On Your Knees, Pretty Thing
The motel room is dim. The curtains barely shield the flickering neon signs outside, casting dull red and blue streaks across the bedspread. You’re not even sure how you ended up here with Toji, but you know exactly why you stayed.
He’s already half-dressed, shirt shrugged off his shoulders, black pants undone, waistband riding dangerously low. That cocky smirk is on his lips again—lazy, taunting—because he knows you’re staring.
“You gonna sit there lookin’ like a fuckin’ meal,” he drawls, “or are you gonna do somethin’ about this?”
You sink to your knees before he can finish the sentence.
His belt clinks when you tug it free, and the way his breath hitches makes your core tighten. He’s already thick, half-hard, and growing fast beneath your fingers. You look up at him through your lashes—intentionally innocent, your tongue dragging across your bottom lip as you stroke him, slow and teasing.
Toji groans, low in his throat. “Don’t fuckin’ tease.”
But you do. You press a kiss to the swollen head of his cock, tongue circling lazily, tasting precum and power. One of his hands threads into your hair, not tugging yet, just resting heavy. Waiting.
“You like it when I look up at you like this?” you murmur against him, your lips dragging along the length. “When I take my time?”
He grunts—“Yeah. But I like it better when you choke on it.”
That’s all the warning you get before he guides your head forward, sliding his cock past your lips. He groans, deep and satisfied when your throat flutters around him, a sharp contrast to how his muscles flex as he holds you there for a second—just enough to make your eyes water.
“Fuck, that mouth…” His hips twitch. “You were made for this.”
You suck him deeper, spit trailing from your lips to your chin, the sloppy sounds echoing in the quiet room. He watches you the whole time, eyes dark, chest rising and falling like he’s barely holding back. Your hands grip his thighs for leverage as you bob your head faster, tongue working under the weight of him.
He pulls your hair harder.
Your throat tightens around him, gagging slightly, and he moans. Loud. Head tilted back now, abs tensing. “Just like that. You gonna let me use your mouth, sweetheart? Huh?”
You hum around him, nails digging into his skin, and the vibration makes him swear viciously. He fucks into your mouth harder, sloppier, balls slapping against your chin with each thrust.
You’re drooling, mascara running—but you don’t stop. Not until he snarls your name, hips stuttering, then spilling down your throat with a guttural growl.
Toji looks down at you, sweat on his brow, still panting. He drags you up roughly by the chin, smearing spit and cum across your lips with his thumb.
“God damn,” he mutters. “We’re not even close to done yet.”
