Work Text:
Beel woke up like any normal day—with a raging hard-on. Usually it wasn’t so pronounced, so painful, so achy, but his dreams had betrayed him the night before. He thought of the exchange student, their clothes on the floor of his bedroom, their tongue on his shaft, their hands roaming his abs and legs as he struggled not to thrust into their waiting mouth.
Yep. This had become a problem worse than most mornings, but Beel was no stranger to a pre-shower self-love session. In fact, he already found his hand wrapped around the head of his throbbing cock as he gathered the cum on its tip and rubbed it lower. His fingers tightened and loosened like he imagined a partner’s might, like someone had begun to get tired.
Eyes still closed and brain still catching up to his actions, he replayed the dream—what he could remember—in his head. The clothes, the underwear, the shirt, the pants, all strewn over the floor. Did he help to take them off? He imagined that he did. The warmth of their mouth on his dick, not unlike the warmth of his own hand squeezing in time to his rhythmic thrusts. He was close. He was always quick in the mornings, ready to climax before getting out of bed, but this was particularly quick.
Grunting and arching his hips up into his hand, he came, cum spurting onto the inside of his boxers and running down the back of his hand. For a split second, he pictured licking it up, licking the exchange student, and how perfect that would be, but the feeling passed with his climax, the breath in his lungs coming quickly and in subtle gasps so as not to wake Belphie across the room. After he settled, he dipped his sweaty head back and closed his eyes, just before his stomach rumbled with hunger.
Well, he would do a cursory clean up and then run down to the kitchen for breakfast.
Post-RAD workouts always got his adrenaline rushing. A bunch of physical activity, the cheers from his teammates, the snacks and drinks during practice and how hard he pushed himself came together to create one hell of a hormonal beast. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon that Beel yearned to leave practice early in order to take care of business, but he always stayed until the very last minute. Sometimes, as with meals, the payoff was far sweeter when he waited.
This time, however, he hardly made it into the shower after all the other teammates had left without revealing himself to them. He was hard again, a combination of the adrenaline and the testosterone rolling through his veins. Smacking the water faucet and yanking closed the curtain, Beel breathed a sigh of relief to be in private, or at least as private as he could get before going all the way home. He needed a release, just a quick one. Just enough to make it home so he could focus on his homework and on what was for dinner.
Before the water hit his chest, he snatched his hard cock and pumped rapidly, not caring who may have seen or if anyone would judge him for taking a quick crack at himself in the showers. His forearm rested on the shower wall as he worked at his dick, and on that was his forehead as he watched himself grow and pulse and throb in his own hand. Growling to himself, he nipped into his forearm to stop from howling, his brow furrowed, his abdomen heaving, his hips thrusting forward to watch his strokes until he reached the point of no return. So good, he thought, heat rushing his cheeks as cum shot against the shower wall. So good, take it all, take it, hell yeah, swallow all of it. He gasped and ground his palm against the head of his sensitive cock, bringing a subtle whine from his core.
Then, once he settled down, he took a facecloth from his shower bag and cleaned all evidence off the wall.
Beel couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t often that he couldn’t sleep at all due to his stomach growling, but he was starving. Without hesitation, he sneaked his way into the kitchen to raid the fridge.
In the middle of swallowing down leftovers from the hellhog dinner that Satan had made, a familiar sensation stirred in his pajama pants. He tried ignoring it; he sincerely tried, but the more he satisfied himself with food in his stomach, the more his dick seemed to take the gluttony. He was so horny he could hardly stand, so he sat in front of the open fridge on a chair against the kitchen island, a sandwich in one hand and his dick in the other.
Once he swallowed the last of the food, he squirmed like an antsy child in the seat. This was bad. This was the worst yet. He was harder than ever, in the middle of the night in the kitchen, with no one else around, no sounds except the gentle hum of the refrigerator beside him. Like a vibrator, he thought with a chuckle, but then he wished he had one to press against his frenulum and make himself rip the table to shreds. Instead, he rubbed himself slowly through his pants, the fabric acting as a dampener as well as a different texture. Maybe it would be enough stimulation for him to get back to his bedroom.
Or, as he discovered merely seconds later, it would make the feeling a million times more needy. Beel wanted nothing more than to sheath himself in someone, anyone, and fuck them into hell’s fifth layer. Since no one was around, he settled for continuing the tender tease through his pajamas and chomped into his arm to stop from whining. It would wake the entire household like when his stomach growled.
He wanted to make it quick, so he sped his pace until it nearly hurt, until he could picture a bouncing ass in front of him as he pounded away at them, until he imagined grabbing bruises into the thickest part of it and squeezing until they squeezed him back. He bit his forearm harder, digging his canines into the supple skin without a care; it would heal by the morning, and he wore long sleeves anyway most of the time.
With a whine, he came, his leg kicking up and bashing into the underside of the countertop, leaving a crack along the marble. At the moment, he didn’t care, he did not care, all he cared about was the rush of ecstasy through his body and the way his cock throbbed as his boxers fill with cum, as the ass he was picturing filled and was his, his, his, forever claimed by him and no one else, all his forever. He growled and smacked his fist onto his thigh as another sob of passion found its way from his lungs, his breath rough and ragged, his body shivering from the climax like none other.
Then, he began to settle. His mind cleared. His body stopped trembling. The discomfort in his pants began to irritate his senses. Waddling to the kitchen entryway to prevent any slippage of cum, Beel sighed and flipped off the lights as he made his way to the laundry room, and then into bed to repeat the routine in the morning.