「 untold feelings 」━━━ sakuatsu

─ two

Anyone's jaw would have dropped before their sins.

Atsumu sighed, mewled, and quivered when the leather whip smacked his soft flesh, breaking in a silent cry, though slender fingers had already begun to thrust all the way to the back of his throat, choking pointless prayers and supplications.

"My, why so shy?" Sakusa laughed a little. "Let me hear your sweet voice, angel."

Adrenaline ran throughout Atsumu's bloodstream like cheap liquor, consuming him deep to the core of his heart. But as much as the burn and sting felt like Atsumu's last instants, and as Sakusa's lethal thorns embraced his corium in a bouquet of black, hematoma-purple and blood-red flowers, the out-of-breath and oh-so thrilling feel still was not enough for him.

"A-ah, Omi..."

Atsumu arched his back in a ballerina's curve, resting his head against the wall to suck in a sharp breath. He was picturesque, colors he'd never even seen blossoming at the surface of his skin from black leather hits. When you contemplated his ivory skin, burning and shivering under the kiss of unforgiving fingertips, you'd probably swear an angel had fallen straight from the heavenly skies in front of your very pupils. He could've been a celestial creature, if it wasn't for his darkest pleasures - painting sin and brokenness all over his facade like a forbidden piece of artwork.

"You're awfully hard for someone who hasn't been touched yet," Sakusa taunted. He seized him by the chin, "Tell me what you want, sugar."

Atsumu wasn't exactly sure what he even wanted. Repressed disgust for the act of giving his everything for an unloving partner to take and to degrade, he'd rather let it go and not think much at all - as both rumours and Sakusa loved to paint he was best at.

Sakusa knew how much to give him, after all. The smacks were gradually getting his throbbing manhood leaking onto velvets and satin, aching for a release. He craved for more of this man's touch like it was a drug.

And he was an addict who didn't know how to quit.

"Ah, please— Omi, I need to. . .!" he complained, eagerness sung in whimpers and moans.

Sakusa trailed sweet kisses on the tender skin of his inner thighs, a childish hum of delight slipping past his clever lips. He was getting exactly what he wanted since the night had begun. Having his submissive begging and crying for his touch felt like a victory. He was in control, powerful above him, gaze burning with lust as he studied each ethereal part of his nude figure. He loved Atsumu's body. He loved to take his dainty waist in his hands, to draw the shape of his thighs with tenderness, or to observe that little sway in his hips anytime he walked past him in a corridor or at the gym. His gait was a drunk, youthful and devilish waltz. Oh! Sakusa might go insane from his charms. 

The dark-haired man wrapped ungodly fingers around his submissive's aching member, drawing each vein of his ridged cock beautifully. Atsumu sobbed, trembled, sighed, and forgot how to breathe when Sakusa's playful hand started pumping his dick up and down, spreading precome all over his length, picking up a godly speed.

It was youthful night ahead.