Exquisite and Unforgivable
[500 Themes: 300]
What is it about Bunny that is so damnably fuckable?
Kotetsu never thought he'd have these kinds of thoughts, let alone about someone like Barnaby Brooks, Jr. – some young superstar of a rich kid that one day found his way into his lap and consequentially, into his bed.
He can't find it in him to care about the 'why' or 'how' of anything, though – not when they're in the locker room after a long day, stripped down to nothing but undersuits and fuck, fuck if it doesn't cling to Barnaby just right, doesn't meld to his hips -
His narrow, fuckable, grabbable hips.
Kotetsu's gaze just keeps on wandering, tracing down those hips as Barnaby bends over, that undersuit clinging to the curves of his rear like it was meant to be there just to accentuate.
Impossible, then, not to touch.
Barnaby barely manages a squeak of protest as Kotetsu does just grab him, broad hands closed about his wrist – shoving him, then, straight into the nearest wall. It is reflex, it seems, for Barnaby's hands to reach out and claw into the wall, even as he stutters out a protest and Kotetsu's hands continue to roam, hooking into the tight fastenings of the suit, prying it open, dragging it down.
Barnaby is normally the one taking initiative, isn't he?
"Kotetsu – " The blond even seems a bit flustered, as his name is a hiss between his teeth that Kotetsu can only laugh at. His hands are on that perfect ass, then, digging his fingers into it as a slow, but no less insistent massage.
It's all worth it, for the way that Barnaby gasps and chokes on air and shoves his hips back, unable to help himself.
What is more alluring than Bunny enjoying himself to the point of incoherency, after all? It doesn't take much, it seems, and Kotetsu likes that –likes that he can rile his lover to such a state, likes that he can shove him into a wall in the locker room no matter the stupidity of the idea and just fuck him whenever he feels like it.
Having this damned infuriating upstart under his thumb for a change is nice.
"Don't make me gag you."
The threat only seems to make Barnaby pant harder, a strangled whimper leaving his throat as he clings to the wall, head tipped forward between his arms. Kotetsu can't help but shudder at the image – normally composed, cool Barnaby Brooks, Jr., sagging into the wall and trembling, knees nearly knocking and back arched to better press himself back against Kotetsu's erection that grinds into the cleft of his ass with increasing insistence.
"Then just fuck me already."
Gladly, Kotetsu wants to say, but words are wasted in situations like these, when he's fumbling to somehow get his cock free, licking a hot stripe into his own palm to rub it down the full, hard length of it because like hell he has time to find lube. He's pretty sure Barnaby would kill him if he looked for it at this point, anyway –
So everything is tense. Everything is hot – hotter than usual, tighter than usual, and Barnaby is writhing against him with just the head inside, leaving Kotetsu to grunt, grabbing his hips hard, pulling the squirming thing back onto him as his hips also grind forward, pressing himself deeper, inch by inch and leaving Barnaby panting into the open air, head falling back and curls sticking to his face in messy, sweaty disarray.
He's a goddamned vision and Kotetsu can only groan, not taking his own advice about shutting the hell up as he shoves Barnaby into the wall harder still and fucks him with hard, insistent thrusts that snap their hips entirely flush together each time.
Barnaby lifts a hand at some point, sinking his teeth into the back of it as he bends over against that wall, somehow muffling his voice – but Kotetsu can still hear him. He can feel it more than anything, with every muffled cry and groan and sigh a vibration through his very core. And freeing one hand from those hips, Kotetsu claws at the wall in kind, using that leverage to just shove himself in harder, loving how Barnaby's back bows and his legs shake and how he just sobs, pleading for a mix of mercy and more.
Kotetsu comes first – pulling out after a last few, rough jerks of his hips to splatter himself messily over the blond's lower back, and he's still panting, ragged and mindless and entirely overstimulated as Barnaby comes, too, voice entirely reduced to mewls and wordless, breathless keens.
"God," Barnaby can only manage as he just slides down the wall, dropping to the floor in a thoroughly mussed heap, "was that… did you really have to…"
The answer, as far as Kotetsu is concerned, is always yes.