The front door of Enji’s mansion clicked shut, sealing them in a silence so profound it felt like a physical thing. The grand foyer, all cold marble and high ceilings, seemed to swallow the last echoes of the dinner’s tension. Enji stood frozen just inside, his shoulders a rigid line, still wearing the weight of his family’s scrutiny like a lead coat.
Keigo didn’t say a word. He just stepped in front of Enji, his golden eyes scanning the older man’s face—the tight jaw, the haunted blue eyes. He reached up and placed his palms flat against Enji’s broad chest.
“You’re still in there,” Keigo said, his voice quiet in the vast space. “Still standing in that dining room. You need to come back to me.”
Enji’s breath shuddered out. “I don’t know how.”
“Yeah, you do.” Keigo’s thumbs stroked over the firm muscle. “You let me show you. Strip. Everything. And get in bed.”
The command, delivered so softly, cut through the fog. Enji’s eyes focused on Keigo’s face. He saw no pity, no performative comfort—just a fierce, steady certainty. A promise.
Enji moved like a man in a trance. His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, fingers clumsy. Keigo watched, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. The only sound was the rustle of fabric, the heavy drop of a belt buckle hitting the floor, the soft thud of denim. Enji stood bare in the dim light, scars and muscle and the heavy, half-hard weight of his cock hanging between his thighs.
“Good,” Keigo murmured. He pushed off the wall and closed the distance. His hand didn’t go to Enji’s cock. It cupped his jaw, calloused thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. “You gave them everything you had tonight. Now you’re empty. Let me fill you up.”
He led Enji by the hand down the hall to the bedroom, a room Enji usually just slept in. Keigo pushed him to sit on the edge of the mattress.
Keigo takes a step back from the edge of the bed, his golden eyes glinting in the dim light. “You just gave them everything,” he says, his voice a low hum. “Now watch me give something back.”
His hands go to the hem of his own shirt, a simple black tee. He pulls it up slowly, revealing not bare skin, but a flash of intricate, fire-orange lace. He tosses the shirt aside. The lace is a bralette, cupping the hard planes of his chest, the scars from his surgery peeking through the delicate pattern. A matching corset is laced tight beneath it, cinching his waist.
Enji’s breath hitches. His hands curl into fists on his own thighs.
Keigo’s fingers pop the button of his jeans, drags the zipper down with a deliberate, rasping sound. He pushes the denim and his boxers down his hips together, stepping out of them. The lace continues: sheer, fire orange thigh-high stockings held up by delicate garters that connect to a band around his hips. The panties are crotchless, a frame of red lace around the clean-shaven, glistening slit of his pussy.
And there, at the very center, a jewel catches the light—a small, teardrop-shaped orange gem, pierced directly through his swollen clit.
Enji makes a sound, a punched-out groan from deep in his chest. His cock, already heavy, jerks to full, aching hardness against his stomach, thick and dripping. His mouth is slack, his blue eyes wide and fixed on that sparkling jewel.
Keigo turns in a slow circle, letting him see the red wings tattooed across his back, the way the garters cut into the lean muscle of his thighs. He faces Enji again, one hand drifting down to trace the lace framing his cunt, his fingertips brushing the jewel. He smiles, a sharp, knowing thing. “Like it, big guy?”
Enji can’t speak. He can only stare, his brain short-circuiting, every ounce of stress from the dinner incinerated by a hotter, more immediate fire. The words tumble out, raw and unbidden, a truth ripped from a place he didn’t know was so close to the surface. “Marry me.”
The air stills. Keigo’s teasing smile falters, his eyes widening. He goes very still. “What?”
“Marry me,” Enji repeats, the gravel in his voice trembling. He’s rock-hard, desperate, and completely serious. The plea is in his eyes, in the way his whole body leans forward from the bed. “Keigo. Please.”
Keigo closes the distance between them in two steps. He doesn’t laugh. He cups Enji’s face, his thumb stroking the rough stubble. “You’re overwhelmed,” he says softly, but his own breath is uneven.
“I’ve never seen anything more perfect,” Enji rasps, his gaze dropping back to the piercing, to the slick heat just below it. “I need to taste it. I need… God, I need you to be mine. Officially. Always.”
Keigo’s throat works. He leans down, brushing his lips against Enji’s. “I already am,” he whispers against his mouth. “But yeah. Okay. Ask me again when you’re not about to come from looking at me.” He nips Enji’s lower lip. “Now get your tongue on me, Daddy. I bought this jewelry for you.”
Enji doesn’t hesitate. He slides off the bed and onto his knees on the floor, the movement fluid despite his size. His large, scarred hands settle on Keigo’s lace-clad hips, his thumbs pressing into the sharp cut of bone. His blue eyes are locked on the jewel, on the slick, glistening flesh it adorns.
“Keep calling me that,” Enji rasps, his voice shredded gravel.
Keigo looks down at him, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers card through Enji’s thick red hair. “Call you what, big guy? You like when I call you daddy?”
Enji’s answer is a low, broken groan. He leans forward and drags the flat of his tongue through Keigo’s slit in one long, slow, worshipful stroke.
The taste explodes on his tongue—musky, clean, purely Keigo. He moans against him, the vibration making Keigo gasp. Enji does it again, slower this time, savoring the wet heat, the way Keigo’s body trembles under his hands.
“Fuck,” Keigo breathes, his hips giving a tiny jerk. His grip tightens in Enji’s hair.
Enji zeroes in on the piercing. He flicks the tip of his tongue against the cool metal post, then sucks the gem and the swollen bud of Keigo’s clit into his mouth.
Keigo cries out, a sharp, unfiltered sound. “Yes—right there, daddy, just like that.”
The word punches through Enji, a bolt of pure heat straight to his already aching cock. He suckles harder, his tongue working in frantic circles, learning the new topography of metal and flesh. He can feel Keigo’s pulse hammering against his lips.
“You taste so good,” Enji growls, the words muffled against his skin. He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips wet and shining. “So perfect. My perfect boy.”
Keigo’s smirk is gone, replaced by parted lips and heavy-lidded eyes. “Yours,” he agrees, his voice thin. “Show me.”
Enji dives back in. He eats Keigo with a single-minded desperation, one broad hand sliding around to grip the lace-covered curve of his ass, holding him open. He licks deep into his hole, then lavishes his clit again, over and over, a relentless rhythm. The wet, filthy sounds fill the quiet room.
“Gonna come,” Keigo warns, his thighs starting to shake. “Enji—daddy, I’m gonna—”
Enji answers by sliding two thick fingers inside him, curling them up, and sucking his clit hard into the heat of his mouth.
Keigo shatters. A ragged scream tears from his throat as he comes, his pussy clenching rhythmically around Enji’s fingers, wetness gushing over Enji’s chin and hand. Enji drinks it all, moaning, his own hips rutting helplessly against nothing. He doesn’t stop licking, gentling now, through the trembling aftershocks, until Keigo is gasping and pulling weakly at his hair.
“Stop, stop, too much,” Keigo pants, swaying on his feet. Enji rests his forehead against Keigo’s trembling stomach, his own breath heaving. Keigo looks down at the mess he’s made of Enji’s face—the slick shine, the utter devotion in his blown-blue eyes. He traces Enji’s swollen lower lip with his thumb. “Okay,” he whispers, a new, darker promise in his golden gaze. “My turn.”
Keigo’s hand on his shoulder is all it takes—a firm push, and Enji tumbles backward onto the mattress, his massive frame making the bed groan. He lands with his head on the pillows, his cock standing thick and furious against his stomach, weeping onto his skin. Keigo climbs over him, one lace-clad knee on either side of Enji’s hips, and settles his weight there, the crotchless panties framing his wet, used pussy just inches above Enji’s aching length.
“Look at you,” Keigo murmurs, his golden eyes tracing the mess on Enji’s face. He leans down, swipes his thumb through the wetness on Enji’s chin, and brings it to his own mouth to taste. “All worked up for me.”
Enji’s hands come up to grip Keigo’s lace-clad waist, his fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath. “Keigo—”
“Shhh.” Keigo grinds down, just a whisper of contact, the slick heat of him brushing the head of Enji’s cock. Enji bucks upward with a choked-off sound. Keigo smirks. “I said my turn. You gave me your mouth. You gave your family your truth. Now you just take what I give you. Can you do that, Daddy?”
The name lands, hot and bright, in the pit of Enji’s stomach. He nods, his throat too tight for words.
“Good.” Keigo reaches between them, his fingers wrapping around the thick base of Enji’s cock. He gives one slow, deliberate stroke, squeezing, watching the precum bead and drip. “Fuck, you’re huge. Always surprises me.”
He lifts his hips, positions the broad head against his entrance. He doesn’t sink down. He just holds it there, letting Enji feel the heat, the wet promise. Enji’s whole body is a tense bowstring, his knuckles white where he grips Keigo.
“Do you want to fuck my pussy, daddy?” Keigo whispers, his voice a dark, honeyed slide in the quiet room. He grinds down, just a fraction, the wet heat of him smearing precum across Enji’s swollen head. “Do you wanna fill this cunt up with so much of your cum it’s dripping out of me for days? Breed me full of it?”
Enji’s entire body seizes. A ragged, punched-out groan rips from his chest, his hips jerking upward uncontrollably. His cock throbs, a fresh gout of fluid spilling over Keigo’s fingers where they hold him. “Fuck. Keigo.”
“Is that a yes?” Keigo presses, lowering himself another inch, the tight, fluttering rim of him kissing the very tip. Enji can feel it—the impossible, slick heat, the promise of a grip that will wreck him. “You wanna knock me up? Put a baby in me?”
“Yes,” Enji chokes out, the word torn from somewhere primal. His hands scramble on Keigo’s lace-clad hips, gripping hard enough to bruise. “God, yes. Please.”
“Anything you want, Daddy.” Keigo echoes, a dark promise, and finally, he sinks down.
He takes him in one slow, devastating inch, his body opening around the thick head of Enji’s cock with a wet, yielding sound. Enji’s back arches off the bed, a ragged shout torn from his throat. His hands lock on Keigo’s hips, holding him there, impaled on just the tip, the stretch a blinding, perfect ache.
“Fuck,” Keigo breathes, his own composure cracking, his head falling back. “Fuck, you’re so big.”
He drops another inch, and another, a slow, torturous descent that has Enji seeing white behind his eyes. Every nerve is alive, screaming. The heat is unreal, tight and fluttering and slick, sucking him deeper. Keigo’s lace panties are rough against Enji’s knuckles, a contrast to the soft, sweating skin beneath.
“All of it,” Enji begs, his voice shattered. “Please, Keigo. Need to feel all of you.”
“You will,” Keigo gasps, and then he slams down the rest of the way, sheathing Enji to the root in one hard, final stroke.
They both cry out. Enji’s entire world narrows to the point where their bodies join, to the crushing, wet heat taking him whole. Keigo grinds against him, a slow circle of his hips, milking him deep. “There,” he moans. “That’s it. You’re so deep, daddy. Filling me up.”
He doesn’t wait for Enji to recover. He sets a brutal, perfect rhythm, rising up until just the head remains inside, then dropping back down with a force that shakes the bed. The slap of skin, the wet, rhythmic sounds of their joining, fill the quiet room. Enji can only take it, his hands scrambling from Keigo’s hips to his ass, gripping the lace-covered flesh, helping to lift him, to meet every downward plunge.
“Look at me,” Keigo commands, his own breath coming in sharp gasps. Sweat gleams on his chest, tracing the lines of his scars.
Enji forces his eyes open, his blue gaze meeting molten gold. Keigo’s face is a masterpiece of pleasure, lips parted, eyes half-lidded but fixed on him. He’s beautiful. Destroying him.
“You feel that?” Keigo grunts, riding him harder, faster. “That’s your cock in my cunt. That’s where you belong. Gonna keep you here. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
Enji’s answer is a broken groan. He can feel the pressure coiling, relentless, at the base of his spine. His balls draw up tight, heavy. “Keigo—I can’t—I’m gonna—”
"Cum for me, daddy," Keigo begs, his voice breaking on the words as he slams down, taking Enji to the hilt with every brutal stroke. His golden eyes are wild, desperate. "Please. I need it. Fill me up."
Enji’s grip on his lace-covered ass is iron, his hips pistoning upward to meet each plunge. A strangled sound tears from his throat, half-groan, half-sob. The pressure is a white-hot coil, ready to snap.
"Gonna breed me?" Keigo gasps, his rhythm faltering as his own pleasure crests. "Daddy, please, put a baby in me. Knock me up. I want it—I want your cum in my womb."
The words are a detonation. Enji seizes, his back arching off the bed as the orgasm rips through him with a violence that whites out his vision. It’s not a release—it’s an expulsion. A torrent.
He empties himself into Keigo’s clutching heat, pulse after pulse after pulse, a seemingly endless flood. It feels like buckets, like his very soul is being wrung out through his cock. He shouts, a raw, animal sound, his body convulsing under Keigo’s weight.
Keigo screams. It’s a raw, shattered sound as his own climax detonates, a hard jet of liquid heat striping Enji’s stomach and chest. His body seizes, clenching in brutal, rhythmic pulses around the thick spill, milking him for every last drop.
He grinds down, riding out Enji’s climax, his face a mask of ecstatic relief. "Yes, yes, fuck, give it all to me," he chants, his voice a wrecked whisper. "Fill your boy up, daddy. So full.”
The waves seem to last forever. Enji shudders through them, helpless, his massive frame gone boneless as the final, weaker spurts leave him. He’s drenched in sweat, his lungs burning. Keigo collapses forward, his forehead pressing against Enji’s heaving chest, their bodies still joined.
The room is silent except for their ragged breathing. Enji can feel it—the hot, wet proof of his release already beginning to seep out around where they’re connected. The scent of sex and sweat and them is overwhelming.
Keigo lifts his head from Enji’s chest, his breath still ragged. He kisses the stern line of Enji’s collarbone, then his neck, his jaw, until their lips meet. The kiss is slow, deep, a tangle of exhaustion and heat. And there, pressed between their stomachs, Keigo feels it—the thick, persistent hardness of Enji’s cock, still buried inside him, already stirring again.
He breaks the kiss, his golden eyes wide. “Fuck,” he breathes, a laugh caught in his throat. “You’re still so hard. Daddy, you’re still… you’re not done.”
Enji’s hands flex on his hips, a low groan rumbling through his chest. He’s spent, dripping out of him, but his body is already answering, thickening, filling again within Keigo’s clutching heat. “You,” Enji rasps, the word raw. “You do this.”
“Please,” Keigo begs, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. He grinds down, a slow, filthy circle of his hips, milking the renewed stiffness. “Don’t stop. Please, daddy, fuck me some more. Need it.”
The plea is a spark in dry tinder. Enji’s blue eyes darken, the last of his lethargy incinerated. “You asked for it.”
His hands shift, one arm hooking under Keigo’s knee, the other a firm bar across his back. In one powerful, controlled motion, he rolls them. Keigo gasps as the world spins, his back hitting the mattress, Enji’s massive frame settling over him, pinning him. Enji’s cock, slick with both their releases, slips free for a brutal second before he notches the head back at Keigo’s entrance.
He doesn’t push in. He holds himself there, the weight of him crushing, delicious. He grips Keigo’s thighs, pushes them back and apart, folding Keigo nearly in half. The mating press. Keigo is completely exposed, utterly possessed, the orange lace of his lingerie torn and rucked around his waist. Enji looks down at him, at the mess they’ve made, his expression feral.
“You want it?” Enji growls, his voice gravel and need.
“Yes,” Keigo pants, his hands scrambling to grip Enji’s biceps. “Fuck me. Hard. Please.”
Enji drives home.
It’s not a stroke. It’s a claiming. He sheathes himself to the root in one brutal, deep plunge, his hips crashing against Keigo’s ass. The sound is wet, visceral, a slap of skin that echoes. Keigo screams, his back arching, his nails digging into Enji’s scarred arms.
Enji sets a pace that is pure punishment. He pulls back and slams in, again and again, no finesse, just a relentless, piston-driven rhythm that shakes the bedframe. Each thrust punches the air from Keigo’s lungs, each retreat drags a desperate gasp. The wet, rhythmic slap of their joining is the only music.
“Oh god, yes, right there!” Keigo cries, his head thrashing on the pillow. His vision blurs, stars bursting behind his eyes. Enji’s size, his strength, the angle—it’s overwhelming, a white-hot friction that burns away every thought. “Daddy, fuck, you’re so deep!”
Enji grunts, his own breath sawing from his chest, sweat dripping from his brow onto Keigo’s chest. He watches where they’re joined, watches his thick, glistening cock disappear into the slick, stretched heat of Keigo’s pussy over and over. His grip on Keigo’s thighs is iron, holding him open, taking everything.
“I love you,” Keigo sobs, the words torn from him between ragged moans. His golden eyes are wild, fixed on Enji’s face. “I love you, I love this, I love you—”
The confession fractures something in Enji’s rhythm. He stutters, his thrusts turning jagged, deeper, harder. He leans down, crushing Keigo further into the mattress, his mouth finding Keigo’s ear. “Mine,” he snarls, the word a hot, possessive gust. “This cunt is mine. Say it.”
“Yours!” Keigo wails, his body tightening, coiling. “Always yours, daddy, fuck, I’m gonna—!”
Enji feels the clench begin, the fluttering, milking tightness that seizes his cock. He redoubles his efforts, his hips a frantic, driving force. “Come for me,” he commands, his voice breaking. “Come on my cock. Now.”
Keigo shatters. His scream is raw, endless, as his body convulses, a fresh jet of liquid heat spilling between their pressed stomachs. His pussy clenches in brutal, rhythmic pulses around Enji’s driving length, milking him, pulling him deeper.
It’s too much. Enji buries his face in Keigo’s neck, a ragged, wounded sound tearing from his throat as his own climax detonates. He pumps into him, pulse after hot, endless pulse, filling him all over again, his massive frame shuddering with the force of it.
He collapses, his weight a solid, suffocating comfort, still buried to the hilt. Keigo’s arms come up, wrapping around his sweat-slick back, holding him there. They are both trembling, breathless, ruined.
“I love you,” Keigo whispers again, his voice hoarse, his lips moving against Enji’s shoulder.
Enji turns his head, finds Keigo’s mouth. The kiss is slow, deep, a silent vow in the dark. He is still inside him, still hard, not done. Not even close.
“I love you,” Enji rasps, the words leaving him like a stone lifted from his chest. He says it against Keigo’s lips, his voice wrecked and raw, as he begins to move again. Not with the brutal, punishing pace of before, but with a deep, rolling rhythm that feels like a vow.
He kisses him, slow and deep, swallowing Keigo’s gasp. His hands slide from Keigo’s thighs to his waist, holding him as he rocks his hips, a long, measured withdrawal followed by an even deeper, fuller slide back home.
“I love this,” Enji breathes into the kiss, his forehead pressed to Keigo’s. “This mouth. These sounds you make.” He thrusts, a deep, purposeful surge that makes Keigo arch. “I love your stubbornness. Your fucking courage.”
Keigo whimpers, his hands coming up to frame Enji’s face, his thumbs stroking the rough stubble. “Enji—”
“I love the way you look at me,” Enji continues, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the dark. He kisses the corner of Keigo’s mouth, his jaw. “Like I’m worth something. Like I’m not a monster.” His thrusts are steady, each one a deliberate, full-bodied press that steals Keigo’s breath. “I love your skin. Your scars. Every mark.”
He dips his head, laving a wet, hot stripe over the neat lines of Keigo’s top surgery scars with his tongue. Keigo cries out, his fingers tangling in Enji’s hair. “I love the taste of you,” Enji growls against his chest. “The way you come for me. Only for me.”
“Only you,” Keigo sobs, his hips lifting to meet every deep, penetrating stroke. “Always you.”
Enji shifts, bracing his weight on one elbow so he can look down at him. The orange lace is shredded, a damp, ruined frame around Keigo’s hips. His cock moves in and out of Keigo’s slick, swollen pussy with a wet, rhythmic sound. He watches, his blue eyes dark with awe. “I love this,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “Watching you take me. Watching my cock disappear inside you. Knowing I’m the only one who gets to be here.”
He leans down, capturing Keigo’s mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue mapping the same territory as his cock claims below. His rhythm builds, growing firmer, more intent, the bedframe beginning a soft, persistent creak beneath them.
“I love you,” Keigo gasps between kisses, his legs locking around Enji’s waist, pulling him deeper. “I love you, I love you—”
Enji’s control frays. The tender, worshipful pace fractures into something needier, more urgent. His thrusts become shorter, harder, his hips driving in frantic, deep circles. “Gonna come again,” he grunts, the words hot against Keigo’s throat. “Gonna fill you up. Again. My boy.”
“Yes,” Keigo chants, his own climax coiling tight, a white-hot wire in his gut. “Do it, daddy, please, give it to me—”
Enji buries his face in Keigo’s neck with a ragged shout, his body locking as he spills. It’s a deep, pulsing flood, hotter than before, and Keigo screams as it triggers his own release, a hard, shuddering clench that milks every last drop from Enji’s spent cock.
They collapse, a tangled, sweating, trembling heap. Enji’s weight is immense, a grounding force. He is still inside him, softening now, but he makes no move to pull away. He just breathes, his lips pressed to the damp skin of Keigo’s shoulder.
After a long moment, Keigo’s hand finds its way into Enji’s hair, stroking gently. “You said it,” he whispers, wonder in his wrecked voice.
Enji nods, the motion small against him. “I did.”