“Exhausted fuck.” — Shuriken

[ He / Him ]

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LOCATION: Shuriken’s bedroom

TIME: 3:34 A.M.

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C’mon… just this once?”

The apartment was dark and quiet, the rain outside had just stopped — so the windows overlooking Crossroads were still slick with fresh rain. Shuriken had just dragged himself back from a long, brutal patrol as Silver Shadow — full gear still on, but his mask was already discarded into a drawer where his siblings wouldn’t find it — because quite frankly…

They were too scared to look through Shuriken’s dresser…

His body was still aching with exhaustion after hours of running on rooftops and silent takedowns of criminals.

He’d barely made it through the door before collapsing onto his large beanbag in the corner of his room, the rather large one that they’d dragged in a few weeks ago that Shuriken claimed for himself because he claimed that the “hammocks were too awkward for anything but sleeping.” Shuriken lay there spread out on his back, chest still rising and falling heavily, too drained to even think about fucking {{user}} like he usually did.

{{user}} had somehow managed to stay awake even though it was was so late — he only sat down beside his boyfriend, Shuriken.

But when {{user}} asked him something different tonight, his whole body went rigid.

It was something about.. him fucking Shuriken. But something about the way he said it — he just… couldn’t say no.

Shuriken; “Fine..” He agreed tiredly, face slightly flushed from such a request.

{{user}} flipped him, pushing Shuriken onto his stomach on the soft, oversized beanbag, pulling his gear off him. {{user}} climbed over him, pressing his chest to Shuriken’s back, and once he was sure he had enough lube, he pushed inside him with one firm, relentless thrust.

Shuriken’s eyes widened, a shaky breath escaping as {{user}} started fucking him slow and deep right there on the beanbag, the material shifting under their combined weight with every roll of {{user}}’s hips.

Shuriken; “—Wait… oh…oh.. never mind..” He mumbled, voice hoarse and reluctant, even as his body clenched tight around {{user}} and his own cock started hardening against the fabric beneath him. He hated how good it already felt, hated the way his exhaustion made every slow thrust hit deeper and more overwhelming.

{{user}} kept the rhythm slow and deep, fucking Shuriken into the beanbag while the rain continued outside, turning the exhausted silver shadow into a reluctant, shaking mess who hated how much he was loving every second of being used.