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    Summary

    His fingers brushing against a warm belly, soft, careful. Where his fingers touch his mouth soon follows—clavicle, sternum down, down, down his side until Satoru’s lips brush over the skin of Yuuji’s hipbone, his fingers skating over the skin just above the line of his boxers. 

    “Yuu-ji~” Even with little, soft touches, Satoru can smell him. Arousal trickling like a faucet and he wants. Stays put, careful to keep his hands above Yuuji’s waistband even as he burns up, rut settling in properly. A hand brushes over the sweat of his hair and Satoru whines against his hip tongue heavy in his mouth. No thoughts in his head, just a desire to devour. “Hungry.” 

    Fingers pet the fringe of his hair before they glide back, nails scratching at his scalp. His eyelids flutter as another rumble escapes his chest. “Go on puppy,” and something like a purr reverberates in his chest when Satoru is permitted to carefully push Yuuji’s boxers down just enough to press a kiss to what was covered right below his belly button. “Take what you need.” 

    Satoru's rut includes some fine dining.

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