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You shouldn’t have been shocked, really. Kishibe was utterly filthy, there seemed to be nothing he wouldn’t do. So when, during a particularly sloppy blowjob, your tongue traveled, slightly further south, it shouldn’t have shocked you that he arched back into the bed, his hips shuddering up against your mouth, his hand flew down to grab your neck, keeping you in place against the soft, hot flesh between his legs. You let your eyes roll upward, cautiously, appraising the state of him.
With one hand over his mouth, dark eyes blown open completely, a feverish red blush dying his face. If you knew him less, you would think he looked almost embarrassed. Good thing you knew better. With one cheek pressing against the sweet, soft crease between his pelvis and thigh, spit wet cock resting on your cheek. When you felt him jerk, your tongue retreated. But now, in this eye-to-eye stalemate, you let it slip out again, tasting the soft, unattended flesh of his perineum. He whimpers, actually whimpers. Maybe the deadliest human man in the world, allow his voice to crack and slip all at the touch of your tongue against him. Your eyes scan upward, up the ridges and valleys of his body. His stomach, hips, the working muscles, the alcohol soaked layer of soft flesh beneath his skin littered with soft, graying body hair. Hair that tickles your nose as you breathe around his erection. Slowly, mercifully, keeping one hand tight around the base, and you move below him. Your knees spread further on the floor, enough for you to keep his cock against your face. You pump him gently, cock soaked from your mouth, using your cheek as the counter. Kishibe’s breath is shaky, cautious, watching your eyes turn cat-like, narrow and devilish.
“Don’t you fuckin--” He couldn’t finish before your devil’s tongue rounded the skin of his leg and slid under his balls and lapped, with the full spread of your tongue, at the warm, pleasure, quivering flesh.
He keens back fully, his back hitting the bed. You seize the opportunity and worm your tongue deeper, right between his ass, deep enough to feel the soft puckering of skin. At this angle, this is the best you can reach. But it's enough to make his voice crumble and falter. His song fills your ears, wets your panties, sends a cymbal crash down your spine. You relieve him, letting him at least open his eyes again.
“You like that, huh, Baby?” Your voice is heavy, sultry even.
“Y-you..” Kishibe pants up into the stuffy, sex filled air, “You are a wicked girl…you know that?”
You give him a nasty smile, “And you like getting your ass played with, huh? How come you never told me?”
“I never shied away from yours,” He pats the spot on the bed next to him, inviting you forward, “And you never reciprocated, figured you weren’t game.” He was observing you now, in the way that hunters do, waiting for your next move.
You got off your knees, joining him on the bed, crawling up to his face. He embraces you, bringing you close and locking your lips together in a deep kiss. Naked together on the bed, he gropes at your body freely. Time together has given him an intimacy with your figure, a familiarity, a reverence.
“I’m almost hurt.” You free yourself from his kiss, moving a hand over his chest, “I thought we didn’t keep secrets.”
Kishibe gives you a look.
“Those kinds of secrets, at least.” Your traveling hand reached his spit wet cock again.
He sucked in a blissful breath, “Well…I’ve had a lot of life before you, honey.”
You gave him a warning squeeze.
“Agh--” He can’t help but smile, clenching up before you resume stroking him, “Nothing like you, baby. You know you’re the best. Waited all my life for you.”
He smooths your hair, dark eyes have grown black from the continued state of arousal you’ve suspended him in. Your chest blooms, you wonder if he really means it when he says things like this to you. But, you know that like this, you could get him to say anything.
“So, you have a lot of experience in that area?” you round your thumb over his tip.
Kishibe’s cheeks hollow, “Some, yeah.”
You pump him again, a reward for his honesty and candor, “and who was accompanying you in these…experiences?”
Kishibe chuckled, tucking his hand under his head, “You want names or?”
You squeezed him again.
He clenches at the harsh treatment, but knows your answer, “Alright. I get it, you’re curious, but not that curious.”
You watch him for a moment, not speaking, just pumping him with one hand, holding yourself up with the other. He knows you're watching him, and allows himself to be admired. He really is beautiful, soft blush on his cheeks, mouth wet with residual kisses, prepared for more as they come. You’ve always found him fascinating, to look at and to understand. He was immensely private when you first met, and for most of the time that you have been together. The brief glimpses you have gotten from moments like these, bedsheets holding them together like whispered parentheses, their contents asides, only for you, as his audience to hear and to know. He may not even know how you collect these parentheticals, how you have each one memorized and catalogued.
“Are you…still curious?” You want to be careful with your words, keeping him on the line, not ready to lose him just yet.
Kishibe catches your meaning, an expectant twinkle in his eye, “Not much anymore, my experience, makes the curiosity less…hungry.”
“Really?” Your hand stills.
“Mhm.” It comes out as a groan, looking down his body at your hand around his cock, as though he could mentally will it into motion again, “Once you get a taste for it, it’s nice.”
“Oh?” You resume stroking him, another reward.
He nods, “Yeah.” Shaky breath separates his thoughts, “Taking it up the ass is like riding a bike, don’t know why you make it look so hard.”
Of course, even like this, he would tease you.
You let him feel just the phantom’s edge of nail against the thin, all too sensitive skin of his shaft. The fucker bites his lip.
He would like that.
“Well I’m sure in all your experimentation, you’ve never had something as big as your own. So forgive my struggling.” You roll your eyes.
“Don’t be so sure, honey.” He huffs, your hand is slowing again, “I was pretty accomplished in my day.”
You can’t help but laugh a little, primarily out of disbelief, “Oh come on! You’re fucking with me. There’s no way you were playing the catcher.”
You can feel the moment slipping, if he was fucking with you, the joke has run its course. You sit up, releasing him once again. The tet-a-tet is growing old, if you were going to fuck, it would have already taken precedent.
“Is that so hard to believe?” He sounds…different.
You turn back to look at him, but your nasty, sarcastic face is wiped to neutral the moment you see the strange foreign look in his eyes. He looks almost…hurt. Not hurt but maybe embarrassed? Maybe your questioning went too far? Maybe the mix of physical and personal vulnerability was all too much at once.
“Well…yeah, I guess.” You shrug, “I just didn’t know.”
You can’t seem to find the right words for how you feel. Surely it should feel obvious, from his earlier reaction and everything. But there was a vast difference between liking a little tongue where you don’t usually get it, and…actually experiencing anal sex. You knew that, it had taken you almost a week to work up to take him completely inside. Although, come to think of it, he was the one who emphasized taking it slow, even when you begged him for it. Brutal as he usually was, he was never…careless.
Not like you had just been.
All your parenthetical confessions, the ones you hoarded, should have prepared you for this one. A moment of true vulnerability. Asking without asking. Testing your trust before needing it. And you may have just failed.
“It never crossed my mind. Usually when we're together, I don’t like thinking about you with anyone. I never even thought to…think about you with other men.”
He’s still. Just as he has been. Waiting for the rest of your explanation. Unreadable as ever.
“Although…now that I have, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested.” You move closer on the bed, your legs against his once more, “You know there’s nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn’t do for you, Kishi.”
You lean in to plant a wet kiss on his neck, he stays stony, but his eyes close as your lips touch his skin.
“Anything in the world.” You kiss again, and this time you take his hand, guiding it between your legs, slipping one of his fingers between your pussy lips, an audible squish of soaked flesh parting against skin.
Kishibe gasps in your ear, wet and heavy air against your ear. His finger moves on instinct, probing deeper, lower, feeling the collected honey slip past his fingertips. You lick across his neck, toward his ear.
“You want me to fuck you, Kishi?” You whisper, as though this bedroom needs any shielding from your mutual depravity.
You could practically feel the blood rush to paint the tip of his ear pink. He nods.
“Uh-uh,” You try not to moan against his still exploring fingers, “I need to hear you ask me.”
His chest grumbles. Maybe frustration. Maybe the lightheaded ache of sustained arousal without release is finally getting to him.
“Please,” is all he asks of you, and that’s all you need.
You fully accept your new role. He wants you to take control. He’s asking you for it. He’s asked a lot of you before, but never has he given you the reins like this. Not with this much trust. You take in a grounding breath as you help him settle onto his knees. You build him a little pillow support to lean on comfortably. You aren’t exactly sure how far you will get tonight, but you want him to be comfortable. You can see the red saturating his shoulders, climbing up his back in hot, shameful streaks, grabbing his neck.
“Relax, baby.” You run your fingers down his neck, watching the way your touch smooths the ridged, tense muscles, “You know, if I didn't know better, I would think you were actually nervous.”
A faux-confident chuckle leaves him as he cranes back to see you, “Just…don’t confuse my professional masochism for a personal interest.”
You giggle, moving your hair out of your face before lowering yourself behind him. It’s a new view of your lower. The square backs of knees, bent to ninety degree angles, leading up to backs of thighs. Downy, cornsilk body hair trailing up in an even ashen layer. The shadow of the inner thigh deepens the further up to the ass and the further inward your eyes trail. The faint white scars that litter his body are lesser back here, with the exception of a singular, wide, flat, just barely still pink in its center scar that runs laterally on his left leg. You trail your finger across it, the skin twitches.
“I haven’t seen this one before…” You say, mostly to yourself.
Once you reached its edge, you followed the imaginary bilateral line up the back of his thigh. Feather-light touches, getting close to the under cheek of his left side. Following the curve toward his inner thigh, he lets out a shiver.
“You’re tense, baby,” you warn, “It’ll be harder if you’re tense.”
Kishibe nods slowly, taking a steady breath, his shoulder blade smoothing down his back. His heart was pounding, sweat collecting along the nape of his neck, already starting to slip down his spine. Your hands were smooth against the thinned, scarred skin, intimately familiar to him now, but now so foreign in their gentility. You curve over him, nosing at the back of his ear, letting the cool tip of your nose run down the upper ridge of his trapezius muscle. Your lips reach out before you urge them to, kissing along the end of his hairline. The short, cropped hair at the back of his neck tickles under your nose. You lean into the tickle, nuzzling into the soft, bristled hair. He smells like smoke, and talcum scented soap. The soft waxy smell of skin is beginning to penetrate through the barrier of washed skin. You hum at the smell. His smell. The one he leaves behind on your bedsheets before he leaves town for days or weeks at a time. An olfactory promise of his return.
In your affections you have moved to straddle one of his legs, moving down his body, you find that the back of calf presses against the seam of your pussy. You let out a soft moan, pressing your hips down further, feeling his muscle press against your clit.
Kishibe groans underneath you, his head sinking into the pillow, muffling the end of his expression. The sound was too sweet to end. You slipped a finger into your mouth, letting it glisten with spit, mirroring the sheen of wet arousal you were leaving on his leg.You trail a wet finger down the cleft of his ass feeling the skin begin to pucker toward his hole.You feel the pert circle, the flesh parting at the center, giving way to the tiniest of holes. Just enough for you to press the mound of your fingertip into. Even that makes his breath hitch, turning his face to the side, stealing a glance at you from over his shoulder. He watches you from in front like a cat, you could nearly see his pupil reshape into a slit.
“I told you I’d be careful.” You round your finger around the exterior of his asshole, feeling the change in skin, circling your hips against his calf in tandem.
His wary gaze stays steady but his eyes soften, allowing you permission to advance. You press against his hole, breeching just barely past the muscle. Sliding back further to align yourself with his hips. You slip your finger down his perineum, feeling the silky soft neglected skin give way to the thin, sensitive skin of his balls. Your other fingers join, feeling the gentle weight, massaging them lightly. Along with your massage you lick a wide stripe up from your fingertip and across his hole. Your eyes roll back in time with his own. Musk and skin and sweat and soap commingling on your tongue. You lap again. He drives his hips back against your tongue. Shaky moans bubble behind his Adam's apple. Jaw clenched tight, eyes screwed up tighter, and asshole tighter, still, quivering against your tongue.
“Breath, baby.” You smile against him.
Kishibe’s breath shudders outward, the barely present vocalizations of pleasure coloring each huff. You grab each cheek and spread him apart. His asshole is pretty and pink, which you find both surprising and absolutely fitting. Kishibe was just a man, after all, not some kind of inhuman, indestructible force. While he may be in the good graces of whatever deity out there controls a man’s luck, he is simply that. And in being just a human man, he was malleable to your touch. Especially your sloppy, glossy tongue tasting him where he’s been neglected by another for so many years. How long had it been since a finger, other than his own, breached his ass? His fingers were always too rough to stimulate him well, the action feeling just as much like fingering an asshole as it did getting your asshole fingered, so eventually he just…laid off.
The reverent brush of your tongue against his hole was euphoria itself. His cock responded immediately, pressing hard and stiff into the mattress. He shifts his hips, the resurgent erection in need of relief. His hips pushing back against your tongue, burying your face further was simply a…nice perk.
You giggled at his awkward shifts. Squirmy and out of practice, clearly he needed this. You spread him open again, giving the pretty hold large open-mouthed kisses. Your face is too buried to see the way he grabs the sheets, or the way his toes curl, pretty round arches forming in the balls of his feet. But Kishibe's chest and shoulders flush pink all the same. He feels a sticky, sickly steam of shame pull the moisture from his veins and pill up onto his neck. He has to bite his lip to keep from crying out. It's too early, embarrassingly early. Your tongue speeds up, lapping and spinning, spelling and curling. He pushes against the mattress, his hands sinking into the foam and cotton below.
Satisfied with the lubrication your spit has offered, you decide to up the ante. Carefully. You narrow your tongue and slowly slip it past his rim. Kishibe gasps, his hand shooting back to grip the back of your hair, keeping you still. A cracking gasp rips through his throat and out his mouth. He grips you before he can think whether he wants to push you deeper or pull you back. He pants against his forearm, fingers digging into your hair.
You keep your neck still, equally unsure of his next desire. A moment passed, then another. His fingers tight in your hair, unrelenting. You curled your tongue experimentally, he gripped your hair harder.
“J-just…” Kishibe swallows hard, “...wait.”
You obey. You wait. You wait until his fingers let up. It's a micro-movement when they do, but a permissive one. And you remove your tongue, resuming the kinder circular licks. This brings his hand back to his own head. Reaching behind his neck, interlocking fingers with the other ... stretching in front of him in wingspan extending lines… pushing himself back against you. It doesn’t take long for your sloppy ass kissing to make him rock his hips back and fourth, grinding his cock into the pillow over and over again.
When he eats your ass, your always struck by the prickling abrasion of his stubble on the inside of your cheeks, without that to simulate for him, you feel compelled to emphasize the smoothness of your skin, choosing long, languid motions of the tongue over staccato, chopping gestures he favors. In this pursuit, you begin hinging your neck up and down the length of him, taking his full, ready balls into your mouth briefly, before releasing them and lapping upward, rounding his hole, and then back down to repeat. His mattress thrusting ceases and his back arches. Devilishly so. You slide your hands over the back of his hips, down the pretty arch, and scratch your nails down, leaving harsh red lines along the curve of his body.
“Fuck…” He groans, turning his head to the side, to try and catch your eye.
You reach below him, where his stiff, swollen red cock hangs, dripping pre cum down onto the mattress. You have now extended your field of effectiveness, your tongue now continuing below his sack and onto the shaft of his cock, sucking his tip into your mouth briefly before making your return journey up to his now quivering asshole. This brings his voice to life, a desperate wilting moan as you wrap your lips around his cock. No formation of words, something that vaguely sounds like “fuck” or maybe “what?”, it’s hard to tell. But the sweet shatter of his resolve is reward enough for you to repeat your action. This time, his blisteringly fast reach behind to you, is aimed toward your neck, gripping the nape of your neck hard, his middle finger and thumb bruisingly tight. But not…restrictively so. You can still hinge your neck freely, trailing your spit slick lips and tongue over every inch of his posterior. His grip on you seems more like a supportive one, rather than cautionary.
“Fuuuuck…”He finally manages, “I don’t deserve you. I don’t. I--aghh!” His head falls forward as you speed up along your runway.
His other hand grips the sheets under his head, which is buried in the crook of his elbow.
“Yeah? You like getting your ass ate, Kishi?” You break before sucking the newest culmination of precum off of his cock head.
He nods into his elbow, a soft affirmative moan slipping past skin and cotton.
“Old dogs never forget their tricks, huh?” You grin, watching how his leaky cock lurches as your assertion, “Yeah, you gonna let me fuck your ass, Kishi?”
You swirl the flat of your palm around the tip of his cock, watching as his balls begin to scrunch up, preparing for the next phase. You kiss his hole gently, watching it flutter to kiss you back. He doesn't open his mouth to answer, just sinks his hips into your hand. You stroke him faster, squeezing your wet hand around him tighter. Low, rumbling moans are now constant from above you. You try to keep time with your mouth, your tongue growing languid and in need of rest, but you push on. He’s so close and he needs your help. You feel your heart swell, his desperation so beyond pathetic, so touchingly human.
You circle the bell end of his cock, quickening your lapping tongue against his asshole. The muscles in Kishibe’s back flex together, the bow string of his spine pulling back, making him arch. Kishibe feels his eyes roll back, his jaw clenching, neck twitching. Weak, shameful whimpers wrack out of him. Your tongue breeches his hole, just barely, and it's enough to make him release onto the sheets below, into your hand, onto his stomach. Red throated, full veins pressing against his skin, hot blood inside pumping hard.
“Goooood…”,You stroke him gently, working him through his orgasm, the added lubrication of his cum making his cock slippery and jumpy, “That’s it, baby, cum for me.”
More and more ropes of sticky, hot cum dress your fingers. He cried out, overstimulation boiling over. You slowed your hand to stillness. Watching the backs of his thighs shake as you pull off from him. You clean your hand with your tongue, sitting up, relishing in your hard work. Kishibe pants into the sweat and drool puddle he left behind on the pillow. The feeling of his cock squeezed between his stomach and the mattress makes him shudder out in nasty, heaved moans. He didn’t feel like himself. Couldn’t get his head straight. Thoughts and pleasure and euphoria swirling together in his overheated brain. It was all too fucking good.
Cock leaking, sweat pilling on his forehead, traitorous mouth drooling affirmation after affirmation, thinking he can't spill himself anymore to you, tears prick at the corners of his eyes.
“Ah—agh!” He cried out, the touch drove him dizzy.
You let him go, easing your hand across his thigh, sticking orgasm coating his skin.
The swirl of his plane of vision settles back into its horizon line. The cream colored sheets wrinkled under his bent, grasping arm, the flush on his skin had crept all the way down to the back of his hand. The thin vein woven skin on the back of his hand was red and wet from sweat and spit, two of his fingers carried the indentations of his teeth. When had he bit down on his hand? God, what had come over him? He hadn’t felt this in…so long. This vulnerable. This…tended to. This….spoiled. His stomach churned and his heart bloomed. The cavity of his torso fizzled underneath his skin. Like iron flecks guided by the magnetism of your hand, the nerves in his back reach up at your touch.
You smoothed down his spine, watching as his body relaxed. His hips relaxing into the mattress, the tension in the sides of his ass releasing with a soft breath. The curve of his lower back, sloping upward toward his back, the powerful ridges and shadows of muscle. You laid a kiss right in between his shoulder blades. Letting your nose trace the gentle valley of his spine.
Kishibe wets his lips, settling into the mattress, letting the soft hum of satisfaction soften his muscles and weigh his eyes.
“Think we could do that again?” He cracks open an eye, letting it trail down your body, a dangerous smile curling the side of his mouth.
This became a new routine for you. Steamy nights spent teasing and tasting, stretching and training. It didn’t take long before he could take three of your fingers, your tongue soothing around his stretching hole, teaching him how to relax enough to take it. He was a natural. Slipping back into what had clearly been favored indulgence of his, however long ago it had been. He settled back like a duck to water. Growing more vocal experience by experience. And you were melted by the whimpers, the cracking of his pleasured voice, the slippery, wet mouthed begs.
“Baby…fuck, you’re perfect…There.
Right there. Right there….Harder baby,
fuck me.”
Finally, he was ready for the big show. And you were starving for it. Each turn made you more desperate for the feeling of your hips flush against his ass, the sight of him completely at your mercy. It was becoming all you could think about. In between instances, it was all you could picture. The hours without him were still consumed by your obsessive fantasies of fucking him.
Finally, the night arrived. He came home, hungry already. Turning your face up to his lips as he slipped the door closed behind him with his foot. You take over his mouth quickly, and he allows you in immediately. Strong hands grope at your waist, your hips, your back. He shudders as your tongue slides past the still sensitive inner scarring of his mouth. His hands squeeze you tighter, needing your stability, needing you.
You prepared for this, all day in fact. A whole ritual of smoothing, shaving, and softening; lotions and perfumes working together to make you into the most touchable creature on earth. He would need something nice and soft to hold on to while you wore him down to nothing; smooth facades of hand grips to support himself on his pleasured descent. A soft, white waffle knit robe is tucked neatly across your chest, the waist tie knotted at your side, the split parting to reveal your legs as your shuffle back, leading him by his belt loops toward your bedroom.
Kishibe is eager to follow, his hands on your hips both pushing you through the door and gripping you tight to his body. Finally in the bedroom, Kishibe once again nudges the door behind you with his foot.
With the double assurances of locked doors, his inhibitions (if whatever a man like Kishibe has in the place of shame, can be likened to inhibition) fall. His hands part the top of your robe, pressing a warm palm to the hard bone of your sternum. A moment to decide culminates in his hand traveling to the left, caressing your breast, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You let out a sweet, flighty moan, right up against his lips. Eager to hear more, Kishibe’s lips slip across your jaw and down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Little shocks of voiced breath against his ear, your fingers gripping the cropped hair at the back of his neck. He pinches your nipple, making your hip buck forward, and he smiles against the slope of your neck. The lurch, the roll in your body makes his mind flash forward, he could practically feel the stretch, the fullness, the pressure in his pelvis, the feeling of your hands pushing him down, pressing against his back, on the back of his head. His mouth wets, tongue lolling out against your neck, tasting the soft chemical taste of your moisturizer, the one he teased made you smell like an old woman. You had mocked him right back, saying that if it did, then maybe he ought to use some. He had feigned a minor offense, and exercised the rest of his hurt by keeping you wanting an additional thirty minutes that night.
You pull him back to the present, sitting on the bed, pulling him forward with you. You hold his face, urging him to look at you, taking in his pleasure blown eyes, his wet, wanting mouth. You slid a finger over his bottom lip, his eyes never strayed, only drifting upward for a microsecond, before his tongue caught your eye, inching forward at the chance for a taste of your thumb.
You smile at him, pleased as can be with what he’s become, “On your knees, baby.”
Kishibe shudders, but exhilaration not fear tickles his senses. Kishibe moves onto his knees before you, rubbing his cheek along your left thigh, hearing you hiss above him as the stubble abrades the sensitive skin. His wide hands close around your ankles, easing your legs apart. Your robe parts at the front, your body is revealed. Kishibe’s eyes drag up your body, taking in your shapely legs, the crease of your hip meeting your torso, the curve of your waist, the pebbled surface of your nipples, all glorious. But what truly took his breath away was the strap indented flesh of your hips, following the black threaded strap down the V of your pelvis, leading to the base of the harness. A black diamond shaped base, a shining metal O ring at the front, holding firm a moderately thick, but eye-wideningly long rosy dildo.
Kishibe’s eyes flicked up to you, a smug eyebrow twitching upward, “You chose pink?”
You smile down at him, running a flat hand down your cunt, so that the base of that silicone cock rested at the slope between your thumb and index finger.
“Thought it would match your lips.” You scooted forward, just enough so you could angle your new cock downward, running it along his bottom lip, tracing the plump half moon.
A near perfect match. Especially like this, kiss bitten and swollen, blood filling and blushing the thin skin of his lips.
“Pretty, close.” Your hand cups his jaw, squeezing enough to hinge his jaw open slightly.
His eyes maintain that same fire of arrogance you were so familiar with. He was willing to let you play daddy, let you push him into the sheets, let you fuck him harder and harder until your hips gave out and he would have to show you how it was really done
“Come on, baby. Suck it for me. Show me how good you are with that pretty mouth.” You cooed down to him.
Kishibe feels himself leak against the fabric of his briefs. It dawned on him then that he was still wearing his suit. He had discarded his coat and shoes at the door, but still wore his shirt, pants, belt, hell even his tie. Heavy breath dewed the tip of your false cock. His tongue dipped out, sliding along the bottom, feeling the pearly-soft texture further and further into his mouth. He closes his mouth around the first inch, hollowing his cheeks, looking up at you, a renewed look in his eyes. Something soft, something pliant taking over.
“Mmmm, beautiful.” You purr, watching carefully how his eyelashes flutter as he takes it deeper.
His hands itch to be off your legs, they tingle as his tie seems to tighten around his throat, the bulge your cock made tightening it even further. He presses further, feeling the tip begin to graze the back of his tongue. He fights back a gag, swallowing evenly. You ease back, your hips sliding forward, and run a hand through the hair on the crown of his head, pushing it back enough to see every crease of focus on his forehead. He really is a beautiful thing. Heavy lidded eyes, not closed but low and lazy. His mouth moving around your strap, tongue circling around the circumference, around and around.
You’re not stupid. You know it's not real. You know that logically you can’t feel the sweet suck of his mouth, the slip of his tongue like it was your actual cock. But it was wishful thinking, maybe it was powerful imagination, but you could feel it. You could feel the wet O of his lips around the girth of the toy as if it was your own, the ridges of the back of his throat, the gentle breath of his nose on the base he can’t quite manage to take. Your head rocks back, and your hand slips down to feel the hollow of his cheek.
Kishibe lets go of your legs, sliding his hands up your sides, gripping one of your breasts. A soft hum vibrates from his chest. His other hand fiddles with his belt, struggling for a moment to remove it, before freeing his cock and taking it into his hand, feeling the leak of precum already beginning to spill. He strokes himself along with the bobbing of his head, pinching your nipple into a hard peak simultaneously.
You keen back, the sweet pain whiting out your vision for a half moment.
“Alright, baby,” you push him off, watching the silicon length slip past his lips, immediately moving to remove his tie and his shirt.
His wet cock hangs out of his pants, as you pull him to his feet, you shimmy his pants down his legs, taking your place on your knees in front of him. His cock bumps your face, and you giggle for a moment before sucking it into your mouth. Above you, he sheds his shirt, letting it fall down his arms behind him, both hands now free, he holds the sides of your head. You watch him from below, showing him how good you can take it.
How it's really done.
“So competitive…”He rolls his eyes, as though he has read your mind.
You smirk around him, taking him all the way to the base, slurping down to his balls, nuzzling your nose into the tuft of public hair on his pelvis. His face scrunches, and he pulls you off him with one firm hand in your hair.
“Okay! Okay…you’re the best, come on.” He grips your biceps, pulling you up to him and off your knees.
You nod hazily, kissing him hard and dropping your robe to the floor. You both climb onto the bed, letting the duvet’s cool cover slip against your fevering skin. He is quick to move onto his hands and knees, kissing you up until the last moment before his head sinks into the pillow he pulls forward from the rest. You slip off the bed, opening your bedside drawer and pulling the lube forth. But you didn't coat the strap yet, the sight of his plump ass raised in the air, cheeks parting as he shifts, giving you the tiniest peek at his pert hole. You move behind him, spreading him open watching it clench in anticipation. You spit, watching the glob of clear viscosity coat him.. Kishibe’s eyes roll back, letting his chest relax into the mattress.
“Fuck…” He mutters.
You lick him with a flat tongue again, squishing the meat of his ass in your hands, pressing them against your cheeks. With a lax tongue, you shake your head side to side, relishing in the crackling moans that pulls from him. Kishibe’s hands grip the sheets, arms flexing as he pushes himself back against your tongue. His hips are raised enough to take off most of the pressure from his leaking cock, but he craves more, he craves more stimulation. He whines, pushing back against your flicking devil’s tongue. And his greedy mouth whines as you pull back.
“.....no.” his whine forms a single word.
You reach beneath him and give his cock a decisive stroke, feeling his hips shudder. A devious smile curls across your lips, you already have him so reactive, so ready, so desperate.
“You ready, baby?” You coo down to him, watching the back of his neck flush red.
He nods into the pillow, huffing out heavy breaths as you continue to pump his cock.
“I need to hear you say it.” You squeeze him, just below the head.
Kishibe hisses, resetting his jaw and looking over his shoulder, back to you.
“Fuck me.”
A sultry, dangerous shiver rocks down your spine, every hair standing on its end. You settle behind him, petting up his legs from his knees to his hips. The shaft of your strap nestles, as though magnetized, home between his cheeks. It’s a beautiful sight. If you thought that the sight of him on his knees sucking your false cock was something out of a dream. This was heaven incarnate. Your brain, in all of its human hubris, couldn’t have conjured something so erotic. The curve of his spine, weaving snakelike and sultry, the soft dips of his hips above each cheek, smiling back at you. You had never felt so powerful. So in your body. So realized in your sexuality.
You don’t miss the way he seems to shiver at the click of the lubricant lid opening. You coat the strap, you coat his hole, making sure it glistens the dim bedroom light. You slip two fingers into him, they glide easily, the work you have done in preparation proving successful. Curling your fingers up, you watch the beads of sweat pill up along his neck.
“Breathe.” You remind him and he lets out a clenched breath.
You give your strap another half dose of lubricant before lining it up at his hole. You suck in, your lower lip caught between your teeth, as you watch your tip slip into his asshole. The whole head disappears easily, the second inch takes a touch more effort, the third inch makes his jaw clench. He squeezes his eyes tight, and while the muscles in his abs and back pull tight, he pushes his hips back for more. He needs more. And you can’t leave him wanting.
You press further, letting your hands squeeze into the flesh of his hips, holding his waist steady, reminding him that you have him, that he’s safe. He relaxes enough for you to ease in another inch or so. Now you can really reach the sweeter sin inside of him. Kishibe moans, long and howling into the ceiling. You offer a satisfied hum in response, watching carefully as his head cranes back before dipping down between his shoulders, his voice dipping lower in the same swoop.
“That’s it baby, relax for me.” You thrust back a few inches, watching as his hips try to fight your hold and follow your retreating cock.
Thick, crackling moans almost in a laughing cadence ruminate from his throat. You can see the crease of his smile from over his shoulder. One of those wicked black eyes keeps you locked in his sights, not willing to lose where you are. He is tracking you. His body is tightening once more, hindering your advance on him. Something animal is taking over, something predatory and innate. Something that no matter how much he may want to give away or let go of, he will never be freed from. This defensive nature that kept you, and anyone else, at a blade’s length. Or so he has always understood. But you now, behind him, penetrating him, wanton eyes filled with love and begging for his trust. You’re making him lose his muscle memory. Practiced protections falling aside. You lean over him, sinking the rest of the dildo into him, feeling the soft flesh of his ass press against the tingling, anticipatory skin of your thighs. An uninhibited, unabashed moan rips from him. He howls, chest falling to the mattress below. He reaches up, burrowing under the pillows, giving you a stadium show of the musculature of his back. Lats extending, shoulderblade sliding back, rhomboid muscles flexing under his skin.
Finally, completely sheathed inside of him, you pant into the bedroom’s air. You dig your fingertips into his flesh, now needing the stability of his body. Solid and sturdy underneath you, shared gasps leak from your joined bodies.
After a moment, Kishibe’s arms find their way underneath him again, allowing him the strength to push off the mattress and turn back to you, a dangerous, arrogant smile peeling back his lips. Before his cocky taunts can leave him, you push down on the center of his back, and his arms waiver. You use this leverage to pull your hips back and fuck into him again. He lets himself fall back into the pile of sheets and blankets below, raising his hips up to meet you.
“Cocky fuck. I like you better like this, honey.” You mutter, trying to garner a proper rhythm, something consistent, something you can build.
Each thrust into him knocks another crumbly moan from him. Your hands struggle to find a proper docking ground for you to hold yourself up, the skin under your hands bending and pushing upward, leaving red pressure wakes behind.
Kishibe fucks his hips back to meet you, the open hinge in his jaw letting drool and moans seep out oof him and onto the sheets below in equal flow. Your thrusts are jagged and uneven but you’re fucking deep. Really god damn deep. This new toy of yours is bigger than the ones you retrained him with. His tongue lolls out, pressing against the cotton sheets. He longs for the taste of your cunt on his tongue. Or the soft tangle of your own tongue with his. Or the taste of your sweat seasoned skin for him to lap at while you fuck him deeper and deeper still.
You fuck into him in a particularly sloppy thrust, making him groan at the shimmering pang of pleasure, although uncoordinated and clumsy. He knows you can do better.
Those black eyes roll to meet yours, firey in thier judgement, “Who taught you to fuck like that?” Kishibe supports himself on his elbows, a nasty, taunting smirk burning through you, “...Cause I know it wasn’t me.”
You shove his face down into the bed, keeping your arm strong and firm on the side of his head. The asshole, himself, laughs at your attempt to dominate him. His asshole, however, clings to the shaft of your dildo as you pull out of him, nearly completely, just allowing the head to stay inside. Clingy as he feels, you know he can take it. You won't break him. Even if you wish you could. Even if he wishes you could.
You thrust back into him completely, bottoming out with a loud smack of skin against skin. Kishibe wilts into the mattress, jaw clenched grunts being swallowed by the pillow’s filling. You roll your body, sending ripples through his spine.
“Fuck!” Shaky, shallow breaths wrack his body, “Fu--fuck.”
A nasty, prideful fire scorched your chest, threatening to burn straight through your skin. Skin that seems to remember all the times he had bullied you into this very same mattress, all the times he had mocked your whimpering moans, your tearing eyes and shaking legs.
Venom slips its syrupy hand up your throat, “You’re a real slut, huh? Taking my cock in your ass so easily, already whining like the bitch you are.”
Kishibe’s eyes roll back, drool puddling beneath his cheek. He’s ready to drown in it when your nails rake through his hair, gripping his roots and yanking his head back. The whine he lets out is wet and high and dangerously shameful. You piston your hips harder, letting him feel every inch that leaves and every inch that reenters even harder. Each thrust makes him whimper. You bottom out, pulling his hair back harder.
“Agh! Ow, fuck baby!”
“Oh…Poor thing, can’t take a little tug anymore?” You mock, pulling him back harder.
Kishibe cranes back with a shout. The leverage of holding his head back gives you the perfect angle to hit his prostate. You can tell from the way his cock begins to weep. You move down the v line of his body, feeling him shudder against your hips.
“Think I know how to make the Mad Dog my bitch, huh?” You wrap one hand around the base of his cock.
He ails again, wanting to fall forward, but your grip on his hair keeps him stuck, he pushes his hands underneath him, giving him the chance to fuck his hips back against yours. Kishibe can’t believe the fullness, the pressure, the building pleasure behind his cock already starting to leak into your palm. He didn’t think he would feel this pathetic. That he could already feel the tug of release beginning to wax. But your voice in his ear, the nastiness you spoke, the transformation he’d seen in you…it was going to ruin him. Behind his desperately clenched eyes are fireworks, shimmering displays of his pleasure fried synapses.
“You feel that, baby?” You pump his cock once, your hips still moving, your abs beginning to ache from over use, “You’re so hard, you’re so wet. You’re pathetic.”
He can't help the weak moan, doesn’t even want to anymore.
“Oh you like that? Being called pathetic while I fuck you?” You mock again, feeling how his cock lurches in your hand, your coordination works at its maximum to maintain a consistent pump on his cock and rhythm fucking him.
Kishibe can barely hold himself up, his mouth won’t stop. But neither will yours.
“You gonna come for me, Kishi? You gonna cum all over yourself, get my bed all dirty? Huh? You just can’t stop yourself can you?” You press your forehead into the back of his neck, trying your hardest to ignore the burn in your middle.
You could not stop now. He was leaking more, the sweet sounds of his fucked out body was bringing you close to a touch free orgasm than you ever even considered.
“Kishi, cum for me. Cum. Be my bitch, baby. Tell me you wanna cum.” You ordered, coming out more as a plea than a command.
“--eas…” A weak voice colors his moan.
“You can do it, come on. Tell me what you need.” You circle your palm over his cock head.
“...please. Please, baby. Please let me cum.
Fuck me. Make me cum, please.
Please.”
You’ve known Kishibe’s body long enough, known the intricacies of his intimacy long enough to know the exact sound he makes when he cums inside of you, how it differs from the sound he makes when he cums in your mouth, or when he spills himself onto your ass, how his face scrunches above you, how his toes curl underneath you; but what you had never gotten to see, was the placid, peaceful jaw-slacking pleasure that overcame him when his orgasm is fucked out of him. The harsh lines of his face seem to disappear, a dewiness illuminating his skin. His head falls forward, arms below him giving out. Your hand in his hair having moved to his shoulder, to drive your cock into him further, and further, before stalling inside, pressing hard into his twitch prostate. Your hand under him is wetted; thick cum spilling between your fingers, onto the bed below you, pooling in your palm. He’s nearly silent as his orgasm strangles him into full submission, taking him over completely before releasing him, chest first onto the sweat and spend soiled bed below.
You pants behind him, abs burning torturously, the lactic acid already starting to settle in your waist and thighs. You give him a moment to breathe, you smooth your hands down his sides, watching how he shivers in response. You want to lean over, to kiss his wet cheek, to share the taste of his pleasured mouth. But you don’t dare risk ruining this for him, or pushing him into overstimulation. When you do finally pull out, you watch him fully relax. You crawl over to the empty side of the bed, the night already playing back behind your eyes. His body, the moonlight illuminating his skin as the night wore on, the soundscape still ringing in your ears. Effort finally claims your body, sore muscles no longer straining with activity begin to knit themselves back together.
With a content, smiling sigh, you reach down for the tri-glide fastener to release the harness, but another hand beats you there. Kishibe’s forefinger and thumb pinch the primary fold, pulling it loose, and slipping the glider down, relieving the tension on your right hip. You feel his chest press flush against your back and then his lips on your neck. You release the other side of the harness as his nose brushes up the sternocleidomastoid muscle in your neck. The harness, now completely slack, droops with the weight of the dildo, you lean back on Kishibe’s chest to slide it off your legs and onto the bedroom floor. He collects you in exchange, bringing you back onto the cent of the bed with him, not caring about the puddle underneath you both. You roll to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and pressing a firm kiss to his mouth. He is still panting, so it breaks quickly. There is a soft daze in his eyes, you are unsure if it is exhaustion or endorphins.
Kishibe would call it love. Or rather, he would recognize it as love, as trust come to fruition, as intimacy and passion creating a night that makes him curse and bless every misstep of his fucked up life that brought him here in the very same breath. He leans in to kiss you again, feeling the declaration dangerously close to his lips. And you cork him, flawlessly. Although, he does wonder if there's a chance, even a slim one, that the taste of his love slips past, and confesses to you all the same.