“Caring is the foundation of all this, Arakawa-san. If you don’t let me take care of you, you don’t need to come back after today.”
That shuts me up.
Just like that.
“I’m going to push a finger in,” he says quietly, fingertips circling my rim, the ointment slick and sticky. “Is that alright?”
My instinct is to snap something smart, but my throat closes around the words. Instead, I nod, breathing sharp through my nose.
“Yeah.”
And not just ‘yeah’. It’s‘fuck yeah!’
The pressure comes slow, easing in with too much gentleness. One finger. Just one. But it burns—a dull ache edged with heat. My stomach jumps. My cock pulses. My hands clench into fists against the backs of my calves, the rope digging into my wrists.
“I’m going to add another. Is that—?”
“Yeah. Shit—yeah, fine.” I grit my teeth while my cock leaks another streak down my stomach.
The second finger stretches me wider, dragging a low sound from my chest. It’s not pain, not with the ointment softening the edges and the way he moves like he knows what he’s looking for.And when he finds it—when the tips of those fingers press just right—I twitch so hard the rope bites into my arms, and a shock races up my spine so fast it punches the air out of me.
“Fuck,” I rasp.
He pulls back slightly, just a fraction.
“Too much?”
I let out this messy breath, jaw clenched, body twitching.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
And then he pushes back in, slow and fucking deep, and fuck, it hits different this time. His fingers don’t move fast, but they know exactly where to go. He curves them just a little and—shit—there it is again. That spot that makes my legs shake and my cock leak.
It’s not some delicate shit. It’s raw and hot and filthy. Feels like something’s lighting up behind my navel, this electric pressure building fast. His fingers rub over it again and again, and every time it shoots straight through my spine, makes me grunt and buck uselessly against the rope. It’s like getting kicked in the balls, but, like,in the best way.
“Fuck, right there—” I choke out, biting down hard on my bottom lip.
“Looks like you enjoy surrender,” he says, looking straight at my face. I close my eyes. “Don’t look away from it. This is what surrender feels like. Nothing hidden, just you letting go.”
I want to yell at him. Tell him to shut up. But there’s nothing left in my mouth except breathless, broken sounds.
And Naoya keeps going, moving just right, pressing just enough. I lose track of everything except the tension building low in my gut, coiling so tight it aches. And I can’t thrust, can’t grind, can’t chase it—only lie here while it builds and builds and builds.
“I’m going to add another one,” he murmurs. “Okay?”
“Yes,”I hiss. “Fuck. Please—yes.”
He shifts his weight. Angles different. And then—
“Ah—!”
I choke on it, back arching as much as the ropes allow. Every part of me is on fire. My cock pulses against my stomach, untouched. I feel full. Stretched. Shaking.
“I’m going to—” I gasp. “Just—fuck—do whatever.”
Silence.
Then his fingers curl indeep, press and hold.
