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Mido wakes up to a dark room, the television on, and a buzz in his body. The time reads 2 AM.
Well shit.
It’s not often he wakes up like this, or this late at all. That’s usually John’s schtick. The body usually has some energy left even with the exhausting cycle Mikoto is in, but this? This is different. Exhaustion is practically settled into his bones like a house guest, the feeling gnawing at his insides as if it can’t decide if it wants to go away. Mido groans— Why does he have to deal with this? He doesn’t handle these things! The bright light from the television makes his head pound, the humid air making it hard to breathe as he weakly kicks at the sheets tangling his legs.
He gives up quite quickly, lazily rolling onto his stomach with the duvet between his legs. At least the pressure feels nice.
What can he do now? Sure, he could pick up a bat and swing at whatever, but that requires getting up. Mido doesn’t even want to watch terrible soap operas or late night reality shows right now, the thought of getting up and watching the bright screen makes him want to pull at his hair. He could also stay up and stare at the ceiling….. Yeah no way, Mikoto wouldn’t even make it out the door for work in the morning. Mido shifts again on the bed, the buzz slightly spiking in his stomach at the action.
Ah. He could just jack off. That could knock out the last stubborn strand of consciousness.
Mido shifts again with purpose this time, feeling the friction through his shorts and boxers. He lazily rolls his hips against the covers, becoming half hard in his boxers. Mido sighs softly, it’s not nearly enough to satisfy him, but what else can he do? The heavy exhaustion in my mind slowly mellows into pleasure, his brain slowly becoming empty as he humps the sheets over and over again. Soft sighs fill the air, merging with the low volume of the television; Mido closes his eyes as his hands weakly clutch a stray pillow, nuzzling his face into the mattress as he rocks a little harder. It’s rare for him to do anything like this, so he’s taking his sweet time enjoying this moment alone. His boxers suffocate his erection, precome smearing inside and sticking to his skin further. Mido grunts, this is what he has been missing out on.
But the sheets aren’t enough; they are too soft and he doesn’t feel like scrunching it up further to get off. His body feels like jelly, so there is no use of just reaching down and jerking off like that. Mido tries to use the two last cells left in his head, hand clutching the pillow underneath as desperation plagues his mind.
The pillow? He could use that, he thinks to himself.
With a groan, he grabs the pillow and adjusts himself, the firmness against his straining cock. Yeah, fuck, this works. Mido shudders, grinding down on the pillow, the friction feeling miles better than before. The dampness of his boxers adds to the stimulation, his eyes fluttering as it drags against his tip. It feels perfect, the pleasure building up with each roll of his hips. This is probably his best idea yet. This is way better than swinging a stupid bat. Maybe John should jack off instead—- His hips stutter at the thought, doubling down on his movements as the heat burns through his body. His soft sighs turn into tiny groans, burying his face into the mattress as he arches his back; he focuses on his tip, grinding against the firm pillow and fuck!----
Mido shudders as he cums in his boxers, the pleasure washing over in lazy pulses as his mind becomes blissfully blank. His boxers are sticky after his orgasm cools down, but he doesn’t care at all. Not one bit. Finally, he feels satiated, panting as he throws the pillow god knows where. Mikoto can deal with that. Oh, and the mess in his boxers. Mido smiles lazily, before exhaustion finally claims his mind. He should do this again the next time he fronts…