Silence is its Own Reward

‘It suits you, you know,’ Komaeda says, when he’s finished adjusting the ball gag. ‘Those without talent should be seen and not heard, don’t you think?’

Hinata, of course, cannot answer. He sits on the bed and glares at Komaeda, who only pats him on the cheek.

‘Don’t look at me like that, Hinata-kun. You agreed to this, after all.’

He had. He should have known Komaeda would take the opportunity to run his mouth.

‘Ah, I don’t know if I can stand this much luck.’ Komaeda runs his thumb over Hinata’s bottom lip. The sensation emphasises Hinata’s awareness of his own position: can’t talk back, can’t shut his mouth, can hardly swallow. Even though Komaeda hasn’t restricted him in any other way, he feels vulnerable. And Komaeda likes that.

Komaeda pushes Hinata back on the bed. Hinata feels momentarily panicked, conscious of the saliva collecting at the back of his throat. Komaeda doesn’t notice; he sits over Hinata and undoes the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest. He runs his fingers covetously over Hinata’s skin.

‘See?’ Komaeda says. ‘It already reminds you of your place.’ Does he mean the way Hinata doesn’t resist him? Hinata still has his hands, after all – he could push Komaeda away if he wanted. He could take the gag out if he wanted. Instead he lies pliant beneath Komaeda and lets him feel up his chest, tease his nipples into hardness. Komaeda shifts on top of him, his erection already evident between them.

‘If only you were like this all the time,’ Komaeda says. He stands back from Hinata, only so that he can pull his pants off, and then his underwear; he crouches on the floor, so that his face is level with Hinata’s cock. Hinata sits back up on his elbows to see.

‘Of course, it does mean I’m the only one who gets to do this.’ Komaeda holds Hinata’s cock in his hand and takes the head of it in his mouth, that is wet and warm. He moves his tongue against Hinata’s slit. Hinata lets his head fall back, but then he has to straighten, because it makes him feel like he might drown.

It’s not long, of course, before Komaeda removes his mouth. He kisses the underside of Hinata’s shaft, moving his mouth lower, lapping at Hinata’s perineum. Hinata watches as Komaeda inserts two fingers into his own mouth and sucks on them, his eyes on Hinata’s. With his fingers wetted, Komaeda presses them against Hinata’s entrance, presses them inside. The gag hardly stiffles Hinata’s moan, and he sees a flicker of a smile on Komaeda’s face.

Komaeda begins to move his fingers, in out, in out. The motion feels good, more subtle than when Komaeda fucks him, more frustrating. Komaeda removes his fingers to spit on them, then goes back to fingering Hinata’s ass.

‘Does it feel good, Hinata-kun?’ Komaeda says. As if he doesn’t know. It’s a relief not to have to answer; Komaeda has been known to make him beg before. But now, he just goes on with what he is doing, rubbing inside Hinata, stretching him out.

Hinata is rock hard by the time Komaeda gets to his feet again. He’s still dressed, but he pulls his cock from his trousers and it stands there red and erect. In this situation, Hinata drools whether he likes it or not, but Komaeda isn’t going to replace the gag with his cock. He lifts Hinata’s legs up, and he positions himself between them, and slides himself in.

He fills Hinata completely. Just the way that Hinata’s mouth is filled completely.

Komaeda’s cock is harder to take than his fingers, but that is its own satisfaction: Hinata doesn’t have to do anything else except take it. Right now, he can let Komaeda do as he wishes, and not be responsible for any of it.

‘You look so good like this,’ Komaeda says. His voice has lost its usual fluidity; he speaks in gasps. ‘I wish I could keep you like this all the time. Imagine that, Hinata-kun.’ His fingers tighten on Hinata’s thigh. Does imagining he could keep Hinata like this get him off further? It doesn’t matter to Hinata. He doesn’t need to imagine anything, doesn’t need to speak, doesn’t even need to think. He only needs to subject himself to Komaeda’s will, and only for this. For Komaeda’s cock thrusting in and out of him, driving so deep that it consumes Hinata’s mind entirely. He doesn’t care that he can’t swallow his own saliva. He doesn’t care how pathetic he must look.

‘So good,’ Komaeda repeats, and he says Hinata’s name again, his voice breaking up, saying, ‘Hinata-kun’ over and other until Hinata feels him come, feels it inside him. And Komaeda keeps thrusting a little longer, keeps trying to. Until he pulls out completely, and collapses on top of Hinata.

Hinata feels bereft. If Komaeda just goes to sleep now, he thinks he’ll cry. So he shoves Komaeda’s shoulder; Komaeda looks up at him with his eyes not quite focused. Hinata rolls his hips against him, and Komaeda’s gaze sharpens.

‘Sorry, Hinata-kun,’ Komaeda says, his voice gone syrupy. ‘And you’ve been so good.’

He shifts to the side, so that he’s not lying directly on top of Hinata any more, and he takes Hinata’s cock in his hand. He strokes him off, lazy strokes that Hinata wants to curse him for. He wishes he still had Komaeda’s dick inside him; Komaeda can be so selfish, sometimes.

But Komaeda’s strokes grow more urgent, and Hinata stops thinking of anything else. Komaeda watches him intently; Hinata is only an object of this attention.

He comes, spurting on his own chest. Komaeda drags his fingers in it, making Hinata shiver; all his skin is still too sensitive. He tries to catch his breath, but it’s hard with the gag in his mouth.

He can take it out though. He remembers that now.

Komaeda looks up at him when he does, his eyes big.

‘Don’t look so disappointed,’ Hinata says, when he’s discarded the gag. Hinata wipes the drool from his mouth, that which hasn’t dried already; rubs his aching jaw.

‘Does it hurt?’ Komaeda asks.

‘Just stiff.’

‘Hmm. I guess I won’t ask you to wear it all the time then.’ Komaeda rests his chin on Hinata’s arm; Hinata can’t say he doesn’t feel fond of him, then.

‘I don’t really mind it,’ Hinata says. Komaeda meets his eyes, and Hinata finds himself blushing. Because that’s as good as saying he liked it.

Well, he did like it.

It’s just nice, sometimes, not having to admit to anything.