IT’S GOING TO ITCH AND BURN AND STING

you want to see what the scratching brings?

Makoto pushes him against the wall, his hand already traveling underneath Hayato’s skirt, up along his thigh. Hayato bites at his own lips, trying to keep his voice low, since he cannot keep it in entirely, no matter how hard he tries. He thinks about his brother wandering the Culture Festival together with his friends, Matsuoka, Nanase… of course Nanase’s there. Makoto and him must’ve come together. But Makoto’s here with him, and this alone gives him such a thrill that the one Makoto’s fingers are giving him almost pales in comparison.

“You better be quiet, Hayato-kun,” Makoto smiles playfully, leaving a tender kiss behind his ear, “Your classmates are gonna hear you, if you keep whimpering like this.”

“Coach Tachibana…” Hayato tries not to moan, closing his eyes shut and leaning against the wall. Makoto’s hand’s halfway through already, his thumb passing slowly over the frilly hem of his panties.

“You put girl’s panties on, Hayato-kun?” Makoto asks, leaving a little kiss over his earlobe before sucking it into his mouth, “You’re so cute.”

He feels self-conscious, all of a sudden. He could’ve worn his swimsuit. He could’ve worn normal underpants – but nobody was supposed to look under his skirt, or to touch him there, for that matter. He just thought… he doesn’t even know what he was thinking. He just thought he was going to see Coach Tachibana, that he wanted to look pretty for him, pretty enough to deserve a reward.

He just didn’t expect it to come so soon, or at the Festival, anyway.

“C— Coach, I don’t think—“

“What?” Makoto whispers, covering the curve of his neck in kisses, “You don’t want it?” his tongue drawing wet circles under his ear, “You don’t like it?”

Hayato closes his hands in fists against the wall, squeezing his thighs closed when Makoto starts palming him. He traps his hand between his thighs, Makoto can’t move it anymore, but he can still move his fingers, and he slowly rubs his middle finger between his buttocks, through the light fabric of his panties.

“I don’t…” he whispers. He thinks he should stop him, because this is dangerous, and scary, and people could see them, find them out any second. His heart is beating so fast. He’s already so hard his erection hurts. He thinks he should stop him. He can’t. “I don’t know…” he whines.

Makoto smiles, pressing himself against him, crushing him gently against the wall. “Don’t lie, Hayato-kun,” he says, “You know how disappointing that is.”

“I— I know, Coach Tachibana,” he nods, keeping his eyes closed. He feels Makoto’s hardness pressed up against his ass, and it makes him wanna move. It makes him wanna swing, see if he manages to rock his hips hard enough to make the skirt come up, to feel him right against his skin, closer to his opening.

“Now, be a good boy and tell me the truth,” Makoto says, “And let me go. Do you like it?”

“Yes, Coach Tachibana,” Hayato admits, parting his legs to let Makoto free to move his hand. He instantly moves it up his crotch, slipping his fingertips past the hem of his panties to reach for his cock underneath, stroking it lightly.

“And do you want it?”

“Yes,” Hayato’s voice breaks a little when Makoto’s thumb passes over the head of his cock, already wet and gleaming with a few drops of pre-come.

Makoto can’t keep a short chuckle in as he strokes him a little faster. “Tell me,” he says, “What is it exactly you want?”

“Coach Tachibana…” Hayato whines again, bending over as much as the wall’s proximity lets him, just to push his ass agaist Makoto’s crotch in a desperate attempt to feel him, and to invite him to cut this short, to just give it to him, praying to God this is not one of those days in which he refuses, “Please, don’t… don’t make me talk. I can’t… can’t keep my voice down. They’ll hear me.”

“Mmh,” Makoto tilts his head, pushing his nose past the collar of the maid dress, to leave a half-wet kiss on the curve of Hayato’s shoulder, “Then you’ll have to be so good they won’t hear a thing,” he says.

Hayato moans, biting at his bottom lip as his legs shake. Makoto’s jerking him off at a steady pace, now, his fingers moving quite fast up and down his hardness, making its head rub insistently against the lace of his panties, the movement sending shivers running up and down his spine in violent jolts, especially when it’s naked and bare and Makoto’s fingers aren’t there to protect it, as oversensitive as it is.

“I…” he starts off, moistening his dry lips as he tries to contain the noises of pleasure coming naturally to his lips, “I want you to take me, Coach…”

“Take you?” Makoto smiles, nosing his neck as he keeps jerking him off, “But I already have you, Hayato-kun.”

“No…” Hayato whines, trying to push back, “I mean, yes, but…” he whines again, a broken sob coming out from his throat before he can stop it, “I meant I… I want you to fuck me, Coach Tachibana.”

“You do?” Makoto smiles again, covering his cheek in kisses. He slows down the movement of his hand, and Hayato, who was this close to come already, suddenly feels his climax slip out of his reach, and it feels like an unbearable loss, and he starts crying, as silently as he possibly can.

“Coach…” he sobs, “Please, don’t stop.”

“You said you want me to fuck you,” Makoto points out, his fingers still moving around his cock, excruciatingly slow, “Here? With only a curtain covering us? With so many people beyond it, knowing they could hear you and come here and find you with my cock buried inside your body?”

“Yes!” Hayato raises his voice, Makoto’s words resonating like some kind of calling inside him, making his body ache for more, “Yes, please, Coach, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Hayato-kun,” Makoto smiles against his jaw and then licks it, a wet line moving from his chin to his ear, “I won’t.”

Hayato sobs loudly, and then bites at his inner cheek to try and keep it in. “But I’m…”

“Sssh,” Makoto says, starting to move his hand around his cock again, “I won’t fuck you,” he says, talking in whisper to his ear, “Because I can’t. Believe me, I want to,” he adds, his voice a little rough, crawling in a deep, dark shiver underneath Hayato’s skin, “But I want to fuck you so hard you can’t help scream my name. And I can’t have that here, can I? No, I can’t. So be a good boy and concentrate on my hand.”

Hayato feels desperate and on the edge to start screaming, but Makoto’s voice calms him down. The way it vibrates against his skin reminds me of a soft, powerful purring, and Hayato concentrates on that sound, and on the movement of Makoto’s hand, and as he keeps his eyes closed he starts rocking his hips again, pleasure pooling up quickly in his underbelly, getting him to the point of feeling his climax approach once again and then pushing over that thin line that brings his orgasm over, making him jerk his hips forward as his entire body’s passed through a wave of pure electricity that leaves him spent, unable to keep himself straight on his legs alone.

He leans backwards, knowing Makoto will catch his fall, and obviously he does. He wraps his strong arms around his shoulders and draws him in for a warm, bear-like hug, as he kisses him on his temple.

“Feeling better, now?” Makoto asks sweetly.

Hayato smiles, turning his head to ask for a kiss. “Yes, Coach,” he says.

Makoto kisses him slowly, holding a hand over his chest to feel it, before he can hear it, when his breathing and his heartbeat go down. “You’re not nervous anymore, are you?”

“No,” Hayato shakes his head, smiling gratefully, “You always know how to calm me down.”

“That’s what I’m here for, right?” Makoto jokes, and Hayato laughs, pressing his lips against his in a soft kiss again.

“Thank you, Coach,” he says. “Will I see you later again?”

“Ah,” Makoto chuckles, “We’ll have to ask Haru-chan about that, won’t we?”

“Just for a couple hours,” Hayato insists, clinging to him, “I promise I’ll let you come back home for tonight.”

“It’s not your place to decide, Hayato-kun,” Makoto answers, kindly but firmly, stroking his cheek, “You know that. Be a good boy.”

Hayato sighs, but surrenders, letting go of him. “Alright,” he says, nodding, “I’m sorry if I overstepped, Coach.”

Makoto laughs out loud, pulling him in for another hug. “You’re so cute, Hayato-kun,” he says, “And this dress looks perfect on you,” he adds with a little wink, before he walks away.

Hayato bites at his bottom lip for a moment, his cheeks flushed, his stomach tying up in knots as he replays Makoto’s voice in his head a thousand times. He prays Nanase says yes. Even though he knows if he was in his shoes, he probably wouldn’t.

DADDY DEAREST

It’s early in the morning when Hayato receives the call. The ringing is loud, some pop song he doesn’t even like anymore but hasn’t had a chance to change yet, and he reaches out to grab the phone instantly, before his big brother hears it from the room next to his and grows suspicious about it.

It’s been increasingly hard to try and keep all of this a secret. Hayato supposes it’d be easier if Kisumi and Makoto weren’t close, but they are, and after years of seeing them hanging out together he has to admit it’d be weird not to see them do it anymore, like, walking out of the swimming pool and not finding them there, talking about his progresses and chatting about their life. He used to wonder if his brother knew about what Makoto liked to do with him when no one was watching, but he soon understood that Makoto had never mentioned any of that to Kisumi, nor to anybody else, for that matter.

He basically lives a double life. There’s everyday life, a life in which he’s a shy, well-mannered young man, a loved and respected coach for the kids swimming at the Iwatobi Swim Club, a life in which he’s got a boyfriend and a bunch of friends he hangs out with, a life in which he goes out for dinner, stays home watching tv, speaks with parents about how good their baby boys or girls are doing, or if there’s some problem they should help to fix, a life in which he’s the kind, gentle Makoto that everybody loves and adores.

And then there’s another life. A life he lives in secret, inside the small flat he keeps, away from the places he can usually be seen around. A flat only him and Hayato have the keys for.

Sometimes Hayato tries and remember how this started, when was the first time he looked at Makoto and thought “I want him to do whatever he wants with me, I want him to grab me and turn my whole world upside down with a touch of his fingers”. He never can. He remembers the single moments that ultimately led to the situation as it is now – the first kiss in the locker room when everybody else had already gone home and his big brother was a little late, Hayato was thirteen by then and it hadn’t even been a proper kiss, just their lips brushing lightly while Makoto leant him gently against the wet wall of the shower, or the first time he had been invited to the flat, when he had started touching everything out of curiosity, he was fourteen by then, and Makoto had scolded him with a very stern voice, “put that down, Hayato-kun”, not a trace of his usual shyness in it, and he had felt that shiver run up and down his spine, making his legs weaker, making him want to hear Makoto talk to him that way again – but he doesn’t remember the first spark, the first moment in which Makoto started becoming the only thing he really wanted to have in his life.

It doesn’t matter much anymore, though. All that matters is that it’s happening, Hayato wants it, and he has to keep it secret if he hopes to keep having it, at least for a little while more.

“Hello?” he says, his voice still sleepy and a little rough.

“Good morning,” Makoto answers. His voice is so kind and polite, as usual. The things he can say with that voice. “What do you want to do today, baby?”

Hayato turns on his side and curls in a little ball, trying to tame the wild shiver coursing through his body. That’s an early start. He likes it.

“I don’t know…” he says, trying not to sound too needy and desperate already, “What do you want me to do, Daddy?”

Makoto doesn’t answer right away. Hayato listens to him as he breathes silently for a few seconds, and only then he finally speaks. “Do you want to come over, baby boy?”

Yes. Yes, he wants to come over so bad. “I will be there right away,” he says, his voice already trembling in anticipation.

“Good boy,” Makoto comments, but as shameful as that is Hayato isn’t listening to him anymore. His mind’s already focused on what to do to get there as quickly as he possibly can. He throws himself out the bedroom and into the bathroom for a shower. Makoto likes it when he smells clean, and he washes himself thoroughly, using the bath foam Makoto chose for him, something fruity and sweet, “’cause that’s how you should smell, Hayato-kun, ripe for the taking”. Just thinking about that makes him almost hard already. Being fifteen doesn’t really help him keep his hard-ons in check, most of the time, but Makoto’s been training him well, so he closes his eyes, breathes slowly in and out and focuses on the mental picture of Makoto smiling to him, beaming with pride, telling him “you’re such a good boy, Hayato-kun”, and somehow he manages to calm down.

He wants to put his shorts on, but knowing he can’t walk around town in that he wears trousers above them, and a hoodie to cover the tiny t-shirt that leaves his belly bare every time he moves his arms.

He looks at himself in the mirror. He hopes he looks good enough for Makoto.

Sneaking out of the house isn’t that hard, it’s early enough for everybody to still be asleep. He carries the pool bag with himself anyway, to have an excuse to offer for wanting to go out this early on a Saturday, but luckily nobody sees him. He takes the bike, though he hates the fact that he’s probably going to sweat. He could walk to the flat, but it’d take more than 40 minutes and the thought is just dreadful.

When he arrives to the building, he drops the bike behind it as usual and then walks upstairs. Door number five. No name on the tag outside. That’s their place.

Makoto is already inside, and he’s working on some papers, probably coming up with some new training routine for the team Hayato’s part of too. “Daddy…” he says, clearing his throat to catch his attention, “I’m home.”

“Took you quite some time,” Makoto comments. He sounds disappointed, and Hayato lowers his eyes. He had hoped to be faster, but he really, really didn’t want to sweat. He was so happy to let Makoto smell that bath foam off him. He’s been so stupid.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, bowing a little.

Makoto doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even look at him. “Daddy’s busy, now,” he says, “Take those clothes off and go sit over there, and don’t make a sound.”

Taking this as the punishment it is – he had hoped for a warmer welcome, a hug, a kiss, God, he’s dying to be kissed right now – Hayato simply nods, and doesn’t speak as he takes his trousers and hoodie off, putting them into the bag and then sitting on the couch. There are some new magazines to read, Makoto thought about him and bought them for him. He feels like such a failure. He deserves to be punished. So, despite missing Makoto’s touch so much he could cry, he sits there silently, not to disturb him, and grabs one of those magazines, to read some of the comics inside.

Fifteen minutes is the time. That’s how long punishments last. Of any kind. Slapping, silence, could shoulder treatment, whatever Makoto deems fit to educate him. There’s a first fifteen minutes session, then a pause during which Makoto decides if he learned the lesson or not. If he did, he’s forgiven. If he didn’t, there’s a new fifteen minutes session waiting for him.

This time, luckily, Makoto decides to cut it short.

“Daddy’s bored,” he says, leaning against the back of the chair and taking a deep breath before turning to look at Hayato, a sweet smile curling his lips upwards, “Put that book down and come entertain me.”

Hayato jumps on his feet as if compelled by a preternatural force. “Yes, Daddy!” he says, walking towards him, his bare feet producing a sweet thumping sound against the tatami as he walks.

“Look at yourself,” Makoto comments, staring at his clothes, “You really do know how to make an impression, don’t you? These clothes look good on you.”

“Thanks!” he says, blushing wildly as his smile grows bigger. The familiar, warm sensation that washes over him whenever Makoto compliments him starts pooling in his underbelly, making him horny. He wants to be touched so much. He hopes Makoto will want to touch him as well.

“Why don’t you spin for Daddy?” Makoto asks, laid back against the chair, “Let me see you.” Hayato turns on the spot, slowly, letting Makoto watch him as he does it. He feels his eyes fixed on his body, on the curve of his spine, on his ass, on the bulge already showing at his crotch. Hayato loves when Makoto looks at him that way. “Dance a little, baby boy,” Makoto asks softly, and even though that’s always embarrassing, to dance without the music, Hayato complies, his hips swinging right and left as he lifts his arms up above his head, the t-shirt getting pulled up accordingly, showing a good deal of his tummy as he moves. “That’s sexy, baby,” Makoto smiles, “That’s really, very sexy. Now, should I be worried? That you’re turning into a little slut? Where did you learn to dance like that?”

His smile never falters, not even for a second as he speaks, but Hayato’s good at detecting the small changes in his voice, at understanding what they mean. He doesn’t miss the threat, and he stops moving immediately, dropping his arms, looking down, ashamed of himself. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Daddy,” he says, “I promise I didn’t learn it anywhere. I just wanted to please you.”

Makoto lets him hang there in silence for a few seconds, enjoying to see him so tense and worried, and then melting into a sweeter smile, as he strokes Hayato’s cheek with the back of his hand to catch his attention again. “I’m not mad,” he says to reassure him, “Come here, boy. Sit on my lap.”

Hayato trembles, biting at his own bottom lip. It’s finally happening, Makoto’s going to touch him. He craves for his touch so much, at this point, he doesn’t even care if he ends up sounding too needy or slutty. He throws himself at him, mewling as he sits on his lap, his arms wrapped around Makoto’s neck as he rubs his face against Makoto’s, who chuckles, amused. “You really missed me, didn’t you, baby boy?”

“I did,” Hayato nods quickly, leaving a trail of soft, half-wet kisses up and down Makoto’s jaw, “I missed you so much, Daddy. I was scared you weren’t going to call anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Makoto says a little sternly, to underline how stupid that thought was, “Give Daddy a kiss, now.”

Hayato isn’t able to stop the whimper to come out of his throat, but luckily Makoto laughs at it, amused, and doesn’t scold him for being too much of a whiny baby. He welcomes his lips against his own and parts them, searching for Hayato’s tongue with his own and giving him a wet, messy kiss that instantly fills the air with wet, messy noises.

One of his hands start traveling down Hayato’s side, resting for a moment around his waist, his thumb finding its way around and inside Hayato’s navel for a moment, making him shiver in pleasure. He moans between Makoto’s lips, and when Makoto’s hand travels even lower, resting on his crotch, he moans louder.

He’s hard, Makoto can feel it. Hayato hopes he doesn’t think it’s too soon.

“I think it’s time for some play,” Makoto says instead, “Don’t you?”

Hayato’s heart starts beating faster. He knows what the question means. It all started a lazy afternoon of maybe four months before. They had played around for a while but Makoto had never really seemed satisfied with what was happening. At some point, he had sat Hayato in front of his laptop and had searched for some website for him. It was an online shop for sex toys. Hayato had blushed so hard Makoto had gone on laughing for almost a full minute. He had left him in front of that website for half an hour, not more, and then he had come back, sipping at some tea, kissing him on his cheek and then asking ‘Did you see any toy you liked on the website, baby?’. His breath smelled like blueberry and sugar. That’s one of the fondest memories Hayato has of him.

He had started buying toys after that afternoon. At first he had let Hayato pick each and every one of them, but soon he had started to understand what was Hayato liked, and from that moment on he had only done shopping on his own, so every time he ended up buying a new one it was always a surprise, and never a bad one.

“Yes, Daddy,” Hayato says, standing up like a good boy.

“I’ve bought you lots of new presents,” Makoto says, smiling sweetly, “Want to see?”

“Yes!” he answers enthusiastically, trying to keep himself from jumping on the spot, “Where are they?”

Makoto nods towards the little cabinet under the television. “Go and pick a toy for us to play with,” he says.

“Yes, Daddy!” Hayato answers, running towards the cabinet and kneeling on the tatami. He opens it, and it’s not hard to find the box with all the old toys they’ve already tried. There’s a plastic bag right beside it, though, and that’s what Hayato’s searching for. The new toys are inside. Some of them are really pretty, but one in particular catches his attention. It’s a pair of lace panties. They’re black and sexy, and clearly for girls. Hayato doesn’t care, anyway. If Makoto bought them for him, it means he wants to see him wearing them. Just the thought makes him feel all hot and confused.

He turns around, showing them to Makoto.

“Ah,” he smiles, “I see you found them. Go try them on, I’ll wait here.”

Excited, almost squirming in anticipation, Hayato nods and stands up, walking into the bathroom. The flat isn’t big, and the bedroom is forbidden until it’s Daddy saying it’s time to go to bed, so it’s not like he has much of a choice, but he’s okay with the place being the bathroom because he needs to wash his face and calm down. Makoto clearly wants to play, and play long. He can’t disappoint him, he needs to be focused.

After he washes and dries his face, he slips out of his clothes and puts the panties on. The final effect embarrasses him more than he thought it would. They’re open underneath, and they’re practically see-through. It’s like being completely naked, but it makes him feel sluttier than he would if he was, which is weird, and confuses him a bit. He closes his eyes, trying to calm down again even if he feels his cheeks on fire. Makoto wants to see him like this. Makoto wants to see him like this. He’s not gonna punish him, he’s not gonna scold him, everything’s gonna be alright.

He walks out of the bathroom, searching for Makoto with his eyes but then lowering his gaze when he finds him. “Daddy?” he says, “I’m ready.”

“Hayato-kun…” Makoto whispers, turning to look at him. Attracted by his voice, Hayato can’t help but look up, and that makes him blush even more. Every now and then, something Hayato does or a particular thing he says or even some way he looks like, surprises Makoto so much that he almost forgets about his role, and goes back to look like his everyday self, that shy young man blushing when he sees something that embarrasses him, something he’s not sure he can deal with.

Those are the moments Hayato likes more. Those small, little moments in which Makoto’s two lives merge into one, and he can be a part of both of them.

“Do I look pretty?” he asks in a low, embarrassed voice.

Makoto quickly remembers his place and smiles, standing up and gesturing him to come closer. “You look amazing, baby,” he says, “You look so cute,” he adds in a sweet whisper as he bends over to kiss him on the mouth again. Hayato grew a lot taller, during the years, since the first time they met, when he was nothing but a boy, but Makoto’s still way taller than him, and Hayato loves that. He loves that Makoto always has to almost bend in half to reach down for him. It makes him feel even more like his precious baby.

“Thanks, Daddy,” he moans, when Makoto interrupts the kiss. He’s breathing heavily, and his erection’s peeking out of the waistband of his panties, a tiny drop of pre-come shining right at the top.

“Bend over for me, baby,” Makoto says, putting a hand on his shoulder and inviting him to turn around. Hayato complies, noticing that Makoto’s holding something in his other hand as he bends over the table where the papers Makoto was working at before he arrived are still scattered. “Did you know,” Makoto says, bending over him to leave a small kiss right behind his ear, “Did you know you have the cutest butt I’ve ever seen?”

Hayato whimpers in pleasure when he feels Makoto’s fingers rub against his opening. They’re wet and slick, and he wants them inside.

He wants them inside, but they’re not the ones to push in. Makoto only uses them to prepare him, to make him slippery and even needier, and then he uses that other thing, the one Hayato only caught a glimpse of when he was bending over.

It’s one of those small, egg-shaped, vibrating toys. They have never used one before. “Daddy…” Hayato whines, as he feels the toy move deeper inside himself. He’s always irrationally scared that if they leave one inside long enough it’ll never come out. He talked about it with Makoto, once, and he laughed at him, though very sweetly, and explained to him that it was not possible, that he would have never let something like that happen. Hayato wasn’t convinced, though, and Makoto accepted that. Up to now, at least. “Daddy, please…” he pleads, trying to pull away from him.

Makoto keeps him still, kissing him on his nape. “You need a good push, Hayato-kun,” he says, “As you did when you wouldn’t want to swim. I promise I’ll be very, very careful, baby. Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes…” Hayato whines. Makoto presses a button on the remote control, and the toy starts vibrating inside him. Hayato feels it press against his prostate, making him want to scream in pleasure.

“And don’t you want to make me proud?”

“Yes!” he repeats again, as Makoto increases the vibration.

“Then be a good boy,” Makoto concludes, “And sit back down on the couch as Daddy finishes working, before you mess everything up.”

Hayato suddenly opens his eyes, a dark pit of sheer, utter desperation opening up inside his chest. “What…?” he says, searching for Makoto’s eyes, “Daddy…”

“Look at the mess you’re making,” Makoto says, walking around him to collect all the papers, “Go on, on the couch.”

“But Daddy,” Hayato whines, squirming on the spot, “You promised—”

“You said you trusted me,” Makoto answers sternly, without even looking at him, “Do I have to punish you?”

Hayato looks down, biting at his inner cheek. The toy hasn’t stopped a second, and it’s making him crazy. He needs to calm down. “No, Daddy…” he says, his voice now nothing but a mess of whimpers and moans.

“On the couch, then,” Makoto says. He’s smiling, but Hayato knows he won’t be smiling for much too long if he doesn’t comply. So he nods, and walks towards the couch. He’s unsteady on his legs, every step he takes the toy shifts inside him, diving deeper, tearing a wet moan out of him. He reaches the couch and leans on it because he’s scared his legs won’t be able to keep him up for very much longer.

“Sit,” Makoto says. Hayato turns to look at him and finds him already sitting behind the table, his eyes focused on those papers, “That’s not sitting.”

“Yes… Yes, Daddy,” Hayato moans. He turns around and slowly, very slowly, he sits down. He was hoping nothing would happen, but the moment he does the toy moves again, deeper inside of him. It’s pressing so hard against his prostate it’s overwhelming, it’s almost too much. Hayato bites at his bottom lip and tries to keep the moaning down, but it’s impossible, as it’s impossible to simply stay still. He wouldn’t dare to touch himself without permission, but he needs to be fucked, he needs it bad, and his hips won’t stay still.

“Stop bouncing up and down,” Makoto says. His voice hasn’t changed and his lips are still pursed in that stern, serious expression from before. “You’re distracting me from my work.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he says, but he’s on the verge of tears. He needs to be strong, he knows, he needs to hold on. Daddy wants him to sit still, and so he holds onto the armrest with both hands, trying to keep his ass lifted from the couch as much as he can, while the toy keeps vibrating, harder, harder, until he really can’t take it anymore, and he comes with a deep, surrendering moan, his entire body shaking so violently he’s scared he will fall off the couch.

He’s not surprised when suddenly Makoto’s warmth and his familiar scent surround him. He hides between his arms, his body naturally searching for Makoto’s for comfort. Makoto passes his fingers through his messy hair, smiling against his forehead. “Was that too much, Hayato-kun?” he asks kindly, letting him cling to him.

Hayato shakes his head.

“Good,” Makoto kisses him on his temple, “Do you want to play some more?”

He’s exhausted already, to be honest, but his body isn’t satisfied yet. He wants to be fucked, he yearns for it, he wants to feel Daddy’s big, hard cock dive deep into his body, and he won’t be able to rest if he doesn’t have that first.

So he nods.

“Alright,” Makoto says. He reaches over, holding the little thread connected to the toy still inside Hayato’s body. He pulls at it gently, and Hayato whines for all the time the little thing takes to slip out of his opening. “I have some chocolate,” Makoto whispers to him, distracting him from the vaguely unpleasant feeling, “You want to earn some?”

Hayato looks up at him, trying to focus on his face, on his beautiful smile. “Yes, Daddy,” he says, nodding slowly.

“Then, you have to do something for me, before I do something for you,” Makoto says, patiently.

It only makes sense, Hayato thinks as he pulls himself up on all fours. “What do you want me to do, Daddy?” he asks. He wants a kiss so bad he’s almost tempted to ask for it, or just take it, even though he knows Makoto would have to punish him if he did it. He’s really about to ask, when Makoto leans in and kisses him first, sparing him from having to do it himself.

“Put Daddy’s cock in your mouth,” Makoto orders, speaking against his lips. Hayato shivers so strongly his hands close in a spasm around the fabric of the couch. He nods, lowering himself until he crouches next to Makoto, and starts fumbling with his belt. This is always Hayato’s favorite part, when Makoto lets him blow him. He always feels as if Christmas had come early, leaving him with the best present to unwrap all on his own.

Makoto’s cock is amazing. It’s big, so much that every now and then Hayato chokes on it, and so powerful that when Makoto shoves it deep into his ass sometimes he almost has the impression of feeling it right into his stomach, almost knocking at his throat, as if it was passing through his entire body, tearing him in half.

He takes it out of Makoto’s pants and stares at it for a few seconds, anticipating the feeling of having it in his mouth. Then he licks it slowly from its base to its head, his tongue leaving a wet trace behind as it moves.

Makoto relaxes against the back of the couch, exhaling softly as he puts a hand on Hayato’s head, stroking his hair while Hayato finally closes his lips against the tip of his cock, sucking gently. “There’s a good boy…” he says, patting him softly.

Hayato’s chest swells with pride. Makoto’s words only make him want to do even better. He wraps both his hands around his shaft, stroking him slowly as he keeps sucking, his head swinging up and down as he tries and take some more of him into his mouth whenever he can. He will never be able to swallow him whole, but he tries his best, and where he can’t reach he touches him with his fingers, now wet and slick with come and saliva.

Makoto’s hips start moving soon. They’re short, very controlled movements, he never goes as far as to grab him by his nape and shove his dick right down Hayato’s throat, but in the way his cock throbs and grows bigger between his lips Hayato feels that he’d like to do it, he’d like to push and push until the head hits the back of his throat, until it chokes him, until he has to pull back if he wants to catch his breath.

The mere thought makes him hard again. His body aches for release, and he can feel his own opening stretch and tense, trying to close around something that’s not even there yet.

“Daddy’s had enough, now,” Makoto says. Hayato whines, he doesn’t want to let him go. He wants to keep sucking him off until he comes, he wants to feel his come on his tongue, he wants to swallow and then look up to Makoto knowing he’ll want to kiss him right after. He keeps moving up and down on his cock, hoping that Makoto will let him, but he tugs at his hair, and when he speaks his voice is stern. “Stop that,” he says. He doesn’t wanna come yet.

Hayato pulls away, unwillingly. He’s tired and his body’s been almost pushed to its limits already. He needs to come, badly. He lets himself go on Makoto’s lap, looking up at him. Makoto looks back down and smiles gently, passing his fingers through his hair as he touches his swollen, oversensitive lips with his other hand. “You look so pretty with your head on my lap,” he says affectionately. “Are you tired?”

“Yes…” Hayato nods. He can barely keep his eyes open. At this point, he’s only awake because his body won’t let him sleep until he comes again.

“Alright, then. We’ll save the chocolate for some other time.” Makoto helps him standing up, and then lifts him in his arms, “Come on, time for bed. Let’s go lie down and pretend to have a nap.”

Hayato nods without saying a word, he doesn’t have enough strength to come up with anything. He wraps his arms around Makoto’s wide shoulders, hanging onto him as he brings him to the bed and lays him down on the mattress.

Once he’s lying, he instantly turns on his side and curls in a ball, wrapping his arms around the pillow, eagerly waiting for Makoto to take off his clothes and join him on the bed. It takes him a few minutes, but only because he likes to leave him waiting. When he feels Makoto’s powerful arms wrapped around his body, Hayato leans into his touch with a soft moan, turning his head for a kiss that Makoto refuses to give him.

“Follow the rules,” he says patiently, “We’re playing pretend. Keep your eyes closed and let Daddy take care of you.” Hayato turns back on his side, shivering in anticipation while Makoto’s right hand runs down along his body, stroking his hard-on a couple of times before slipping between his thighs and reaching for his already stretched and needy opening. “Let Daddy put his fingers inside of you,” Makoto whispers, “But you can’t wake up. Think you can still concentrate enough to do that, with my fingers inside of you?”

Hayato nods, trying not to move too much. He knows that if he shows himself too present, Makoto won’t like this, so he moves slowly, drowsily, his hips barely swinging to follow the movements of Makoto’s fingers, one first, turning to two very quickly, as he fingers him following a steady pace.

Everything in Makoto’s body is big and strong, even his hands. His fingers are long and and thick, and it doesn’t take him much effort, really, to stroke him right where it’s more pleasant. Hayato has to bite down at his own tongue to suppress the moans, but he only barely manages. Some noises escape his lips anyway, and whenever it happens Makoto thrusts his fingers deeply inside of him, daring him to make another sound, forcing him to hold his breath not to let anything show.

His body starts to shake soon enough, and as he feels the familiar wave of pleasure mounting from his underbelly Hayato lets himself liquefy into it, coming with a deep moan that Makoto welcomes on his lips, kissing him deep enough to muffle all the little noises of pleasure escaping from his mouth, before letting him go, to recollect himself.

Hayato lies down on his side for a few moments, waiting for his body to stop shivering and for his breath to become less uneven. Then he opens his eyes and turns around, looking up at Makoto, who’s sitting with his shoulders against the headboard, but slides to lie down too when he sees he’s coming back to earth.

“Come here,” he says, opening his arms, “I want to cuddle.” Hayato crawls towards him and lets himself fall between his arms, his head against his chest. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the beat of Makoto’s heart, calming down. “Daddy has the whole day off work,” Makoto says, his voice echoing through his chest and directly into Hayato’s ear, as if he was speaking from right inside his mind, “Let’s stay in bed.”

Hayato nods, looking down at Makoto’s crotch. He’s half hidden underneath the covers, but his hard-on is so massive it’d be impossible not to notice. He hasn’t come yet. Hayato hopes this isn’t one of those days in which he’s denying himself an orgasm, because he wants to feel him come, no matter where, at least once before the day is over. “Daddy,” he says, looking up at him, “Can I touch it?”

“Sure, Hayato-kun,” Makoto answers with a smile, lifting up the covers to show him his erection. It’s still shiny wet, and Hayato would love to swallow it again, but he should’ve thought about it before asking and receiving permission to simply touch it. He reaches out for it with his fingers alone, then, stroking the head with his fingertips, feeling Makoto shiver underneath his touch.

“Daddy…” Hayato asks in a half whining, feeling him grow bigger again as he palms him up and down his whole length, “Can I please jerk you off?”

“No…” Makoto answers, his eyes closed, his lips parted, his hips moving slowly accordingly to Hayato’s touch, “No, baby, wait a moment. Come here,” he says, lying down better on the mattress, “Come here, baby, sit on my face.”

Arousal blazes through Hayato’s body like a fire, making him hard again. He’s suddenly so desperate for it that he slips twice as he tries and kneel up on the bed. His legs don’t help him, weak as they are for his previous orgasms, but he wants this, he wants this, he wants this so much he’s gonna cry if he doesn’t have it.

He settles with his legs parted right above Makoto’s face, lowering himself on him only when he feels his hands on his hips, pulling him down. Makoto’s tongue dances against his wet opening, forcing a liquid moan out of him, and then pushes through his opening, thrusting into his body. Hayato shivers wildly, closing his fists around the sheets and tugging at them a little, his hard cock bouncing against his stomach every time he moves up, and then down again on Makoto’s face.

“Daddy…” he moans, his hips swinging quickly, “Daddy, please… I need to… I need your cock inside me…”

“Ah, but you taste so good, baby boy,” Makoto says, pulling away to speak but still licking him in between every word, “Do you really, really need me to fuck you? Can’t you do without?”

“No,” Hayato answers, his voice almost breaking, “No, Daddy, please. I need it.”

Makoto smiles, and Hayato can feel his lips curl against his opening, making him shiver. “Alright, then,” he says, his hot breath caressing Hayato’s oversensitive skin, “Let me tie you up, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Hayato whimpers, climbing off him and lying back down on the bed. He waits impatiently for Makoto, watching him as he stands up and walks towards the closet, opening it and reaching down for yet another box filled with toys. When he sees the rope emerge from the mass of things, between Makoto’s hands, he shivers so violently it’s almost painful.

He lies down in perfect silence, barely managing to contain excitement as Makoto wraps the rope around him following patterns he knows by heart. That single rope is enough to block his body entirely, to keep his thighs spread, to keep his hands tied up behind his head, to make it impossible for him to release the tension in his muscles if he doesn’t want to choke half to death.

The knots are tight, pressing against his skin hard enough to leave red marks on it, but he likes it, and honestly, at this point, even if he didn’t he wouldn’t even notice. Makoto settles between his legs, guiding the head of his massive erection against his opening, and when Hayato feels him break into him he can’t help but throw his head back and let out a scream that’s a hundred percent relief.

“Sssh, baby,” Makoto says sweetly, pounding inside of him, “You can’t scream like that. The neighbors will hear, and then what are we gonna tell them? That there’s a little slut living here, that can’t keep his voice down not even when he’s asked to?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he whimpers, trying to stop himself from screaming again when Makoto thrusts even harder inside of him. It’s nearly impossible, though, because Makoto knows exactly how to fuck him, how fast, how hard, how deep, just how good to make it impossible for him to keep it down. The rope tying him only makes things even more overwhelming, making him feel powerless, completely abandoned to Makoto’s arms, so it doesn’t take him very much to come, and he does it after just a few thrusts, releasing his orgasm all over his own stomach, feeling it drip towards his chest because of the position he’s forced in.

“Hayato-kun…” Makoto whispers, leaning on his lips to kiss him as he thrusts harder inside him, “Hayato-kun, you look so beautiful.” Hayato whimpers, knowing that, if he wasn’t so spent, hearing such a thing from him would make his dick hard again. He lies down, taking Makoto’s cock as deep as he possibly can inside of his body until he feels him pull away, and then moan loudly. Next thing he knows, Makoto’s coming all over his stomach, his sperm mixing with his own, pooling in his navel, making a mess out of him.

He barely manages to open his eyes to watch Makoto fall by his side, and the need to crawl towards him and feel safe between his arms is stronger than weariness. He pulls himself up and thanks that Makoto isn’t disgusted by him right now, as he crouches against him, disappearing into one of his usual soft, big hugs.

He doesn’t know how long they just lie down there, holding each other, slumbering in and out of sleep as they gather their strength again. Perhaps hours. Time doesn’t really have a meaning in that place, unless it’s the end of how long they’ve been allowed to be together.

“You’re all wet and sticky,” Makoto says with a little chuckle when they wake up again, “I think it’s bathtime, don’t you?”

Hayato nods slowly, smiling against Makoto’s chest. Makoto’s always so sweet when he takes care of him. Especially when he bathes him. Hayato tries standing up, but when he understands he can’t for his life he simply needs to look at Makoto, and Makoto laughs, and stands, and picks him up from the bed, holding him and carrying him to the bathroom, where he sits him down on the plastic stool and carefully starts cleaning him up.

Hayato finally relaxes, watching the markings left by the rope as they disappear, as if hot water could wash them away too. Soon enough, the only trace left on him of what they did is the tingling feeling of pleasure that still lingers inside his body.

They both take a bath, then, together. They sit down in the bathtub, filled with hot water and bath salts, talking about random things, finally sharing that chocolate bar Makoto had promised him. Makoto explains him that he wants to change their training regime, since tournaments are quickly approaching and they’re not ready yet, in his opinion. Hayato agrees vaguely, he’s too tired to really think about it. He trusts Makoto completely. He surely knows what’s best.

When they come out of the bathroom it’s raining so hard that, looking out from the window, Hayato can’t even see his bike. Or the street. Or anything that isn’t rain, actually. It makes him blush to think that they were so focused on themselves and the game they were playing not to notice it before.

“Ah, that’s too bad…” Makoto sighs, looking worried, “You can’t go home with such weather.” Then, his lips curl into an amused smile, “Stay the night?” he asks, “I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

Hayato blushes again, his lips opening into a wide, happy smile. He’s never stayed the night before. This is going to be amazing. He quickly retrieves his phone from the bag – while Makoto discretely slips back into the bedroom, probably to call his boyfriend – texting Kisumi that, since it’s raining so hard, he’s going home with Coach Tachibana, and he’ll be back tomorrow. His big brother answers quickly enough with some crying face and a whiny “but I miss you, baby bro!” that makes Hayato chuckles fondly.

When he puts the phone away, he finds Makoto already waiting for him, lying against the table with his arms folded over his chest. “Fix Daddy a drink?” he asks, “It’s beek a long day.”

Puzzled by the request – Makoto never drinks – Hayato stares at him, uncertain on what to do, at least until Makoto smirks and walks towards him, slowly slipping his fingers past the waistband of his shorts, stroking him gently.

Hayato lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes and leaning against him, already anticipating the moment he’ll drop on his knees.

This day is never going to end. Hayato loves the thought.