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Humidity from the late summer evening air sticks to your skin as you knock on the door of your boyfriend’s apartment, feeling on edge.
“Coming!” you hear his muffled shout through the door. You breathe a sigh of relief, anxious to get inside. The deadlock clicks and the door opens, and finally, after a long difficult evening with your parents, you get a good look at your absolute favourite face.
“Babe!” Koutarou exclaims when he sees you, face lighting up with surprise, which is weird because you told him you were coming over. He steps to the side to let you in and says, “I didn’t know you were comin’ over!”
“Oh, uh—” you frown at him a little as you walk inside—“I texted you.”
He makes a questioning sound and pats the pockets of his jeans. When he doesn’t find anything he just shrugs and laughs. “Musta put my phone down somewhere and forgot about it.”
The corner of your lip twitches, but you find yourself unable to really smile, even though that’s such an endearing Koutarou thing to do. After the events of this evening, you’ve been feeling agitated and insecure, and now to add to that you feel embarrassed for showing up unannounced, even though it’s not your fault or a even big deal.
But nothing has been going right today and you just feel… raw. And so, standing just barely inside your boyfriend’s apartment, all of the frustration of the day bubbles over and tears spring to your eyes.
When Koutarou closes the door, he turns to you, looking happy as ever, but falters when he sees your face.
“Hey, hey, I’m glad you’re here though! I’m always happy to see ya,” he assures you, a little panic in his eyes as he rushes to grab your shoulders, tilting his head to try and get a proper look at you. “Please don’t think I don’t want you here!”
“It’s not that,” you manage to get out through the increasing stream of tears.
“Then what is it?” He searches your face, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. “What’s wrong?”
You’re not able to answer just yet, and Koutarou must realise this because instead of prying, he pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms engulfing you. “C’mere sugar, don’t cry.”
But you do cry, frustrated tears staining his t-shirt. His chest is warm and solid against your cheek and his comforting scent and the positive energy he almost always exudes takes some of the edge off of your misery, covering your wounds like a healing balm. Eventually you start to calm down, breathing more regularly. He kisses the top of your head and starts to pull away, presumably to ask you what’s wrong again, but you quickly pull him back, unwilling to let go of your solace just yet.
A low chuckle rumbles through his chest as he holds you some more, the sound soothing to your soul. He rubs your back with a large hand and rests his cheek on your head, gently rocking you both in place.
When you finally pull back, Koutarou gazes down at you with a soft look of concern and cups your face with his hand, thumb caressing your cheek gently.
“What’s up?” he asks.
You drop your gaze to the floor and shrug, taking his hand from your face and holding it between your own.
“Ah, you know, just my parents and all that.”
He hums sympathetically. “Same shit, different day?”
You nod. “Exactly.”
“Well,” he says, grabbing on to one of your hands and pulling you to his tiny living room, “Tell me about it anyway?”
He plops down on the couch, one arm slung over the back. You take the spot beside him, curling up and leaning into him. He rests his head on yours and plays with a loose thread sprouting from your jeans as you tell him everything.
You talk about the stupid little arguments that you kept getting into with your parents all evening. Well, you can’t even call them arguments because half the time they completely disregarded everything you said. And if they weren’t brushing you off, they were condescending to you like the child you most certainly are not. The more you talk about it the angrier you get. Koutarou hums every now and then to make sure you know he’s listening. Sometimes you feel his face move as he makes what you know are distasteful expressions. You know he’s working hard not to interject with his own opinions, and you’re very grateful for that.
“They’re just so… so stifling,” you grind out, fists clenching. You look up at your boyfriend helplessly and say, “I just don’t know what to do.”
He looks up thoughtfully, jaw working as he finds the words to say.
You know what he wants to say, but also know that he knows better than to suggest it. A few times over you’ve had to explain that moving in with him isn’t the answer to all of your problems, and you’re glad to see that it finally soaked in.
At least someone respects the decisions you make.
After a few moments he hums and says, “I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”
Okay, so that’s not helpful. The look you give him tells him just that.
He waves his hand and says, “I just mean- ah, how do I put this…” He thinks a moment and then suddenly his expression becomes more serious, his eyes locking with yours. “Your parents are always going to see you through whatever lens they want. Parents are stubborn like that. You know that you’re an adult, and I know that too,” he says, pointing to himself, “But to your parents, you’re always gonna be their kid, and they’re probably always gonna think they know better than you.
“It’s not right that they treat you like that,” he continues before you can roll your eyes, “But all you can do is keep makin’ the decisions that are best for you and hope that eventually they’ll start to see you through a more truthful lens.”
You chew on the side of your cheek, rolling his words around in your head. They make sense, they really do, and yet…
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s with the face?” Koutarou says, jostling you with the arm he’s got around your shoulders. “Was my advice no good?”
You look up at his face, a cute pout on his lips. Stretching up, you surprise him with a kiss. When you pull back, he’s staring at you with his beautiful eyes wide.
“I don’t know if that’s a yes or a no,” he mumbles after a moment.
You breathe a laugh and sit up to straddle his lap.
“Your advice was perfect,” you assure him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m just—” you cut yourself off with an exaggerated and frustrated groan.
He rubs your back soothingly. “What can I do to help you feel less…” he imitates your groan and you can’t help but laugh.
An idea comes to mind and you lean forward to rub your noses together, tightening your arms around his neck and ghosting your lips over his.
“I can think of one thing,” you murmur, your skin abuzz with energy that needs to be released.
“Oh?” Suddenly his hands become firmer as they smooth down your back to rest on your hips instead. “And what would that be?”
“Guess,” you say, rocking your hips down just once.
He chuckles. “You know I’m no good at guessing, baby,” he says, his hands moving to your thighs and squeezing. “Come on sugar, tell me what you want.”
“Don’t tease me, Kou,” you whine, tilting your head back as he brushes his lips along your jaw. “You know what I want.”
He moves his lips down to love at your neck, gentle warm kisses that stir up a different kind of frustration in your lower belly.
“Do you want me to—” he pauses to nip gently at your earlobe, pressing his hips up just enough—“workout some of your frustration?”
“Yes,” you breathe, too impatient to continue this game, adding, “Please, Kou.”
It’s always been both a blessing and a curse how quickly Koutarou’s mood can change, but as of this very moment, it’s probably the greatest blessing you could ever ask for because suddenly you find yourself being flipped over on your back. The couch cushions bounce once, twice, before you settle, and above you, Koutarou looms with a hungry look in his eyes.
He leans down to press his hot mouth to yours, kissing you slow and deep as he rolls his hips down between your legs. You grasp at his shirt, feeling the need to hold on to something for fear of floating away. These kisses of his tend to overwhelm you in the best way.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes are dark and hooded, and he says, “I think I can do that for you.”
And then you’re swept away by more breathtaking kisses, eager touches, and soft approving moans.
Before you know it, both of your shirts are off and Koutarou’s kissing down your sternum to your belly where he takes a moment to nuzzle the softness there. And then all of a sudden he’s blowing a raspberry and you’re shrieking and giggling.
“Kou stoooooop!” you whine, pushing his head away playfully.
“Aha!” He grins up at you. “There’s the smile I’ve been looking for!”
You bite your bottom lip, heat warming your cheeks. “You’re a goof.”
He hums. “I’m your goof.”
Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you can’t keep the adoration out of your voice when you say, “Yeah, you are.”
He kisses your belly sweetly in response and then starts to undo your jeans. Once those are off he slides off the couch onto his knees and takes hold of your legs, guiding you to sit upright.
“Watcha doin’?” you ask him, even though you already know.
He spreads your legs apart and then starts laying kisses on your thighs. “Lovin’ you,” he answers simply. Then he grabs your hips and drags your ass forward so you’re sitting just on the edge of the couch.
And then he dives right in, kissing and mouthing at your pussy through your already damp panties.
“F-fuck, baby,” you moan, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging the way you know he likes.
He groans against your pussy, the sound vibrating nicely against your clit.
“No more teasing,” you beg. “Take me to your bedroom and fuck me.”
He turns his head to nip lightly at your thigh. “Don’t wanna fuck here?”
“As much as I love this couch, I think I’d like more surface area to work with.”
Laughing loudly, he grabs you around the waist and pulls you tight against him. “Hold on tight,” he says, giving you just enough time to wrap your arms and legs around him before getting to his feet, lifting you up with him effortlessly.
He carries you to his room, only bumping into a few things while you both giggle into distracting kisses. When he drops you onto his bed, you’re breathless and giddy, watching appraisingly as he finally strips the rest of his clothes off. Once he’s good and naked, he joins you on the bed. Kneeling between your legs, he makes quick work of your underwear before picking up where he left off on the couch.
His mouth is hot and wet against your pussy, tongue working your clit like magic. It’s good, so good, but you want more. Need more.
“C’mere,” you pant, patting his shoulders to get his attention.
He crawls up your body and immediately takes your mouth in a searing kiss, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue fueling your arousal. You push on his shoulder to get him to roll over, and he lets you. Then you straddle his hips and sit up, gazing down at him as you unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out as it slides down your arms.
“Fuck,” Koutarou swears, eyes raking over your fully naked body, “You’re so hot.”
You smile and toss the bra to the side. Feeling up your boyfriend’s muscled chest, you ask him, “Can I ride you?”
“If you don’t, I’ll die,” he answers earnestly, hands already caressing up your thighs greedily.
Smirking, you reach beneath you to take his cock, pulling a soft gasp from him. You feel a little badly for rushing the foreplay, but you need him inside you now. And he doesn’t really seem to mind when you finally, finally sink down onto is cock.
And fuck does it feel good, the slide easy with how wet you are.
Koutarou fills you so fully, so completely, your breath hitches. A blissful curse slips through your lips that Koutarou echos.
“You feel so good, baby,” he says, squeezing your hips appreciatively.
“So do, hah, y-you,” you respond as you slide up his cock and then back down again, relishing the drag against your walls.
You roll your hips, starting slow and then steadily picking up your pace. Eventually Koutarou grips your hips tighter and urges you on until your bouncing on his cock in earnest. Koutarou thrusts his hips up to meet you on each drop, just pounding pleasure into you. The sounds of heavy breathing and mattress springs creaking fill the room, interrupted only by grunts and moans.
Koutarou’s gaze hardly ever strays from your bouncing tits, and when he clearly can’t hold back anymore, he sits up, abdominal muscles straining, to get a nice faceful of them. He licks and sucks at your nipples, driving you absolutely crazy. As you continue to rock and roll your hips, his mouth eventually finds yours in a hot, wet kiss, his arms wrapping around you tightly. Blissed out, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug his head back, revealing the gorgeous span of his neck. He groans wildly, a hint of a whine in there, which means he’s close.
That drives you even crazier, rocking down harder, taking him deeper, as the pleasure builds and builds. Soft whines escape your throat as you tremble just on the edge.
“Come on, baby,” Koutarou pants by your ear, hot breath ghosting over your neck, “Come for me, sugar.”
And that does it. You gasp loudly as you shudder, coming hard on his cock.
Suddenly, Koutarou starts to shake, nails digging into your skin, and then you feel him filling you up with his own release, prolonging your pleasure.
It takes some time for you both to come down, breathing heavily. When Koutarou slips out of you, you settle down in his lap properly, resting your head on his shoulder and letting him hold you as you both bask in the afterglow.
“That was fun,” Koutarou says eventually.
“Mhhm,” you giggle tiredly.
A moment of quiet, and then he asks, “You feel better?”
You nod into his shoulder. “Mhhm.”
A chuckle reverberates through his chest. “Tired now?”
“Mh.”
You can hear the smile in his voice when he suggests, “Should we shower and go to bed then?”
“Only if you carry and hold me the whole time,” you murmur.
He squeezes you gently and says, “I’ll never let go of you.”
A tired, happy smile plays across your lips.
“Good.”