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It starts on Tuesday morning, but there are only two things you can remember about the first part of your day: the shape of Aomine's lips and the chocolate he spent the better half of the train ride sucking off the tips of his fingers. He doesn't notice you staring until he's gotten through the end of the magazine spread across his lap, and even then, Aomine flashes you a casual but wry smile that says he's dangerously close to cracking open the thoughts inside your head.
The train finally slows to a stop. The shuffle of movement around you is distant to your ears. You move on autopilot toward the exit, Aomine's hand closing on the curve of your hip. You step out into the bright sunshine and onto the well-traveled pavement. Aomine presses himself up against your back in a needless gesture to guide you onward, and it's innocent enough, but you can't rid yourself of the salacious thoughts that pierce your mind like a time-worn tattoo.
You let Aomine guide you toward the direction of his apartment, grateful for the first time since he put down his security deposit that it's only several blocks from the train station. After you've managed the first block, with your head so high in the clouds you can taste moisture on your tongue, Aomine reaches out and takes you by the hand. You shudder involuntarily at the contact, making Aomine laugh as he laces your fingers together.
“What's up with you today?” he asks, his timbre resonating and low. It's the same syrupy drawl you've heard scores of times, but the sound of his voice has always left you susceptible to vulnerability. It's the shake of his words and the way they scrape raw against the back of his throat. It adds to the heat pooling in the low of your belly and the desirous thoughts swarming your brain. It's not as simple as a throw-away feeling, and when you manage to rouse the focus to face him, his downward gaze strips you open and leaves you bare.
“It's nothing. I'm just a little distracted, is all,” you confess. But as soon as you've finished a silent prayer that begs for Aomine's trust, you know that it's futile because his steps have turned stationary, and he's pivoting to face you directly.
You don't shy away from his gaze, but you're already swimming deep in the cold ocean blue when he tips your chin up. You hang on to the hope that he hasn't been paying close attention to your strange behavior, but you think that it's improbable. And sure enough, just as you've lost yourself to the hidden treasures in his eyes, Aomine drags the pad of his thumb across your mouth and says: “You haven't been yourself lately.”
“Hmm?” you hum in question, your voice dissolving beneath the pressure he's applying to your lips. You're dazed and slightly confused, made worse by the fever spreading through your veins and the anticipation thrumming through your heart.
“This is what I'm talking about,” Aomine says, laughing. “Over the past few days, you've been spacing out constantly. It's like you're daydreaming all the time.”
“I'm sorry.” It's only a start, but then Aomine sweeps his tongue out across his lips, and you feel your knees go weak. “I... I guess I didn't realize,” you stammer, unaware that you're staring at the damp bow of his mouth.
“Yeah...” Aomine intones and furrows his brows together in an expression of disbelief. "And you've been doing that a lot too." He ducks his head and forces you to tear your gaze away from his soft lips. “Come on, ____. Spit it out. What's going on?” Aomine lifts your joined hands before unlacing your fingers to kiss each of your shaky digits in turn. He turns your hand over and drags his mouth across your palm, up to your wrist. The corner of his mouth lifts like he's fully aware of what he's doing to you, and he's getting drunk off what it's doing to his ego. He flicks his tongue out to taste your skin, and you have to close the cool edges of your teeth on the bottom line of your mouth to keep from whimpering. Still, you emit a soft, appreciative sound, and Aomine chases the gentle vibration with a low moan.
“Get a room!” someone calls, and when you follow the sound of the voice, you spot a boy with shaggy hair covering his eyes and an impressively large bubble hiding his lips—he reminds you a bit of a sheepdog.
“Get a haircut,” mumbles the boy to his right, with eyes so dark and lifeless you wonder if he's even human.
“Hey! Whose side are you on?” The first boy, dressed in clothes too big for his body, asks the other. When he turns away from where you're watching, the sun catches on his cheek, and you notice a dark bruise shading his cheekbone, visible just beneath the fall of his hair. He nearly throws himself at his—suspected—friend, and to your surprise, Aomine ignores the entire exchange in favor of watching you.
“What?” you invite, blushing when you recognize the weight of his stare. You tuck a section of hair behind your ear and shy away from Aomine's touch when he gently nips at the inside of your wrist.
“Nothing. I'm just a little distracted, is all.” Then he lifts his shoulders in the barest hint of a shrug.
“Oh, shut up.” You laugh and shove at his chest, rolling your eyes. “Don't hassle me.”
“But it's so fun,” Aomine says, smiling wide and bright. It imbues you with a sense of comfort, and you can't help but return the gesture.
“What is it about boys picking on the girls they like? It's not flattering, and it's not like it endears you to us or anything. It's just annoying.” You try to inject as much truth into the statement as possible, but you can't seem to stop smiling.
“Well, if I know anything, it's when I've pushed a girl too far” –Aomine wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close– “and I certainly haven't gotten the vibe that I've been bothering you lately.”
“That's because I could stamp it on your forehead, and you still wouldn't pick up on it,” you tell him, tilting your head back to look up at him as you return his embrace.
“Nah. I don't think so. I look in the mirror too often to miss something like that. 'Sides, there's nothing to pick up on. I think I've managed to pinpoint the real problem.”
“Oh yeah? What's that?” You loosely clasp your hands behind his back and rest your head against his shoulder. You can hear the faraway scuffle of the two boys from a moment ago, but you pay them no mind. Nothing is more important at this moment than the way you feel for the boy wrapping you up in his warmth.
Aomine plants a kiss on the top of your head and squeezes you tightly before he bothers with a response. “I think you're starving for affection.”
“Well... I'm not the best at expressing how I feel. But I wouldn't say that I'm starving,” you trail off, wondering if this will be the catalyst to a deeper conversation. For a moment, anxiety takes you by the hand, and fear lances through the beat of your heart like a defective stitch. You inhale a deep breath, but before you can release it, Aomine takes back the reins of your mutual conversation.
“Not that kind of affection,” he says, almost purring the words of effectuated redress. “I'm talking about sex.”
“What?” you shriek and tug out of his grip. “What in the world would give you that idea?”
“Do you mean before or after what you just did? Because if I had to say, that was a pretty solid indication,” he grins.
“You're just trying to get me to agree because you're horny—you're always horny. You know what? Do you know what you are? You're a gigantic pervert.” You nod several times to underscore your statement, then attempt to walk around him but to no avail. Aomine thrusts his arm out against your chest and cuts off your path.
“Don't try and throw this off on me, kitten. Facts are facts, and I've busted you checking me out more times over the past few days than the entire time we've been together.” Aomine drags his gaze down your body, calculated and feral, and it makes you feel like he's stripping you out of your clothes on the spot. You absentmindedly cross your arms over your chest and attempt to rub the chill from your arms. “Don't think that I haven't noticed. The way you've been watching me, the subtle touches, how you've been touching your lips and rubbing your thighs together...” Aomine's mouth tilts on a slant that spells trouble, and despite what that look means, you can't ignore the electricity that spreads to heat between your thighs. “You want me. Bad.”
“Of course I want you. You're my boyfriend. That's kind of the point." You try to push past Aomine's makeshift boundary, but he wraps his arm around your waist and spins you around. His lips brush the shell of your ear, and for a second, he only breathes against the sensitive organ. A shiver wraps around your spine like a snake, and you shudder violently.
Aomine chuckles so that the soft sound reverberates against your eardrum. “If I were to touch you right now, I bet you'd be wet. You were thinking about something dirty on the train, weren't you?”
“Daiki!” you hiss, writhing in his unshakable hold. “We are in public!”
“Sounds to me like you're trying to avoid the question.” Aomine flicks out his tongue and traces the outer curve of your ear. “What was I doing to you when you were daydreaming?”
“I wasn't...” You exhale all of the oxygen in your lungs in one loud huff, and you're just about to give in when you catch a second wind to prove your (false) innocence. “Wait one second! You were looking through that stupid magazine! You weren't even paying attention to me. You're just trying to goad me into saying something you can use to your advantage!”
Aomine laughs and braces his hands against your hips. “Nice try, kitten. I've flipped through that magazine a thousand times and probably jerked off to it just as many. I've got it memorized.” His fingers dig in against your skin, and you feel desire pulse through your clit. “I'm more interested in the real thing. So I want you to stop pretending like you weren't fantasizing about all the things I could be doing to you on that train.” He presses a kiss to the nape of your neck and begins to rub small circles over the skin above your hip bones. “If you tell me what you were thinking about, I can make it happen. C'mon, let's have some fun together.”
“You act like we've never done anything together before,” you mumble, suddenly grateful that you're not standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Still and all, a group of people passes you by, and you can't help but feel like they're staring right through you. Your face grows hot, and you can almost guarantee that the heat is evident in the flush that often colors your complexion. It's a physical gesture of your bashfulness when you're in Aomine's company. “Can we at least get home first?” you ask timidly.
“As long as you get naked as soon as we get inside,” Aomine teases. Then: “How can you be so innocent one moment and so unleashed the next? I know what you're like when we're alone. Don't try to play coy with me.” Aomine slips a thumb beneath the edge of your waistband, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden contact. “You're fucking savage.”
“Fine! I'll tell you. It's not even a big deal,” you issue in defense. “I was thinking about your mouth.”
“If it's not a big deal, why are you making it one?” Aomine quips, but the question requires no answer, and he offers no time for one. “What was I doing with my mouth?” he continues effortlessly, his voice thick and honeyed.
“Well, you certainly weren't talking, I'll tell you that much,” you deadpan.
You can feel Aomine's chest shift against your back, and it's easy to tell that he's laughing. “You're impossible. Let's just get back to my place. That way, I can use my mouth to teach you how to answer questions without giving me a twenty-minute runaround.”
Aomine steps around you and resumes the walk toward his residence. You quickly follow in tow until you're matching his steps. “How exactly are you going to do that?” The question leaves your throat before you can swallow it down, but truth be told, you don't want to; you're curious.
“I guess you'll have to wait and see,” Aomine answers. “But I meant what I said about getting naked when we get home.” He wets his lips, then smirks.
“Yeah, and I meant what I said when I called you a pervert,” you grouse while trying to ignore the anticipation winding tight in your gut. In truth, you love that Aomine is so sexual; even taking his ego and his arrogance into account, his animal magnetism outshines his flaws, and you're more than happy to be trapped in the jaws of his carnal ambition.
You just wish that the walk home didn't feel like a trek across the sea.
You can't recall a time when you've been divested of your clothing so quickly—furthermore, you're surprised to find that during the barrage to get each other out of your garments, the only damage caused is a single broken picture. Aomine curses as he walks over the shattered glass, but there's no place for pain in the hunger written across his face. He's too focused on feasting on his prey, and when you cup your breasts to brush your thumbs over your nipples, you can see his eyes visibly darken under the shadows of his longing. Your soft peaks respond to your touch, and when you lift the weight of your breasts in an offering, they've already grown flushed and achingly firm.
Aomine slides his tongue between his lips and steps close enough to stand in the space between your knees. “You know just how to please me,” he praises, his eyes glistening and glazed with heat. His cock, half-hard, brushes your skin when he leans forward to lay a trail of open-mouthed kisses across your collarbone. The gentle sensation makes you shudder, and if the wall at your back were a living species, you'd be indebted to its support.
You let your head fall back and moan, shivering as Aomine moves to drag his tongue over the hollow of your throat, up the base, and to the rapid thrum of your pulse. He scrapes his teeth over the rhythmic quaver and bites down, firm enough to leave a mark but not hard enough to cause you any lasting pain. You whimper, and your body glides away from the wall as if Aomine is a Näcken and you're his violin. He strings you into sound as he shifts lower, kissing down the narrow valley between your breasts. He slides the soft warmth of his mouth over the swell of your chest while he braces his hands against your hips and drives you back against the wall. His hair tickles your skin, but you quickly forget the titillating sensation to the wash of pleasure that inundates you when Aomine circles his tongue around a hard nub. He flicks his tongue across your nipple before taking it fully into his mouth, and it's both a blessing and a curse. The sensation heightens your senses and makes the arousal cresting between your thighs a feeling you can't ignore.
“I love your tits so fucking much,” Aomine purrs and rubs his tongue against a swollen peak, then he moves to the opposite side. He pays equal attention to the corresponding nipple until you exhale a moan-crossed cry, and for as pleasurable as you find his ministrations, you need more.
You spread your legs and reach for Aomine's strong hand, his fingers pressing hard against your hip. You lift his touch away from your skin. Away from the sweat and the future bruises and guide his hand to the heat between your thighs.
The invitation is clear, and Aomine is happy to accept it. He sucks your nipple between his lips and scrapes his teeth over the sensitive tissue before drawing back to impale you with the brilliance of his watchful stare.
“I don't think it's my hand you want here,” Aomine proposes, sliding his fingers between your wet folds. He slowly drags his tongue across his lips, and it can only be intentional. But you believe that he doesn't have to try his hand at seduction because it comes naturally—and with any effort, it becomes a dangerous proposition. “Is this where my mouth comes into play?”
Aomine rubs the pad of his thumb over your clit before he drops to his knees. He inclines headfirst and peppers your thighs with kisses, his tongue catching at your skin every other inch. You're almost sure that you can smell your arousal, so when Aomine presses his forehead against the low of your belly and inhales deeply, you can't help but flush.
Aomine slides his hands up your legs, slow and teasing until his thumbs are brushing the apex of your thighs. You bite down on your bottom lip and tip your chin down to look at him. A breath catches in your lungs, and you feel momentarily paralyzed; Aomine is looking up at you under the dark lines of his lashes, a crooked smile on his lips. He stares at you, into you, while he gently pulls open your labia and exposes you in ways that send heat prickling down your spine. “Tell me what you want, kitten,” he commands. He leans forward, his hair sticking to the damp of your skin as he presses a chaste kiss to your clit. “Tell me what you want me to do to this pretty pussy.”
“Fuck,” you whisper, shivering in a way that has nothing to do with a chill. “I want you to use your mouth on me,” you reveal, your voice shaking apart in the dark of your throat.
Aomine turns his head a fraction and nips at the curve of your inner thigh. “How?” he asks, his voice teeming with filthy implication despite the simpleness of his question.
“I hate you,” you say, the untruth more breath than actual speech. “I suppose this is what you meant when you said you were going to teach me. Honestly, you're just making me suffer.” You exhale a long sigh and reach out to card your fingers through Aomine's hair, your nails scraping against the line of his scalp. It allows you a moment to muster up your courage, and once you do, you speak as quickly as you can. “I want...to feel your mouth against my cunt. I want you to put your tongue inside of me. I want you to make me come just by eating me out. Is that clear enough for you?” Your voice is straining and an octave higher than usual, but you're happy that you've managed to formulate what you know he wants to hear all the same.
“That should work,” Aomine claims, far too satisfied with himself. “Oh, and for what it's worth, I like making you suffer. It's good for you.” He grins, ducks forward, then traces the tip of his tongue between your labia, all along the line of your slit. You squeal, and the sound is pathetic to your ears, but you can't find it in yourself to care. Aomine hums and the pulse of it shakes through you. He draws back and makes another show of licking his lips, now glistening with the evidence of your arousal. “You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you? Your pussy is so fucking wet for me. Can you feel this?” Aomine asks and subsequently drags a finger over your dripping entrance.
The only reply you can offer is a plaintive whine, but Aomine isn't looking for an answer. He's already circling your clit with his tongue and slipping a single digit into your tight heat. He drags himself lower, his nose pressing against the throbbing of your clit before he finally sets to drinking the arousal that's overwhelming your cunt. Your knees begin to shake, and you clench desperately at the short blue strands bristling between your trembling fingers. Aomine moans and pushes his tongue deep into you as if he's a desert man thirsty for rain. He sucks your labia between his lips and fucks you on his tongue, and you can feel your inner muscles tighten in an attempt to draw him in.
Aomine moans and purrs, and you don't have to look down at him to know that he's stroking over himself. You squeeze your eyes shut and push your hips closer, grinding yourself down against his tongue. You tense your fingers against the crown of his head, and Aomine shoves his tongue deeper. You feel your body throbbing against his ministrations, and when he shifts to suck on your clit it's the catalyst that tips you over the edge and into the light. You involuntarily buck your hips forward and flex your fingers against Aomine's skull. He wraps an arm around your trembling frame and presses the flat of his palm against your backside. He holds you there, firm and fast, while he manipulates your clit with practiced precision.
Your breasts rise and fall with your heavy breathing, your stomach tenses, and a rush of pleasure surges through your veins like a desirable drug. You're not convinced that you've ever come so hard before, and you're surprised at how long the feeling lasts. Aomine keeps his tongue moving until you tug at his short strands in an unstated request that begs for respite. He draws back with a strangled groan, and after wiping the glossy mess from his chin, he finally works himself up and into standing.
“I think that's the first time I've ever felt a girl come against my tongue. I can actually feel it in my lips,” Aomine says, absentmindedly reaching up to touch his mouth.
“Does it bother you?” you slur, too exhausted to frame your lips around proper articulation.
“No, it's fucking hot!” Aomine exclaims brightly. “Truth is, I could go again.” He moves as if he's going to drop back to his knees, but you quickly reach out and clutch at his broad shoulders.
“No, no, no,” you plead around a soft smile. “I think my heart would stop beating if I came like that again. In any case, not right now.”
Aomine laughs and reaches out to stroke his fingers over your thigh. “Do you think you can handle a quick fuck? I'm about ready to explode here,” he says and grips the base of his cock to underscore the personal importance of the statement.
“Are you asking if you can selfishly use my body for your pleasure?” you needle playfully. Though you're already lifting your foot off the ground to wrap your leg around his backside. You reach down and carefully slide your fingers over the slick on your skin to hold your cunt open. “I guess you have earned yourself a reward.”
Aomine smiles and tilts himself forward to guide his flushed cock into your ardent body. He closes his eyes at the wet contact and overlays your moan with one of his own. You press your heel against the arc of his ass and pull him closer, deeper into your hypersensitive sex. You gasp and clench around his thick member, then bow your head to watch as he pushes into you. His cock is thrumming and swollen from the rush of blood collecting at its head, and when he draws back, you can see the slippery sheen of your arousal on his tan skin.
It doesn't take long before Aomine capitulates to his body's demands. He ducks his head to kiss you with what stamina he has left, and his tongue slides into your mouth as he undulates his hips. He grips the underside of your thigh and shifts to set his teeth against your pulse as he shudders his way through orgasm. His body is rigid, and his limbs are shaking, and you don't realize that your nails are drawing lines down his back until he unhurriedly removes himself from your body. His release is sticky and warm, and it nearly tingles as it slowly trickles down the inside of your thighs.
“I'll never get tired of that,” Aomine admits, his breathing labored and face flushed.
“Which part?” you ask, going slack against the wall.
“Baby, when it comes to you... I love all the parts." Aomine reaches out to stroke his fingers over the contour of your cheek. “Though I do have to say that I love how you taste.”
“I suppose that's a good thing since I love how you use your mouth.” You lift your hand languidly and trace the shape of Aomine's lips. “Well, most of the time.” You huff a breath of tired laughter, and Aomine offers you a slanted smile when he grabs your wrist. He takes your fingers into his mouth and closes his eyes as he sucks the salt from your skin.
You don't say anything in opposition or encouragement. However, when Aomine blinks open his eyes to look at you, you note that his eyes are beginning to affect you in the same ways his mouth has. Your cheeks flush dark, and your heart hammers in your chest, and when Aomine takes you firmly by the hand, you give in to the gravity of a falling star.