Chapter Text
25
Yeosang doesn't want to think about how easy it was to fool Jongho, or how stupid it was either, because it's not like he had a plan or anything specific about how to continue after telling him he wasn't feeling very well and that it would be best if he went home.
He'd used an overly sweet tone and teary, slightly unfocused eyes to make his act believable, even though he felt like an idiot since he wasn't used to behaving that way. But the point wasn't to go home alone, what would be the point of any of that?
No, Yeosang got exactly what he wanted. Mingi and Wooyoung should be proud of him, though it's not like he was going to tell them he'd put on an entire pitiful performance just so Jongho would offer to take him home.
"I live far away," another lie whispered in a low voice, a little weak purely for dramatic effect. "Can I stay with you? If it's not a bother?"
There isn't a single ounce of hesitation when Jongho blurts out, "Of course, hyung!" before dragging him out of the bar without sparing anyone else a second glance.
At least Yeosang has the foresight to send Wooyoung a message so no one panics when they suddenly disappear.
Normally, the younger would be very careful with his manners and let everyone know he was leaving, but his worried gaze stays fixed on Yeosang, and the older vaguely wonders if he isn't overdoing his performance.
"Are you really drunk? Doesn't the cold air make you feel even dizzier?" is the first thing Jongho asks when the chilly night breeze greets them outside the bar.
"I'm not drunk," he clarifies, because he isn't, not really. A little tipsy and making stupid decisions, absolutely, but Yeosang could keep drinking for hours before truly losing himself, something he won't do because that isn't the plan. "My head just started hurting really badly. I guess it's been so long since we went out that I've lost a bit of my social tolerance," he explains because he doesn't know what other excuse he could come up with to justify his supposed discomfort.
That seems to calm Jongho a little, and he smiles at him, understanding.
"I get it, you really start feeling suffocated after a while," the younger says, fiddling with his phone, presumably to call a taxi. "I don't live far, but I don't want you walking too much in this cold," Jongho says, even though there's no need for explanations. At that moment, Yeosang is willing to go along with whatever he decides.
They stay silent while they wait to be picked up. Yeosang takes long breaths because he doesn't really know what comes next. Of course he wants to go to Jongho's place, he's never been there. He can't even imagine what will be waiting for him when they arrive. Will he have a comfortable couch? That's where he plans to sleep, although if Jongho wants to give him his bed, he won't say no, even though he probably should. He's not entirely sure he'll be able to stop himself from doing... things there, surrounded by the younger's scent and warmth.
What if he says something like the bed is big enough for both of them?
Holy fucking shit, Yeosang is completely fucked if something like that happens.
He thinks the best thing would be to simply jump him, lay all his cards on the table and all that shit, because how the hell is he supposed to keep living like this from now on? Wanting, wanting, and fucking wanting something he doesn't even know if he can have.
He's terrified of being rejected, of course. Yeosang hasn't exactly been Jongho's favorite person over the past year. He vaguely wonders if Jongho would react like Yunho and throw him out in the middle of the night.
He laughs, unable to stop himself because why the hell does he have to think about that at a moment like this?
Alcohol works in mysterious ways.
"Are you sure you're not drunk?" Jongho's voice brings him back to reality.
He's been so lost in his thoughts, breathing deeply and trying not to say or do anything stupid that he almost forgets who he's with.
"I remembered Mingi talking about vanilla and beaver asses," he replies, because he obviously can't tell him the truth.
Fortunately for him, Jongho bursts into laughter.
"Yeah, he shared that info with me too," Jongho says once he recovers from his laughing fit.
His smile is beautiful, Yeosang can't help thinking. The way he shows his teeth and part of his gums. It makes him look younger, his eyes disappear into his soft cheeks, and everything around him seems to light up.
It's a smile he thinks is worth risking walking through the dark night for if it turns out his feelings aren't returned because, if they are, the reward would be more than worth it.
He thinks that, even though things between Mingi and Yunho were disastrous, he also has Wooyoung and San as an example, where everything turned out better than he'd expected. The odds are fifty-fifty.
By the time the taxi finally arrives and Jongho opens the door for him, offering one of his hands to help him even though it isn't necessary, Yeosang actually thinks his chances are better than he wants to admit, fear or not.
26
The ride is shorter than he'd expected, and he almost feels bad that Jongho spent money on a trip they could've easily made on foot, but the younger refuses every attempt the older makes to give him money to split the fare.
"I would've spent money getting home anyway, hyung. You don't have to worry," Jongho tells him when he insists on paying for the third time.
"I'm being a bother," Yeosang replies, unable to stop the pout forming on his lips.
"You're never a bother... well, not anymore, at least," the younger teases, poking one of his cheeks.
They're inside the building's elevator since Jongho lives on one of the upper floors, although the older didn't pay much attention to which one exactly, far too distracted by Jongho's beautiful smile.
Out of pure habit, since it's usually Wooyoung who does something like that, Yeosang bites him. He figures Jongho wasn't expecting it or thought the older wouldn't react because he doesn't manage to pull his finger away fast enough, leaving it trapped between Yeosang's teeth.
"Fuck, sorry," Yeosang apologizes quickly. "Wooyoungie does it so much that it's become a..."
He cuts himself off when he sees Jongho's eyes darken slightly. He doesn't know if it's anger or something else, but it's enough to make Yeosang's body tremble. He knows this isn't exactly the right moment to get turned on, but that's it, exactly that is what he's missed all this time, the dark look Jongho used to give him.
It doesn't matter whether it was back when Yeosang had been unbearable to him or right then, the look is the same, and the older finally realizes it isn't one of anger or annoyance. It looks more like hunger. Jongho's eyes are fixed on Yeosang's lips so intensely that he thinks they could pierce straight through his soul, if they haven't already.
The older is so absorbed in his thoughts that he doesn't notice when Jongho brings the hand he'd bitten up to his jaw, cupping his face with a surprising amount of force. Jongho's fingers press slightly into Yeosang's cheeks and, despite everything, he doesn't resist. He lets him do as he pleases as if he'd been waiting for this moment his entire life. Maybe he has, he doesn't know. The only thing he knows is that his back hits the elevator wall, both of them staring into each other's eyes.
Yeosang can't stop himself from licking his lips in anticipation. Of what? He doesn't know, but he's more than willing to find out, and it pleases him immensely to notice how the younger follows the movement with his eyes, his pupils so dilated that they're nothing but black pools instead of their naturally warm honey color.
He can almost feel the kiss, even taste it, but Yeosang is hit with a harsh dose of reality when the doors suddenly slide open, snapping Jongho out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. He lets go of the older's face and takes several hurried steps back, startled, as though he has no idea how he'd ended up in that position.
"Hyung, I..." Jongho tries to explain, blinking several times as he attempts to clear the fog clouding his mind.
And there is no fucking way Yeosang is going to let that happen. Not when he was so close. When he is still so close.
So he grabs Jongho by the arm, cutting off his excuses, and pulls him out of the elevator into the hallway lined with apartment doors, not knowing where he's going and not giving a single fuck.
"Which one is yours?" is all he asks, leading the way with Jongho stumbling after him.
"The third door on the right," the younger replies in a strained voice. Yeosang's tone is low and husky. He sounds angry, and that's Jongho's biggest concern, ending up back on his hyung's bad side.
Even so, nothing in his life could've prepared him for what was about to happen. Yeosang orders him to open the door, and the moment he does, he's shoved inside his own apartment, where he thinks he might be met with a few punches or a lot of yelling. Maybe a few dirty looks, he doesn't know.
But that... that had never crossed his mind.
As soon as the door closes behind them, Yeosang leans back against it, taking one of Jongho's hands and bringing it back to his face, holding it there with a firmer grip. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and he's looking at Jongho so intensely that the younger trembles again, though no longer out of fear, but because of something entirely different.
"What was it you wanted to do, Jongho?" Yeosang whispers in a low voice, deeper and rougher than usual. It sounds like a threat, but it's so sensual that the lower half of the younger's body twists with interest.
Even so, the situation still makes Jongho nervous, and he swallows hard. And yet, he doesn't try to pull his hand away from Yeosang. The older isn't even forcing him to stay in that position anymore. He could pull away if he wanted to, but Jongho knows perfectly well that's the last thing he wants to do. Instead, he moves the thumb of the hand Yeosang is holding until he can brush it across his lips, tracing the same path the older's tongue has been nervously following. They're damp and flushed, looking soft, and that only brings all the impure thoughts he'd had in the elevator rushing back even stronger.
"You don't want to know," he replies just as quietly, remembering that the older had asked him a question.
"I do want to know," Yeosang says, licking the tip of Jongho's thumb, the touch barely noticeable. "I want you to do it."
"Hyung," Jongho gasps, feeling himself on the verge of losing all self-control. He presses his body against Yeosang's, slamming his free fist against the door while tightening his grip on the older, squeezing his cheeks until his lips part slightly. He leans in so close they can feel each other's breath. "Are you drunk?" he asks again because he needs to know that none of this is the result of alcohol. Maybe this is some fever dream, but that would still be easier to deal with than his drunken hyung.
"Jongho," the older man manages to say even with the hand gripping his face, the palm beneath his chin limiting his movements a little. "I wasn't even feeling sick," he admits honestly because what's the point of continuing to lie?
"No?" the question slips out in a whisper, impossibly close to Yeosang's lips, so close he can feel the brush against his own as he speaks. "Then what were you trying to do?" the younger continues, mercilessly. Yeosang feels his smile more than he sees it. The hand that had slammed against the door now slides along his sides, searching for the hem of his shirt until it slips beneath it and across his back. The touch feels cold against Yeosang's feverish skin.
"Be with you," is the answer he gives, feeling completely defenseless in Jongho's arms. Yeosang's hands rise to clutch the front of the younger's shirt, searching for something to hold onto before he completely loses his mind.
"I thought you couldn't stand me." Jongho doesn't even know why they aren't kissing already, but he finds it incredibly amusing and rather exciting to watch how desperately Yeosang wants him, clutching at his clothes, following the movement of his lips, weakly leaning forward, trying to catch Jongho's mouth while the younger, cruelly, won't let him.
"I'm not standing you right now," Yeosang growls, unbelievably frustrated and believing himself capable of begging if that's what Jongho is trying to get from all of this, even though he hates the thought with all his soul.
Laughter bursts from Jongho's chest. He can't help it. The situation is so surreal. Someone as beautiful as Yeosang, with his pale skin, lips almost as red as his hair, those pleading eyes, that beautiful birthmark. He's the most dazzling, beautiful person Jongho has ever seen in his life, and there he is, practically begging to be kissed. To be ruined. For him, Choi Jongho. In what universe is that even possible?
Apparently, in this one, and he's doing absolutely nothing about it.
He has so many questions, of course. They're drilling into his head, but he doesn't think this is the best time to clear them up, so finally, fina-fucking-lly, he closes the little distance between them and captures the other's lips with force, with hunger.
A hunger he's felt for far longer than he's willing to admit.
And it's wonderful to feel that there's no resistance whatsoever. Yeosang's lips part at the very first touch, wasting no time with preliminaries. He welcomes him completely, accepting Jongho's tongue into his mouth, savoring it as though he were quenching his thirst, desperate to let the younger invade every corner while meeting him eagerly with his own tongue. The moan Yeosang lets out with Jongho so close, their bodies locked together tightly enough that something inside both of them creaks, is almost pornographic and ends up awakening other parts of the younger.
The kiss is wet, messy. There's so much tongue, lips, and teeth involved that if anyone saw them, they'd think they were two kids who'd never been taught how to kiss. But it's the product of their desperation, of all the longing and desire they've held back for far too long finally overflowing.
Jongho slides both hands down to the older man's ass, squeezing it firmly before lifting him up in a clear command for Yeosang to wrap his legs around his waist.
Once again, there isn't a single second of hesitation. Yeosang clings to Jongho with both arms and legs, wrapping them around his neck and waist, bringing them impossibly close, if that was even possible.
The plan had been to make it to the bedroom, but in their new position they end up pinned against a wall instead, spending a long while kissing there, the older man's weight seeming like nothing Jongho has to struggle with.
Yeosang rubs against him however he can, letting his erection brush against whatever it can reach even though the fabric irritates his sensitive skin.
"Jongho," he moans at some point between kisses, his lips sore and swollen, yet with no desire to stop.
He's repeated the younger's name countless times, and he knows he's received an equally broken "hyung" in return, but neither of them gives the other enough of a break to finish their thoughts or their sentences. Maybe there's nothing to finish. Maybe it's simply the need to say each other's names, to know they're there, that this is real.
Eventually, they make it to Jongho's bedroom, tearing each other's clothes off however they can along the way. Something definitely rips in the process, but neither of them pays any attention, focused only on the need to touch more and more skin until they tumble naked onto the bed.
Just as he has from the very beginning, Yeosang doesn't hesitate for even a second to spread his legs and welcome Jongho between them, craving the warmth of his body, the brush of the other's cock against his own, drawing sighs from both of them that disappear into a kiss neither of them seems capable of breaking, even though he desperately wants to taste other parts of him too.
Jongho is dying to leave hundreds of marks across the other's skin, knowing that with how pale Yeosang is, it'd surely be so easy to redden it with kisses and bites. But kissing him is addictive. His taste has Jongho intoxicated, and he has no idea how he'll ever manage to pull away even as his lungs begin to burn from not breathing properly.
What's worse, Yeosang doesn't seem willing to let him go either, trapping him tightly between his legs, clinging to his back with hands like claws that roam over his soft flesh, probably leaving faint marks with his nails already. So Jongho settles for gripping the other's hips, squeezing hard enough that he's sure his fingerprints will be painted there later.
The thought makes the younger smile. Knowing Yeosang will carry him on his skin, that he'll remember his touch, his kisses. That if anyone ever dared to look, not that Jongho would ever allow it, they'd know immediately that he already belongs to someone, someone possessive.
To make that perfectly clear, he thrusts his hips sharply, their cocks sliding effortlessly against each other, slick with the moisture leaking uncontrollably from their tips.
Yeosang breaks the kiss with a gasp, overwhelmed by everything and yet still needing more. He wants to feel more of Jongho, so much more, all the way to the deepest part of himself, and he wants Jongho to make a complete mess of him.
Jongho, for his part, doesn't waste the opportunity to explore other parts of Yeosang's body. Of course he wants to keep kissing him, but his neck looks so inviting, his nipples so tempting, and feeling just how wet his cock is, makes saliva gather in his mouth at the thought of taking it between his lips and pulling sobs from the older man. Having him begging because of his actions, demanding more, is what drives him to trail burning kisses down Yeosang's neck, shoulders, and chest. He even lets his teeth join in.
For the briefest fraction of a second, Jongho wants to ask if this is okay, if he's really allowed to do whatever he wants while exploring his body, if it's alright to leave marks, but one quick look at the wreck lying beneath him confirms that yes, in that moment, anything that crosses his mind has all the permission in the world. He even thinks that stopping is the one thing he's forbidden from doing. It's obvious when Yeosang only clings tighter and tighter to him, terrified that either of them might regain their senses and decide the best thing would be to stop.
But who the hell would ever think that was the best thing? Jongho certainly wouldn't. Not when everything he'd dreamed about for months is lying on his bed, writhing among his sheets and pleading with him to keep going lower before he loses his mind.
With a satisfied smile, Jongho captures one of Yeosang's pink nipples. The swollen bud trembles between his teeth, and the muffled moan the older man lets out when he bites down gently is like liquid gold to his ears. He never would've imagined that a voice as deep as Yeosang's could sound so deliciously high-pitched.
He continues tormenting both nipples with his mouth, taking turns between them while one of his hands finally leaves the older man's hips and, without hesitation, wraps around his trembling erection. It's wet, and the tip is painfully flushed.
"Jong..." Yeosang tries to say, but the words die on his lips when the younger runs his thumb over the tip of his cock, smearing the fresh bead of moisture leaking from it before stroking him slowly from top to bottom, with lazy, almost absent-minded movements that draw not moans but broken sobs from Yeosang's throat.
"Hyung," Jongho whispers softly, sounding almost sweet, affectionate, but something in his tone and the look in his eyes sends an electric current racing through the older man's body. "You look so pretty like this," the younger continues without stopping the movements of his hand, delivering long licks across Yeosang's chest while staying mostly focused on his nipples. "If only you could see yourself," he says, biting hard into one of his pecs until a red mark blooms where his teeth had been. "If anyone knew how needy you are," he laughs without a trace of malice, delighted that every response he gets is another moan or gasp. "How badly you want me..."
"So much..." Yeosang can't help but force out a response to that last statement. "Please..." he begs, even though he doesn't know exactly what he's begging for.
Fortunately, Jongho is a very smart guy, and it doesn't matter that they've only recently started getting along or that this is the first (though certainly not the last) time they're together, because the younger is good at reading him, understanding his broken sentences and the pleas hidden inside every gasp.
That doesn't mean he isn't going to tease him as much as he can in the meantime, because Jongho enjoys hearing his hyung beg far too much, amazed by the fact that the man who spent months tormenting him until he was on the verge of losing all self-control can now think of nothing but Jongho, Jongho, and more Jongho.
That gives the younger a rather unjustified sense of superiority. It's not like he plans to take advantage of that knowledge, at least not outside this bed. Or outside situations where he's allowed to. He'd never dare look down on Yeosang under any other circumstances.
And yet, for as long as this lasts, he'll allow himself to be the one in control. He'll be the one calling the shots, and deep down he knows that's exactly what Yeosang wants. Because the older man hasn't given him a single order. He's only said please, and asking what Jongho wanted to do to him and telling him to do it had sounded much more like a plea.
Vaguely, Jongho wonders if Wooyoung has ever seen this side of his best friend, but he cuts the thought off immediately because this isn't the time to think about anyone else, and because if by some chance Wooyoung did know, Jongho has no idea how he'd keep his jealousy under control.
So he forces himself back to reality, where he finally abandons the task of tormenting Yeosang's nipples, now far redder and more sensitive than recommended, releasing the older man's erection as well, much to his disappointment.
"What...?" is the question that slips from Yeosang's lips, his voice sounding on the verge of tears.
"Turn over," Jongho orders without giving a second thought to speaking that way to someone older than him.
Instead, he stretches toward his nightstand, frantically searching until he finds the bottle of lube he keeps there. He doesn't even bother checking whether Yeosang obeyed his order after he turned away. He has no reason for that confidence, but he's certain of his instincts, of what he knows Yeosang wants and expects from him.
The smile spreading across his lips probably makes him look a little stupid given the situation, but he can't help it because Yeosang not only turned over like he'd been told, he also placed a pillow beneath his chest and lifted his hips, ready and willing for what they both know is coming next.
And just as the older man hasn't disappointed him even once, Jongho is determined not to disappoint him either. So he wastes no time, quickly opening the bottle in his hands before positioning himself behind the older man's body, captivated by the view. The expanse of flawless white skin that is Yeosang's back, the roundness of his ass, and the soft pink of his hole, trembling expectantly beneath his gaze.
Jongho lets a stream of lube run from the base of Yeosang's ass all the way down to his entrance, letting the cold liquid make him shiver and draw a small gasp from him.
The slickness coats the area and runs all the way down his length before dripping along his thighs and disappearing farther below. It'll definitely make a mess of the sheets but considering what he has planned for the rest of the night, Jongho is pretty sure he'll have to throw them away afterward. A small price to pay, if anyone asks him.
"Jongho," Yeosang's distant whisper reaches him, his voice muffled by the blankets and the pile of pillows surrounding his face.
The older man feels so close to the edge that it won't be long before he begs Jongho to enter him without any further preparation. He knows it's necessary, and even though he didn't pay much attention with his eyes, from what he felt against his body he knows Jongho's size is considerable, and preparing himself is for the best.
Even so, the need burning inside him feels unbearable. It feels as though lava is flowing through his veins from how desperately he needs to be fucked hard, and he doesn't know how he hasn't already burst into tears from frustration. He thinks it's pure stubbornness, clinging to what little dignity he has left despite having already stripped bare every part of himself, not just his body. He knows he hasn't said much all night, but he's left himself completely exposed before Jongho, so what difference would it make to strip away everything else? No matter how vulnerable it makes him feel, he believes he'd be completely safe in Jongho's arms.
Those thoughts should truly frighten him, but he can't find it in himself to care.
"What's wrong, hyung?" the younger asks, knowing perfectly well what's wrong, yet wanting to hear something other than his name from the older man's lips, even if it's already the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.
There's no answer, however, so Jongho bends down until his teeth can catch the flesh of one of Yeosang's cheeks, making the older man let out a small cry somewhere between surprise and pleasure.
"Use your words, Sangie. I'm not a mind reader," he warns, though there's a smile on his lips, and Yeosang can probably hear it in his voice.
The younger covers every inch of flesh before him with long licks and bites, occasionally trailing down over his hyung's milky, plush thighs, which shiver beneath every wet touch. One of his fingers finally begins teasing Yeosang's entrance before slipping inside without much ceremony. The intrusion is slow but steady, Jongho always alert for the slightest sign of discomfort from the other man.
Even so, the older man doesn't know whether it's the way Jongho said his name or the invasion of his body that makes him clutch the sheets so tightly, praying he won't come from something he considers so simple.
Even then, he feels like he's been on the verge of an orgasm ever since they started kissing. That's the effect Jongho has on his body. One look, one small touch, one simple word is enough to make his entire body surrender in a way he considers pathetic. He thinks that's the main reason he was always angry with Jongho. Yes, seeing the younger man angry and dominant is delicious in itself, but what he's turned Yeosang into without his permission is the most frustrating part of all, and it's right then, in that exact moment, that he realizes he's completely fucked and entirely at Jongho's mercy.
"Let it go, Yeosang," he hears whispered against his ear.
At some point, Jongho stretched his entire body out to line himself up with Yeosang, two fingers now inside him, reaching around his side so he could whisper comfortably. The weight of the younger man's body over his own feels wonderful, fitting like the missing piece of a puzzle, and it's so overwhelming that the orgasm tears through Yeosang before he can deny himself again. He feels his cock pulse between his legs, spilling over the sheets while his body clenches tightly.
He feels more than hears the moan Jongho lets out as his fingers are trapped by the heat inside Yeosang, his walls pulsing around them with the rhythm of his orgasm, wishing it were his cock instead of his fingers.
But if there's one thing Jongho has learned from Yeosang, it's patience. So much patience. Because at this point, he knows the reward will be completely worth it.
The two of them remain still for long moments, Jongho mostly waiting for Yeosang to come down from his post-orgasmic haze, feeling the way his body goes completely limp against the bed.
Not that it's a sign to stop. On the contrary, the moment he feels Yeosang relax, he goes back to work with his fingers, slipping in a third one much more easily.
The older man tenses for a second, oversensitive after his recent orgasm, and just when Jongho thinks he's about to pull away, he's surprised to feel Yeosang lift his hips again, giving him easy access to his body once more.
"Do you want to keep going?" because if there's one thing Jongho always needs, it's the certainty that he isn't pressuring or taking advantage of his hyung.
"I'm going to kill you if you stop," Yeosang growls, his voice more broken than before but lacking any real malice. Even then, he sounds pleading, and Jongho has no idea how he doesn't burst out laughing when he realizes it.
He wants to find words to tease the older man. About how needy he is, about how utterly wrecked he already sounds even though they haven't gotten to the interesting part yet. About how it might be too much for him, though that's less teasing than genuine concern.
But what's the point? It's not like Jongho wants to push until Yeosang genuinely gets angry, and in the unlikely event that Yeosang asked him to stop, would he really have the strength to grant that wish?
He doesn't think so, so he won't even put the possibility on the table.
Instead, Jongho simply keeps working his way deeper into Yeosang's body with his three fingers slick with lube while trying to maneuver the half-empty bottle with his free hand, pouring what remains over his aching cock.
He hisses softly at the cold touch, feeling like that simple action alone could make him finish if he isn't careful, feeling like a hypocrite for wanting to tease Yeosang's need when he's hardly in any better shape himself. If he had less self-control or were less considerate, he'd probably already be having a second orgasm inside his hyung, caring little about proper preparation and seeking only his own pleasure.
Fortunately, he's a much better person than that, and even though Yeosang begged for it, Jongho knows the older man would suffer once the haze of his arousal finally faded.
"Now, now, now, now…" Those are the words that pull him back to reality as he watches the way Yeosang grips the sheets so tightly it has to hurt. His knuckles have turned white from the pressure, and even in the dim light of the room, Jongho can clearly see the furious flush coloring his hyung's beautiful face.
His chest swells with pride at the thought that he has him on the verge of a second orgasm, almost tempted to let him have it, though afraid it'd be too much for the older man and he'd end up passing out or something. That would definitely make Yeosang furious, and Jongho has no death wish. He wants to fuck and satisfy the other man, yes, not get himself killed.
It's tempting, of course, and he can't help laughing a little as he withdraws his fingers from Yeosang's body and, without much ceremony, turns him onto his back.
He doesn't stop to admire how utterly wrecked he looks, how ragged his breathing has become, or how despite already having had an orgasm, Yeosang is still incredibly hard between his legs. All Jongho does is settle himself between his milky thighs, barely aligning his cock with the wet entrance that seems to throb with need before melting into a tight embrace.
Jongho lets his head fall against Yeosang's chest with a quiet laugh, more because he can't believe he's actually in a situation like this than because of how whiny the older man sounds and looks, who, despite everything, wraps both his arms and legs around the younger man's body, perhaps afraid he'll slip away if he lets go.
"Give me a second," Jongho asks, his voice breaking because he's pretty sure that if he starts fucking Yeosang right then, he won't last even five seconds.
It's too much. That doesn't mean he's going to stop, but he's never felt so overwhelmed in his life, and he finds himself wondering exactly when Yeosang started making him feel this way.
Maybe the answer is always. How beautiful and terrifying he is. The contrast between his deep voice and his ethereal appearance, or between his shitty personality and how absentminded he can sometimes be.
Jongho had already resigned himself to living the rest of his life believing Yeosang hated him, so when they finally managed to have a conversation like civilized people, when he realized the older man was actually making an effort not to be so... well, so Yeosang, Jongho thought he was going to implode with happiness.
And now this. What exactly is this? Just sex? Why Jongho? Surely Yeosang could have anyone he wanted.
The real question is why he's thinking about any of that. Would talking before ending up tangled together in bed have made any difference?
He doesn't think so.
But his thoughts come to an abrupt halt when the arms that had been holding him so tightly loosen their grip, giving Jongho just enough time to panic, convinced Yeosang has finally reached the end of his patience. But the older man doesn't let him go, not really. Instead, he begins running his hands gently over Jongho's shoulders and back. Trying to calm him down? He doesn't know, because Yeosang is still trembling beneath him, needy and desperate, but he hasn't denied Jongho his moment, and he seems to understand that he needs to stop before something explodes.
That's the push Jongho needs to shut his brain off, deciding that any doubts are a problem for Future Jongho. Present Jongho lifts himself just enough to reach Yeosang's lips, and the older man welcomes him eagerly, letting out a soft moan of pleasure as he devours his mouth without realizing the kiss is only a distraction while the younger man drives his cock into his body with one decisive thrust, burying half of himself with astonishing ease.
Perhaps because the older man had been so relaxed and distracted, because instead of pulling away, he deepens the kiss and digs his nails into Jongho's back, gripping so tightly that Jongho loses his balance and collapses completely on top of him.
"Like this..." the older man mumbles against Jongho's lips, licking them before continuing. "This is how I want you..."
He has no idea how Jongho is going to move when their bodies are pressed together so tightly, chest against chest, hips against hips, Yeosang's legs locked firmly around Jongho's waist, one of the younger man's arms wrapped around Yeosang's neck while the other braces against the headboard, but he doesn't really care. He knows Jongho will find a way because all he wants in that moment is for there to be no space between them, so that if someone looked at them from the outside, only the contrast between their skin would reveal where one of them ended and the other began.
And, as always, Jongho understands because, apparently, Jongho was made to understand Yeosang. So with nothing but the support of his knees on the bed and one hand braced against the headboard, Jongho begins moving in and out of his hyung's body. At first he's a little clumsy as he searches for a rhythm that lets him move without changing their position too much, but soon the speed and force of his thrusts increase, his movements growing surer with every passing second until the only sounds filling the room are their combined gasps, the wet slap of their hips, and the creaking of the bed.
Yeosang wishes he could keep kissing Jongho forever, drinking down every one of his moans and tasting that addictive mouth of his, but the hard thrusts into his body make it impossible for him to coordinate anything, so all he can do is bury his face in the younger man's neck, biting whenever the urge strikes him, getting distracted every so often because he'd never imagined feeling so full could feel so good that even his toes curl with pleasure. The bites are mostly clumsy licks tasting the salt on Jongho's skin, and the terrifying thought of being able to lick every inch of Jongho makes him let out a broken little sound because he can't believe that every minute he spends in the younger man's arms only reveals darker and darker parts of himself.
"Hyung," Jongho moans, though it sounds more like a sob.
More than trying to get his attention, Yeosang knows it's a warning of just how close Jongho is, and he can't exactly say he's doing any better with the friction of Jongho's abdomen against his cock.
"Yes, yes," he answers, whatever it is Jongho wants. He's afraid it'll always be yes, especially when he asks -or doesn't, really- just as his second orgasm crashes into him with overwhelming force. Yeosang feels his stomach grow wet, and he can't stop himself from thinking how filthy it is as Jongho's hard, rapid thrusts spread everything across his body, because the sudden warmth filling him from the inside makes him see stars.
Jongho goes completely still over his hyung's body, letting his cock pulse inside him feeling he's emptied even his soul into the other man.
They hold each other tightly while struggling to catch their breath, closer than should even be possible, both buried against the other's neck.
Eventually, oxygen begins flowing normally through their bodies again, their breathing gradually slows down.
Somewhat reluctantly, Yeosang thinks it's time to pull apart, clean up the mess they've become, and, with any luck, get some sleep before Jongho decides they should talk. It's not that he doesn't want to, but if he can delay that moment for as long as possible, he will.
And yet, it seems Yeosang was very wrong about what would happen next, because what he feels is Jongho moving his hips again, his half-soft cock lazily sliding in and out of his body.
"What...?" the older man tries to ask, only to be cut off by harder, more frantic thrusts until he feels Jongho regain his full, proud size inside him.
"I'm not done with you yet, hyung," Jongho growls against his neck before taking advantage of the older man loosening his grip around him to sit up.
To Yeosang's horror, Jongho rolls them over until he's sitting astride the younger man's hips, impaled on his huge cock, feeling his own erection stir back to life for a third time, which is ridiculous.
He doesn't think he has the strength or the ability to come a third time, much less ride Jongho without passing out in the process.
Does Jongho care? Apparently not, because he grabs Yeosang's hips with both hands and, with a strength and ease that irritate the older man, begins lifting and lowering his body. He pushes him upward and lets go when only the tip of his cock remains inside. Yeosang, who has no strength left, has no choice but to be impaled over and over again until he finally lets himself collapse forward, overwhelmed by the merciless fucking Jongho is giving him, clutching at his pecs and burying his face against the younger man's neck.
In their new position, Jongho thrusts his hips upward, fast and furious, panting heavily against Yeosang's ear, wrapping both arms tightly around the older man's waist to keep him in place.
It's not like Yeosang plans to escape, or even has the strength to do so, far too content even as the pleasure begins to hurt. He can feel how wet and slick his entrance is, Jongho's previous orgasm slowly leaking out of him while making the new intrusion even easier.
Without a doubt, the younger man intends to make a complete mess of him. Maybe he's punishing him for the way Yeosang tormented him at work, or maybe he's simply letting himself go completely because he knows Yeosang won't stop him, that he'll let him do whatever he wants until he's satisfied, even if it leaves his belly swollen with so much cum.
He can't stop the gasp that dies against Jongho's neck as he bites him again, overwhelmed by the thought of being so full he might actually be able to see the result.
It's ridiculous, of course. Jongho is big, but not even then does he think he'd actually be able to see his cock bulging inside him with those powerful thrusts.
But fuck if he doesn't want it. He wants to belong to Jongho so badly, to be marked in the deepest way possible, that he's afraid he's already thinking more like an animal than a normal person. And even though that frightens him, all he can do is surrender to his third orgasm, tearing a pained sob from his throat. Very little spills from his cock, and he thinks he blacks out for a second, remaining completely at the younger man's mercy as Jongho never stops moving, chasing and riding out his own climax while the older man feels the cock inside him pulse with every jet of cum filling him uncontrollably. It feels almost as much as the first time, and, foolishly, he lets himself believe that maybe his earlier thought wasn't quite so absurd after all.
Yeosang is fairly certain they both pass out after that.
27
Mingi has never been blessed by the gods of alcohol with the ability to forget anything after a night of drinking.
He can end up completely devastated and drowned in alcohol one night, yet the next day he'll be able to recount every single step of that night. He loses his inhibitions and his brain-to-mouth filter. He's happier than usual and thinks very little about the consequences, but it's the next day when embarrassment over his actions finally catches up to him.
Like right now. He's been awake for over half an hour, but he has no idea how he's supposed to face the real world. Not after the last words he said to Yunho.
The biggest problem? He can hear Yunho moving around in his kitchen, and the smell of the breakfast he's making has already filled the apartment. So... what is he supposed to do now?
He can't believe he actually stayed just because Mingi made a stupid comment while he was drunk. And scared, very scared. Because hearing Yunho say he'd leave him alone terrified him and made him unbelievably sad. Even though, objectively, he knows it's for the best, it isn't what he wants.
He doesn't even know what he wants, but Yunho being completely out of his life definitely isn't it. Even with the way Mingi has behaved these past few months, he has no idea how Yunho keeps trying so hard. He thinks a normal person would've walked away after apologizing and getting nowhere.
Then again, Mingi knows Yunho, and even though he acted like an idiot, he knows that deep down Yunho is someone who treasures his friends and likes taking care of people. He also knows Yunho would never simply let go of the guilt. It's probably eating him alive. Maybe that makes Mingi feel a little better. If Mingi isn't happy, then no one should be.
Except... Mingi wants everyone to be happy, and he knows his friends have been lately, especially Wooyoung and Yeosang. Isn't it time he tried too?
With that thought, he finally gets out of bed. He looks at the empty glass beside it. He drank the water and took the hangover pill Yunho left him quite a while ago, which is why he doesn't feel that bad when he stands up. At least not physically. Everything still hurts inside his head, but at least he forces himself to swallow that too before walking out of his bedroom.
He barely takes a couple of steps before he catches sight of Yunho moving around in the kitchen, which is honestly funny. Yunho might worry about Mingi eating properly, but the only things he knows how to cook are fried rice and half-burnt toast on a good day. Still, nothing smells like it's burning, so ironically, it must be a good day.
The taller man's shoulders are tense, and Mingi knows he's noticed his presence. Maybe he's waiting for another hurtful comment, another shout, or even a punch.
But the younger man is simply too tired. Not from the night before, but from everything in general, so instead of saying anything, he just walks over to the couch and lets himself fall onto it.
It smells like Yunho. The blanket the older man used is lying crumpled in one corner because Yunho is a cynical critic who also happens to live in complete chaos.
Mingi can't help smiling at the thought.
"Do you want breakfast?" he hears Yunho ask in a quiet, timid voice. He'd turned toward the living room, yet he seemed to prefer looking anywhere except at Mingi. "Or do you want something to drink? How's your stomach?"
Yeah, that's definitely Yunho, and Mingi can't stop his smile from turning a little melancholy. Because the older man will always be like this, attentive and caring. And emotionally constipated.
Because Yunho takes care of people and listens to them, but he never lets anyone take care of him or listen to him. He avoids his own problems. In that sense, he reminds Mingi a lot of Hongjoong. Most of their friends, Mingi included, wear their emotions on their sleeves. They talk and make themselves heard all the time, just as they listen carefully to everyone else.
Mingi wonders when the last time was that Yunho told him about a real problem or a genuine worry.
And it's not that he's trying to justify what happened or stop being angry about it, but he can't help wondering whether he could be someone Yunho felt safe enough with to be just as ashamed and lost as he was that night.
He's not sure, but at least he thinks they could try. Start over. Make a change.
Start moving again because he feels like he got stuck in that night, and he's afraid he left Yunho trapped there too.
So instead of answering Yunho's questions with words, he pats the empty spot beside him on the couch.
"Let's talk, Yuyu," Mingi says.
The younger man has never seen anyone move as fast as Yunho does in that moment, sitting down beside him while still respecting his space, looking anxious and hopeful. If he were a dog, his fluffy tail would definitely be wagging with barely contained excitement, and that makes Mingi smile again.
He doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he thinks things might actually turn out okay.