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It was not often that Amami took control like this. Shinguji was usually the most dominating one in bed. Usually.

But that didn’t mean the anthropologist didn’t enjoy when his boyfriend held him by the hair and forced him onto his knees, or when he tied his hands behind his back to stop Shinguji from touching him. He enjoyed being vulnerable, baring his soul for Amami’s eyes and his eyes alone. It was also a fantastic and rare opportunity to witness the change in his calm and soft spoken demeanor, to see it turning into raw, unfiltered lust. All sides of Amami were beautiful but the adventurer was never keen on showing them, preferring to keep a wall up between him and the world, keeping some things hidden. But in not here. In between these four walls was where his beauty was truly unraveled. Whether he was submitting to Shinguji’s ropes or forcing the taller man to submit to him, it was in the bedroom where they both showed their true selves, their desires, their needs and wants…

Amami’s hand on his hair was a constant, a painful yet pleasurable reminder that he belonged to him. Not to Sister, not to the the world that so harshly judged him, not to anyone but Amami. It felt good to be on his knees for him, to allow himself to be moved, put into place like a doll. Once Amami had him exactly where he wanted him to be, Shinguji didn’t dare move. His mask still covered half of his face, hiding his soul from Amami’s hungry gaze, hiding his true self. He knew it wouldn't be long until Amami pulled it down, exposing Shinguji so he could take what was rightfully his.

It was what he thought, but instead, the hand on his hair eased its grip and Amami knelt down in front of him, a hand on his face as the tips of his fingers lightly caressed his cheeks through the leather, gentle, like he always was. “I love how willing you become when you are like this,” he murmured, tracing over the zipper that covered Shinguji’s mouth with his thumb before leaning in and taking it into his mouth, carefully unzipping it with his teeth. Shinguji gasped in surprise when he realized only his mouth would be exposed, rather than his whole face. That was unexpected. He knew Amami preferred to see all of him, but he didn't seem care about that at this moment. He realized, after a quick smile from the adventurer that he simply wanted to use him, to expose himself but allowing Shinguji to keep his privacy. Typical, kind-hearted Amamai.

But at the same time not granting Shinguji the chance to show himself also put them in an unbalanced situation. Perhaps Amami, at this moment, saw him as something to be used, not as an equal, not as a person worth exploring. Typical, demanding Amami.

Pressing a light kiss to his mouth the adventurer stood up again, and Shinguji looked up to see him unzipping his pants. Although he wanted to see more, to look into Amami's eyes as he bared himself, his eyes didn’t manage to stay open for long, because once Amami’s hand returned to his hair and pulled it tightly his eyes fluttered closed, a whine escaping him before he could hold it back. He heard Amami chuckle, and before he knew it the head of his cock was on his mouth, forcing his lips open and pushing inside. He tried to take a deep breath through his nose, but the mask that still covered half ofhis face made it hard to breathe. Amami knew that, of course, but he made no move to stop as he kept slowly pushing his cock inside Shinguji’s warm mouth, not even when he saw him struggling for air, and Shinguji loved it. His boyfriend was a beautiful example of what power could do to an individual, a practical lesson on corruption, and the anthropologist was eager to see more, to uncover his true self using his body.

Eventually, he stopped. Pulling back inches before he reached the back of his throat and allowing Shinguji to breathe again, though difficultly, but only for a moment. The mask was still in the way, and before he was able to fully fill his lungs Amami’s cock was back on his mouth and the anthropologist was struggling to breathe again, feeling himself becoming lightheaded. Amami didn’t stop until his cock touched the back of Shinguji’s throat, which drew a moan from the adventurer and earned Shinguji an appreciative pull on his long hair. He pulled back only a little bit, then thrusted again, and again, and again… With each thrust Shinguji felt his head becoming more and more fuzzy, his chest convulsing as he tried to draw breath but never being able to do it properly. His hands struggled to free themselves from the rope that kept them behind his back, but Amami had learned his knots so well…

Before he could lose consciousness, though, Amami pulled back and Shinguji was finally able to breathe, chest heaving as he panted through his mouth. Amami held him in place by his hair, soothingly running his fingers through the sweaty strands. “Did you catch your breath?”

Shinguji looked up, teary-eyed from the struggle, and opened his mouth again, tongue out in a clear invitation, which Amami promptly accepted.

This time he didn’t bother to go slow. His pace was frantic as he hit the back of Shinguji’s throat repeatedly, fucking his mouth with such a beautiful enthusiasm that Shinguji almost wished he could open his eyes to watch, if only he wasn’t so busy trying not to choke.

The hand on his hair tightened its grip and Amami sped up his thrusts. It took him only a few seconds to finally reach his climax, coming down Shinguji’s throat before he could prepare himself to receive it.

As the anthropologist choked and coughed, he simply could not stop thinking about how lucky he was, to be the only one allowed to see this side of Amami.