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Every step Taichi takes is agonizing.
At first, the pleasure was barely noticeable, a distant ache in the pit of his stomach. But now, as the day had gone on, it grew into something that was more a distraction than anything.
Taichi’s focus shifted from the flowers (which he is supposed to be enjoying, that’s the whole point of being here!) to the plug sitting neatly inside of him. It had been Omi’s idea, his boyfriend pulling him out of his comfort zone with new things to try, and with Taichi being so eager to please, he accepted with no hesitation.
He’s starting to regret it now though, and he can’t even imagine what he looks like to the crowd of people around him as he stares off into the vibrant colors in a daze.
“You okay?” Omi asks, a smug smile on his face.
He’s been a presence next to Taichi this whole time, his hand gripping his shoulder being the only thing grounding Taichi as they weave through the crowd—but that sends electricity tickling down his spine too, and he looks up at Omi with pleading eyes, a whine escaping his lips.
Omi chuckles and quietly says, “You’re being a good boy, so hold on just a little bit longer for me.”
“But—” Taichi bites his lips as someone bumps into him, the plug inside him shifting. He tugs the hem of Omi’s shirt, making him lean down with mirth dancing in his eyes.
“How much longer, Omi-kun?” Taichi whispers into his ear. “I, I don’t think I can—”
Another person bumps into him, and Taichi grips Omi’s shirt like a lifeline as the plug shifts again, now resting snugly against his prostate. Tears prickle his eyes, and how embarrassing is that?! If anyone sees him, it’s not like he can just casually say that the flowers are making him emotional or something!
An arm still around his shoulder, Omi guides them to a more secluded area, away from the people that seem intent on bumping him all day. To anyone looking, it might seem that Omi is “saving” him from them, even though he’s the reason why they were walking on that crowded path in the first place.
And speaking of anyone looking…
Feeling a gaze boring into his back, Taichi hesitantly takes a peek over his shoulder, shuddering when he makes eye contact with the silver-haired man leaning against a tree.
“Taichi?”
Omi moves in front of him and places both hands on his shoulders. Taichi watches his own reflection in worried amber eyes as Omi lowers his voice, no hint of amusement in his tone this time. “Are you okay? Can you continue?”
Taichi shakes his head.
“No, no, it’s just…” The questions process a tad late, and he flails his arms, wincing when the plug shifts some more. One problem at a time, please! “I mean, yes, I’m okay, Omi-kun! And I can! There’s just, um, I think the guy over there kept staring at us for a while?”
Taichi doesn’t dare let his eyes stray from Omi as he glances around discreetly for the said guy. He sees Omi’s eyes harden before they return to him, the grip on his shoulders tightening slightly. “Mm. Should we give him a show then?”
Eyes wide, Taichi shakes his head frantically, the movement only jostling the plug inside of him more and making him collapse into Omi’s chest.
“Omi-kun, I, I…!”
The thought is appealing to be honest, but how can he even suggest that!
“It’ll teach him a lesson about staring at what’s mine,” Omi all but growls into Taichi’s ear as he holds him.
Taichi breathes heavily onto Omi’s firm chest, needing a moment to process everything—the plug, their audience of one, the suggestion, everything. He’s too hypersensitive and he needs some form of relief as soon as possible.
He’s (almost!) not above being bent over and taken right here.
“I-If I’m yours, wouldn’t you want… want to keep me hidden?” Taichi pants out, trying to be teasing, but the desperate clawing at Omi’s shirt says otherwise.
Omi appears to mull it over for a moment before making eye contact with the stranger behind the tree. Taichi can’t see much past that, but before he knows it, Omi is hauling him back through the crowd.
He trips over himself, trying not to think of the plug, trying to focus on the beautiful colors and aromas around him—
Trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably finally about to get what he wants.
Mentally reciting his lines for an upcoming play as they navigate through the crowd to distract himself turns out to be quite effective. When he blinks, he finds them not in the designated area for the flower viewing anymore but in the parking lot. Beside him, Omi detaches himself from him to approach his motorcycle, grabbing the helmets and handing him one.
Mind still hazy, Taichi takes the offered helmet on autopilot, barely registering that Omi has taken a seat.
Omi hasn’t spoken a word since, and Taichi’s breath stutters at how the other fiddles with the helmet in his hands, taking deep breaths as if to control himself.
Is he angry…?
“Omi-kun?”
“Sorry, Taichi,” Omi says without looking at him, voice rough that makes Taichi’s knees weak. “We have to go now or I will take you right here.”
Omi puts the helmet on and turns to Taichi, who has been frozen on the spot.
Even though the visor is tinted, Taichi can feel the heat in his gaze. He scrambles to wear his helmet and all but jumps onto the motorcycle, arms automatically wrapping around Omi, only to let out a loud moan as the plug pushes in deeper. Fortunately, the helmet muffled his voice, but Omi definitely heard it, if his shaking shoulders are any indication.
With great difficulty, Taichi opens his helmet visor.
“Omi-kun!” he wails, gripping Omi’s shirt tighter.
Taichi sees stars as he clings to Omi, trying his hardest not to come right there in his pants. He’d tied a sweater around his waist earlier to hide his erection, but it does nothing for him now. All of the stimulation, from the walking, to the bike, to before the festival in the dorms when Omi had slipped it in—it’s all too much.
“Just hold on tight,” Omi commands, voice muted from the helmet, and Taichi quakes behind him.
All he can really do is hold on as Omi takes off.
He swears Omi takes the scenic route, too. Normally, he’d like to watch all the trees and cars and water go by them, but he can’t focus on anything aside from the plug inside of him, every bump and curve shoving it against his prostate. Electricity shoots up his spine with every turn, and he can’t, he’s not gonna make it—
Taichi is disoriented, erection throbbing in his shorts and rattling his brain by the time the bike stops.
“We’re here,” Omi sings, and Taichi is jostled, another moan ripped from his throat. “Did you enjoy the ride?”
Taichi’s vision is hazy, tears clinging to his lashes and making it hard to see through the visor of the helmet. He can’t move, can’t think, can barely breathe, and when Taichi opens his mouth to respond to the question, he can only let out a soft gasp.
Understanding his dilemma (since he’s the reason for it in the first place!), Omi gets off the motorcycle and removes his helmet before helping Taichi remove his.
Taichi trembles, hands balled into fists on the now-empty space in front of him. He looks down and tries to control his breathing, not wanting to look so much of a mess that everyone will know exactly what is going on just by looking.
(But maybe that’s what Omi-kun wants all along.)
Strong arms wrap around his torso, and in the next moment, he’s slung over Omi’s shoulder. Taichi squeaks as he feels the blood rushing to his head… and to his cock, which is now rubbing against Omi’s chest at every step he takes. Oh god, oh god.
He hurriedly slaps his hands to his mouth, eyes tightly shut, and he’s so, so close, and oh god, is he really going to do this right in the lobby of the motel—
“Just a little more,” Omi murmurs, and Taichi tries very, very hard to hold it in. His underwear is damp, but this will all be worth it once they get into a room, right? Right?! Hang in there, self! We can do this!
He thinks Omi says something about him not feeling well to the person at the front desk, and really, the person has probably seen worse than a grown man being treated like a sack of potatoes so there’s really no point in trying to explain themselves and can they stop making small talk???
“Omi-kun,” Taichi hisses, taking a hand off his mouth to slap on Omi’s back rhythmically. Tap out, tap out! “Please.”
The hold around his legs tightens. After a gruff thanks to the receptionist, Omi turns on his heel and takes the stairs, each step bouncing Taichi over his shoulder. Taichi clenches his thighs and crosses his ankles.
“Omi-kun, Omi-kun—!” He chants Omi’s name like a prayer, clutching the back of his shirt for dear life. He’s not gonna make it, he won’t make it—
The door swings open, and Taichi, dazed, is set down on his feet, spun around so he’s leaning with his hands against the wall. Stable hands curl around the waist of his shorts and tug them down along with his boxers. The air is cool around his cock, throbbing and leaking out in the open.
Taichi rubs his thighs together, pleas still falling from his lips. Omi doesn’t waste any time; Taichi feels the pressure against the plug—its base designed to look like a carnation—before it’s ripped out of him, immediately replaced with something short and wet.
“Let go, Taichi,” Omi whispers into Taichi’s skin before spreading his cheeks and continuing with his tongue.
And really, Taichi wasn’t going to last a single second even without the command, but the words wrap around him and sink into his skin, and come splatters onto the wall as he releases so hard his knees buckle.
Omi holds him up with two hands on his ass, thumbs spreading him to lick around his hole. It’s horrible, absolutely horrible how great Omi is at this. Taichi feels like he’s dying, he wants more, he needs more, more, more—
“Ah!” Taichi shouts, slamming a hand on the wall as Omi sucks on his rim. He doesn’t care about the neighbors, or anybody outside, he doesn’t care about anything at all as the world dissolves into nothing but Omi and his lips and his skillful tongue.
Chipped paint sticks underneath his nails as Taichi claws his hand, biting his bottom lip and jerking his hips when Omi leaves kitten licks at his entrance, arching his back with a wail as the warm, moist tongue breaches him with vigor.
“This little mouth over here has been busy today,” Omi says in between his licking and kissing and sucking, the wet sounds mixed with his words too obscene. “Does it want to take a rest?”
Taichi frantically shakes his head, and the world spins. He’s oversensitive, barely able to keep standing as it is, but it’s still— “Not enough, Omi-kun! I want it, please, please, give— ah!”
The ripping sound of the packet of lube Omi kept in his pocket is the only warning he gets.
He throws his head back as his hole stretches to accommodate something much, much bigger than the plug, the size and shape his body immediately recognizing as Omi’s cock. Eyes welling up with tears, he lets out a choked sob as Omi buries himself to the hilt in one stroke.
With the both of them too eager, Omi hadn’t had enough time—between ripping the lube open and plunging into him—to fully coat himself up, so he simply pours the rest of the lube over the crack of Taichi’s ass.
It still stings… but Taichi loves it, so it’s fine.
Omi surely knows that, too.
A sturdy body pressed against him, hands firmly gripping his hips. Somehow, Taichi expects Omi to tease him some more, to make him beg for his cock, to make him say it directly.
But Omi’s labored breathing near his ear is a reminder that he wasn’t the only one holding back since earlier.
“I’m going to fuck you against this wall,” Omi says in a low tone, slowly as if savoring each word, “and then I'm going continue fucking you even before we reach the bed.”
Taichi subconsciously tightens up at the promise of mind-blowing sex, and he only realizes he does because Omi grunts, murmurs a quick you little tease, before pulling out and immediately slamming his cock right back in.
Feels so good, Taichi thinks, still grappling at the wall for support as Omi does it over and over and over again. The fingers digging into his skin hold him up, and the bruising he can already feel on his hips is the only thing keeping Taichi on planet earth.
Omi’s cock sears through his hole like it’s meant to be there—the plug was nothing compared to the real thing, always doing nothing to prepare him for Omi’s sheer size.
“Tell me how much you love it,” Omi purrs into his ear, and Taichi’s eyes squeeze out a few tears.
“Love… love it… Omi-kun— ah! So… big! Feels so, ngh, so good… oh my god…” Taichi’s words are wet as sobs bubble up out of him, tears hitting the carpet beneath his feet. His sweaty hands slide down the wall, chest and face pressed against it instead as Omi barrels them both forward.
Taichi has no time to think of how it’s not the most comfortable, only focused on the cock inside him and stretching him open.
His world tilts as hands curl under his thighs and lift him up. Still impaled on the thick cock, Taichi gasps and reaches back to thread his fingers in Omi’s hair. Get a grip, self!
But Omi starts to move, pace brutal that makes Taichi’s own cock slap against his stomach with each thrust.
“Omi-kun!” Taichi wails. “S-So… ngh! So deep!”
Omi lifts him up without completely separating them before letting gravity do the work, and Taichi releases a silent gasp, mouth forming a perfect ‘o.’ He can do nothing but grip Omi’s hair tighter, not because he’s afraid of falling—Omi’s strong enough to hold Taichi in this position for hours if he wants to—but because it’s his only way of staying grounded with reality.
I can’t think…
“I-I’m gonna come,” Taichi rasps. There’s no way he won’t. Not with the way Omi works him open, the way he pounds him mercilessly, the way he simply takes.
“Do it. Come for me.”
Taichi stares at the ceiling blurry with his tears, cock swinging as Omi moves faster, harder, and oh god he can’t—
Incoherent noises tumble out of Taichi’s mouth, a mix of I’m coming and oh god and Omi-kun until all there’s left is a loud, drawn-out moan. He curls his toes, electricity running throughout his body as he paints the wall with his release for the second time.
Omi’s hips stutter, and despite his trembling legs, the exhaustion he can feel seeping through from the long day (and an even longer night—), Taichi tries to push against his thrusts, clenching his hole on purpose.
Letting out a guttural groan, Omi empties himself inside of him, and Taichi continues to tighten around the pulsing cock with a moan.
Taichi takes deep breaths as he milks every last drop of Omi’s seed, but he hasn’t fully regained his breathing yet when Omi wraps his arms around him and turns to the direction of the bed. It’s similar to Taichi’s favorite back hugs—except this time, he’s folding him in half, his thick and still hard cock inside him.
Taichi gasps as he bounces on Omi’s cock, some of the come dripping out of his ass and onto the floor, leaving trail marks as they approach the bed. He’s a mess, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.
The only thoughts running in his mind are of Omi’s cock, of how big he is, of how he’s filling him so deeply.
Omi keeps him held up for a moment, gently rocking his hips, cock never deflating despite having climaxed.
But then, he drops Taichi to the bed on all fours, Taichi immediately gripping the sheets for something to hold on to. A strong hand lands on his ass with a resounding smack, and Taichi yelps, looking over his shoulder with tears in his eyes.
“Look at you,” Omi says, looking so pleased as he stares right where he’s still buried in him. “Gripping my cock so tightly like you don’t want to let go.”
Not giving Taichi any time to recover, to gather his remaining brain cells, Omi pulls his hips back and snaps them forward. With a growl, he asks, “Who do you belong to?”
Taichi answers in a split second. “You— ah! You, Omi-kun! Yours!”
Omi fucks him deeply, and Taichi buries his face in the sheets to muffle his voice.
“That won’t do.” Omi grabs a fistful of Taichi’s hair and yanks him back. Taichi shivers at the way he overpowers him, hole fluttering around his cock. He’s quickly losing himself again, to the feeling of Omi inside of him and all around him.
“Let me hear you,” Omi commands as he starts thrusting roughly, using Taichi like a personal doll more than anything.
Taichi’s mouth hangs open as he gazes unseeing at the wall, saliva escaping his mouth along with his moans. He moans, loud and unrestrained, knowing that he rarely has a chance to do so when they’re in the dorms—
Knowing that Omi likes it.
Omi slows down for a brief moment to lean forward, panting hot air into Taichi’s ear. “Good boy.”
Taichi whimpers, head dropping when Omi removes the grip on his hair. He lets out a choked sob when Omi moves his hands to his waist, pounding him at a speed that has the entire bed rocking.
Arms shaking, Taichi tries—he really, really tries to keep himself up, but the onslaught of pleasure takes all of his strength away and he deflates, his cheek smushed on the bed, only Omi’s grip keeping his lower body up.
Even though Taichi makes sure that his voice isn’t muffled, he still half-expects Omi to click his tongue before fucking him into the mattress as punishment. Instead, Omi pulls out and oh no, that would be even worse—
“Eep!” Taichi squeaks when Omi effortlessly flips him around, hands flying to cover his mess of a face. At the sound of clothes rustling, he peeks through his fingers, watching Omi take all his clothes off like he’s putting on a show solely for him and blushing when their eyes meet.
Omi smirks. Taichi almost dies then and there.
“Take your shirt off,” Omi says as he grabs a bottle of lube on the nightstand.
While Taichi scrambles to do so, all previous embarrassment forgotten, Omi moves closer, giving his knees a pat. Now shirtless, Taichi grabs the back of his thighs and spreads himself open, understanding the unspoken command.
Taichi can’t help but stare as Omi strokes himself before him, pouring himself more lube before getting into position, the tip kissing his hole once more. He’s still open—willing, waiting, clenching around nothing and staring at Omi like he’s a god.
Omi doesn’t even ask if he’s ready; he just slams right in, hands covering Taichi’s own.
“Ah—!” Taichi screams out as Omi buries himself completely in him. It’s so hot, he’s so hot, and Taichi won’t last much longer again if Omi keeps looking the way he does right now.
With his hands on Taichi’s thighs keeping him spread, Omi is merciless, thrusting into him at a frenzied pace. He can’t focus much, but Taichi follows a trail of sweat from Omi’s temple and down his chest, through the perfect lines of his abs. He wants to lick it… if he could do anything but move his hands to grip the sheets beneath him.
“Can see myself,” Omi pants out, one hand sliding over Taichi’s weeping cock to touch his abdomen. He adds a delicious amount of pressure, making Taichi see stars. “Can see myself every time…”
Taichi’s not sure what he means until he glances down and— oh.
Omi’s cock is so big that every time he pushes in, Taichi’s stomach bulges just slightly, deflating only when he’s pulling out.
At that moment, Taichi just about loses his mind. That big cock, stretching him to the fullest, messing his insides, reaching so, so deep, and he kinda wanna give himself a pat on the back for—
“You take me so well, always adjusting to my size so perfectly,” Omi murmurs, mirroring Taichi’s own thoughts. “Taking my cock like you were made for it.”
All hair in his body standing up, Taichi whimpers at the onslaught of praises on top of Omi’s brutal pace. This is too much!
He removes his grip on the bed to reach for Omi’s stomach, subconsciously trying to make him stop or at least go slower. He should probably say it out loud, but his brain is mush, only able to remember Omi’s name.
Instead of stopping, Omi grabs his wrists and hauls him up, repositioning themselves so that Taichi is sitting on his lap. One hand on Taichi’s waist and the other forcing his mouth open, he slots their lips together, kissing him so obscenely, snapping his hips up—devouring him entirely.
When Omi breaks the kiss to suck on his neck, Taichi tilts his head to give him more access and tightly closes his eyes. He digs his fingers into Omi’s shoulders and moves closer for that needed friction, his cock smearing precome all over Omi as he bounces.
An upcoming wave threatens to overtake him, and before Taichi completely loses all his reason, he brings a hand down to his abdomen, relishing in the way he can feel Omi’s cock inside and outside of him, ruining him in the best way possible.
Omi goes back to kissing his lips, and Taichi opens his eyes to see his own reflection in a pair of amber eyes, previously worried but now simply hungry.
“You’re going to come only on my cock,” Omi says against his lips. “The only cock that can satisfy you, and the only one that you’re going to take until you die.”
He says it so casually, not even a command—simply a statement.
“Yes, Omi-kun,” Taichi breathes out, accepting the statement as merely a fact.
With the hand still on his stomach feeling Omi’s cock pistoning in and out of him, Taichi releases between them, entire body on fire. He arches his back and groans so loud it reverberates off the walls in time with the smack of Omi’s hips against his own. Tears stream down his cheeks, and Omi catches them with his tongue.
“Good boy,” Omi whispers in his ear, voice tight and on the edge of his own release.
It doesn’t take much, the end of Taichi’s orgasm tapering off into weak jerks of his hips and the occasional clench around the hard cock. Hips stuttering, Omi lets out a deep growl to signal his own release, Taichi’s name on his lips; if Taichi had anything left in him, the noise alone could’ve sent him into another orgasm.
He lays there, limp as Omi floods him with white-hot come, panting along Omi into their shared space. Taichi feels warm from the inside out, plugged still by Omi’s cock keeping it inside.
As he comes down from the adrenaline, Taichi closes his eyes, burying his face into Omi’s neck. Omi shushes him and presses his lips against his temple, putting a strand of his air behind his ear.
He’s so content like this—connected with Omi, filled to the brim—and exhausted that he barely reacts even when Omi stands up.
Omi takes a few steps toward… somewhere (Taichi doesn’t have the energy to move his eyelids and check), crouches down, and walks some more again…?
When his back hits the mattress ever so softly, Taichi almost falls right into sleep but snaps his eyes open when Omi slowly moves away. He whines, shaking his head, but he only feels empty for a millisecond as Omi pushes a plug in him right after pulling out, keeping all his load inside.
Taichi’s breath hitches as Omi stares at his hole fluttering around the plug, as Omi rakes his eyes over his entire body as if committing it to memory, as Omi glances up and meets Taichi’s gaze.
Softness bleeds into Omi’s eyes, taking over for the arousal that had occupied that space just a moment ago.
“What was that, Omi-kun?” Taichi pouts when Omi gives him an amused smile.
“Thought you might be uncomfortable without that carnation now,” Omi jokes.
His suffering earlier flashing in his mind, Taichi groans and mumbles, “We didn’t get to fully enjoy the flower viewing, too.”
Omi wiggles his brows, eyes pointedly flickering down. “I’m enjoying a flower viewing right now though.”
Taichi slaps his hands on his face in an attempt to hide his blush, gasping when the plug shifts inside him, a bit of come trickling down his ass.
The bed dips as Omi lies down next to him, and he gently grabs Taichi’s wrist to take his hands off his face before leaning in to press their lips together. Taichi puts his weight on Omi as their gentle kisses help him relax even further, eyelids fluttering as Omi pulls back.
“Rest up.” Omi gives him another quick peck before pulling the blanket over them, and who is Taichi to not comply? He is really tired… but seriously… what’s the plug for… when Omi could’ve just…
Taichi dozes off just as Omi whispers, “To keep you prepared for me. I’m not done with you yet.”