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Chihiro’s knuckles gently knock on the thick door of dark brown wood, and the responding sound is deep, expensive. Everything in Yura’s mansion feels like this — it’s sturdy, solid, thick. This used to make him feel trapped, now the sensation has morphed into something completely different — secure, reliable, safe. In this place, he can close his eyes and fall back. There is no danger lurking around that he isn’t already privy to. If you are welcomed to sleep in a nest of snakes, who else would you have to worry about?
A few long moments pass, and from inside, a voice beckons him in. Chihiro doesn’t hurry — Yura disapproves of excessive haste — but he doesn’t linger either. A hand wraps around the solid brass handle and turns it. He steps inside.
Behind a large mahogany table, Yura sits, and simultaneously they study each other. Yura’s posture is relaxed, back leaned against the wide back of the leather-padded chair with his legs crossed one over the other. Like always, he is wearing a black suit, but the tie is missing. In the same way, his hair is a bit tousled, the fabric of his suit slightly wrinkled — he must have had a long day.
Chihiro doesn’t know how Yura spends the majority of his time, the man doesn’t let him in on the details. He says that he’ll tell him in due time, but for now, Chihiro doesn’t need to do anything but stay put in the large mansion and enjoy himself, that’s what Yura says. Chihiro should be bored, but he enjoys it, loves letting up control and allowing someone else to handle the hard stuff. Yura says it’s his psyche’s way of recovering from the strain of the last three years. He doesn’t argue.
Even if Yura doesn’t ask much of Chihiro, in moments like these, he calls for him. He sends one of the servants over with a simple invitation to meet him, and Chihiro doesn’t refuse those anymore. He used to, he thinks. He can’t quite remember why he would. Yura’s company is something he longs for.
Yura’s deep amber eyes roll over his body slowly, and Chihiro feels like he is being taken apart, one long string pulled and pulled and pulled with intense persistence until he’s just a pile of yarn on the floor. It makes his skin feel tingly.
“Good evening Chihiro. How have you been today?”
“I’ve been well. I read some from your library, then cleaned and polished the swords from Hokuto’s armory. He asked for my help with their upkeep.”
As he speaks, Chihiro can’t help feeling a bit bashful. He gouges Yura’s reaction to his words, and notices a mild quirk of his brow, when Hokuto’s name is mentioned.
“Oh, has he? How strange. He usually prefers to do it by himself. It’s nice for you to help him, though.”
Chihiro’s breath, held cautiously within his chest, is released in a quiet exhale of relief.
“It’s no trouble to me, I like working with swords of all sorts.”
“That… seems to certainly be the case.” Yura purses his lips like he’s trying to stop a smile from forming. His fingers are drumming a rhythm along the surface of the table. “I’m glad that Hokuto and you get along. Feel free to spend more time with him if you’d like, when I’m away.”
“Thank you, I might. He’s been very welcoming.”
“I have no doubt.”
A lull in the conversation forms, and Chihiro waits for Yura to speak to him again, but instead the man seems content with silently observing him. It makes Chihiro impatient, and he rolls on the balls of his feet.
His hands feel empty, missing their steady firm grip over the hilt of the sword, and they clutch at each other instead. He feels vulnerable, open and observed like this, but he knows that even if he had a sword on him, it wouldn’t make him any less defenseless in front of this man. The thought makes him feel flushed, somehow.
“Did you want my help with something, Yura-san?”
“Not quite. Just your company.”
Chihiro nods, urging him to go on, but the man just raises his hand and beckons Chihiro closer. He follows willingly, moving before he can even process the urge to do so. He rounds the large desk and stops by Yura’s side, and tentatively his fingers run along the armrest of the large chair. Yura’s hand finds his palm there and gives it a small squeeze.
“Come here.”
Seamlessly Chihiro is urged to straddle Yura’s lap, the chair thankfully wide enough to accommodate him without too much discomfort. Even so, it’s a precarious position, and immediately, his hands find Yura’s shoulders and grip them, feeling the need to stabilize himself both physically and mentally.
Yura observes his flustered movements with a pleased smile.
“Did you miss me today?” he asks, voice like syrup.
“M-hm.”
Chihiro struggles to formulate a more eloquent response than that when Yura’s hands settle in his favourite place, Chihiro’s waist, and squeeze, fingers pressing into the flesh. He gasps lightly, and his head dips, reaching for Yura’s lips. The man smiles at him and covers the remaining distance separating them.
As their lips meet, Chihiro feels his whole body sag until he is almost lying on top of Yura, hands resting on his neck, their chests against each other, his pelvis pressed tight against Yura’s hard stomach. He wants to crawl under Yura’s skin, slither deep inside of his body and stay with him always. He yearns so much, and it is never enough.
Yura lets him take his fill, opening his mouth just enough for Chihiro’s tongue to slip inside, lick against his own, taste the mixed flavour of their spit. Chihiro takes this small bit of generosity and feeds on it, kissing the man deeper, clinging to him with his whole body. His skin is getting hotter, the sticky warmth in his stomach grows in intensity, and he doesn’t know why he is suddenly so turned on, but he cannot control his actions or the needy sounds spilling out of his lungs.
It is Yura who has to pull away, when Chihiro starts grinding his hips against Yura’s lap, a firm grip against Chihiro’s hip steadying his movements. Chihiro’s mind is so fuzzy, for a long moment he just stares at Yura’s face through half-lidded eyes, his wet mouth still open, breaths heavy and loud in the otherwise silent room. He’s sure, even his rapid heartbeat can be heard in the air.
Apologetically, Yura strokes his cheek, wiping some of the drool off his bottom lip.
“I appreciate your eagerness, Chihiro, but unfortunately I cannot indulge it yet. I have some correspondence I need to attend to, and it can’t wait till tomorrow. I fear that if I let myself get carried away now, I won’t come back to my desk tonight, and I really need to get this done.”
Chihiro tries to swallow his disappointment. He knows Yura likes him being needy, but he doesn’t want to overstep. Yura’s mission, whatever it is, always takes priority for the man.
“Oh, ehm, do you want me to… wait for you in your room?”
Yura slowly shakes his head, a small smile on his lips, his hand petting Chihiro’s cheek.
“As tempting as that sounds, I was thinking of something else instead…”
Yura doesn’t let him answer. He kisses Chihiro briefly, and then, hands on his waist, eases the boy off his lap. Chihiro doesn’t protest being lowered to the floor, but he does raise his eyes to study the man, confused about his intentions.
Chihiro is captivated by the sight of Yura from the bottom-up. Despite Yura’s frame not being particularly large, he does have a strong, dominating aura to him when he wants to showcase it, but with the upwards angle, he looks particularly imposing. His thighs, hugged by slacks made out of expensive-looking fabric, bracket Chihiro on both sides and he feels increasingly small, just sitting on the floor between them.
“What-”
Chihiro barely utters a word when Yura shushes him with a finger on his mouth, quietening his hurried questions.
“Sshhh, you are okay, baby, you are doing good. You don’t need to do much right now. Would you just open your mouth for me?”
Yura’s finger is rubbing gently against his lower lip, and with ease, Chihiro’s mouth slips open, allowing the man’s finger to slide deeper inside. The pad of Yura’s finger feels over his tongue, his teeth, tests how far it can go before Chihiro swallows around it in discomfort. Then, it slips out.
“Good job, baby, just stay like this.”
Chihiro sits there with his mouth open, blinking slowly like he is in a trance as Yura unzips his trousers and pulls out his already half-hard cock. Yura urges him to shuffle in closer and lean in, and soon, the pleasant smell of his skin hits Chihiro’s nose, and he closes his eyes, taking Yura’s cock into his mouth.
Chihiro swirls his tongue around the head, urging the flesh to harden, but Yura pulling on the hair at the back of his head makes him halt his movements and look up.
“This feels great, baby, but I want you to wait up with that. Can you just relax and keep it warm in your mouth while I finish up work? Don’t move until I tell you to.”
Chihiro’s brows furrow as he tries to process Yura’s words. That’s the opposite of what Chihiro expected to be told to do when Yura put him on the floor, and he doesn’t understand why the man would ask for something like this. Is this a test? Or a joke?
He fidgets uncomfortably, and a small sound breaks through his closed up throat.
“Don’t think about it too hard, darling. Just do what feels natural, get settled down here, close your eyes and keep me company.”
Chihiro still doesn’t get it, but he gives Yura a subtle nod in agreement. Shifting in his spot, he closes his eyes again and moves in closer, enveloping all of Yura’s cock in his warm mouth, but not moving any further. There is an instinctive urge in him to bob his head, press his tongue firm against the underside, but Chihiro swallows down that need.
Surprisingly, not having to move fast makes it easier to sink to the very bottom and let the head of Yura’s cock rest against his throat without forcing a gag. Chihiro’s nose is buried against Yura’s pubic hair, and the smell of it makes Chihiro dizzy with want. He breathes it in, holds it in his lungs, and lets it out with a pleased muffled groan.
“You are doing so good, baby. So good.”
A hand is brushing through his hair gently, playing with the strands, making Chihiro shiver from the pleasant sensation. Coupled with Yura’s murmured praise, the submissive and vulnerable position is getting to Chihiro’s head. His skin feels fuzzy and his mind ever more so. He is beginning to understand what Yura meant when he asked him to do what feels natural. This place feels like he belongs. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to do anything else but enjoy the feeling.
Almost distantly, Chihiro registers the sound of pen scratching against paper. It’s probably going to take a while, he can get comfortable. He shifts in his spot and rests his head against one of Yura’s thighs. The fabric of his trousers is cool and pleasant against his face.
The presence of Yura’s cock in his mouth is grounding. With Chihiro staying in place like he was told, Yura’s erection has died down, and instead of a hard long thickness, he is cradling soft warm fresh in his mouth. It’s gentle, and when Chihiro swallows, he loves how it touches his pallet, his tongue. He is full, comfortable, exactly where he wants to be. There is no hurry, no need to move or do anything, other than be a soft cradling warmth for the man that has replaced the center of his world.
The warmth and the feeling of comfortable security turns Chihiro placid and loose. His head is empty of thoughts, only able to process the sensations enveloping him, and he treasures this feeling. He always worries so much, way too much, Yura says, and there is no need for him to. It’s hard to stop though, when anxious thoughts creep back up on him, but they have all been scared off now. He wants to stay like this forever — just a warm hole to keep Yura comfortable and happy, nothing more. It would be so much easier like this.
Chihiro drifts away, unsure how much time passes like this. Yura plays with his hair sometimes, or strokes his face with a calloused thumb which makes him moan softly around the cock in his mouth, but doesn’t cause a bigger reaction than that. He is way too content in his current role to want to move.
No matter how much time passes, he doesn’t notice his limbs growing numb or his jaw aching from stiffness — the discomfort feels too minor to register through the fuzziness of his brain. He doesn’t have the mind to care about it.
It’s not until Yura moves backwards, making his cock slip out of Chihiro’s mouth, does some awareness creep back into his mind, with a strong undercurrent of displeasure. He doesn’t want Yura to leave, he doesn’t want to stop being that warm hole for him. He blinks through the sleep in his eyes and tries to make sense of the man’s expression.
“You did so well, baby, so, so good for me. Do you want your reward now?”
Chihiro’s mind is slow in processing the words. He tilts his head slightly to the side in confusion.
“Oh you really are out of it. No wonder. I knew you were made for this from the moment I first saw you. What a good boy.”
Chihiro only licks his sore lips, Yura’s words like white noise in his head. This makes the man laugh.
“Let me give it to you now. Stay still, baby.”
Before Chihiro can process a word, Yura’s thumb presses on his bottom row of teeth, opening his mouth wide enough to slot the cock back inside. But this time, Yura doesn’t stay still. He thrusts forward, holding Chihiro’s head in place with both hands, and quickly his cock rises to full hardness.
It’s much larger like this, bullying the back of Chihiro’s throat, and immediately tears spring to his eyes. He clutches Yura’s legs for stability, something to hold on to against the onslaught, and his fingers dig into the pressed fabric, and his eyes roll to the back of his head.
Yura doesn’t hold back on him. His hips roll forward, met in the middle by Chihiro’s head that he presses forward every time he thrusts. The taste of salty precum floods his mouth, and he swallows it desperately, eager to be even fuller of Yura. He wants his reward, even if warming Yura’s cock before was a pleasure and an honour in itself.
Chihiro flattens his tongue, feeling how Yura’s hard cock slides against it, forcing the head deeper into his throat on each thrust. Usually, it’s something Chihiro struggles with, but his throat doesn’t protest now, letting Yura in easily. It must have grown desensitised, cradling the cock in his mouth for so long. It fills him with a sense of pride, being able to finally provide this for the older man.
Yura must love the feeling as well, based on how he mutters expletives under his breath, and groans loudly in between thrusts. His body is shaking under Chihiro’s grip, and it makes him eager for more, for the rich bitter flavour of cum flooding his mouth and sliding down his throat, for the pitch of Yura’s voice when he finally reaches release.
Yura makes him work for it, fucking Chihiro’s throat until it grows sore and his nose is aching from slamming against Yura’s lower stomach. His eyes are leaking tears non-stop, stinging the sore skin, but he offers himself for Yura’s pleasure without complaint. He wants to but doesn’t move himself, because Yura ordered him to stay still, and Chihiro doesn’t want to disobey him even in something so small. Yura has told him to learn patience.
Finally, Yura’s movements grow more irregular and forceful, his breathing louder as he leans over Chihiro’s head, hands clutching at his hair. The pressure in his throat makes Chihiro gag and he desperately tries to keep himself together, unwilling to ruin Yura’s release.
Thankfully, Chihiro’s struggle only seems to encourage Yura, because after a few more thrusts, he lets out a loud sputtering groan and Chihiro feels his cock pulse inside his mouth, hot cum flooding his throat. Some of it rises back, coating Chihiro’s tongue, frothing along his lips, and he revels in the bitter taste, wanting to savour it for as long as he can save it.
“F-fuck… Your throat is like no one else’s,” Yura mutters, as he pulls out his softening length after a few long moments
Licking his lips clean of the bitter cum, Chihiro looks up at Yura. He notes his disheveled hair, the skin glossy with a sheen of sweat, the shirt more rumpled than before. He’s done that. He feels so full of pride.
“Thank you, Yura-san,” he says, voice sore and hoarse. He’s not sure if it comes across, but he’s grateful both for the earlier task, and for the reward. He hopes Yura will allow him to serve him like this again. He already misses the fuzzy feeling in his brain.
A thumb slides against Chihiro’s chin, wiping the dribble of cum that he didn’t realise he missed. Yura slides it into Chihiro’s mouth and watches as he sucks it clean.
“I’m finished with my correspondence, so I am going to retire to my room for the night. Would you like to join me?”
It’s an illusion of a choice, Chihiro knows it. There isn’t a universe in which he would refuse this offer. But Yura likes to ask him things like this. He wants to hear Chihiro admit his desire, assert his free will. He isn’t forcing Chihiro to do anything, all of those actions are his own. He gets some sort of pleasure from it.
“Of course, Yura-san.”
It’s enough speaking and thinking for Chihiro tonight. He doesn’t want to decide anything else tonight, maybe ever again. He hopes Yura will allow that. Based on his wide sly smile, he just might.