#2: Sugawara x Daichi // BDSM
I’m going to hell for this but at least it’s better than 50 Shades of Grey. Also as a brief clarifier, Suga and Daichi are in a pre-established relationship, so the reason he kisses each of the toys/tools is because they’ve set up that as his way of consenting to them. (And at some point I’m gonna end up writing something with iceplay bc I read this /fantastic/ fic with it so if you guys are into that you know what to do).
Enjoy and honestly thank you for your patience <3
“You’re late,” Sugawara’s voice-a warm, rich chocolate of a tenor-echoes from within the bedroom, an uncharacteristic edge of ice to it that has Daichi sucking in a breath through his teeth.
“Maybe you’re early,” Daichi responds after a beat, bag sliding off his shoulder into a crumpled heap on the ground. “You said six-,”
“And it’s one minute past,” Suga continues, arching an eyebrow, his hair gleaming silver in the dim light filtering through the window.
“So it is,” Daichi agrees easily, his breath hitching in anticipation, his gaze flicking down to his watch-the numbers wink back at him, glaring red in their conspiracy against him.
“You should make it up to me,” Suga suggests simply as he gets off the bed, turning his back to Daichi as he deliberately draws the curtains shut, the rasp of metal on metal the only sound in the room.
“Your wish is my command,” he replies, fingers steady but for a slight tremor as he unbuttons his shirt. “Master.”
Sugawara’s lips curve upwards, the playful sparkle in his eyes turning to a sadistic glint. “Of course. The bed, please; no clothes.”
A smile tugs at the corner of Daichi’s lips as he makes his way to the plush bed they share, leaving his clothes in a pile near his bag before he does so.
“Eyes closed,” Suga orders, and the pebbled, ochre surface of the ceiling is replaced by darkness and the feather-light pressure of his eyelashes against his skin, the caress of a draft dancing across the bare expanse of his skin, the duvet slowly warming at his back.
Daichi swallows, anticipation already mounting inside him; he can hear Sugawara moving, the soft pad of his footsteps on the carpet, the groan of the hinge on the closet door-once, then twice as it’s closed.
“Safewords?” Suga asks as he leans over him, then the whisper-soft winding of cloth looping around his wrists, pulling taut as they’re fastened to the bed.
“Ukai, no, traffic lights,” he responds, his voice hitching as he’s blindfolded, the fabric cool against his eyelids.
“Good boy.” A light kiss to his lips, the edge of his jaw still rough with stubble, the hollow of his throat. The flat of his belly, the insides of his thighs. A whisper of breath against his hardening cock, a barely present puff of warmth dragging out a ragged exhale from his throat.
His ankles are next, the cuffs chill against his skin and the bar separating them rigid when he experimentally tries to close his legs. Daichi is spread across the bed on his back, left with nothing but the cloth behind him and around his joints, the sound of his heartbeat drumming anticipatory in his ears-and, if he strains, he can hear Suga’s measured breaths.
“Let’s get you nice and ready,” he whispers, and Daichi shudders in response. “How are we?”
“Green,” he answers, and something smooth and round-several somethings, actually, are teasingly wrapped around the head of his cock and left to slide down to the base, beads rolling gently against his member, leaving trails of pleasure in their wake.
“Good, good,” Suga responds as he arches his hips up into them, desperate to capture the fleeting friction the toy provides. The coil of beads rolls against him as it’s pulled off slowly, teasingly, the balls clacking softly against one another as they pool presumably onto the bed. Daichi draws in a deep, shuddering breath and shifts slightly, settling into a slightly more comfortable position.
A slow drizzle of liquid onto his hole has him tensing reflexively, the cold of the lube consuming all his attention as it lazily drips past his entrance.
“Green,” he murmurs in response to the tentative press of a bead against him, the sphere now liberally coated in lube as it slides in easily, a slight stretch, mild discomfort until he shifts his hips again and lets out a soft sigh.
Then another, slightly larger this time; the burn is present as a whisper in the back of his head now, but it’s hushed as the first slides further inside him, brushing against his prostate just-
“Just like that,” Suga commands, his breath a hot puff against Daichi’s cock as he moans loudly, a third bead already slipping into him-the same size as the second, he thinks hazily. The next is slower to come, eased in more carefully though Daichi still feels the low, humming sting of the stretch, drawn out this time, the sort of easy pain he could get lost in if he’s not careful.
“That was the biggest,” Suga says, the others pressing into him quicker now, onetwothree, four. Daichi lets out a ragged gasp; with every breath, every involuntary motion of his, the beads shift inside him, pleasure as they rub against his prostate mingling deliciously with the touch of pain from the stretch-it’s perfect, exactly how he likes it.
“Those are just going to stay in there, now,” he continues, and Daichi can picture the wicked grin curving his lips. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll take them out just the way you like it so you can cum, how does that sound?”
Daichi nods, his words stuttering against the heavy breaths he’s taking.
“Though I don’t think it’s fair that you get to have all the fun,” Suga adds, his limbs bracketing Daichi as he slides up his body, the curve of his ass pressing firmly against Daichi’s cock in a silent promise.
The best response Daichi can manage is a strangled moan, but it seems to be enough.
“If you’d keep your mouth open just so,” Suga tells him, the phrase a command as he settles his knees on either side of Daichi’s shoulders; all he has to do is lean forward blindly to press an open-mouthed kiss-sloppy and wet-to the head of his cock.
“Eager, but I didn’t say you could do that, did I?” He can hear the frown in Suga’s voice, and then he’s moving away and Daichi is almost on the verge of begging for him to come back already. “Here.”
Worn leather brushes lightly against his lips, and he can’t help the groan of anticipation that rumbles in his throat. He leans forward, kisses the flogger; he’s choked with want, it builds to an insistent heat flaring in his gut, his toes curling with desire.
The tails trail down, a soft caress along his jawline, pausing to rest in the hollow of his throat just long enough to make his breath catch as he waits for the flick and sting, the slow suffusing red burn marring his flesh, but it goes further, susurrating against his collarbone and-
There it is, and he almost keens, hands pulling at the restraints as jolt of pain shoots straight to his cock-
And again, the heat smouldering upwards-
And again, and Daichi thinks he can come just from this, from the echoing residual burn against his chest, the agony straddling the razor thin line of pain and pleasure, delicious the way he likes it-
One more, harder than the others, and he can feel his balls tighten, his cock throb, his breath coming short in anticipation for that last strike-
“I think that’s quite enough for now,” Suga remarks with all the casualty of someone commenting on the weather, and Daichi lets out a ragged, pleading gasp, already near the verge of begging.
His lips part, his head tilting with a question-answered by a shift forward, and suddenly Suga is in his mouth and he simply swallows his words and widens his jaw, keeping his eyes trained on the figure perched above him.
He laves his tongue along the sides, tracing a vein that has Suga arching his back, a hand coming to fist in Daichi’s hair and he groans at the pull and sucks him down greedily.
He hollows his cheeks out, taking him in until silvered hair is pressed against his nose and all he’s breathing in is the scent of Suga’s skin, until Suga starts to move and Daichi can picture him with his head thrown backwards, jaw slightly dropped, a study in pleasure as the dim light of the corner lamp gilds every inch of his body in pale gold and shadow.
Then, then he simply holds his mouth open, ignoring the building ache in his jaw, dragging his tongue to swirl against the head as Suga pulls out just to the tip. Daichi pictures the flush spread crimson against his cheekbones and his chest heaving as he suckles on it delicately, flicking his tongue against the slit and relishing in the tang of salt he tastes there.
He tries to lean forward, to take more in, to please Suga; in his mind he sees him come undone, his lips parting in pleasure, eyes screwed shut, to hear a strangled groan rip itself from his throat as he climaxes, but-
“No, I won’t give you that satisfaction,” Suga says, though his voice is breathy, husky with arousal. Daichi ignores the pang of disappointment in his chest and obediently lets his lips fall open as Suga shifts backwards, his erection gleaming wet. He licks his dry lips, moving his jaw soundlessly to ease the ache.
“Color?” Suga asks again, his voice returned to its impeccable cool.
“Green,” Daichi breathes out, the thrum of anticipation dancing through his veins again as the flogger trails lower, the tails trickling downwards to pool on the underside of his ribs, the sensation eliciting a shiver.
It pauses there, and Daichi sucks in a breath, mouthing a plea as the other’s impassive mien takes him in dispassionately-Daichi doesn’t think he can handle it if it rests there longer, if the weight remains and settles, he’s ready for the pain, the sting the-
Suga’s lips curve upwards into a smirk.
Thwap, onetwothree, four.
Daichi lets out a long, ragged gasp, his breath catching in his throat, oh god-
And again, twice more in quick succession and he can feel the blood rushing to the surface, the pulse in his cock, every hit multiplied by the anticipation, the pleas he can already feel bubbling to his lips-
And again, oh god Suga, he thinks, and doesn’t know if he’s saying it out loud, chanting his lover’s name like a prayer-
Once more and he’s teetering on the brink of orgasm, so close he can almost taste it, his hands clenching into fists from where they’re suspended above his head-
“Please,” the word tumbles from him, wrenched out and raw with need, and he’s desperate now, praying for release as Suga slides up his body, pressing against the places he’s been flogged with an incredible aching burn.
“Not yet,” he breathes into Daichi’s air, and the disappointment here is a tangible thing, he’s wrung out and stretched thin in the best way possible but it feels like torture, being this close and being denied. “Not until I say so, slut”
Suga practically purrs the word, and Daichi savors it, lets it slide sticky slow through his mind like molasses as Suga moves back, the warmth of his body vanishing but for two points of pressure on the mattress beside his hips-
“I told you, you made me wait,” Suga continues, displeasure dripping from every syllable, and Daichi is about to apologize, a thousand ‘sorry’s springing to his mouth if that’s what it takes he doesn’t mind, and then-
Suga’s sinking onto him, taking his entire cock inside in one go, and he’s enveloped in a tight, wet heat and the realization that Suga must have prepared himself, fingers sliding and scissoring inside him, almost does him in.
“You made me wait,” every word is punctuated by a roll of Suga’s hips, “so, you have to wait too. And don’t you dare think of coming first.”
Daichi nods, desperately trying to ward off the climax, thinking of anything but Suga riding him, about the pain still stinging at his torso, the slow burn of his wrists in the cuffs and the strain in his legs from the spreader.
And then he hears Suga moaning, and he knows that his cock is pressing against his prostate every time he moves, just like the beads inside him have shifted and are pressing against Daichi’s, sending curls of pleasure racing up his spine, his toes curling.
“Now!” Suga commands, his voice almost a shout, and Daichi wants to weep but he practically sees white against his eyelids as his orgasm crashes into him and the world around him vanishes, Suga’s name leaving his throat in what he thinks is a howl.
He’s vaguely aware of something splattering against his stomach, hot and wet, of Suga carefully moving and then collapsing onto the bed beside him, the sound of both their labored breathing anchoring him as the world fuzzes back into being.
“We’re good,” Suga gasps out, his forehead, damp with sweat, resting against Daichi’s shoulder. “Give me a minute and I’ll get you out of those restraints.”
