The shower cuts off just in time for Mo Ran to hear Tomoe call out that he's arrived, which is worse timing than he'd like— he had wanted to be dressed again— but he can work with that. Not that he really does need to get dressed, considering the clothes will just be coming off in a few minutes anyway.
"I'll be right out," he calls, although he takes his time, drying his hair quickly, leaving the ends of it still damp, and pulling it back into a ponytail, and brushing his teeth as he does before any encounter, a habit picked up thanks to his love of spicy foods. Anticipation builds under his skin, an all-encompassing fire that threatens to consume him. With how focused he's been on his teacher, walking a fine line between wanting to wreck the older man and cherish him, Mo Ran hasn't had time to indulge his passions, venting his energy in various exercises. They help but even the most strenuous of exercises don't leave him satiated in the same way as a good round of sex, and his hand will never feel the same.
So this is promising, someone willing to indulge his base passions. Eager, in fact. Mo Ran grins at his expression in the mirror as he looks himself over, knotting a towel around his waist. It doesn't do much to hide the half-hard erection he's sporting, but it feels a little more gentlemanly than simply striding out nude.
He does finally step out of the bathroom, gaze zeroing in on Tomoe. He's blonde and pretty, shorter than Mo Ran, all of which suits him just fine, and clearly not dressed to impress. Not that it matters: the clothes will be off in minutes.
"I didn't think you'd actually show up," he says, idly, as he crosses the room to the other man, smiling at him. His eyes gleam violet-black with lust, a sharp contrast to his playful smirk. He only stops when he's a hand's width away from Tomoe and he extends a hand, cupping his chin and tilting Tomoe's head up.
Mo Ran's visual appeal was in a range he hadn't expected. Maybe he ought to have put more consideration into what he wore but what Tomoe considered cheap was still not that inexpensive. Besides, they had already agreed to sleep together. No further convincing was necessary.
Maybe it was Mo Ran's height that made Tomoe wobble off balance in his mind upon first seeing him. At 6'1, it's uncommon to find a man who could match up while living in Japan. And that stunning long hair... That, he expected the least of all. In all honesty he had assumed Mo Ran's appearance would be far plainer.
Well! Things were looking up from an already bright spot. And speaking of looking up, Tomoe was being forced to do that. Right out of the gate, huh? There was usually a little more conversation to these types of encounters. Not a lot, but a sort of awkward dance while one adjusted from the everyday dust of the real world into the closeted boundaries where filthy sexual fantasies were acted out.
"Why?" Tomoe doesn't resist. As he'd suggested in their conversation there were few things he would refuse to do, or endure. It was a pleasurable touch in its simplicity; setting the stage for Mo Ran as his dominant for the evening.
The question was genuine. Tomoe had not given him a reason for doubt, as far as he could judge. Did young men lose their nerve? That was probably true. Tomoe had been told three times this week alone he had a lot of nerve. Showing up to let a complete stranger use and abuse his body probably took a degree of recklessness Tomoe forgot other people didn't have.
"Lots of people talk a big game but chicken out." His grin sharpens, less a pleasant expression and more wicked. "But not you, hmm?" Which suits his needs, someone willing to let him use their body for his base desires.
Tomoe really is quite pretty, reminding Mo Ran of Shi Mei, even if their coloring is very different. When he had a crush on the other boy, Mo Ran hadn't been able to picture doing anything to him beyond maybe kissing him or cuddling, a big contrast to the sorts of sexual torture he envisioned for his teacher, things he still wants to do to him but feels guilty about. Having someone as pretty in his hands makes heat pool low in his gut, and he's looking forward to that night even more, cock twitching with interest beneath the towel.
Really, he should be offering the other man drinks, or perhaps some polite conversation to ease the way into this, but Mo Ran is mostly naked, only a towel preserving his modesty, and eager to get this started. Why delay the inevitable?
"Remind me again the things I can't do to you." He shifts his hand a little so he can run his thumb over Tomoe's lower lip, pulling at it before letting go and sliding his hand lower to curl around his neck. "Do you want me to stop when you say stop?"
As he'd thought, then. Cowardice. Tomoe's pride did not allow for anything less than sincerity. He meant what he said. Although probably unintended, it gave him a nice ego boost. Whoever had talked a big game but walked away missed out on the look in Mo Ran's eyes, the erotic aura radiating off his skin. Risk paid off. Mo Ran fucking him until exhaustion was a very sweet reward.
That glint of wickedness was lovely. It suited the angles of Mo Ran's face and the villainous locks still scented with hot water. It dawned on him that maybe he'd wanted to be offered that drink just so he could memorize Mo Ran's beauty while he still had a mind capable of thinking of something besides pleasure. He hadn't wanted to slow down before he'd seen Mo Ran for the first time, after all. Barely dressed, stray water droplets clinging to his skin. The perfect collaboration of muscle and bone. Interesting. Tomoe didn't surprise himself very often. So, he was attracted to the darkness inside the other man and his outside appearance. It wasn't always like that.
Fortune upon fortune.
Tomoe's lip responds when touched, bouncing a little - he really is soft with a mouth that was sensitive. It made his breath quicken and heart pump faster. Just a taste of the power and exploitation that laid in wait for him. Tomoe's gaze wandered greedily over Mo Ran's face, his hand and forearm, his shoulder and exposed clavicle. What a beautiful man.
Tomoe's throat pulses when that hand touches him. He isn't...scared. Maybe he should be. Maybe he should be wide-eyed and intimidated. Mostly, he's fascinated by Mo Ran's behaviour. The thickening bulge, barely concealed, between his legs. A cock waiting to spasms its load down the throat being confined.
"No." Tomoe decided right then. He wouldn't bother with a safe word. It was meaningless. Either Mo Ran understood him or he didn't. Tomoe wanted to be understood - part of that need was why he did this. Threw himself into a beast's jaws just to find out if he'd be torn apart. "Don't stop."
On cue, Mo Ran glances down at his hands, eyeing the black gloves Tomoe's still wearing. There's a story there, Mo Ran is sure, and he's tempted to ask about it, wondering if Tomoe would actually tell him. But there are more pressing matters at hand. Namely, sex. And Mo Ran is but a simple man, driven by his desires. Put a plate of food in front of him and he'll eat; put a hot boy in front of him and he'll fuck.
So maybe later, if he can remember to ask. Get the story out of his while they're fucking, if possible; people can be surprisingly relaxed when they've gotten fucked relentlessly.
"Got it." His hand tightens around Tomoe's neck, squeezing briefly then relaxing, just a small display of what to expect later, and then he lets go, reaching for Tomoe's shirt. Button-down, easy enough to rip off, so he does, buttons flying across the room. It's impolite, but Mo Ran isn't here for polite; he never has been. He rakes nails down Tomoe's chest, hard enough to leave faint red marks behind. "On your knees."
Would it be better to strip him completely? Probably, especially if they don't want to stop to do something as awkward as removing clothes, but there's a fire burning in his veins and Mo Ran wants to see those lips stretched around his cock.
Unaware of Mo Ran's questioning, Tomoe doesn't explain the gloves. For someone who was so open about themselves and their motivations Tomoe's silence was telling in itself. But that was a story for a different hearth. The one before him now blazed hot - a fire to burn, not to soothe a cold heart.
The mix of Mo Ran's words and actions was perfect. He couldn't tell if he'd done it that way intentionally but Tomoe's breath hitched suddenly. He hadn't been as aroused as his new lover thus far but he was getting there. Mo Ran promised he wouldn't do the one thing Tomoe asked. At the same time, he squeezed his throat. His vocal cords. His voice. His music. His song. It was delicious and frightening, causing his hackles to rise up and his body to send adrenaline pumping through his body. Fight. Fight back. His breathing quickened - oxygen, his body responding autonomously exactly as it should.
Tomoe was in control. Not his body. He didn't fight. Not even when Mo Ran surprised him a little by snapping off his shirt's fastenings. He'd...sort of calling it in advanced, hence the brand-new clothes that were bought just to be destroyed. But, he hadn't known the degree of force that'd be used. That's what surprised him. It seemed so easy - even knowing Mo Ran must have done this countless times before Tomoe admired the grace behind that display of strength, the wanton destruction, the selfishness.
Startled by the pain, Tomoe's torso jerks slightly when he's treated to Mo Ran's nails. He's not unathletic and possessed an increased tolerance than average. The pressure on his throat had prepared him for one type of pain, and to have a new one replace it made the sensation sharper. Mo Ran didn't treat him like a kid... Tomoe was enjoying this. Being taken seriously. The mutual trust between a man permitted to hurt him without taking it too far, and Tomoe being trusted in return to be capable of taking it.
"Yes, Master."
It was cliche, wasn't it? Tomoe smirked, speaking without a hint of sarcasm or foolishness. They were only playing a game so why not play it up? Tomoe started by kicking off his shoes, taking off his socks, and spying the innocent buttons on the floor as he knelt to join them. Anticipation rising. Mo Ran would bruise his throat. Used and discarded, treated like trash. Just like the little buttons. Tomoe looked up at Mo Ran through long lashes, but did nothing else. There were no other orders to obey.
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"I'll be right out," he calls, although he takes his time, drying his hair quickly, leaving the ends of it still damp, and pulling it back into a ponytail, and brushing his teeth as he does before any encounter, a habit picked up thanks to his love of spicy foods. Anticipation builds under his skin, an all-encompassing fire that threatens to consume him. With how focused he's been on his teacher, walking a fine line between wanting to wreck the older man and cherish him, Mo Ran hasn't had time to indulge his passions, venting his energy in various exercises. They help but even the most strenuous of exercises don't leave him satiated in the same way as a good round of sex, and his hand will never feel the same.
So this is promising, someone willing to indulge his base passions. Eager, in fact. Mo Ran grins at his expression in the mirror as he looks himself over, knotting a towel around his waist. It doesn't do much to hide the half-hard erection he's sporting, but it feels a little more gentlemanly than simply striding out nude.
He does finally step out of the bathroom, gaze zeroing in on Tomoe. He's blonde and pretty, shorter than Mo Ran, all of which suits him just fine, and clearly not dressed to impress. Not that it matters: the clothes will be off in minutes.
"I didn't think you'd actually show up," he says, idly, as he crosses the room to the other man, smiling at him. His eyes gleam violet-black with lust, a sharp contrast to his playful smirk. He only stops when he's a hand's width away from Tomoe and he extends a hand, cupping his chin and tilting Tomoe's head up.
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Maybe it was Mo Ran's height that made Tomoe wobble off balance in his mind upon first seeing him. At 6'1, it's uncommon to find a man who could match up while living in Japan. And that stunning long hair... That, he expected the least of all. In all honesty he had assumed Mo Ran's appearance would be far plainer.
Well! Things were looking up from an already bright spot. And speaking of looking up, Tomoe was being forced to do that. Right out of the gate, huh? There was usually a little more conversation to these types of encounters. Not a lot, but a sort of awkward dance while one adjusted from the everyday dust of the real world into the closeted boundaries where filthy sexual fantasies were acted out.
"Why?" Tomoe doesn't resist. As he'd suggested in their conversation there were few things he would refuse to do, or endure. It was a pleasurable touch in its simplicity; setting the stage for Mo Ran as his dominant for the evening.
The question was genuine. Tomoe had not given him a reason for doubt, as far as he could judge. Did young men lose their nerve? That was probably true. Tomoe had been told three times this week alone he had a lot of nerve. Showing up to let a complete stranger use and abuse his body probably took a degree of recklessness Tomoe forgot other people didn't have.
no subject
Tomoe really is quite pretty, reminding Mo Ran of Shi Mei, even if their coloring is very different. When he had a crush on the other boy, Mo Ran hadn't been able to picture doing anything to him beyond maybe kissing him or cuddling, a big contrast to the sorts of sexual torture he envisioned for his teacher, things he still wants to do to him but feels guilty about. Having someone as pretty in his hands makes heat pool low in his gut, and he's looking forward to that night even more, cock twitching with interest beneath the towel.
Really, he should be offering the other man drinks, or perhaps some polite conversation to ease the way into this, but Mo Ran is mostly naked, only a towel preserving his modesty, and eager to get this started. Why delay the inevitable?
"Remind me again the things I can't do to you." He shifts his hand a little so he can run his thumb over Tomoe's lower lip, pulling at it before letting go and sliding his hand lower to curl around his neck. "Do you want me to stop when you say stop?"
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That glint of wickedness was lovely. It suited the angles of Mo Ran's face and the villainous locks still scented with hot water. It dawned on him that maybe he'd wanted to be offered that drink just so he could memorize Mo Ran's beauty while he still had a mind capable of thinking of something besides pleasure. He hadn't wanted to slow down before he'd seen Mo Ran for the first time, after all. Barely dressed, stray water droplets clinging to his skin. The perfect collaboration of muscle and bone. Interesting. Tomoe didn't surprise himself very often. So, he was attracted to the darkness inside the other man and his outside appearance. It wasn't always like that.
Fortune upon fortune.
Tomoe's lip responds when touched, bouncing a little - he really is soft with a mouth that was sensitive. It made his breath quicken and heart pump faster. Just a taste of the power and exploitation that laid in wait for him. Tomoe's gaze wandered greedily over Mo Ran's face, his hand and forearm, his shoulder and exposed clavicle. What a beautiful man.
Tomoe's throat pulses when that hand touches him. He isn't...scared. Maybe he should be. Maybe he should be wide-eyed and intimidated. Mostly, he's fascinated by Mo Ran's behaviour. The thickening bulge, barely concealed, between his legs. A cock waiting to spasms its load down the throat being confined.
"No." Tomoe decided right then. He wouldn't bother with a safe word. It was meaningless. Either Mo Ran understood him or he didn't. Tomoe wanted to be understood - part of that need was why he did this. Threw himself into a beast's jaws just to find out if he'd be torn apart. "Don't stop."
"Don't be cruel to my hands."
no subject
So maybe later, if he can remember to ask. Get the story out of his while they're fucking, if possible; people can be surprisingly relaxed when they've gotten fucked relentlessly.
"Got it." His hand tightens around Tomoe's neck, squeezing briefly then relaxing, just a small display of what to expect later, and then he lets go, reaching for Tomoe's shirt. Button-down, easy enough to rip off, so he does, buttons flying across the room. It's impolite, but Mo Ran isn't here for polite; he never has been. He rakes nails down Tomoe's chest, hard enough to leave faint red marks behind. "On your knees."
Would it be better to strip him completely? Probably, especially if they don't want to stop to do something as awkward as removing clothes, but there's a fire burning in his veins and Mo Ran wants to see those lips stretched around his cock.
no subject
The mix of Mo Ran's words and actions was perfect. He couldn't tell if he'd done it that way intentionally but Tomoe's breath hitched suddenly. He hadn't been as aroused as his new lover thus far but he was getting there. Mo Ran promised he wouldn't do the one thing Tomoe asked. At the same time, he squeezed his throat. His vocal cords. His voice. His music. His song. It was delicious and frightening, causing his hackles to rise up and his body to send adrenaline pumping through his body. Fight. Fight back. His breathing quickened - oxygen, his body responding autonomously exactly as it should.
Tomoe was in control. Not his body. He didn't fight. Not even when Mo Ran surprised him a little by snapping off his shirt's fastenings. He'd...sort of calling it in advanced, hence the brand-new clothes that were bought just to be destroyed. But, he hadn't known the degree of force that'd be used. That's what surprised him. It seemed so easy - even knowing Mo Ran must have done this countless times before Tomoe admired the grace behind that display of strength, the wanton destruction, the selfishness.
Startled by the pain, Tomoe's torso jerks slightly when he's treated to Mo Ran's nails. He's not unathletic and possessed an increased tolerance than average. The pressure on his throat had prepared him for one type of pain, and to have a new one replace it made the sensation sharper. Mo Ran didn't treat him like a kid... Tomoe was enjoying this. Being taken seriously. The mutual trust between a man permitted to hurt him without taking it too far, and Tomoe being trusted in return to be capable of taking it.
"Yes, Master."
It was cliche, wasn't it? Tomoe smirked, speaking without a hint of sarcasm or foolishness. They were only playing a game so why not play it up? Tomoe started by kicking off his shoes, taking off his socks, and spying the innocent buttons on the floor as he knelt to join them. Anticipation rising. Mo Ran would bruise his throat. Used and discarded, treated like trash. Just like the little buttons. Tomoe looked up at Mo Ran through long lashes, but did nothing else. There were no other orders to obey.