#and a thin sheen of sweat from running while he's still got his runner's high

[ghostaholics]

how would they even start.. doing it. like u said abt 4 months into the fake marriage what would even initiate it

the only plausible explanation is that he walks in on you getting yourself off and then offers to perform his husbandly duties by helping you out

[shinsousbedroom]

Replay

It’s a particular kind of agony that leaves Kazuya tied up naked to a chair in the middle of his living room, staring at himself playing baseball on TV while he’s sitting on a vibrator.

The agonizing part isn’t the rope or the vibes. It’s seeing his own face.

Or; Kazuya and Eijun stumble into a brand new kink in the middle of trying out another.

On AO3.

Kazuya doesn’t know how long it’s been when Eijun slips into the living room, pausing behind him with a considering hum. Eijun rakes his nails lightly across his bare shoulders, letting his fingers twine into the top of Kazuya’s hair, then jerks it back with a yearning grip.

“How’s it going, captain?” Eijun asks with a sarcasm he’s borrowed from Kazuya, eyes meeting his upside down.

The space around them is pristine and well-decorated—family photos on display, the tables and floors all dusted and clean, an outrageously nice TV mounted to the wall. There’s even a color scheme to the room, nothing like the mishmash Eijun originally wanted based on their teams’ colors. Soft, homey, and contemporary; the kind of classic place that gets featured in magazines about the lofty tastes of the rich and famous.

And then there’s Kazuya, sitting in the middle of it all, naked and tied up in pretty purple ropes to an office chair. Anomalous decor waiting patiently for Eijun’s ruin.

Kazuya can’t quite remember how they tripped into toys, then restraint, then BDSM. Something to do with him stumbling into Eijun’s poorly hidden box of dildos in university, back before they started dating. A near decade before they got married.

The neglect bit of it is relatively new, though. Kazuya has been trying very, very hard not to read into how much he likes the odd taste of an Eijun who putters around the house ignoring him, as if he could ever have zero desire to chase after Kazuya. Just the thought of it makes him desperate for Eijun’s attention and hands and dick, goddammit.

Kazuya knows he shouldn’t psychoanalyze it, some things in life don’t have reasons, but does it anyway.

But because Eijun knows he thinks like that, Eijun can’t help but undermine the actual neglect part out of concern. The minute he’s meant to check in on Kazuya’s isolation to tease him more, his earnest concern in making sure Kazuya is still enjoying himself blares out like a foghorn cutting through Kazuya’s goal of reaching his perfect, spacey sex haze.

Eijun tugs again, a mild reprimand for a wandering mind. There’s a smear of some sort of grease at the edge of Eijun’s eyebrow, but the rope catches Kazuya’s wrist when he tries to lift a hand to rub it off with his thumb. Somehow, he’s forgotten his hands are tied together at the small of his back, both too present in his own body and a world away from it. From the impish grin on his face, Eijun catches the failure.

“Is it time for you to fuck me yet?” Kazuya asks, trying to press his head further into the grip Eijun still has in his hair.

Instead of answering, Eijun lets go and kneels behind the chair, running a gentle finger over the area where the rope digs into his wrists, then kissing each fingertip. He catches a scratch of stubble on Eijun’s chin as he pulls away, crawling around the chair to sit in front of him cross-legged.

“No,” Eijun responds point blank, massaging Kazuya’s calves and checking the rope around his ankles. “And you call me impatient. Don’t I always have to wait on you to catch for me?”

“In case it’s escaped your attention, we’re not exactly playing baseball right now.”

Eijun rests his cheek against the inside of Kazuya’s thigh. His blinks are slow and lazy as he looks up with a disappointed frown, molten irises shining bright. As if he really could spend forever winding Kazuya up and dragging him back down from a high.

“That is not what I meant, Miyuki Kazuya. You’re being unreasonable.” Eijun nips at the thin skin of his knee. Kazuya barely keeps his knee from bashing into Eijun’s nose from a shock of desire. His entire body feels hypersensitive, attuned to every change in temperature and airflow while he has nothing else to do but feel. With every movement, his skin drags a stutter against the leather of the chair, sweat and lube mixed unevenly across his thighs and back, so as to catch and glide in turn.

“You’re unreasonable. You haven’t used the vibrator once, so far. It’s there, in my ass, ready for you,” Kazuya says, voice hoarse.

“So demanding,” Eijun grumbles into his skin, then picks himself up with a heave. “I know because I put it there, so I’ll use it exactly when I want to and not a second sooner.”

Eijun’s sudden distance is cold despite the heat in their house cranked up to keep them warm and drowsy. Whatever he’s been up to to keep from checking in on Kazuya too soon is working. Their last few attempts at denial had been wrecked by someone’s enthusiasm. But in front of Kazuya, it’s still too easy to see the sheen across Eijun’s brow, the way he can’t stop biting and licking his own lips. One of his heels is bouncing on the floor, the only way he can release all the energy keyed up inside of him right now.

“But you do want to.” Kazuya feels so powerful right now, pitching forward in the chair as much as the rope will let him. It’s not just the blood pounding rabbit-quick through his body that’s making him hot, but the way Eijun is struggling to maintain his cool against Kazuya’s own bratty, undermining hand. From the tempting flush of Kazuya’s cheeks to his cock filling out against his stomach, legs spread wide in invitation, getting to see his unrestrained want even as he’s tied tight just for Eijun—Kazuya must be a beautiful sight.

…So maybe Kazuya’s grasp on willpower is also nonexistent in the face of Sawamura Eijun. He literally asked for Eijun to make him wait. They are both really bad at sticking to a theme.

Eijun crosses his arms over his chest, and Kazuya loses a moment to admiring his biceps, out and armed in his casual tank top and grey sweats. “You are being way too snarky. You’re supposed to be unthinking mush for me now. Mush! If your brain is stuck running 24/7, at least set it on showing your husband gratitude. Completely unacceptable!”

He steps over to a little side table where the vibrator’s remote sits next to the TV’s. He stares at the two for a second before grabbing the latter, much to Kazuya’s relieved disappointment.

"Eijun.”

“Nope! If the silence is keying you up instead of blissing you out, you can empty your head with whatever’s on TV. Call me when you’ve learned your lesson and you’re ready to behave.” He flicks on a random channel, safe in the knowledge Kazuya hates watching TV and will only fidget more from the stimulation, then leaves before Kazuya gathers his thoughts enough to protest.

It does its job, for a while. Kazuya’s eyes go glassy at the colors and sounds, but he’s already overwhelmed by his own body when he closes his eyes to shut it out.

The commercials clear past a blur of cars, snacks, and local lawyers. And the programming starts back up again. Cutting through the silence of the room is a rowdy crowd and a set of announcers saying his name.

It’s baseball. Of course it would be goddamn baseball, in this household.

And then, with the sinking horror of watching a disaster unfold, there Kazuya is, front and center on the TV in his last game of the season.

He hates watching himself on the diamond. He can easily do it to analyze his baseball, but when he’s not focused on his form or a call or whatever the hell that throw was to third, it’s agonizing to see how obsessive the cameras are about following him between each play. He cringes at all the speculation about his future. And he sure as hell hates every time the cameras pan out to his fans holding signs asking him to marry them or—heaven forbid—something raunchier that gets blurred out when it airs.

Kazuya huffs, falling slowly out of the headspace he was just reaching, the heavy weight returning to his limbs the more his mind latches onto his own face splashed across the screen.

“And he’s out! Miyuki tags the runner in the nick of time—”

“Eijun!” he calls out, resigned at derailing the very nice night they’ve been having so far.

After a mildly concerning metallic crash, Eijun comes skidding around the corner from the kitchen. “That was fast. What’s wrong?”

Kazuya turns towards the TV with a pout.

Eijun takes a moment to parse out the fact that Kazuya’s old game is running despite it being postseason and there are plenty of other games to air with more relevancy right now, and laughs at the putout expression on Kazuya’s face. “Is that all?”

“It’s annoying.” He’s fidgety now, self-conscious in a way that’s turned his blush more towards embarrassment than lust. He can suddenly feel the rope, the bite of it distracting instead of just a soothing pressure, his chair creaking as he shifts.

Eijun leans over the back, arms smoothing down Kazuya’s chest to link together on his stomach, and presses a kiss to his hairline. The pressure of his body settles him. Eijun settles him. “You call me annoying twice a day. Get over yourself, you giant baby.” Tinny cheering hollers from the TV as someone steals a base. Above him, an impish grin lights up Eijun’s face. “What if I tell you what I see?”

Kazuya closes his eyes, relaxing into Eijun’s presence. “What do you mean?”

Eijun breaks away abruptly, Kazuya’s head dipping for a moment before he catches himself. By then, Eijun’s swung around to his front, looming over him larger than life as ever with a knee placed between Kazuya’s thighs, leaning in to cage in Kazuya’s chest and face. The chair is literally shaking from Eijun’s anticipation.

“I wanna tell you exactly what I see on screen when I see you.” Eijun’s voice dips low, mouth brushing Kazuya’s without a real kiss and building a fire back in his gut. “I’ll take you out of the rope—but I want you to stay in this chair like a good husband while I describe every detail to you and make that vibrator earn its worth. Think you can do that? Be patient a little longer? It’s always rewarding when I am for you. Let me show you now.”

Kazuya knows he could say no and Eijun wouldn’t be disappointed. If anything, he’d be ecstatic about healthy communication, it’s very important, Miyuki Kazuya! I love that you trust me like that, always, you make me so proud!

But that’s not the trust he wants to indulge in tonight. His dick is still hard and his husband’s really hot, okay? Just seeing him in all his lean muscle and eagerness is an argument that wins over Kazuya’s libido 90% of the time. It’s not a drive he wants to fight against, most days.

“Go on,” Kazuya says, surging up to steal a quick kiss.

The breaking joy on Eijun’s face already makes his impending agony worth it as he shoots off behind him to untie the rope, massaging out his arms again as he places each one onto the rests. “Stay,” he tells each hand as he carefully curls every finger around the handles.

He kneels down and flicks a glance back to the screen to catch a close up of Kazuya crouched behind home plate.

“Your thighs are so beautiful,” he says kneeling down between them, tugging the rope free. Eijun looks up, raking his nails up Kazuya’s thighs until his arms are laying down twin heavy lines of heat, pressing gingerly into the tender flesh of his waist. He leans forward so he can bat his eyelashes while his mouth is right there next to his dick, the fucker. “The way your uniform stretches across them when you’re crouched behind the plate—I don’t know how anyone can focus on the pitch when you’re right there.” Kazuya’s eyes flutter as Eijun presses a gentle kiss to the head of his cock, refusing to give him anything more than a tease. “I should tell you that more, how obsessed I am with your thighs.”

“If you love them so much, why don’t you marry them?” Kazuya bites out. It’s not the most inspired. Kazuya is distracted.

Eijun takes the question seriously, because of course he does. “I’ll marry you as many times as you’ll let me.”

“You’ll get a divorce instead if you don’t do something with that vibrator soon.”

Eijin narrows his eyes, then stomps over to the remote, swipes it off the table, and turns the vibrator on high , sending a shockwave through his body. When Kazuya’s vision clears from the flood, it’s settled down to a low, comfortable rumble, keeping him from relaxing while also making him boneless.

“You asked for mean Eijun, and mean Eijun has arrived!”

His dick is beginning to leak, especially at seeing how Eijun’s pants are tenting, too. “I’m noticing,” Kazuya says dryly.

Eijun looks down at the little remote in his hand and without a second thought, changes the pattern.

The switch drags a whine out of Kazuya, limbs spasming in response to the unexpected buzz inside of him. It’s a rhythm that steadily builds to a high intensity before dropping off abruptly, just when satisfaction might have been found. Eijun knows the way this particularly winds him up, which either bodes very, very well for Kazuya, or very, very poorly.

“It’s hard to focus on baseball, sometimes, when you radiate that stupid smug aura from striking out a batter. You make that same face in bed, y’know. In the sex chair, too,” he says, stepping forward enough to poke a divot into the chair’s leather padding by Kazuya’s shoulder. It spins lightly. Eijun swings him back around, jolting the vibrator inside of him. “But back to your thighs. They’re just right there. Constantly.”

“What do you expect, I can’t just take them off,” Kazuya says through reedy breaths.

Eijun mercilessly notches the dial up a few levels stronger.

He yelps at the wave of pressure that sweeps through his bones, only to recede with no final push towards a break. When his vision clears and he can feel the vibrator settle back onto a low hum, he glares up at Eijun’s shit-eating grin.

“Wait your turn, Miyuki Kazuya. This is still my night to monologue.” He pulls back and casually rests his arm against the back of the chair. The remote is dangling in his hand, right next to Kazuya’s face. “You could stand to be more patient, y’know.”

“That’s rich, coming from—“

Eijun grabs a fistful of hair at the back of his head and yanks hard. “What did I just tell you?”

“Tell me again,” he gasps.

“What is with this bratty behavior!” Eijun releases his grip and runs a soothing hand over Kazuya’s hair, then cups Kazuya’s jawline, moving aside to direct their attentions back to the screen.

Kazuya cringes at the camera lingering on him in the dugout, face burning. He’s just drinking an Aquarius. There are so many other people they could be showing, players actually on the field.

Eijun presses a hand to the base of Kazuya’s neck. When he swallows, Kazuya feels the hint of a promise in the pressure of each fingertip. “It’s stupid, the way you think the camera should be focused on the game. You think they’d waste time focusing on you if that wasn’t exactly what everyone watching on TV wanted to see? You’re the draw, Kazuya.

“No one else gets to think about you the way I do, though. They can look at you chugging your water or unbuckling your chest plate and fantasize, but I can watch and make a promise. Next time I see you with a water bottle, it’ll take everything I’ve got not to rip it out of your hands and feed my fingers into your mouth instead. If you think you get dirty sliding home, wait until I shove you onto the floor of the dugout. I’m gonna drag that annoying sly look off your face until you can’t even think of back talking, just stuck with overwhelming pleasure because of me.”

Eijun’s voice is raspy, crackling with fire as his nose brushes Kazuya’s ear, nibbling tiny bites to the shell between his words. “And shit, all the baseball gear? It drives me mad, how it’s your own kind of wall against anyone getting to you. You look so distant swamped in it all during a game. I wanna strip it off piece by piece and lavish each part of you below it like you deserve. I’ll start with that helmet. It’s a shame how it blocks your pretty face, but everytime it comes off, god, I wanna grab your hair and wipe every bead of sweat off your face and replace it all with come—

“That’s why I love watching your games, over and over again. Every time you show up on screen, it’s a reminder of what we get to do later.”

Eijun’s eyes flip between the screen and Kazuya, who is very, very still. And very, very quiet.

“And that’s a home run, right there! What a season for his RBI already—”

“You like me watching you like this,” Eijun says, wonder in his voice. He walks up to the TV, crossing his arms, letting a leg kick out as he tilts his head at the screen.

Kazuya drinks in the pose. The flickering lights of the screen make a hazy glow around his silhouette, the wild hair and comfy sweats, arms bare for him. He wants Eijun to turn around, to see the calculation in his head as he parses through the puzzle in front of him until he can take on the entire challenge of it with ease.

There’s something special about his observations to Kazuya, the way he pulls apart tape. Knowing the analysis doesn’t come naturally and that he learned it for the game—learned it from him. That skill was earned. And then it kickstarted a surprisingly adept analytic side of Eijun that’s opened up a world of possibility.

Like now.

Eijun spins on his heels, pacing towards Kazuya, pinching at his own lips. Eijun could stand to let Kazuya have a taste. He doesn’t care if it's of his fingers or his mouth, Kazuya is parched for anything and everything. His hisses out from between his teeth, the sweep of his eyes following Eijun’s hands, a desperate plea for Eijun to bend down just to touch.

Eijun hovers above Kazuya, refusing just that, not saying a word. His shallow breaths match Kazuya’s own, drinking his husband in. Kazuya does not reach out. It is the hardest thing he’s ever done, he swears, but he just clutches the armrests harder until his knuckles are white.

“Hey, Kazuya,” he finally says, low and gravelly. On any other night, Kazuya would shove Eijun down to his knees and feed him his cock the minute he heard that tone, balanced on the edge of breaking. He would ruin Eijun’s throat, fucking it until his voice was gone and every spoken word after served as a reminder of Eijun sucking so prettily on Kazuya’s cock.

But that’s for later. Kazuya’s being good for his husband right now.

Well, sort of.

Eijun trails a single finger down and around Kazuya’s brow, pulling down past his neck and chest, flicking his nipple on the way to his stomach. “Kazuya, if you like me watching you play baseball on TV, what do you think you’d do if I recorded you like this for me?” he says, golden eyes meeting Kazuya’s squarely. He turns off the vibrator, and the feeling of silence hollows Kazuya into a creature of pure need.

Oh, fuck.

Eijun’s pupils are blown, a maniacal grin settling onto his face at Kazuya’s frozen form. Eijun pokes Kazuya’s side and he takes a sharp breath in, having momentarily forgotten how. “I’ll sit you in front of the TV and let it play, so you can see how desperate you get for me. You can see the way your face goes soft just for me, so pliant when I touch you. You don’t believe you can be like this, can you? Always have a retort for everything, such a needling terror. But you’re so good to me, Kazuya. You open up just for me.”

And finally, finally Eijun perches a knee again on the seat between his legs, sinking his fingers into the base of Kazuya’s abs, a single brush against his cock lightning through his bones. He kneads the soft skin there, covered in wiry hair, not bothering to avoid the random touches against his cock as precome dribbles from the tip.

“I think I’d like to see you like this, too, on the screen,” he says, excitement bubbling free. “I love watching you no matter what, but I could break you down in a completely new way like this. The calls you make with your whimpers. Your form, head thrown back and gagging for me. God, and your thighs, spread out for me and not just teasing from behind the plate.” His hand moves lower, scraping a line down the inside of Kazuya’s thigh as he speaks.

“Think you'd wanna review that tape with me sometime?” He clicks a button on the remote Kazuya had forgotten about. Kazuya keels forward.

His head hits Eijun’s chest. His hands are wrapped in his tank top with a grip he can’t release. He can’t tell what the pattern or the pulse is, but whatever it is is good. There’s a clatter to the ground as Eijun drops the remote to steady his husband and maneuver him out of the chair.

Eijun reverses their places, Kazuya sitting on his lap in the chair, legs folded around Eijun’s thighs, eyes squeezing tight as he presses as much of his body into Eijun as he can. He basks in the soft cotton of his husband’s sweatpants, the ribbed lines of his tank scratching against his wired skin.

“Do you want the video to show our whole bodies in frame so you can see how you jerk with pleasure while I’m huddled between your legs and desperate to make you come?” Eijun skims a hand back to the vibrator and presses against it, then pries it out slowly, but not completely. The slide of it is agonizing. Eijun brushes it in circles, each pass knocking him higher and higher. Eijun wraps his other arm around Kazuya’s back, a firm hold keeping them close, their damp skin sliding against each other.

“Or maybe you want a closer shot, to remember the details. How slick your skin gets from the sweat and the spit. See my swollen mouth running up and down your bruising thighs, leaving my marks across your body. My fingers sinking into you, my cock splitting you wide.”

Eijun picks them both up just enough to draw down his sweats and free his dick. He slathers on a lube from the pump they keep duct taped to the back of the chair, and wraps a hand around them both. Even slicked up, his calluses scrape a fever deeper into Kazuya. “Or maybe it’s the recording more than the watching that’ll get you. You wanna put on a show for me?”

Distantly, Kazuya can hear himself keen into Eijun’s neck and spill over them, covering Eijun’s hand.

“Keep going, keep going,” Kazuya chants when Eijun falters, about to take back his hand. His voice is so weak, but it’s right in Eijun’s ear. His husband shudders—Kazuya has taken advantage of how sensitive those ears are more than a time or two—and double downs on his dirty talk and his twisting wrist.

“It would wind me up seeing you on tape when you're gone for your away games and I’m not. I could cry just thinking about how frustrated I’d feel watching you stroke yourself on camera for me where I can’t help.” Kazuya is shaking from overstimulation, world narrowed down to his dick and Eijun’s voice and hand wrapping around him. “Sinking down on a dildo when I’m not around to satisfy you, don’t even have you on the phone to help you through it. Jealous of myself holding you, a different me running my hands all over you and driving my cock into you—”

Eijun squeezes hard, coming with a groan. He lets go and grabs at Kazuya’s waist as they pant into each other. Kazuya’s fingers claw into Eijun’s shoulder and he urgently begs, “Eijun, Eijun.”

“Shit,” Eijun mutters, scrambling to pull out the vibrator, still buzzing a madness into Kazuya. Eijun’s hand is coated with come, lube and sweat still smeared thick across Kazuya’s ass. His fingers keep slipping against the vibrator, driving it back in until Kazuya’s whole body feels like static and his limbs lose their strength. It’s all he can do to keep his mind working at all, honeyed thoughts oozing through a numb haze.

Kazuya blinks and they’re on the couch. He’s laying facedown into Eijun’s chest, half on him, half under the back cushion. The vibrator is out of him, and Kazuya toys with the idea of making Eijun get him some sort of plug instead to soothe the weird emptiness.

Eh. He’d rather Eijun hold him like this, right now.

The TV is still on.

“What a comeback for the Giants,” the two announcers say, lively in their recap, “knocking the Swallows off their perch there at the end. After spending most of that game firmly in the lead, not even the catching and hitting talents of Miyuki Kazuya kept the Swallows ahead of the flock—”

The screen blinks off, and suddenly the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing.

Eijun shoves one arm beneath Kazuya and wraps the other over him, leaning him forward into his chest, “That was a surprise.”

“We might need to revisit that character sheet you made. Make a new one,” Kazuya mumbled into Eijun’s shoulder.

“Gonna have to make a new one anyway. Kuramochi ripped it up, remember?”

Kazuya snorts, recalling the horrified face Kuramochi had made when he accidentally found Eijun’s notes and research on trying to figure out how to pretend to sexually ignore his husband. For the things Eijun tries just for Kazuya, he always makes a character in his head and on an honest to god sheet of paper to play out, though half of them get tossed out pretty quickly. Honestly, it’s a miracle Eijun gets asked to do as many commercial sponsorships as he does. He’s a riot trying to act, even if he’s just acting as himself.

“I’m not the only one completely failing to play their role, here, Kazuya.”

Kazuya snorts. Somewhere between the immediate stench of sex, and whatever it is about Eijun that signals home to his animal brain, he finally realizes the house smells good. Like something’s baking.

He sniffs the air twice, trying to place it.

Eijun looks on, bashful and arrogant at once. “I made dessert.”

“That’s what kept you occupied earlier. What kind?” he asks suspiciously.

“Lemon bars. Extra sour. No sugar on top,” he said, nose wrinkling in judgement.

Kazuya lets his head slap back down into Eijun with a smirk. “I don’t think those will smear as easily across my nipples as the dark chocolate pudding did.”

Eijun pinches his waist. “That is not why I made them. These are meant to go in our mouths.”

“Technically so was the pudding. And it did. Eventually.”

Eijun sputtered and ducked his head to press his own face into the crook of Kazuya’s neck. “It’s annoying how much I love you.”

Kazuya can feel the smile pressed into his skin. “I love you, too, Eijun.”