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Everything was hot. Too hot. And the only thing on his mind was getting his hands on you, tasting you and relishing in the pretty sounds you’d make.
Kenma had found himself under the effects of an aphrodisiac. Being the man he was, he felt like eating a snack while he streamed. And lucky enough, he happened to find a bar of chocolate by your side of the bed.
He found it weird that it was in your nightstand in the first place, but he also made the mistake of not reading the wrapper—simply seeing the word ‘chocolate’ written in big bold letters.
So after eating half of the chocolate bar, he was sitting at his desk hot and sweat—not to mention extremely hard.
He didn't have to bother checking the wrapper now. With the help of his chat and his own intuition, he figured out that it wasn't just any chocolate.
Once it hit him, he swiftly ended his stream and began to pace—but quickly sat back down on the bed when the effects only intensified.
He’d have to wait for you to get back home from work.
And with the way he was feeling right now—he wasn't sure if he’d be able to wait that long.
The most logical thing would be to text you and explain what happened, tell you to hurry home so he could fuck it out of his system. But Kenma wasn't exactly sure how he should explain it to you.
How he ended up rummaging through your nightstand, ate the weird chocolate he found in there, and was now hard as a rock while he tried desperately not to touch himself—though he probably wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.
It was quite painful after all.
He let out a shaky breath, his hand sliding down as if it had a mind of his own, palming the bulge in his grey sweatpants.
Kenma’s head fell back, hips bucking up into his hand, seeking that much needed pressure. The heat in his stomach was coiled far too tight—like a taut spring ready to snap.
Light touches were quickly abandoned, not enough to satiate the desire coursing through his veins. His hand pushed down his sweats, just enough to free his aching cock.
A soft mewl fluttered from his lips as he wrapped around himself, wrist flicking in slow, rhythmic, strokes.
“F-Fuck—” Kenma panted, falling back against the bed, his hand working desperately.
All the while he was thinking about you. Imagining how good you would feel—your hands on his body, plush lips wrapped around his cock and sucking him dry.
He let out a breathy moan as he spilled into his hand, far too worked up to last for very long it seems. Kenma simply laid there, his chest heaving as he came down from his sudden high, his hand and hoodie covered in his release.
But he was still so hard. Still so worked up. And still thinking about how badly he wished you were here riding him.
Kenma huffed in frustration, sitting back up—his head still spinning. “Damn chocolate…" He muttered.
If he was going to get off consecutively—he wasn't about to just use his hand. Getting up on shaky legs, he made his way over to his nightstand and tugged the drawer open—his golden-brown eyes quickly finding what he was looking for.
He’s never used it before—why would he when he had you? It was a gag-gift that Tetsuro had given him for his birthday last year. The item in question being a clear silicone toy, the box reading ‘male masturbator’.
Kenma hadn’t anticipated that he would be using such a thing tonight, nor did he think he would accidentally eat a chocolate bar which just so happened to be an aphrodisiac—but here he was, sitting down and fumbling to get the damn box open just to get some sort of relief.
He slid the silicone toy over his leaking length as soon as he ripped it out of the plastic. Damn packaging. His head fell back as soon as it enveloped his cock, his eyes shut tight, biting back a moan. Though no one would hear him anyway.
Kenma pumped the toy up and down, his thighs twitching each time the textured interior of the toy grazed his sensitive tip. His free hand slipped past his hoodie, running his cold fingers up his warmed body—imagining that it were you—you instead of his hand, instead of the toy.
His hips bucked up on their own, your shared room filled with the dirty sound of squelching and his utterly lewd pleas and desperate whispers of your name. With each erratic thrust into the toy, he imagined that he was fucking into your warmth instead—thinking about each sound that you would make, the way you would let out a hushed curse and beg him to go faster.
“G-Gonna—” He groaned, hips stuttering—the coil in his stomach snapping and spilling over—hot cum spilling into the clear silicone as tears threatened to prick his eyes.
“Gonna die…” He whispered breathlessly, collapsing into the pillows. He slowly pulled the toy off of him with a soft hiss, thinking that the effects had finally worn off.
But then he heard the front door unlock, then open and shut. You were home.
And Kenma was instantly hard again.
He cleaned up what he could, throwing the toy into your bathroom sink to clean later before quickly changing his cum-stained hoodie and into another one. He exited the bathroom as soon as you entered the room—and you could immediately tell something was up.
“Why is your face all red and sweaty?” You asked.
He didn’t answer. Kenma stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your neck. He rutted against you, whining. “Ate that weird chocolate… sorry…” He muttered.
He felt warm, too warm. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, and it sent heat pooling low in your gut. He was so cute like this.
Kenma coaxed you toward the bed, littering your neck and jawline with kisses while his hands worked on taking off the absurd amount of clothing you had on. You turned him around before you both hit the bed, effectively trapping him beneath you. You capture his lips in a sloppy kiss—nothing but teeth, tongue, and ragged breaths. And Kenma all but melted.
You broke the kiss momentarily to strip off your shirt, your pulse jumping at the sight of his pupils dilating.
God you were gonna suck him dry.
You lowered yourself between his legs, fingers hooking around the waistband of his sweats and tugging them down along with his boxers. He gasps—hips bucking up. You lean down, your warm breath ghosting over his flushed tip.
“Let’s see how many times I can get you to cum before the effects wear off…” You whisper with a smirk.
You leave a kitten lick, drawing a whimper from him.
“Or until you can’t take it anymore.”