Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3803938.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      弱虫ペダル_|_Yowamushi_Pedal
  Relationship:
      Midousuji_Akira/Onoda_Sakamichi
  Character:
      Midousuji_Akira, Onoda_Sakamichi
  Additional Tags:
      Anal_Fingering, Rimming, Anal_Sex, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot,
      Barebacking, Creampie
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-23 Words: 2532
****** Tongue in Cheek ******
by mamebo
Summary
     Midousuji's tongue was very obviously made for certain nefarious
     purposes.
Notes
     This came about with a simple anon writing prompt for midosaka and
     sex. My many perversions and encouraging friends handled the rest.
     I am posting this just so I can inflict that genius title on everyone
     else. Hoohoohoo!
See the end of the work for more notes
Onoda knows he is being too loud, but he can’t help the strangled, high-arcing
gasps that Midousuji wrings out of him with every nimble twist of his long,
curious fingers, now pressing knuckle-deep inside of him. Midousuji clicks his
tongue as he works, muttering “Gross” and “You’re filthy, Sakamichii” under his
breath like a mantra even as he pulls Onoda apart piece by piece, mapping out
every last square, slippery inch of him with his roving fingertips.
Midousuji brushes up against his prostate, probably entirely on purpose, and
Onoda feels another spasm wrack through his sweat-drenched body as another
dribble of precome escapes from the tip of his cock, painfully hard as it hangs
neglected beneath his shaking hips. He knows better than to touch himself–one
because Midousuji didn’t want him to, and two because he would come with the
slightest encouragement now, as oversensitive and overwrought as his body has
become with Midousuji’s ministrations.
With one final curl, Midousuji slips his fingers back out, and Onoda whimpers
brokenly into the pillow he clenches underneath his chest. He squirms and
shudders and tries to tilt himself backward in hopes of seeking
out something to fill himself up with, but he is met with a smack to the rear,
and with a yelp he meekly shifts away.
“Grab the lube, Sakamichii,” Midousuji says in a low, raspy voice that
completely fails to hide his shaky impatience, “it fell onto the floor
somewhere over by you.”
Onoda whines into his pillow, and he receives another pinch to the ass in
reprimand. With a grumble, Onoda crawls his way over to the edge of the bed and
looks over. Sure enough, the lube is there on the floor, thankfully with the
cap closed, and with a sigh he cranes his body down to reach it.
He does not expect something hot and wet suddenly flicking itself against his
hole, and with an embarrassing squeak he jumps, his back curling with surprise,
and for a wild second he thinks he may fall off the bed–but strong hands are
gripping him by the waist, anchoring him down while this oddly
smooth thing slips past his outermost ring of muscle, slithering in and in–and
when he glances back over his shoulder, a surprised groan fluttering past his
lips, he realizes it’s Midousuji’s tongue that’s inside of him.
“Mi…dousuji-kun,” he gasps, clutching and pawing at the sheets in desperation,
“nnh–no, nooo, don’t, it’s dirty–”
Midousuji seems to be completely ignoring him, instead focusing on lapping
thoroughly up against Onoda’s slippery inner walls. His eyes are big and dark
and eerily intent on his work, and with his thumbs hooking away the globes of
Onoda’s rear, he must be able to see everything, a thought that both
embarrasses Onoda to his core as well as stokes the flame flickering ever
brighter and higher inside of him.
The smooth slip of muscle bumps up curiously against his most tender spot, and
with a wheeze Onoda bunches up, fighting back against the intense spike of
sensation that shoots a paralyzing bolt of pleasure throughout his body, making
his cock throb dangerously. He thinks he hears Midousuji hum in amusement, and
then his tongue retreats nearly all the way out, tickling and teasing gently at
the inner rim of his hole. Onoda has all of three seconds to catch his breath
and grope around for his pillow before Midousuji utters a sharp, high-pitched
sound in warning, and suddenly the tongue plunges headlong into him again.
Instead of more curious exploration, this time Midousuji pistons his tongue
forward with surprising strength and dexterity, pushing it with smooth motions
into Onoda’s pliant, quivering body. Every wet, noisy thrust of slick muscle
punches another ragged moan out of Onoda, who wonders through the haze of his
mind how Midousuji didn’t get tired of moving his tongue around like this so
forcefully, not that he was in any position to complain.
The pointed tip of Midousuji’s tongue laves with tantalizing firmness along
Onoda’s prostate, drawing out mewls and choked-off squeals with every pass, and
it isn’t long before the sounds take on a note of urgency as he begs, “Mi-
Midousuji-kun, ah, p-plea—please, yes—”
He makes an attempt to hump the bed in search of friction, but Midousuji’s
vise-like grip on his hips keep him firmly suspended in place. With a whine he
rocks backward instead, and the luscious press of tongue that fills him up and
stretches him wide, unforgivingly thick and hot, obliterates all coherent
thought in a blinding rush.
A tidal wave of electricity consumes him in one burning, blazing rush that
starts with an agonizingly powerful pulse at the base of his cock, and with
head thrown back and jaw slack, he comes with a mangled, wordless cry,
splattering the sheets with thick streaks of white. His body goes tense and
tight, tingling with sensory overload that leaves him scrambling for air and
his muscles struggling to function.
Midousuji only begins to slow when the last of the full-body tremors abates,
and in the heavy silence of the room, filled only with Onoda’s labored
breathing, the sound of his tongue sliding back out is particularly loud and
obscene. Onoda whines softly as Midousuji finally lowers him back down to the
bed, and for a moment he feels the gentle, fleeting touch of a palm on the
small of his back as he pants into the arms pillowed under his spinning head.
“Sakamichii,” Midousuji rumbles from behind Onoda, “did you... enjoy that?”
It takes Onoda a little while to put together enough brain cells to interpret
his words and to figure out how to form a response with the coordination of his
vocal cords, and when he finally replies, his voice is a mere rasp: “Y... Yes,
I... I did.”
“Gooood,” Midousuji purrs, and then pointy fingers are creeping under Onoda’s
very ticklish ribs. His body sluggishly jumps away from the sudden touch, and
Midousuji uses his chance to get all of his hand under Onoda’s side, and with a
single heave he flips Onoda over onto his back so he now faces the ceiling.
Onoda cringes at the sensation of drying, sticky come under his back and tries
to wriggle away, but his limbs are dead and useless sticks of flesh that refuse
to cooperate with him. He looks up at Midousuji with a pout, but his lidded
eyes drop almost instinctively to the jut of the still-hard cock that stands
flush against Midousuji’s smooth crotch, and without meaning to he bites his
lip at the sight.
“Midousuji-kun...?” he mumbles curiously, dragging his eyes away from the
single bead of precome adorning the head of the pink-flushed cock.
Midousuji shuffles closer and leans down, lifting Onoda’s legs by the ankles
and bending them at the knee. He raises them high enough that Onoda begins to
feel self-conscious again—quite the feat, perhaps, after his first experience
with a tongue in his ass—and begins to squirm, however weakly, in his grasp.
With a pop of joints Midousuji fluidly bows himself to the side and extends one
long arm over the side of the bed to retrieve the fallen lube from before. He
pops the cap with his thumb and leers down at Onoda as he upends the tube over
his dick, generously drizzling the clearish-pink gel down over his twitching
length.
Onoda starts once he realizes he’s staring at the slide of lube down the swell
of Midousuji’s girth, and as soon as he jerks his gaze back up and meets his
eyes, he knows he’s been caught. He goes even redder in the face as Midousuji
caps the lube and tosses it aside, palming his erect cock and readying it with
a few firm strokes from base to tip.
“It’s my turn now, Saakamiichii,” Midousuji says in a dangerous sing-song,
bending Onoda nearly completely in half as he nudges the head of his slick
reptile against the tender hole he had just tongued a few moments before.
All Onoda can manage to get out is a frantic “Midou—” before Midousuji thrusts
all the way in, sheathing himself with relative ease inside of Onoda’s body.
Being filled yet again, this time by something so thick and unrelentingly
hard—completely unlike the pliable soft-firmness of a tongue—forces the breath
out of him all at once, and with a strangled cry he arches off the bed,
screwing his eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation that sets his nerves
ablaze all over.
“Does it hurt, Sakamichi,” Midousuji asks from somewhere close but also
seemingly far away, barely audible over the thrum of blood in Onoda’s head. He
rocks shallowly in place, carefully testing the give of Onoda’s body, and he
feels so big, always bigger than Onoda remembers; certainly larger than the
fingers he uses to open him up, and larger still than the tongue that had
preceded his cock, but it doesn’t hurt. Even now it doesn’t, probably because
his body is still too sated and stretched from his last orgasm to be bothered
by an actual dick finally making its way inside of him, and he finds that when
he lets himself breathe through it, it just feels like he is slightly too full.
Onoda inhales and exhales slowly a few times and manages a wobbly smile. “I’m
okay,” he replies, and while Midousuji’s expression barely changes, he thinks
he sees the furrow of a brow smooth itself out just barely.
“Good,” Midousuji says crisply, spreading apart Onoda’s legs to rest them on
his shoulders as he draws himself back out to the tip, and at Onoda’s nod he
eases himself back in slowly, hissing under his breath all the while. He pauses
to let Onoda accustom himself again, and this time Onoda gives him the okay to
keep on going without stopping.
Midousuji hovers over him, holding Onoda down by the backs of his knees as he
picks up the pace of his thrusts, rocking his hips against Onoda’s with
increasing speed and roughness. Onoda throws an arm over his face, panting and
whimpering into the skin of his wrist as Midousuji slams his cock (still so big
and thick and good, always so good) deep inside of him, filling up the tight,
slippery walls that clench around him with every brush against his over-
sensitive prostate.
“You’re still so tight, Sakamichiii,” Midousuji growls, his voice guttural and
slurred as he snaps himself forward with frantic, jerky movements past the
quivering rim of Onoda’s slick hole. When Onoda peeks up at him from around the
splay of his fingers, he isn’t terribly surprised to see Midousuji drooling on
himself, his tongue hanging out of a corner of his mouth and oozing saliva at
an almost alarming rate. “So tight, so wet,” Midousuji continues with a strange
garble, and this time his voice climbs into a near wail as his movements become
erratic and uneven with desperation.
Onoda can’t formulate words with the way Midousuji pounds into him, so fast and
heavy that every solid rock of their hips bounces his soft member against his
skin and coaxes a wheezy, involuntary little ah out of his aching throat. He
doesn’t think he can come again, not even with the powerful, intense way
Midousuji fucks him into the mattress, but he can feel the dim, flickering
hints of it simmering low and quiet in his belly, just enough to tease and make
him squirm and put together just enough coherency to encourage Midousuji along
with whispers of yes and more and harder, please, Midousuji-kun.
Something seems to give with those words, and Midousuji releases Onoda’s legs
to plant his hands on either side of his body instead, and he drives himself
into Onoda with absolute relentlessness, heedless to the way the bed creaks
dangerously underneath them and even to the tears that have sprung to the
corners of Onoda’s eyes as he chokes down the loudest and most cloying of his
cries.
Onoda has his hands clamped over his mouth (and is biting into his own fingers)
when Midousuji comes with a grunt, the pulse of seed nearly lost in the echoing
throb of Onoda’s lower half. Midousuji’s eyes roll backward and his tongue
hangs loose while it continues to dribble saliva all over Onoda’s chest and
stomach, and for several long seconds his entire body remains frozen while
orgasm grips him tight and fierce until it wrings him loose.
Midousuji slumps over onto Onoda afterward with a low groan, his sweaty
forehead dropping heavily onto Onoda’s shoulder. For another short while they
are both silent, awkwardly holding each other while they struggle to regain
their breath, and Onoda finds himself petting Midousuji’s head, smoothing down
the little bits of hair that have gone astray in the heat of the moment.
He is still absently stroking him, thinking he has fallen asleep, when
Midousuji suddenly sits back upright and darts away with surprising agility out
of the room and down the hall. Not long after he hears the sink running,
followed by the sound of furious scrubbing, spitting, and gargling.
Onoda takes his time getting to his feet, wincing at the beginnings of bruises
on his hips and the weakness in his legs and glutes as he stumbles across the
floor to the doorway.
In the bathroom just adjacent to their bedroom, Midousuji stands stooped over
the sink, his hand practically a blur as he brushes his teeth and his long,
long tongue with a generous amount of toothpaste. When he spots Onoda hovering
in the hall, he scowls at him and, if anything, scrubs harder, to the point
that Onoda thinks he might just flay off his own taste buds.
Midousuji takes a break to rinse, filling his cup (a Kuro Manyu collectible
item) from the tap and bringing it to his foaming mouth all while pinning Onoda
with a very severe stare. He gargles, spits, and sticks the head of the
toothbrush—which Onoda notices belatedly is his and not actually Midousuji’s
own—under the water and remarks flatly, “This is your fault, Sakamichii.”
Onoda sighs and laughs weakly. “It usually is, isn’t it, Midousuji-kun?
Although I don’t remember asking you to—oh,” he breaks off midway, feeling
something strange, and twists his torso to look down at himself. “I, um, I
think I’m leaking...”
He turns around to show Midousuji, pulling at one cheek to expose the trail of
come trickling out of his bottom, and when he looks up with a cheeky smile in
place, he finds Midousuji staring a hole into him with his toothbrush halfway
to his still-open mouth and cup overflowing under the tap.
Onoda blinks at him and feels a blush begin to warm his face. “Mi... Midousuji-
kun?”
Midousuji flings the cupful of water at him with one explosive motion, all
while screeching at the top of his lungs. “Sakamichi, you are disgusting—so
gross, I can’t believe you—now get in the bath already!”
And that was how Onoda found himself bent ass-up over the edge of the tub while
Midousuji went to work “cleaning” him all over again.
End Notes
     At least one lizard dong reference made: check
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