Chapter 36 #2
My hands found the edge of his small clothes. I checked his face, his eyes, for any hint of hesitation, for any objection. His body squirmed beneath my grip, as if begging me to continue.
So, I did.
In a heartbeat, Yoshi lay before me, naked and free, completely bare to the world and open to me. And gods, was he beautiful. My breath caught.
His eyes opened.
Then one of his hands reached out and tugged at my own underpants.
“Not fair. You’re still wearing something.”
His smile chased away every shadow that had ever existed, and I found joy filling me, swelling my chest in ways I’d only dreamed.
I shimmied out of my underpants, still sitting on my knees before him, my hardness as erect as it had ever been with a glistening moisture reflecting the lamplight. Yoshi reached out, and with only his fingertips, stroked the side of my shaft.
I shivered again.
“I dreamed about this so many times,” he said, his voice tiny and as desperate as I felt.
“It’s all yours, Yosh. I’m all yours.”
He looked into my eyes and smiled again. “I know.”
Damn him and his mouth.
I folded over, taking his cock in my mouth so fast he didn’t have time to prepare or think or recoil.
I felt his body arch as I drank him in, my tongue sliding up and down, then swirling around his head when my lips reached his end.
My slurping was so loud I thought the monks in other temples might hear, but neither of us cared.
Saliva dribbled everywhere—until I sucked it back in.
Yoshi’s fingers dug into scalp, tearing my topknot apart, burying themselves into my hair. He yanked my head up and then shoved it back down, demanding I take him roughly, tip to root, until his groans grew louder than my own.
“Kaneko, fuck . . . I’m . . .”“No, the hells, you’re not.” I pulled free. “It’s been too fucking long for you to pop off like a bad firework.”
His barked laugh killed the moment—exactly what I intended. I really did want this to last. I wanted all of him, and not a moment before it had to end.
His hands reached up, gripping my shoulders, and the skinny little shit somehow flipped me onto my back and straddled my hips. He couldn’t have carried two thirds of my weight. How had he—?
All conscious thought fled as his own slurping ensued.
My hands drifted above my head, gripped the edge of the mat, muscles pulling tight, abs clenching, ass puckering, as Yoshi gripped my balls in one hand and sucked me with the force of a typhoon coming ashore.
I’d been trained to give pleasure to others, but no one had taught me to receive any of my own, not even Sakurai, despite his best efforts. Those sessions had always been part of my service, my work, an element of my captivity.
This was different.
This was freely given—and very freely received.
And damn everything in the Empire if Yoshi wasn’t good at giving.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, each in time with his head rising and falling, his hand squeezing and releasing, his tongue—gods, his tongue . . .
Then I felt his fingers slip between my cheeks, and my whole body clenched, as though my cheeks themselves became a vise, trapping his hand between them, locking his fingers in place.
I swear, his lips curled into a smile around my cock.
The fucker.
Then his fingers wormed past my defenses; one—already slickened—found my entrance and pressed against it.
“Yoshi, fucking fuck, I love you so damn much.”
He slipped inside me.
“Oh, shit, I hate you, you fucking horse’s ass.”
My cock flew out of his mouth as he choked on a laugh, but his finger kept moving deeper inside me.
“You love me . . . and you love my finger. Just admit it.”
He wiggled, hitting parts of my innards that no man had ever hit. How had Sakurai never done this? In all our times together, I had been the one to perform such acts. I had been the “man” when we’d lain together. He had never even hinted at how this could feel, how he felt when I—
“Yoshi, damnation, I can’t breathe—”
He slipped a second finger in.
I gasped and yanked at the mat’s edge. My whole body clenched as I gripped so tight I thought I might tear the mat apart.
Then he slid out, just a bit, and the torturous pleasure subsided. I gulped in air.
And the fucker slid into me again.
“Oh, gods, that feels . . .”
He pulled out.
My body felt empty, like my soul had just left and might never return.
I craned my head up to see . . . just in time .
. . he was on his knees lifting my legs .
. . oh, hells . . . then he pressed against me, this time not his fingers.
I tried not to clench, tried to relax, tried to prepare, but gods, it hurt like every ocean wave in the whole sea crashing into me all at once.
Until the seas stilled.
And Yoshi stilled.
And he was still inside me.
Filling me and making me whole.
He stayed there, unmoving, waiting, as my mind caught up to the thousands of sensations battering my heart and mind and body.
“Is this all right?” he asked.
My eyes fluttered open, and I was sure I looked like some idiot drunk on sake.
“Don’t you ever pull out. Fucking live inside me, Yosh. Please.”
His lips twisted as he leaned down, careful to remain connected, and pressed a tender kiss to my lips. A breath apart, he whispered, “I live inside you now, just as you live within me.”
I wanted to die right there—never see another day, another sunrise, another dawn. I wanted Yoshi to be the last thing I ever saw, the only thing I ever felt, filling me, kissing me, touching with all the passion and emotion and joy he possessed.
How could anyone feel like this? How was it even possible?
Then I felt him lift from me, slide back, then in again, this time less tentative, more sure, more firm.
“Don’t stop,” I pleaded. “You feel so good, Yosh. Please don’t stop.”
So he pushed and pulled.
Then faster.
And deeper.
He lifted my legs until they rested on his shoulders, giving him an easier angle to—
“Oh, my fucking gods, Yoshi! What did you just hit?”
That’s when he stopped being gentle.
He stopped being tender.
Or sweet.
Or even fucking kind.
My skinny, scrawny, lean little man slammed into me like an angry ox plowing a field.
Over and over, he reared back and roared into me, his grunts growing louder, mingling with my whimpers and cries of pleasure and pain.
I’d never needed anyone so badly, but I knew there would never be a moment I wouldn’t crave this man, desire him, want him filling me.
Then his pace quickened, his grip tightening on my legs. His cock throbbed and pulsed as it slide inside me and pulled back.
“Kaneko—”“Give me everything, Yosh,” I managed. “I want all of you.”
He pushed harder and faster.
Sweat poured off us both.
His grunt, my groans.
He reached down and gripped my cock, yanking more than stroking, his hand still slick from oil or spit or my own excitement. I couldn’t tell.
My body trilled.
My stomach tensed.
I pressed a hand to his abs and felt him do the same to mine.
“Kaneko!”My cock pulsed once, twice, then stars exploded behind my eyes, as warm wetness burst free, coating my stomach.
Yoshi didn’t stop, didn’t slow.
If anything, my release drove him harder and faster.
“I’m . . . Kaneko . . . I can’t stop . . .”“Don’t you fucking dare—”
“Kaneko!”I felt the moment he let go, the moment he began to fill me. His muscles became stones, and cock raged, harder than ever.
Then there was warmth.
And blessed heat.
Filling me.
Again and again.
Until Yoshi slowed . . . then stilled . . . then lowered my legs and lay atop me, somehow keeping his softening length inside.
“I love you so damn much,” he muttered as I stroked his hair and wished for the moment to never end.