This moment is leagues above anything he’s ever experienced in the bedroom. He’s not new to fucking, but holy shit Eren is making him feel like he is. It’s like stepping from the first level of hell straight into the seventh.
There’s so many wires crossing right now. Being roughly shoved against the fridge. The chase that lasted a few fucking pathetic seconds. Hot indignation did rise at his quick capture. That's what stirs his response.
“Who else? Do you want me at someone else’s mercy?” He daringly throws back.
How the fuck was he supposed to know he’d just vault over his counter like that?! If his mind completely blanked witnessing the display of raw strength and skill…it’s never leaving his lips. As if that wasn't enough, the memory of Eren slide across the counter with all the arrogance and confidence of a predator will live rent free in his mind now. He tried to fight back, doing what he could to break against the searing hold. Though it was too late, Eren was overpowering him in this position. He was completely tamed by the other for now, and that was completely turning him on. If that growl could undo his pants, they would be on the floor.
His body is sinking into his voice, caught up in it’s low pitch and rasp. Leaving him sick with eagerness. To see what exactly his lover is promising, because right now he’s blazing through everything he expected. Leaving him in the complete unknown, and that stirs something dark in his mind. Doors once locked away, now suddenly creaking open with desires he never voiced after…Sasuke’s that’s not…no. Not normal dude.
No no, back on Eren. Only them. He forces those thoughts back, they aren’t going to ruin this. To fully shut them down he’s struck with the sudden, intense need to see him. Heaving out a breath, he tries to think. All he needs is small opening, a tiny window of surprise. All to see that unfiltered dark desire in their vibrant, captivating eyes. Needs it like fucking air. He uses a quick burst of strength and his well-earned flexibility to maneuver himself into a new position. It leaves his captured arm at awkward angle, but now they're face to face again. All the air in Sasuke’s lungs escapes at the raw pure hunger pacing in his expression. That eats up whatever doubts that were threatening to rise. Everything in that expression is because of him. For him.
"Yours, only your mercy," he corrects himself, because how could he ever want anyone else with that starving, ravenous look.
If his attraction to them wasn’t bad, it’s just gotten worse. Way, way worse. It setting him on fire. Without thinking, Sasuke jumps up and throws himself forward without warning. Arms wrap around broad, inked shoulders and his legs wrap tight around his waist. There’s no concern or worry about being dropped, because he knows Eren is going to catch him. Always. Without thought because like he said: they just do it.
There’s no coming back from this, and he doesn’t want to. Doors once shut from past experiences are being teased open. Desires and wants slithering out, excited at the crack of freedom. It’s fucking empowering to have someone who isn’t stepping back, but instead stepping into them. Chasing him, shoving him against the fridge. What’s fucking next?
“No it won’t be,” he finally answers, breathless. Catching the tail end of their tease. See what he gets for telling others he can sense storms! Still it draws a smirk as he looks down at them. The hold having him slightly higher than Eren. Fuck he wants to kiss him, crash his mouth against theirs. Give this tightly coiled tension it's release. At his work it almost happened. Eren had been gone for a trip and showed up at the end of his shift. They collided, full of desire, affection, and longing only to be interrupted by Sasuke’s phone going off. He had to take an hour long cold shower that night.
“I’m sensing…” Sasuke pauses to relish the high from their rapt attention, and the power of the storm outside. After a slow swallow, he looks down at them.
“You might have time for more, or am I putting too much on you?” Raising his own brow at them, his hand idly traces one of the tattoos near his neck. Mischief plays in his eyes, the traces of red in them glowing like steady embers. His fingers slide up his neck and trace the shape of his jaw. With kissing on his short-circuting brain he runs his thumb along his lower lip, seeking a peek of those fangs he's always curious about.
“We can try the window,” he continues, his pupils expanding with excitement. "With the way you vaulted yourself over the fucking island, let’s see if you can hold me up for a round.” He tilts his head, completely cat like. “Or if I haven’t tired you out, then I’m going to have you on your back riding you with everything I have left.”
