privacy feels a little lessened. it’s a wild thought to think someone could see them with how high up they are, and it passes through his subconscious with a note of adrenaline for about thirty seconds before samatoki’s completely enraptured him again. the hands in his jacket keep him steady on the right path, and he moves in tandem with samatoki immediately, bringing a knee up the bed to climb over him, sliding it forward to fit perfectly between his thighs.
he almost makes a noise of complaint when samatoki pulls away from the actual kiss; instead, it turns soft and pleased at the wet trail against the skin of his neck. ichiro’s body moves naturally with it, friction through his jeans as he presses forward, and even distracted, his singleminded purpose to get samatoki out of his clothes (to finally get to sleep with him, finally—) means his hands are moving too, deft fingers working their way down the front of his button up until he can get it all the way open and slide a hand up the front of his torso instead. ]
( it's a wild thought, and one that only ichiro would even bother worrying about. it didn't even cross samatoki's mind that his window makes this a more or less a public affair to anyone who bothered to peep, but it encourages him to give whoever and ichiro a fun show to watch. so when the bed shifts to accommodate ichiro's weight, he bites down on the spot he's been lavishing attention to, planting kisses to soothe the irritated skin.
a noise escapes him when ichiro starts to peel off his shirt, wanting to feel more of his touch, to feel his hands explore every inch it can reach. he jerks his hips up to grind against the other, seeking friction that's going to make him want his pants off very, very, very soon. but he settles for being a piece of shit first, guides his hands to where the hoodie's zipper starts so he can pull it up... and...
wait. )
—the fuck is this.
( it's only now that he gets a good look at this dumb hoodie ichiro has. why. )
[ ichiro makes a noise at the bite, not really particularly muffled, letting his instincts drive him forward through it. he's still fussing with samatoki's buttons, so he shifts his knee forward to grind his thigh directly into samatoki's. things are started to get real, now, and all ichiro can really think about is how badly he wants to touch samatoki, run his palms over his chest and his abs (the number of times he's gotten off alone thinking about samatoki opening his door for a delivery with no shirt on is, actually, kind of embarrassing and something he'd rather die than admit it).
his mind's completely focused on that. he barely arches up out of the way to let samatoki get his hoodie off of him, and ichiro, who is reaching up to divest samatoki entirely of his shirt and ducking in to steal a kiss from him again is--stopped.
he blinks, looks down. ] What? [ ... it didn't even occur to him that it would be weird. is it weird? ichiro looks down between them like he can actually see his hoodie, and his cheeks flush. ] --it's-- shut up, it's in style in Bukuro--I don't have to explain this right now!
[ do not make him explain this right now he's trying to get IN YOUR PANTS. it means ichiro's going to reach down and take the damn thing off himself, if samatoki will let him. ]
( samatoki has to resist the urge to laugh, if only because the look on ichiro's face is too priceless. thankfully, the mood for him isn't all that ruined, still eager to draw out every noise and expression ichiro is willing to show him. he kisses him again, softer, sweeter this time, to make him even more flustered because it's cute. )
In style, huh. I'll take your word for it.
( spoken like someone who isn't buying what ichiro just told him. he's got an amused grin and everything, but the spell is broken when ichiro tries to fumble with his pants—okay, back to business then. he reaches for ichiro's hands, guiding them to rest on top of his arousal just so he can feel just how hard he is, how much he's aching for ichiro and ichiro alone.
Oh, shut up. [ jeez, embarrassing...the soft kiss does literally exactly what samatoki expects it to. his ears turn even redder, and ichiro ducks his head down, trying to pretend that stupid smile of his isn't giving him butterflies...even when it's making fun of him.
he was going to go for his own sweatshirt, but the brush against samatoki's jeans is more than enough to drag his attention away from him. his mouth opens, then closes, just for a brief second as he's hit with the realization that yeah, this is mutual. it makes ichiro grin again, the joy of it coming back to his face, and he gives a brief squeeze, just enough contact so he can move to pull down his zipper and undo the fly, fingers hooking in the jeans and at least opening them up for samatoki.
he stops there, though, gaze flicking back up his chest, and runs his hand back up, brushing his thumb over a nipple, big hand spreading wide over the muscle of his pecs. ] Kind of expected one here.
[ he gives a little pinch, another rub, navigating just to see what he can do to get samatoki a little flustered too. for once. ]
( unsurprisingly, ichiro isn't all that hard to figure out, super easy to please, and samatoki is more than thankful for it. it makes it a lot more fun to tease him because samatoki doesn't even have to try so hard when he has to placate him — but whatever else he has in mind dissolves when he feels the brush of ichiro's hand on his jeans.
there's a soft groan, followed by another upwards jerk of his hips to encourage ichiro to do it again. he's rewarded by the little squeeze, making his eyes flutter shut as he enjoys the feel of it. ichiro is definitely getting his wish once he starts toying with his nipple, clearly sensitive to the touch.
a reddish hint colours his cheeks, his eyes opening to look up at ichiro with nothing but want and need. )
Fuck. [ ichiro mutters, maybe not the coolest reply in the world, but. how does any human being with eyes react to samatoki saying something like that while he's underneath you making that face. he's not sure if he's more powerful for it or weaker at the knees.
...what ichiro definitely is is undeniably into samatoki. the way he phrased that sent a jolt of electricity down ichiro's spine, and he can't help the grin on his face, a little rakish and wild as he contends with the fact that samatoki's going to ruin in his life, probably.
might as well make the feeling mutual. ichiro cottons onto the affect his hands are having and goes after it, spreading his attention between his chest and the open fly of his pants. he keeps the palm of his dominant hand spread over the front of his underwear, fingers gripped just so, the bump of his ring and the palm of his hand creating a steady run of friction (and letting him get a feel for samatoki, though he's not really looking.)
dipping his head down lets him actually respond, and ichiro pauses with his nose nearly brushing samatoki's chest, his gaze flicking up to look at him through his messy bangs, cheeks flushed, red and green eyes barely a thin ring of color. ] Maybe. [ there's the real answer, less embarrassed as his natural confidence takes over. ] Right here? [ and ichiro ducks down to nip at the skin of his chest, just briefly, to pass his mouth over his nipple, scrape gently with his teeth for the sensation. here. ]
( samatoki falls silent. he watches ichiro's every move, the way his mouth curls into another grin that sends samatoki's heart reeling, the way his expression brightens up when he's pleased about something. it captivates him just as much as ichiro is caught up in samatoki's presence, too, and he thinks he can stay here and just watch him all day. if his life wasn't already ruined, he's pretty sure it's about to be pretty soon.
he closes his eyes again when he feels ichiro's hand on him, even with the fabric in-between. he wants so much more than this, to feel bare skin against skin so ichiro can feel just how painful this is starting to become the longer they stretch this out. it's hard not to jerk his hips again, but he holds back this time, at least tries to, except — )
Nnn... ( it's all hopeless once there's tongue and teeth brushing against a sensitive spot. his hands seek purchase elsewhere, settles right for messy black hair, guiding ichiro forward. do it again. ) I'll think about it. Keep doing that... for now.
( there's a thought that flashes in his head. he wonders if ichiro would want to be the one to do it, to mark a piece of samatoki like he was meant to own it.
he's pretty sure he knows the answer to that already. )
[ at least samatoki's got his pants undone. ichiro hasn't even gotten that far yet, so eager to get his hands (and mouth) on samatoki that he's barely thought about himself. his fingers spread a little wider, opening up to get a better grip, wrist shifting a little to wrap his hand around him properly. he felt that jerk (ichiro's as quick on the uptake as ever, intelligence perhaps a bit wasted on career choice), and he responds to it.
and the hands in his hair, too. that gets a pleased noise out of him, because the slight tug feels good, and ichiro laughs, a low, throaty chuckle at the demand. it figures samatoki'd be bossy..not that he's really complaining.
he makes a noise of assent, a hum that says "i want to say something else but i'll keep it to myself for now", and finds that same exact spot again, with his usual laser focus. he wants to draw more of those noises out of samatoki if he can, and he drags his tongue across, then scrapes again, timing it nicely with a squeeze of his hands, rocking into the motion of samatoki's hips. ]
( samatoki will be helping ichiro out of his pants in a hot minute. right now, he's too caught up in what ichiro is doing to him. all that delicious friction, the way it sends shivers down his spine. samatoki has never been the type to make so much noise, but it seems to delight ichiro when he does so he's allowing a moan to escape him, pleased and hushed at the same time. what he doesn't expect is the squeeze that follows, drawing out a gasp he can't stop. )
Ichiro—
( the tone is in between a threat and a plea, like he doesn't know what he wants, like he can't really choose. thankfully he hasn't lost his grip on ichiro's head, using the few precious seconds he has before he gets even more stimulated to pull him up so they can kiss again. samatoki wastes no time and dives in ichiro's mouth, wanting a little bit of dominance somewhere even though he's the one pinned down.
he's also keeping his hands busy by trailing down ichiro's back, suddenly reminded of the hoodie he's still wearing, but it's fine. that's not his goal right now. he makes his way lower until he can feel where the zipper of his pants start, and slowly he pulls it down so he can finally feel ichiro and give him the attention he needs by squeezing him a little too.
his strokes match the rhythm that ichiro is following, maybe to see who will break first. )
[ every noise samatoki makes is incredible, if only for the sheer fact that ichiro's causing it; it makes him go at it with gusto, zeroing in on any spot that gets a reaction. his hand squeezes again, rocking into the friction samatoki gives him to get another gasp, and then the sound of his name (he could listen to that the rest of his life.)
with an "mmfft", he immediately dives in to kiss him again, just fine to let samatoki kiss his brains out. ichiro's noises are more common, soft and needy, and he returns the kiss enthusiastically, arching his back up into samatoki's touches. he adjusts his weight, shifts to put his forearm near samatoki's head, but it doesn't last long, because the second samatoki gets his hand on him, finally, he remembers exactly how fucking turned on he is and grinds down into it almost immediately. the relief is exactly what he wanted, and he breaks off of the kiss, just barely far from his mouth, to let out a tiny, breathy laugh, overwhelmed and thrilled all at once-- ] FFffuck this--
[ because he does not have the patience for all of this teasing, anymore!! ichiro pushes up to get his other knee on the bed so he can yank out his belt and toss it on the ground beside the bed, arching into samatoki's palm and pushing the top of his jeans out of the way. it's still obnoxious and there, but it lets him return the favor for samatoki, too, clearly eager as hell to get that skin on skin contact too. ]
( the only time samatoki pulls away from the kiss is when ichiro breaks it first, mostly to laugh and indicate how sick he is of the teasing. sure, that's fine. samatoki is pretty much at his breaking point too, but he didn't want to be the first one to crack so—this works out. he lets ichiro shuffle out of his pants before pulling him back in for a kiss, mostly as a distraction.
he's been rewarding the brat with so many little gasps and noises so he wants to draw out more from him too. and now that the pants are out of the way, it makes it easy for him to slip his hand inside ichiro's underwear to finally, finally touch him with no barriers involved. calloused fingers wrapped around him, teasing the underside with a few light touches before he starts playing with the tip.
his only hope is ichiro doesn't get too lost in the feeling to start neglecting him. )
[ samatoki gets exactly what he wants. ichiro's noise is long and low and rattles in his chest, because even just that first touch breaks a tension that's been going on for months. he rolls into the touch immediately, hips grinding forward against the teasing touch and getting more.
how is he supposed to keep moving, jesus. ichiro's brain needs a second to restart, but he won't let samatoki down: even as his hips roll forward and his eyes flutter shut. the laugh made him smile, too, enough that when he comes back over him to kiss him it's still felt on his lips.
he will ungracefully now start getting samatoki out of his pants, too. the angle's not ideal for it, but he wants that bare skin too, and he manages to tug them down enough that they're out of his way. ichiro reaches for underneath to grab samatoki's thigh, pulling his leg up to rest against his own hip, hand trailing along now, perfectly pale, bared skin, squeezing against the strong muscle there to hike him closer. ]
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granted, it’s not what he was expecting or even thinking about wanting, but now that samatoki said it.... ]
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there's a chuckle that rumbles deep from his chest, amused by what's in front of him. he doesn't need to hear ichiro say anything to get the confirmation that the boy wants to be pierced with something samatoki owns, and isn't that a little bit intimate? he has nothing to describe the feeling it reels out of him.
something close to satisfaction, at least.
but instead of giving ichiro what he wants, his hand moves away from his ear and pinches his nose instead. )
Maybe not today. If we do it now, you look like you'll explode. But soon, yeah?
( have a consolation hair ruffle. )
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I'd be fine, jeez. [ but it's not heated or mean or anything--he still sounds like a puppy dog. besides, samatoki has a point: that kind of shit takes time and sanitation and ichiro's pretty damn content with his spot on samatoki's lap at the moment.
he huffs and leaves it at that, though, because let's be honest, he's not really interested in chasing that particular squabble (for once) when samatoki's right in front of him, and ichiro brings his hands up to touch one of samatoki's piercings instead, thumb brushing over the ring, a stud, the bar at the top. the gesture's a little intimate, too. ] Were you just screwing with me, or do you seriously have more?
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it's probably even too late to worry abour that now considering ichiro is still on his lap and there's nowhere else samatoki would want him to be. it just feels right, at this point, that this is how he should be spending his sunday night, caught up in the presence the boy he kept lowkey flirting with for some time now.
his head changes its angle if only to give ichiro better access to what caught his interest, red eyes fluttering shut at the curious touches. )
Thought the whole point of you comin' here was so you could find out?
( if ichiro needs an even more blatant invitation than that, samatoki might not have the patience to give it to him. )
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ichiro grins at him again, the slightly puppy-dog pout almost melting off of his face with the sheer glee it inspires; it digs in his dimples and makes him shine. samatoki has all of his attention (he often does, when they're together, practically magnetized), and he watches the spread of his lashes against his cheek when they close, as his fingers brush a trail across the shell of his ear just to feel the bumps. ]
Just checking. [ so, yeah. he's going to find out. his mind spins with the possibilities, just briefly, but ichiro takes the newly reminded invitation and ducks in--a bit past his face, to press his lips where his fingers were, mouth closing around the piercing in his lobe as his hand finds a place in the front of his shirt. it lets him trace a trail, from ear down to his neck, wet, warm kisses exploring as much exposed skin (and it's samatoki, so god knows there's plenty) that he can. ]
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he moves, just so he can deliver hushed words by ichiro's ear. )
Where do you wanna look first?
( slowly, he starts tracing lazy patterns on the other's back, maybe to encourage him to make up his mind soon. )
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everywhere, his brain supplies helpfully, and though he’s loathe to pull much further up, ichiro glances upwards to look at samatoki through the thick curtain of his bangs, eyes dark with want. ] Nowhere I can reach that well here. [ maybe samatoki’ll let him pick him up. ] Bedroom?
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when he pulls back, he can't stop from curving his mouth into a sly grin. )
Sure, but you gotta get off me or I'm not going anywhere.
( even if ichiro asks if he could pick him up, the answer would always be no, but when has that ever stopped anyone? )
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despite being fairly eager, he manages to unfold himself from samatoki’s lap easily and steps back. he’s giving samatoki enough space to stand, but he offers his hand to pull him up anyway—it’s a guide or a support, or maybe he’d just like to hold his hand for a second.
...or maybe he’s just eager to get going. he’s not been back towards samatoki’s bedroom...hardly ever, so it’s not the most familiar route. (Otherwise he’d definitely be getting carried.) ]
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they linger like that for a while, before samatoki is jerking his head in the general direction of his bedroom. )
It's this way.
( the walk over to his bedroom doesn't seem like much, but there's still a lot to look at on the way. like how clean his kitchen is of takeout containers, or the photos of his mom and sister tucked away in a small shelf — little bits of his life that are just on display.
they barely get through the bedroom door before samatoki is kissing ichiro again, rough and heated this time. impatient. )
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he kind of wonders what his room will look like: will it show his personality any more? who knows: he doesn’t get much time to think about it, or even look, though, because samatoki’s mouth on his, and suddenly ichiro doesn’t give a shit anymore. he responds to the pace of the case easily, immediately winding his hands into samatoki’s hair. ichiro’s got the half brain enough to kick the door shut behind him with his heel, but he’s right there with him, starting to walk samatoki back towards the direction where he thinks samatoki’s bed is. maybe. ]
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and samatoki feels himself falling too, all caught up in ichiro's space and presence. everything about him. he deepens the kiss by encouraging him to open up, hands clinging to the fabric of his bomber jacket as ichiro guides them to the bed. when he feels the edge of the mattress, he gradually lowers himself and drags ichiro on top of him, kissing him the entire time.
he only really pulls away to start trailing kisses down ichiro's jaw, the side of his neck, and where his shoulder starts. it's like he can't make up his mind where he wants to settle — and maybe mark him. )
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he almost makes a noise of complaint when samatoki pulls away from the actual kiss; instead, it turns soft and pleased at the wet trail against the skin of his neck. ichiro’s body moves naturally with it, friction through his jeans as he presses forward, and even distracted, his singleminded purpose to get samatoki out of his clothes (to finally get to sleep with him, finally—) means his hands are moving too, deft fingers working their way down the front of his button up until he can get it all the way open and slide a hand up the front of his torso instead. ]
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a noise escapes him when ichiro starts to peel off his shirt, wanting to feel more of his touch, to feel his hands explore every inch it can reach. he jerks his hips up to grind against the other, seeking friction that's going to make him want his pants off very, very, very soon. but he settles for being a piece of shit first, guides his hands to where the hoodie's zipper starts so he can pull it up... and...
wait. )
—the fuck is this.
( it's only now that he gets a good look at this dumb hoodie ichiro has. why. )
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his mind's completely focused on that. he barely arches up out of the way to let samatoki get his hoodie off of him, and ichiro, who is reaching up to divest samatoki entirely of his shirt and ducking in to steal a kiss from him again is--stopped.
he blinks, looks down. ] What? [ ... it didn't even occur to him that it would be weird. is it weird? ichiro looks down between them like he can actually see his hoodie, and his cheeks flush. ] --it's-- shut up, it's in style in Bukuro--I don't have to explain this right now!
[ do not make him explain this right now he's trying to get IN YOUR PANTS. it means ichiro's going to reach down and take the damn thing off himself, if samatoki will let him. ]
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In style, huh. I'll take your word for it.
( spoken like someone who isn't buying what ichiro just told him. he's got an amused grin and everything, but the spell is broken when ichiro tries to fumble with his pants—okay, back to business then. he reaches for ichiro's hands, guiding them to rest on top of his arousal just so he can feel just how hard he is, how much he's aching for ichiro and ichiro alone.
hopefully he gets the message. )
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he was going to go for his own sweatshirt, but the brush against samatoki's jeans is more than enough to drag his attention away from him. his mouth opens, then closes, just for a brief second as he's hit with the realization that yeah, this is mutual. it makes ichiro grin again, the joy of it coming back to his face, and he gives a brief squeeze, just enough contact so he can move to pull down his zipper and undo the fly, fingers hooking in the jeans and at least opening them up for samatoki.
he stops there, though, gaze flicking back up his chest, and runs his hand back up, brushing his thumb over a nipple, big hand spreading wide over the muscle of his pecs. ] Kind of expected one here.
[ he gives a little pinch, another rub, navigating just to see what he can do to get samatoki a little flustered too. for once. ]
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there's a soft groan, followed by another upwards jerk of his hips to encourage ichiro to do it again. he's rewarded by the little squeeze, making his eyes flutter shut as he enjoys the feel of it. ichiro is definitely getting his wish once he starts toying with his nipple, clearly sensitive to the touch.
a reddish hint colours his cheeks, his eyes opening to look up at ichiro with nothing but want and need. )
Did you want me to get one...?
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...what ichiro definitely is is undeniably into samatoki. the way he phrased that sent a jolt of electricity down ichiro's spine, and he can't help the grin on his face, a little rakish and wild as he contends with the fact that samatoki's going to ruin in his life, probably.
might as well make the feeling mutual. ichiro cottons onto the affect his hands are having and goes after it, spreading his attention between his chest and the open fly of his pants. he keeps the palm of his dominant hand spread over the front of his underwear, fingers gripped just so, the bump of his ring and the palm of his hand creating a steady run of friction (and letting him get a feel for samatoki, though he's not really looking.)
dipping his head down lets him actually respond, and ichiro pauses with his nose nearly brushing samatoki's chest, his gaze flicking up to look at him through his messy bangs, cheeks flushed, red and green eyes barely a thin ring of color. ] Maybe. [ there's the real answer, less embarrassed as his natural confidence takes over. ] Right here? [ and ichiro ducks down to nip at the skin of his chest, just briefly, to pass his mouth over his nipple, scrape gently with his teeth for the sensation. here. ]
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he closes his eyes again when he feels ichiro's hand on him, even with the fabric in-between. he wants so much more than this, to feel bare skin against skin so ichiro can feel just how painful this is starting to become the longer they stretch this out. it's hard not to jerk his hips again, but he holds back this time, at least tries to, except — )
Nnn... ( it's all hopeless once there's tongue and teeth brushing against a sensitive spot. his hands seek purchase elsewhere, settles right for messy black hair, guiding ichiro forward. do it again. ) I'll think about it. Keep doing that... for now.
( there's a thought that flashes in his head. he wonders if ichiro would want to be the one to do it, to mark a piece of samatoki like he was meant to own it.
he's pretty sure he knows the answer to that already. )
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and the hands in his hair, too. that gets a pleased noise out of him, because the slight tug feels good, and ichiro laughs, a low, throaty chuckle at the demand. it figures samatoki'd be bossy..not that he's really complaining.
he makes a noise of assent, a hum that says "i want to say something else but i'll keep it to myself for now", and finds that same exact spot again, with his usual laser focus. he wants to draw more of those noises out of samatoki if he can, and he drags his tongue across, then scrapes again, timing it nicely with a squeeze of his hands, rocking into the motion of samatoki's hips. ]
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Ichiro—
( the tone is in between a threat and a plea, like he doesn't know what he wants, like he can't really choose. thankfully he hasn't lost his grip on ichiro's head, using the few precious seconds he has before he gets even more stimulated to pull him up so they can kiss again. samatoki wastes no time and dives in ichiro's mouth, wanting a little bit of dominance somewhere even though he's the one pinned down.
he's also keeping his hands busy by trailing down ichiro's back, suddenly reminded of the hoodie he's still wearing, but it's fine. that's not his goal right now. he makes his way lower until he can feel where the zipper of his pants start, and slowly he pulls it down so he can finally feel ichiro and give him the attention he needs by squeezing him a little too.
his strokes match the rhythm that ichiro is following, maybe to see who will break first. )
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with an "mmfft", he immediately dives in to kiss him again, just fine to let samatoki kiss his brains out. ichiro's noises are more common, soft and needy, and he returns the kiss enthusiastically, arching his back up into samatoki's touches. he adjusts his weight, shifts to put his forearm near samatoki's head, but it doesn't last long, because the second samatoki gets his hand on him, finally, he remembers exactly how fucking turned on he is and grinds down into it almost immediately. the relief is exactly what he wanted, and he breaks off of the kiss, just barely far from his mouth, to let out a tiny, breathy laugh, overwhelmed and thrilled all at once-- ] FFffuck this--
[ because he does not have the patience for all of this teasing, anymore!! ichiro pushes up to get his other knee on the bed so he can yank out his belt and toss it on the ground beside the bed, arching into samatoki's palm and pushing the top of his jeans out of the way. it's still obnoxious and there, but it lets him return the favor for samatoki, too, clearly eager as hell to get that skin on skin contact too. ]
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he's been rewarding the brat with so many little gasps and noises so he wants to draw out more from him too. and now that the pants are out of the way, it makes it easy for him to slip his hand inside ichiro's underwear to finally, finally touch him with no barriers involved. calloused fingers wrapped around him, teasing the underside with a few light touches before he starts playing with the tip.
his only hope is ichiro doesn't get too lost in the feeling to start neglecting him. )
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how is he supposed to keep moving, jesus. ichiro's brain needs a second to restart, but he won't let samatoki down: even as his hips roll forward and his eyes flutter shut. the laugh made him smile, too, enough that when he comes back over him to kiss him it's still felt on his lips.
he will ungracefully now start getting samatoki out of his pants, too. the angle's not ideal for it, but he wants that bare skin too, and he manages to tug them down enough that they're out of his way. ichiro reaches for underneath to grab samatoki's thigh, pulling his leg up to rest against his own hip, hand trailing along now, perfectly pale, bared skin, squeezing against the strong muscle there to hike him closer. ]
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