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The beauty Getou Suguru holds is indescribable. Though there are some words that can suffice.
Breathtaking, yes. Stunning, yes. Godly, yes. However, those words just do not seem to be… Enough. They are not enough to describe how beautiful Suguru is. You’ve come to believe that there is no word that exists that can truly capture the entirety of Suguru and his beauty.
Sometimes you think he’s not real—that he’s too much of a masterpiece to be an actual person. There’s not a thing about him that is out of place, not even that strand of hair that always hangs past his eye.
His bottom lip is fuller than the top and the lines underneath his eyes are deep and short. Overall Suguru’s face is chiseled, though his long, raven hair somehow makes his features look more delicate, softer. But his side profile is strong and sharp, with the downward slope of his nose and the protuberance of his chin.
You want to stare at him all day, admire him all day.
And thankfully, you can, because he just so happens to be a nude model for your drawing class.
Not fully nude, your professor was adamant on him keeping his ‘part’ hidden. So, he kept his intimates covered with a white blanket or sometimes he left his boxer briefs on, but he was nude enough. Nude enough where you could see every crevice, every vein, every patch of hair.
It drives you insane and leaves you hot and bothered throughout every class. It was hard not to be, what with the occasional suggestive pose your professor would have him do and with his ridiculously robust body…
Suguru is built as if the Greeks themselves sculpted him from marble. Like he was carefully and perfectly carved by the most skilled of hands.
With a prominent, hard line that starts at the top of his chest and ends right above his belly button, that must have been developed from constant abdominal exercises.
His rounded and full ass that's seemingly plush. Thighs, thick with muscle and lean, perhaps from running. The large and bulging pectoral muscles he’s graced with, could perhaps elicit jealousy from Hercules himself. His broad shoulders and ridiculously defined back muscles, that would shift even from the slightest of movements. And his arms—oh, his arms… They’re beefy and strong and whenever he flexes them to pose—god. You’re quite certain being held by him would feel heavenly.
But Suguru is not overly muscular—not to the point where he’s scary, no. Like most things about him, his physique is just right. Perfect, even.
Oddly enough, as much as you like admiring him when he’s naked, you think that you like him even more when he’s clothed.
Once, before your class began, he came in wearing a tight black shirt and you could see the way his muscles strained against the fabric of his clothes—how they looked as if they could rip apart his shirt at any given moment. That tight black shirt fit his body so, so well. And the dark jeans he wore… How his thighs pressed against the fabric underneath and when he’d bend, the fabric would strain and stretch.
You think about that moment a lot whenever you’re glancing at him past your large sketchbook during classes.
Truth be told, you almost love drawing Suguru more than you do staring at him. You love shading the shadows of the deep crevices in between muscles and outlining his lean build. You’ve drawn him so many times in so many different poses that you think you have memorized how your pencil strokes and glides across the paper whenever you go to draw him.
You’ve even drawn him on your own personal time—at home or in other classes as doodles on the corners of your papers. He was so… So mesmerizing, how could you not draw him constantly? If you were honest with yourself, which you’re not, Getou Suguru was your muse.
But of course, you’ve never actually spoken with the man before… You found him rather intimidating and honestly, what was there to say to him? ‘Hey, you have a great body, I think about it all the time.’ Or ‘I like to draw you in my free time.’ As if he would not be weirded out by that.
And so, you’ve kept your musings and your admiration to yourself from afar and that for you, was enough. Because just having the privilege to see him, a living masterpiece, weekly for the semester was more than you could ask for.
“You know, I think out of everyone in the class, you draw me the best.”
You nearly jump out of your skin when the voice from close behind you reaches your ears. You drop your pencils that you had been putting away in surprise and whip behind you, bumping into your easel in the process.
But he’s quicker than you thought.
Suguru steps closer to you and his long, refined arm reaches behind you to grab onto one of the wooden legs, stopping its fall.
Suddenly you’re staring straight at the bare chest of the man you’ve been admiring for weeks. Suguru wears a white towel that’s wrapped around his waist securely, but his chest is out for full display and you’re staring right at it. His cologne reaches your nostrils and you find that Suguru smells like the earth and the air after rain and a hint of amber. He smells good.
He places your easel back in place and steps back. “Careful now.”
Oh god.
“I-I—” You’re quick to stop yourself from saying anything else when you hear yourself stutter. You hope he doesn’t think you’re stupid now, but whose to say?
Suguru’s full lips form into a smirk as he quirks a brow. “Shy?”
All you can do is stare. You’ve never seen him this close before and it makes your heart want to leap out of your chest with the way it’s beating so fast.
You gaze into his eyes—they’re deep and dark and somehow, you’re able to find the mischievousness they hold. They lure you in like a black hole and you find yourself getting lost in the void.
You probably look like a weirdo; just staring up at him silently with wide eyes and a mouth that’s agape.
Suguru tilts his head to the side, his long hair following and brushing past his shoulder. “You okay?”
You’ve never heard Suguru speak this close, either. His voice is rich and is smooth like honey and his words effortlessly roll off his tongue. He’s clear and concise and his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he speaks.
You cough awkwardly and finally tear your gaze elsewhere from his eyes. “You just scared me is all…”
And as if you couldn’t be more flustered, Suguru smiles. He smiles and your heart flutters and you nearly pass out because it’s so, so pretty—so charming. He's an eye smiler too, so his eyes upturn into crescents and the pocket of fat under his eyes becomes more prominent. This kills you even more.
He moves to sit on your chair and you tense. “My bad,” he says. But he doesn’t sound apologetic at all.
Suguru sits in your chair, leaning against the backrest and lets his forearms rest on the armrests. His legs spread out in front of him, which makes the towel on him shift and reveal a bit of his thigh. Suguru looks at ease, like he doesn’t care that the slit on his towel might rise higher and could accidentally uncover his most intimate part.
He looks up at you, with wide eyes that feign innocence and raised brows. He looks at you as if he’s unaware how he’s making you act—making you feel. Though you have a gnawing feeling that he knows full well what he’s doing. His knee nudges you and that is when you realize that you’re standing in between his powerful legs. You feel your cheeks warm and you manage to stammer as you step back from him, “oh! I’m sorry—”
He smiles with his lips and eyes again. “It’s okay, you can stay there if you want.”
You exhale through your mouth and you scope the surroundings of your class. Two remaining students are nearly out the door, and neither seem to be paying attention to either of you. Your professor had left long ago and so you’re left with the dreaded realization; it’s just you and Suguru left.
Which you found odd because he was always the first to leave after the session. He’d get up from his spot in the middle of the room and head to change and that was it. You wouldn’t see him again until next class. And so you ask him cautiously, unsurely, “um, so… What do you want?”
He chuckles lightly and rests the side of his head on his fist. “What? I can’t come and compliment your art?”
You lift a shoulder hesitantly. “It’s just… You don’t usually talk or compliment any other students.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t like theirs. I like yours.” Suguru moves in the chair to lean close to where your easel and sketchbook stands, his muscles shifting as he moves. You try your best not to blatantly check out his body.
His elbows rests on the edge of his thighs and the rest of his arms hang off in between his legs. You watch him closely, how his eyes narrow as he inspects the new drawing of him you drew.
For some reason, you find yourself more nervous having him look at your art rather than your own professor and classmates.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure how to respond to his comment as you didn’t want to disrespect the other art students.
“You draw so well.” Suguru compliments while his gaze is still trained on your sketch. “I mean, look at that—it’s like looking at a picture. You’re so talented…” he trails off and glances at you and you realize he’s asking for your name. You give him what he’s asking for with no hesitation.
“[Name]…” He says it slowly, lets it roll off his tongue and linger in the air like he’s savoring it.
“[Name].” And he says it again, quickly and surely this time around, as if he has finished engraving it in his brain. Suguru tilts his head up to look at you and when he offers you another smile, it’s with his pearly white teeth. “Pretty name.”
You never were one to stutter. But the man who sits in front of you has somehow gotten you to stammer and stumble over your words. Perhaps it was the raw confidence he exuded (that you were not used to) or perhaps it was the simple fact that he was actually talking to you—the man you’ve had a mini crush on since the semester started.
“T-thank you, Getou.”
“No need for formalities. You can call me by my first name. I'll let you.”
There’s an awkward silence that follows as you’re not quite sure how to reply. But it’s interrupted when Suguru reaches for your personal sketchbook.
“Wha—hey, don’t!” You try to take it from his grasp, however, it’s too late. He’s flipping through the pages already, admiring your sketches. Most of which was of him.
“You like drawing me, huh?”
You want to die.
You don’t say anything at first as you’re trying to make out the meaning of his tone and his expression. You fiddle with your fingers. “... I’m sorry… Are you—are you weirded out?”
“Hell no. Kinda flattered, honestly.” He glances up at you. “Having such a pretty girl use me as her muse is all I want in life.”
You find that Suguru leaves you speechless often because again, you have no idea what to say. And he laughs lightly at this, honestly he finds your awkwardness cute.
His attention goes back to the sketchbook he holds. “Damn. You’re great. Really great.” Suguru compliments while he closely inspects each page.
“I’m not that great… I’m still a student and I’m still learning, so…” You trail off, inspecting the drawings he holds in his hands. The finicky artist within you begins to pick out the littlest details and you cannot stop yourself from ranting. “Like, look how I drew your arm in this—it’s crooked. And I don’t know, it just looks weird overall.”
You flip to the next page. “And with this one, I messed up on some of your proportions. See how one leg is longer than the other?” You pause and glance at Suguru, only to find him staring at you already with a small smile. You cough awkwardly.
“You’re probably the only one who notices these things.” Suguru comments.
You shake your head and take your sketchbook from him. “No, trust me. Other people notice—especially art students… And art professors.”
Suguru hums and leans back in your chair, inspecting you as you stuff your sketchbook back in your bag. You find it difficult trying to ignore his burning stare.
“If you want… You could draw my body some more—you know, for practice. An up close and personal body study. It’d just be the two of us.” He suggests lowly, as if there’s anyone else in the room to hear you both. As if he’s shielding his words from the world. “I’ll do any pose you want me to do.”
You feel your entire face burn and his suggestion alone returns your dreaded stutter. “O-oh—I, um…”
Suguru only grins. “Think about it. Yeah?” He stands and turns to leave before you can say goodbye.
The sudden and continuous attention from Suguru everytime class would end, flustered you to no end.
He’d come over to you after class, a towel wrapped around his waist or clad merely in his boxer briefs, and inspect your drawing of him. Suguru would compliment you rather loudly, garnering the unwanted attention of your other classmates, and god, you wanted to shrink as small as possible whenever their jealous stares burned into your figure.
Suguru’s looks and mysterious demeanor was quite intriguing to the other art students (you wouldn’t be surprised if he had other admirers) and so, the unexpected attention he was giving you did not go unnoticed.
For a while, it goes on like this. Suguru coming up to you and complimenting your art and you, stuttering and thanking him awkwardly. You don’t really take his offer, or even mention it again.
That is until you get a low grade on one of your assignments. Your professor told you that the drawing ‘could be better’ and you cried the entire day. The worst part was that you actually thought that piece was one of your best and so hearing that it wasn’t, made you contemplate quitting.
At first, of course, before you realized you had a chance to practice and get better.
You’re as stiff as a board when you go to greet him at the end of a class, while he’s getting off the floor. “Hey.”
Suguru grins widely and abruptly when his eyes meet yours, like you’ve just made his week. “Hey there, pretty.” He stands and dusts his bare knees. “This is the first time you’ve come up to me.”
You suck in a breath and avert your gaze from his lower half. “Well, I was wondering… Is that offer from you still—still on the table?”
He cocks his head to the side as his smile changes into a smirk. “Always is, for you.”
You nod and scratch your neck. “Okay, well… Fridays the class is open and no one really comes in so… Do you wanna meet then?”
Suguru steps towards you and leans close to your ear. “I can’t wait”
You anticipated that the personal drawing session with Suguru would involve awkward silence and merely drawing practice. You’d ask him to position himself and then you’d draw him—that’s it. Maybe he’d critique you a bit, but that would be the end.
You did not anticipate… This.
“It’s okay, you can touch it.”
You palm his large bulge through his boxer briefs hesitatingly and you feel him twitch. You look up at him questingly, asking for permission to continue, and he nods in approval with a conniving smirk. You cup him from below, his heavy balls in your hand and you suck in a breath because you can feel how big he is.
It began with him undressing his white button up and his black slacks, leaving him with only his underwear. It followed with him asking a question about whether you’ve ever drawn private parts before. To which you answered no and Suguru, slutty little Suguru, asked—“do you want to draw mine?”
And so, it continues here.
As you’re feeling him up, clothed cock heavy and full in your hand, he asks you. He asks you the question that makes you nearly faint.
“You wanna see it?”
You look around the empty class—no one would come in around this time, it was getting late and usually there were no art lectures on Fridays. Though, you still couldn’t help the nervousness that ate away at you. “… What if someone comes in?” You question quietly.
He smiles, showing his white teeth. “They can watch.”
This does not lessen your anxiety but for whatever reason, you swallow hard before you nod hesitatingly, your cheeks becoming warm at his words.
Suguru looks down at you, with his lids heavy and his eyes cloudy. He guides your hand towards his boxer briefs that sit low on his hips and he whispers, his voice husky and sensual, “why don’t you take these off for me?”
Who are you to deny a god?
Using both of your hands, you slip a finger under his underwear, and you feel his smooth skin on your fingertips. You roll his boxer briefs down his thighs slowly as your heart bangs loudly against your chest.
You admit sheepishly, “I’ve never done this before…”
“Yeah?” Suguru asks, with a hint of excitement in his tone. “Let me guide you through it, then.”
When his boxer briefs reach his mid thigh, his cock springs free and slaps his abdomen as it’s released from its confines.
You stare in awe at it as it’s the only thing you can manage to do.
Suguru is big. He’s huge—maybe a bit larger than the ones you’ve seen in pornos. His skin is flushed and his tip is a pretty red color. There’s a rather thick vein that runs along the underside of him, along with two thin ones that are on the top. He sports a small, thin happy trail and he hangs prettily in the air, throbbing and heavy, waiting to be attended to.
Suguru’s cock looms over your face intimidatingly so. You think that like Suguru, his cock is just as perfect.
“Touch it.”
You look up at the man who stands above you, his hair unkempt and down, his face stoic yet evidently flustered. His voice is authoritative and it makes your stomach churn. You think you’ve discovered something new about yourself.
Slowly, unsurely, you reach a trembling hand towards his member and wrap your hand around him. Suguru sucks in a breath.
He’s so hard and so girthy, it’s absurd. You can’t even wrap your entire hand around him.
Chewing on your lip, you give his girthy cock a squeeze at the base and he lets out a low hum that comes from deep in his throat. You pause and look up at him, to inspect how his eyebrows knit together and how his eyes shut in pleasure.
He looks like debauchery personified.
But he’s quick to shake his head when he notices your grip on him loosen. “Do it again,” Suguru instructs.
With no hesitation, you do as he says, eager to please him. Wrapping your hand around his cock once more and tightening your grip. He’s just so heavy and hot in your hand and—
Suguru lets out a long, guttural groan from your actions and the sound reaches your cunt. You shift in your chair, feeling your own wetness pool in your underwear. You grind your inner thighs together, hoping to incite some friction.
You ask him while you’re squeezing him periodically, “d-does it feel good?”
Suguru chuckles lightly and his hand comes to rest behind your neck. “Yeah,” he says breathily. “It feels so good, baby.”
Suguru’s chest heaves and his breathing becomes more ragged. He thrusts his hips slightly towards your face and it’s evident he wants more.
“Why don’t you stroke me a little bit, hm?”
“Stroke—”
He doesn’t let you finish. “Like this.” Suguru wraps his large hand around yours, guiding you to go up and down his length. And though it is you who is unraveling him, it is he, who controls your speed and every movement of yours. He makes you start with long, languid strokes, from the base all the way to his tip.
“Mmmh,” he moans and lets his head fall back, his hand letting go of yours. You continue to move your hand in the pace he began with. “Like That… Shit. Just like that—good girl.”
Suguru throbs in your hand and whenever you reach his tip, his precum dribbles and coats your palm. As you’re stroking him languidly, squeezing him periodically, you coat his cock with his own warmth. The sounds of squelching and Suguru’s low groans overtake the classroom.
The sounds are absolutely lewd, though somehow you feel no shame. If there were anyone outside hearing the two of you, you think that you wouldn't even care anymore with that way Suguru is reacting.
“Ohh, fuuck. Yeah,” he groans lowly. His grip behind your neck tightens a bit but you’re far from alarmed. His head tips back and he swallows, making his adam’s apple bob.
You reach your free hand and caress his hard abdominal muscles, feeling the dips and ridges of his six pack. You reach farther up and feel the protruding of his pectoral muscle and cup the underside of it.
“You’re so pretty, Suguru…”
He gasps and his eyes widen when your fingers nudge his nipple and your hot breath fans the slit of his dick. “[Name].” His voice comes out strained, pleading.
You bite your lip to hide your smirk and quickly flick his nipple once more with your pointer finger while your other hand quickens the strokes around him. Perhaps you've gotten the hang of it. You ask him innocently, “yes? What is it?”
“[Name].”
You’re not quite sure where this sudden burst of friskiness comes from, but you welcome and take advantage of it. You tug on his cock rather harshly and blow into his slit as your other hand presses a firm finger against his obviously sensitive nipple.
Suguru groans long and loud and it is music to your ears. His head falls forward with shut eyes and his hand behind you cradles your head. Sweat slides down his abs, his muscles glistening from the lights above.
You think then, that there really are no words that could describe the beauty of Getou Suguru.
“Fu—I’m gonna—“ He interrupts himself with a grunt and forcefully tugs away your hands when you blow into him again.
He looks down at you with drawn eyebrows and a clenched jaw. You smile and he scoffs, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Suguru thinks that he likes seeing you like this.
“Having fun, are you?" He asks. You raise a brow and he exhales. "Open that pretty mouth.”
You do as he says and with that he praises you, “good girl.”
"Tongue out." He instructs.
You listen to him and you find that you quite like having him order you around.
Suguru cups your jaw with a large hand, his thumb caressing your cheek as he slaps the tip of his cock on your wet muscle while stroking it at a fast pace.
“Just sit pretty for me, baby. Yeah?” He hisses through his teeth as he tugs on his cock. “You can do that, right? Just watch me.”
You watch as Suguru jerks himself to a sweet release. His muscles tighten and his groans become more drawn out, his eyes fluttering shut on occasion. His teeth sink onto his bottom lip and fuck, he looks so, so good.
You take a mental picture of him right now. You can draw him like this later.
He mumbles, “so pretty—you’re so pretty.”
You grasp onto his hard thigh for leverage, letting him do as he wishes with you. Watching how his large hand wraps and tugs on his girthy, long cock. Watching how his face contorts into pure ecstasy with each stroke. Watching as he pleasures himself.
“M’Gonna cum,” he moans. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in your pretty mouth. You gonna let me?”
You nod enthusiastically—god, it’s all you want. You want to taste him, to have him come undone right in front of you. To have the image of him at his highest point of pleasure engraved in your mind.
“[Name].” He whimpers. “Fuuuck… Fuck, I’m cumming, I—!” He groans, deeply and languidly, as he lets himself go.
As he’s coating your tongue with his hot ropes of cum, you take it upon yourself to lean forward and wrap your lips around his pretty, red tip—sucking him lightly and drawing more of his warmth into your mouth to taste. Suguru is a bit salty and a tad bitter but you find yourself swallowing all he gives you.
He watches you with his mouth agape and his pupils blown. His head spins and all he can feel, all he knows, is your warm mouth engulfing his length and your tongue massaging the underside of his throbbing cock. You’re suckling onto him like he’s a fucking lollipop and it drives him insane; it makes him nearly fall to his knees.
And the look you give him—oh… The way you’re looking up at him with teary, wide eyes and your hollowed cheeks. Suguru might just cum again.
When you take more of him inside your mouth, he tugs you back from behind your neck and sucks in a breath through his teeth from being overstimulated. “S-stopstopstop—fuck,” he grunts.
You let go of his cock with a pop and he steps back against a table, his hand coming down onto it to hold himself up. His legs wobble and his knees feel so weak.
It was insane to him. How much of an impact you had on him—how you were merely sitting pretty for him as he was stroking himself and just by the sight of you alone was enough to make him cum harder than he has before.
Suguru's body is clad with sweat and he's quite sure he looks like a mess.
You look at one another, chests heaving and gazes foggy with lust. Your lips are swollen and a bit of Suguru's cum coats your chin and falls into your lap.
It’s then when you feel the oncoming bashfulness creep into you. Suddenly you cannot meet his gaze anymore nor can you look at his naked form.
You think to yourself, did you really just do that? You suck in your bottom lip into your mouth, tasting more of his warmth.
“Hey.” Suguru’s groggy voice garners your attention and you glance at him, only to find him smiling lazily at you. “Wanna head to my place? We can practice more there.”