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Asahi Azumane hadn’t meant to fuck you like this.
At least, not at first.
From the beginning, he had always treated you like you were something precious. Maybe it was because of the way you fit against him—smaller, delicate in his arms, easily lifted and carried. Maybe it was just who he was. But every time he touched you, it was careful, reverent—like he was holding glass, terrified of pushing too hard, of cracking something he could never replace.
He’d started slow, careful—just like always. His hands had been gentle, his mouth sweet against your skin, his body heavy but controlled as he eased into you between tangled sheets and soft, broken kisses.
You’d wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, clinging to the broadness of him, the way his body caged you without feeling suffocating. And for a while, he moved like he was afraid—afraid of breaking you, afraid of being too much.
But the second you pulled your knees higher, the second you whimpered into his mouth and squeezed around him like you couldn’t stand even an inch of distance—
Something in him snapped.
And now you were folded beneath him, legs hooked over his shoulders, arms pinned above your head with one of his big hands wrapped around your wrists, completely at his mercy.
The angle was brutal. Deep. Overwhelming.
You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The thick weight of him drove every thought out of your head with each slow, devastating thrust that had your thighs trembling and your toes curling in the air.
“Asahi—” you gasped, but it was barely a sound. Your voice broke halfway through, your fingers twitching against his grip.
His other hand wasn’t idle—it skated down your waist, gripping your thigh, your hip, like he didn’t know where to hold you first. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in sharp, desperate bursts, his body trembling from the effort of keeping it together.
“You feel—” he choked out, driving deeper, harder, the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echoing off the walls, “—so good, sweetheart. So fucking good.”
You whined. Couldn’t help it. Your whole body was screaming for him, clenching around him like you never wanted him to stop.
And Asahi, sweet, gentle Asahi, fucked you through it with a quiet ferocity that stole the air from your lungs.
He wasn’t rough. He wasn’t violent. But he was relentless—thrust after thrust angled to wreck you completely, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress with every snap of his hips.
You sobbed out his name, back arching off the bed despite his weight holding you down, and he groaned—low, broken, primal—when he felt how close you were.
“That’s it,” he panted, hips grinding in deep, “Come on, baby, come for me. Let go—I’ve got you.”
And you did.
The orgasm tore through you like a violent wave, pulling the breath from your lungs, your body spasming helplessly under him. You clamped down around him so hard he almost folded, his jaw locking as he cursed under his breath, fucking you through it even as your nails raked helplessly at his shoulders, even as you sobbed his name again and again.
He wasn’t far behind.
You felt the way his rhythm faltered—the way he ground into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, as he came with a low, broken sound against your neck.
His entire body shuddered above you.
For a long time, neither of you moved. Just the sound of heavy breathing, trembling limbs, and water rushing faintly in the bathroom beyond the door.
Slowly, Asahi lowered your legs from his shoulders, pressing kisses to your knees, your thighs, anywhere he could reach, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a second.
You whimpered when his mouth brushed over the sensitive inside of your thigh, another tremor ripping through you.
He smiled against your skin—small, wrecked, overwhelmed.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, dragging his lips up to your hip. “Got a little carried away.”
You shook your head, still gasping, still stunned. Still full of him.
Asahi chuckled, low and breathless, and kissed your stomach, your ribs, your sternum—slow, grounding kisses that made your overstimulated body twitch and shiver with every touch.
“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, lips brushing your pulse. “I’ve got you.”
You barely managed a broken whimper in response before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest like you were something he couldn’t afford to lose.
And in that moment, you knew: He hadn't just fucked you like he was afraid of breaking you. He fucked you like he was afraid of losing you.