Better than Dessert

Tsuzuki made soft, breathless noises as Hisoka’s fingers pressed into him, slender and strong. "Mmm. I don’t really need…"

Hisoka thrust more firmly. "Be quiet, Tsuzuki. I like it."

It was hard to argue with that, especially when Hisoka had found just the right spot and was rubbing his fingertips back and forth over it, hard. Tsuzuki whined a little, rocking his hips up for more and Hisoka’s soft snort of laughter answered.

Hisoka made him wait for it tonight, fingering his ass slowly and thoroughly until Tsuzuki was panting and begging softly.

"Nn… Hisoka, please… oh… oh please, more…"

"You sound like you’re asking for dessert," Hisoka teased, husky and deadpan.

"You’re better than dessert," Tsuzuki assured him, moaning.

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

Tsuzuki decided this must be true, because the next thing he felt was Hisoka’s cock driving into him fast. He moaned approvingly, more than ready, and Hisoka finally seemed to be in a mood to oblige. He pulled Tsuzuki’s hips up into the air and thrust in again, hard, fucking him with concentration. Tsuzuki pushed up to meet every stroke, loving the feeling of Hisoka’s cock sliding thick and hard inside him, the jar of Hisoka’s hips against his that vibrated pleasure up his spine. When Hisoka’s hand, still slick, slid down to close on his cock and stroke him firmly, it was perfect, and he moaned as heat surged through him like a tide, deep and unstoppable.

When Hisoka rested, panting, against his back, and murmured in his ear, "Sure that’s better than dessert?" Tsuzuki hid a grin.

"If I say yes, can we do it again?"

Hisoka’s rare, open laugh was better than a dessert shop.

End

A/N: I wasn’t sure whether to interpret "Hisoka on top" psychologically or, um, geographically; my Hisoka muse voted for psychologically, so here we are.