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Ritsu has many stray thoughts, many stray fantasies tucked in his head. He supposes it’s a result of observing, perceiving, finding the little implications between interactions and subconscious movements.
And having Tsukasa bare before him, at his mercy is certainly one of those fantasies. The fabric intertwined between Tsukasa’s wrists and the bedpost is a stunning purple to complement his eyes; Arashi thinks about these things even with sex, and Ritsu can't say he doesn't appreciate it.
But the real treat is having him under his thumb, taking all control from their king. It doesn’t take long for Ritsu to coax Tsukasa into near-climax the first time: back arching and toes curling, only to have bliss ripped away. A sputtering, confused Tsukasa is a sight to see. The second time is just as good; desperation bleeds into the anger, the disbelief of it all. He's begun to tremble by now, denied bliss twice in a row.
“Su~chan looks like he’s about to cry.” Ritsu’s voice is all silk despite the words that spill from his lips, “We’ve only just started~”
All he gets in response is a huff and a poor attempt at a glare. In contrast, the flesh under Ritsu’s teeth and tongue is soft, flush, begging to be bruised and bitten. He listens. Fangs sink into the fragile skin and Tsukasa jerks, moans in slight pain, but mostly surprise and pleasure.
Content, his fingers return to their place inside of Tsukasa while he licks his lips for any stray drops of blood. Red stains the pale and the pink, sweetness bursting onto Ritsu’s tongue. And Tsukasa’s needy and tries to take what he likes, hips jerking against Ritsu’s fingers. He decides to indulge, briefly, angling perfectly to brush against that bundle of nerves inside. The resulting cry is a reward. Fun is taken away if it’s too easy, but it’ll be a simple matter of retracting his fingers just enough when it happens. Everything will all pile together; it’s only a matter of time before that limit is reached.
Purple eyes are so, so teary–ripples shining, reflecting the heat in Ritsu’s gaze–and he only needs one more push.
Tsukasa has always been a bit of a crybaby, after all.
Like a jolt, warmth squeezes tighter around Ritsu’s fingers and muscles tense under the graze of his teeth. Climax swiftly spreads, leaving trails of fire and stars behind. And Ritsu follows through with what he’s done twice before already, depraving Tsukasa of touch by simply pulling away.
It takes a moment. Wrists straining and thighs shivering, Tsukasa and his body realize together what they’ve been denied again. He makes a wobbly, frustrated sound that Ritsu delights in.
“Ritsu-senpai–”
There’s a crack, a break in his voice, and Ritsu knows he’s done it.
The tears begin to overflow, slowly streaking down Tsukasa’s red, round cheeks. They leave shimmering streaks before slipping down onto the sheets below, nearly in tune with the heaving rise and fall of his chest.
For all the formality and honor, tears in Tsukasa’s eyes aren’t entirely new, but they’re usually much smaller, and rarer these days. Usually, frustration brought them on not long after he joined: Leo not listening to anything he said, the seemingly permanent disfunction with Knights, the time Ritsu joked a little too much about biting into Tsukasa’s neck –
And perhaps it’s frustration this time too, being so cruelly denied for a while now. But tears are also rolling down his face because he needs Ritsu that badly. Ritsu is the only one who can give him what he wants.
He leaves a kiss on Tsukasa’s cheek; it’s burning and salty from the tears. A syrupy sweetness floods Ritsu’s senses, just like moments ago, and he can’t help but flick his tongue out for a taste. Frustration, desperation, and other emotions that even he can’t decipher linger on his tongue.
“You’re as pretty as a picture, Su~chan.” Ritsu says, hazy and molten, “Maybe I should take one, and send it to the others?”
Tsukasa whimpers with need and complaint. Writhing hips crease and fold the already ruined blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, his head lolls uselessly against the pillow which doesn’t provide an answer either. That’s cute, in its own way.
They – the rest of Knights – would be jealous, definitely. Complain, or ask for more pictures; Leo would demand a video and revel in the sound. But they’ve done the same to him before, so it’s only fair to keep them waiting. Ritsu, however, can’t resist any longer. He can only neglect his body for so long, no matter how cute Tsukasa is like this – they both deserve a taste.
“Haa… Su~chan’s greedy, but I’ll be a good senpai today, okay?”
The boy’s eyes open. A spark of excitement flares back to life in spite of the tears, burning through them. How like Tsukasa.
Ritsu adjusts the position of his hips, properly settles his dick between those spread legs. Soft thighs press against his own as he presses forward, dick prodding and eager at Tsukasa’s entrance. Only a single motion is all it would take. Only a single motion is all is does take.
Tsukasa gasps, and Ritsu almost does too. The tightness is startling, crushing, even though Tsukasa is more than ready to take him, curling tightly and dragging him inside. He can feel muscles tense the more he pushes in, easily at least. Maybe it’s payback for the teasing, and Tsukasa won’t let him go.
Wouldn’t that be nice.
Ah, ah, ah escapes Tsukasa’s lips, soft and breathy like steam with every small thrust. Ritsu knows that won’t satisfy him for long, needy as he is, and they’ve done this more than enough times to learn what their king likes: the angles, where to place his hands, when to tease and when to obey. (Though it’s less fun to do the last thing too easily). And true enough, those minute sounds don’t last long when the pace quickens, when Ritsu knows it’s right, escalating into moans that are engraved into his mind. And he’s attentive; the jerking of Tsukasa’s hips when he pulls back for too long doesn’t go unnoticed. A rare initiation that swells his pride.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day…” A pause to shiver, another rush of lust traveling up his spine, “Su~chan has too, right?”
It’s too embarrassing to answer apparently, as he gets nothing but eyes screwing shut. Precum leaks from Tsukasa’s cock, has been for some time now.
“You’re too obvious when you want it. We all knew.” Tsukasa is honest and obvious in many ways, as Ritsu has learned and now loves, “Mm. I should have done something about that. In front of everyone.”
The thought tempts him, pulls him with needy hands. The thought of pinning their king to the ground, rutting into him in the remains of their practice clothes as the others watch: red-faced and excited.
He leans in with shallower motions, half-panting and half-whispering, “Would you have liked that, Su~chan? Getting fucked in the middle of practice?”
The moan he receives is cute, but it’s not an answer. Purple eyes can't dare meet his own, either from embarrassment or pleasure. No, that won't do at all. Ritsu slows despite himself. It’s nearly torture for him too, but he wants to hear it from Tsukasa’s own mouth. He wants to hear Tsukasa.
The response is immediate.
“Y… yes!” Tsukasa gasps like he’s about to die, the poor thing, eyes flying open, “Yes I would, now please, please–”
“Is that permission for next time?” Ritsu doesn’t even know where he’s going with the conversation anymore; everything is hot, Tsukasa feels perfect, and his mind is elsewhere. Anything to draw it out, “Secchan might get mad, but Su~chan’s the king…”
Legs latch around his hips in an attempt to force him closer and to continue, paired with a watery glare.
“I am. So please me properly.”
A wobbly voice that can’t hold the authority it wants; it’s more of a whine, a plea from a spoiled child. The rippling frustration on his face, fresh tears leaving trails along his round cheeks – it makes a shiver run up Ritsu’s spine. Well, he can't resist such an adorable attempt.
The scenario is filed away for later – yet another fantasy to get him through – before deciding to cooperate. But, only on his own terms. Ritsu’s patience and mercy have run dry, not giving the boy under him any time to adjust, to revel in the fullness. And even less time is given before he moves, fast and purposeful. Their flesh collides and the mattress beneath creaks its complaints.
“Is this good enough for you, Ousama?” He grins, meant to be smug but it likely doesn’t look that way. Everything is so cloudy, melting into a puddle.
With his hands tied above his head, Tsukasa has no way to muffle the sounds he makes (though he seems too far out of it to care much anyway). He can’t answer with words, only respond with half-formed moans, pleas for more, and body desperately trying to meet the harsh motions. They work in tandem, strong and messy but functional. It’s familiar.
And Tsukasa looks so at home like this, splayed out on the deep, dark sheets all for Ritsu.
Pressing closer, enough to graze fangs against that pale, vulnerable neck, Ritsu hears the rushing blood – smelling as sweet as ever. The body beneath him pulses with heat. Tsukasa’s cries are edged with a specific desperation and purple eyes squint, still streaming tears. The plea is clear and intense.
Ritsu’s had his fun, more than enough, so he doesn’t deprive him this time.
A tug of the cloth around his wrists is Tsukasa’s last signal. Ritsu watches him cum with white decorating his stomach, face shaped by the mixture of relief and overstimulation; Ritsu listens to the way Tsukasa’s sob melts into a moan, and Ritsu feels how every cry wracks his body. Emotions seep and flow, from one boy to the other.
Ritsu joins him. He keeps those hips rooted to the spot – skin and nail pressing against them – as he finally finds release too. He grunts with a shudder, allowing himself over the edge too. A tiny gasp is forced from Tsukasa below, blushing deeper as he’s filled.
Ritsu lets out a breath. He stays inside for longer than necessary, allowing himself to briefly revel in the feeling.
The world is hazy, heavy, wrapping around every limb like a blanket: a bit hard to move, yet not wanting to take it off. And Ritsu hopes Tsukasa feels the same as he nearly collapses atop his junior.
Rolling off of him takes great effort, enough to be praised. The only sound he hears is their breathing, and his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. Slowly, he regains enough energy to turn onto his side.
Ritsu watches stress and frustration melt away with a few stray tears down Tsukasa’s face, “Doesn’t that feel better, Su~chan?”
“…Ritsu-senpai…” he blearily says, soft and slurred. Unfocused purple eyes flutter closed, and open again, still dazed by afterglow. The way he breathes is heavy, but less strained, less tight than it was before their clothes came off. The curl of Ritsu’s lips is velvet. His name is always a good answer.
The restraints are undone and set to the side, for more use in the future, no doubt. Ritsu sees Tsukasa’s arms fall to the mattress, limp and exhausted as the rest of him. The room is quiet and content, heat simmering down and they both join it. Ritsu curls next to his king and presses his lips to that flushed, wet cheek again. Warm, syrupy blood just beneath the skin… it all must be sinking into Tsukasa. All the more reason to pull him closer, not to let him go.
There’s no need for a picture, Ritsu decides. They can see it for themselves next time.