⊹ ˚. BAROU SHOEI ┊ tags. . 18+, professional player barou, established relationship, afab reader, pussy inspection, oral sex (f! receiving), praising. divider creds: cafekitsune.
You are comfortable. Barou's bed has always felt that way to you. Your back rests on the soft mattress, your body sinks just a little into the blue sheets with white triangular patterns. The room smells clean as always and of the lavender spray in which Barou bathes every space in the room after he comes out of showering after a long match.
The ceiling fan makes a barely audible noise which you catch, recognizing for the first time about three weeks ago after years of spending time in his room. The window is open too, helping to keep you from breaking a sweat.
You have a pillow under your head, one on your lower back and, you're comfortable… You might even fall asleep, if of course, you weren't so excited to pay attention to him.
You crane your neck to get a better look at him and see exactly what he's doing, what he's looking for.
"Shoei…"
"Hold still," he growls, grabbing a restless foot that moves over the width of his shoulder.
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere—," you tell him, even though you know he's not paying attention to you, not to what you have to say at least.
Your stomach raises your hands with a deep inhale.
"What are you doing?" you want to stir beneath him again, acutely aware of what he's doing, or rather what he's not doing.
Every now and then you feel his fingers sinking the cotton of your panties between the folds of your pussy, other times his breath leads in hot swirls to your slit and, you know at this point your panties are soaked, dripping through them, making the material see-through.
"I'm watching." Barou replies, obvious. One thumb at a time strokes your clit in circles, the feel of the fabric kissing your sensitive area and you gasp slowly. "I can tell you like it when I do it."
"That's not—"
"Don't lie to me," he accuses you with a smile you can't see. You settle your posture again to watch, the air billowing over your heads brushes the sweat from your forehead and tousles Barou's dark strands in soft spirals. Across your 'M' shaped legs and the valley of your stomach, he gazes at you with narrowed eyes and a hunter's gaze. "You're so wet," he acknowledges, breaking the connection between his eyes to look at your pussy now.
He tosses the edge of your panties aside, the smell of sex and sweat wafts to your nose barely noticeable amidst the overpowering scent of lavender. Your breath hitches and your face feels even hotter. You know that it being summer only makes your heat that much worse.
With your pussy now naked under his nose, Barou can take a much better look at the mess he's created. His thumb helps him spread the folds apart, going up and down on the soft sensitive flesh of your inner labia.
"Hold your thighs for a moment," he commands, his voice husky.
You do so, grab the flesh just below your thighs and expand them further for him, with your feet now not on his shoulders but in the air you feel much more unsteady, weaker.
You are trembling as he squeezes your clit between index and middle fingers, as he slides a digit up your slit and your hole twitches at the sudden touch. Barou can sense your desire, noting how eager you are by the flushed hue that has taken over your pussy. Borou squeezes it, pinches it, uncovers it as if he is touching it for the first time, like a scientist experimenting. You are trembling, now harder, you call his name and regret it almost immediately.
Barou looks at you as if he hasn't touched you for days. His mouth is open, his lips wet with, perhaps sweat, his own saliva. His hair is black as if someone has tousled it with their fingers and his crimson eyes have turned dark.
"What, baby?" he asks as if he doesn't know what you want. "What is it?" he speaks after leaving a kiss on your thigh.
Your throat turns scratchy as soon as he lowers his head without losing eye contact, his tongue just a pinkish flash that you lose sight of after it sinks into you. A flat tongue lick that makes a mess of your juices, he tastes you, devours you. He takes your nectar on his tongue and swirls it around your clit, sucking and licking, increasing his stroke with each new taste.
Barou grabs your ass and pulls you further into his mouth. He raises his eyes and looks at you with your pussy in his mouth, shaking his head from side to side as he sucks on your clit.
You're not going to see him for days after today because of his practices and the big game he has at the end of the month. You know he has to concentrate, that he's not going to be distracted by seeing you in person because he can't think of anything but you when you're around, always full of devotion to you, so maybe this is his way of making you remember him, that you'll be thinking about him all those weeks until you see him again.
Barou sucks once more on your clit, your fingers loosen to grab his hair and yet he whimpers like a wounded animal. He pulls away with pursed lips from the sweet fruit he is devouring to bark— "Keep them open for me."
You do as he asks, and Barou alternates between fucking you with his thick tongue and licking your clit. Between the heat rising like an invisible fog that overwhelms you and his punishing tongue leaving you no room to escape, you have no choice but to cum in his mouth, arching your back and falling further into the trap that was him.
"Give it all to me," Barou rolls the words on his tongue, full of possession, full of egotism, proud to know that there is no one in the world who can taste you the way he does.
And this is all he will think about in the match. Every goal he scores, he'll get him closer to being with you and going home. Every game he wins, he knows it will be an orgasm he's going to give you.
"That's my girl. Drink water, you're going to give me another one."