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The room was still quiet, bathed in the pale blue light of the early morning. Faint snippets of clarity seeped through the curtains, illuminating the ambiance, which slowly warmed. The cold wind of the night shifting to a gentle breeze — calm, sacred.
Sieun stirred faintly from his slumber, not from any sound, but from the serene warmth draped over him. A leg hooked between his thighs, an arm slung over his waist. Calloused fingers rested on his belly, and a breath — steady, heavy and unbearably hot — brushed the nape of his neck.
Ahn Suho.
Even in the haze of sleep, some part of him recognized Suho. He had grown used to him — his weight, his heat.
On any other occasion, such closeness would have made Sieun recoil and tense with discomfort. He’d always hated people in his space and dreaded the intimacy of another person’s skin on his, the vulnerability of it. Except when it came to Suho.
Somehow, Suho’s limbs tangled with his — his breath grazing Sieun’s skin, touching him so lightly, so softly — didn’t feel like an intrusion. It felt like home.
Comforting, safe.
Suho’s touch didn’t make his skin crawl with repulsion or compel him to pull away. It made Sieun burn with want, ache for more.
Maybe he was dreaming. He had to be. Suho wasn’t even supposed to come over yesterday, let alone stay the night. Sieun couldn’t even remember falling asleep beside him. And it felt too good, too hazy, not to be a dream.
The slow rise and fall of Suho’s chest against his back, the small puffs of air brushing the shell of Sieun’s ear in unhurried waves, both grounding and dizzying all at once. He sank deeper into the heaviness of Suho’s body pinning him to soft, freshly cleaned sheets that already smelled like him, musk and petrichor, like a forest wet after rain.
His mind drifted like fog over water, consciousness suspended in that narrow space between sleep and waking, so tightly braided it became indistinguishable. Sieun felt heavy, a slow-burning ache blooming inside him, thick and golden like honey. Sticky. Hazy.
His hips moved — lazily, instinctively — just enough to feel the drag of Suho’s thigh, firm and insistent between his own. At first, there was no intention behind it, no conscious decision. Just need. A raw pull born from the ache coiled low in his belly.
The friction was faint, barely there. But it lit a fire under his skin, scorching and oppressive.
Sieun pressed his forehead deeper into the pillow, a faint crease forming between his brows as he humped, languid and thoughtless, against the firmness between his legs. His limbs were slick and slack, the weight over him feeling like gravity itself — heavy and inevitable.
One more lazy rock of his hips. A deeper wave of heat. A breath caught between his teeth, soft and shaky, his eyes fluttering shut.
Behind him, Suho stirred — not completely awake, but not completely asleep either — his thigh twitching in a reflexive press. His breath deepened against Sieun’s skin, body curling closer, tighter.
Sieun sighed. A small, broken sound that slipped free before he could swallow it down. His forehead pressed into the sheets again, muffling the noise as he kept chasing that delicious friction against his pulsating core. His movements were slow and sinful, fingers twisting in the sheets as he kept going, his strained cock trapped between the bed and the pressure of Suho’s thigh.
Another gust of air in the back of his neck, slow and stuffy. Suho’s hips rolled forward, sluggish but deliberate, drawing a sharp gasp from Sieun.
Nails scraped slowly along the smooth skin of Sieun’s belly, fingers gripping his waist tighter. At the touch, Sieun rocked his hips back and forward, soft pants escaping his lips as he bit them down, stifling a moan. The warm breath against his neck grew darker, heavier. Then came the faint rasp of teeth along the curve of his bare shoulder. Not hard. Not biting. Just there.
A tether. A warning.
Sieun quivered at the contact. Heat bloomed in his chest, curling tight and dizzying. His pulse thudded in his ears, sending electrifying waves through his body. Breathing felt like a lost art.
He felt it again — the bulge of Suho’s cock pressing against the curve of his ass. Faint, but firm. He pressed back into it, frantically, a whimper escaping as he savored the heat, the pressure.
The hand on his waist slid to his hips, bruising and possessive, guiding him as he ground against Suho’s thigh and deeper into the covers. Sieun’s cock was hard, overheated and throbbing, trapped in the already-damp fabric of his underwear. He flinched, groaning as he arched into Suho’s chest, the sound that escaped him thick with want—
“And I thought I was the clingy one.”
Sieun froze.
The heat inside him turned to ice, shivers racing through every nerve ending as his entire body stilled in Suho’s grip.
Suho’s voice behind him was real, hoarse, heavy with sleep.
This wasn’t a dream.
Guilt crashed over Sieun as realization dawned: he was rubbing himself against his sleeping boyfriend’s thigh. Dread crawled up his throat, shame burning through him. He felt exposed. Dirty. Wrong — filthy, even.
His stomach dropped. Shame pooled hot and acidic in his gut, making the room spin. Part of him wanted to disappear. Sieun half-turned to pull away, but Suho’s grip around his waist tightened, holding him in place and pulling him into his chest.
“Is this how we say ‘good morning’ now?” Suho chuckled, pressing a gentle peck over his nape.
Sieun didn’t respond. He didn’t dare to move. He was mortified. But then Suho’s lips found his shoulder again, and he couldn’t suppress the sigh that escaped him when teeth scraped the soft skin just above his collarbone, deliberate and daring.
“Never took you for a sleep-humper,” Suho kept teasing, lightly biting the same spot, soothing the bruise with his tongue, and sucking the flesh into his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Sieun whispered, his fingers white-knuckled in the sheets beneath them, his grip vice-like on the fabric. “I didn’t mean to. I thought it was a dream—”
“Am I dreaming too?” Suho cut him off, his voice lower now, reverberating through Sieun’s chest. “Were you going to fuck yourself on my thigh until you came?”
Sieun’s breath hitched, heat flooding his face sharp and shameful, the ache inside him pulsing harder, making him shudder.
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Because Suho was right; he would’ve done exactly that. He had done it before, awakened drenched in sweat and cum because he dreamed about his boyfriend fucking him dumbly into the covers.
Every part of him burned, not only from embarrassment but from need as well. And Suho’s words, though teasing, weren’t mocking. They were low, wrecked, laced with want.
“I would’ve let you,” Suho mumbled, his lips gently kissing the skin beneath Sieun’s ear. “You act all shy, but you know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
Suho rocked lightly forward, tentatively pressing the bulge in his sweatpants into Sieun’s lower back, earning a soft, involuntary moan — strangled, half-broken. Sieun’s hips twitched, seeking the friction again, instinct overriding mortification.
“That’s what you want?” Suho whispered, his voice molten and coiling around Sieun like heat, making him mimic the movement and rut into the mattress. “Wanna rub that pretty cock on my thigh until you come?”
Sieun groaned, his eyelids fluttering shut as he bit his lip hard enough to break the skin. The words coming out of Suho’s mouth were obscene, all the more tempting in his low, husky voice.
“Since when do you want this?” Suho sighed, planting wet and teasing kisses all over his neck. His fingers crawled up to Sieun’s nipples, twisting one nub lightly, chuckling as Sieun arched into his chest again.
“Since the first time,” Sieun confessed, his voice hoarse and rough.
The first time.
Eight months ago, when Sieun — always the genius — schemed a late-night delivery just to get Suho to rest — and to confess. Then he kissed him, riding Suho’s thigh until Sieun’s dad showed up unwanted and unannounced.
And then they never talked about it. After that night, all there was were shared smiles and contained, gentle kisses. A lot of hand holding from Sieun and a lot of side, back hugs from Suho. Study sessions that turned into sleepovers when Sieun’s dad was away. Waking up tangled in each other with very obvious erections, which they silently agreed to pretend to be obliviously about, and banters about who had dibs on the first shower.
It’s not like they hadn’t thought about it. It’s just that Suho, somehow, wanted to take it easy. He wanted to do it right.
Sieun wasn’t a conquest or a prize. He was different. He was special. So it — if it ever were to happen — had to be special too.
In order to make it right for Sieun, Suho fought his own needs. He ignored every hard-on he had and every time Sieun moaned his name in his sleep for the sake of respecting his boyfriend’s time. And only when Sieun would openly and confidently voice that he wanted it just as much as Suho, that Suho would make any attempt to take their relationship to the next level.
But the idea of waking up to Sieun grinding on his thigh like a dog in heat never crossed his mind. Neither did the recently acquired knowledge that Sieun knew exactly what and how to do it.
Suho feared he no longer had any strength to hold back. That he wasn’t decent enough to do it right, no better than a savage animal. He couldn’t be. Not when Sieun sounded so lost, so needy under his touch.
Then maybe, just maybe, it was okay to press the buttons for once. And to know that Sieun thought about it for as long as he did was the greenest light Suho had ever seen. The greenest one he could ever want.
“Fuck, baby,” Suho growled, pressing Sieun deeper into the mattress, biting the curve of his neck hard enough to elicit a hiss from him. “Are you sure you want this?”
Sieun nodded, wetting and biting his lips, eyes squeezed shut as his lower back met Suho’s hips once again, gasping when Suho’s thigh flexed under him.
“You grind on me like you’ve done it a hundred times in your head,” Suho said, his palm sliding down Sieun’s abdominal muscles slowly and heavily, resting just atop the waistband of his underwear. “You did it already, didn’t you?”
“What?” Sieun asked through labored breaths, reveling in the shape of Suho’s cock rocking, hard and hot, against his ass.
“Humped something, thinking it was me.”
“Mm-hm,” Sieun admitted, pleading guilty, his tone strained with embarrassment and want.
Because yes, of course he had, more times than he could admit. There was no point in lying.
He humped his pillow imagining that same thigh caged between his — firm, unrelenting against his member — pushing him into the mattress. Sieun jerked off thinking about those same fingers now pinching his nipple and teasing the faint trail of hair just above his waistband.
He fucked himself thinking about Suho’s cock buried deep inside of him, thrusting relentlessly until he came. And then he kept going, pretending that the lube dripping down his thighs was something warmer and thicker.
“Say it,” Suho rasped, fingers slipping past Sieun’s waistband, slowly trailing along the edge of his pelvis, scraping his nails on the sweaty skin. Sieun’s face crumpled, in shame and in need, the heat coiling low in his belly blinding. “Tell me how you fucked yourself thinking of me.”
Suho’s fingers brushed over the outline of Sieun’s cock, just enough pressure to make him moan, arching into the touch, lashes wetting from the pressure, overbearingly pleasant.
“With a pillow,” he panted, his hips moving carelessly, desperately. “I imagine it’s your thigh, and I— I ride and grind on it until—”
“Fuck,” Suho echoed, his voice barely a breath, gutted.
Suho pressed his forehead to Sieun’s nape, a silent moment of reverence and restraint. Then he thrusted forward into Sieun’s ass, the image of the younger rubbing himself desperately against a pillow thinking about him almost enough to make him come right there.
“What a shame…” He paused, breathless. “You did all that, and I didn’t get to see.”
The heat on Sieun’s face surged again, igniting a burning ache at the thought of being seen in such a compromising position. Suho trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive curve of his neck, salty from sweat and intoxicatingly warm, and then he bit down, hard enough to bruise. Suho pushed his hips heftily into the crack of Sieun’s ass, making him whimper — half-choked, half-desperate — arching into the touch.
“Do it again,” Suho said, his fingers curling tighter around the shape of Sieun’s cock, not stroking, just holding. Keeping. “Ride me like you did in your head.”
Sieun wordlessly obeyed, rolling his hips against Suho’s flexed thigh, shuddering at the friction, tears painting the corners of his eyes at the feeling of Suho’s scorching heat right above him, heavy and overwhelming.
Suho held him steady. One hand braced his belly, the other under the fabric of his underwear barely there, but the pressure was enough to make Sieun thrust into Suho’s grip on his erection each time he moved his hips.
Suho watched, moving ever so slowly, lightly squeezing Sieun’s throbbing cock as he rocked his own hips forward, earning soft groans that went straight into his overheated core. He watched Sieun choke when his thumb teased the leaking tip, smearing precum all over the length, thick and heavy in his hand.
Suho just watched as Sieun rode his thigh, erratically and unthinking, ruining himself with broken, trembling cries as he desperately sought friction, the ache in his core unbearable and maddening.
The scorching feeling of Suho’s fingers wrapped around him, moving in slow motion — up, down, then twisting up again — made Sieun bite down his tongue to suppress words that begged for release. But he wouldn’t say them. He wouldn’t beg. Not yet, at least.
“You should see how pretty you look like this,” Suho whispered, voice rough and dark, lightly kissing the lobe of Sieun’s ear.
Sieun groaned, the burning pressure on his cock overwhelmingly patient and cruel, dragging purposeful strokes bathed in restraint as Suho kept flexing his thigh every time his hips pressed needy into Sieun’s butt.
“Do you moan my name too?” Suho asked, kissing the tear-streaked skin just below the other boy’s ear. “Pretend it’s me jerking you off?”
Suho’s grip tightened, fastening the pace and forcing choked sobs out of Sieun, sending electrifying shivers down his spine. Sieun’s hips buckled, his cock trapped in Suho’s hands, the bulge pressing hard against his ass, lost in the feverish heat of it.
Sieun nodded dumbly, his fingers meeting Suho’s wrist just above the waistband of his underwear, following and guiding his movements. “Yes— every time.”
The confession shatters something inside Suho, his composure faltering with want — wild and tender — rushing to the surface, no longer containable. His breath ragged as his hips grind harder. The pressure at his core screaming, raw and unrelenting, burning alive.
One hand pushes Sieun’s underwear lower, just enough to expose his leaking tip, the cold air making the younger hiss, a sound so lewd it makes Suho’s cock jump on his own, equally desperate. Then, Suho’s fingers slide back to Sieun’s waist, firm and commanding as he swiftly shifts their positions, manhandling Sieun to sit on his lap, his thick, golden thighs slumped on both sides of Suho’s frame. Making Sieun face him.
Sieun’s torso is bare and flushed, glowing under the early morning light. His underwear is stained at the front, just the tip of his reddening cock on display, glistening with need.
Sieun’s face— god, his face.
His lashes wet, faint drops of tears trailing down his flushed cheeks, into his plump lips, chapped at the ends, a speck of blood where he bit hard enough to break the skin. His eyes half-lidded, dark and watery, glittering with unmistakable lust.
“Sieun-ah,” Suho says — low, filthy, and commanding — guiding Sieun’s hips down his thigh. “Don’t be shy, baby. Let me hear you.”
Sieun groans at the request, unintentionally yielding, eyes fluttering shut, fingers coming down to rest on Suho’s chest. He hooks one leg over Suho’s thigh and grinds down on it hard, breath caught. One of his hands slips to Suho’s hip bone as he humps again, biting his lips at the delicious friction of the fabric against the base of his length, rough against his tip.
Suho’s fingers slide down to his thigh, gripping the muscle and teasingly trailing up to the curve of his ass, pinching it lightly. The touch makes Sieun’s hip falter, a choked sob escaping his mouth.
Sieun half opens his eyes, just to find Suho’s stare already on his face, eyes dark and hazy, dripping with want. The sight makes Sieun sigh, his nails scraping down the older’s chest as he keeps moving against the flexed muscle beneath him, without breaking eye contact.
Suho hisses, his fingers digging into Sieun’s skin hard enough to bruise. There’s a glint of raw lust in his eyes, encouraging Sieun to keep humping him — so he does, with longer drags, more desperately.
It should feel awkward, and clumsy. Embarrassing, even.
But Suho touches him like he means it. His hands brush along Sieun’s waist and thigh, the touch firm yet reverent, like it’s something precious. Like Sieun’s something precious and he’s memorizing every part of him. Like Suho has waited for this his whole life.
And he might just have, because Sieun did too.
The way Suho looks at him, with such adoration — worship, even — makes vulnerability and intimacy seem like a naturally good thing. And when he closes his eyes, panting heavily when Sieun brushes a finger over Suho’s brown nipple, it makes Sieun even more sure that the other boy feels just as equally exposed and secure as he does.
Heat coils low in Sieun’s belly, terrifyingly violent as he arches his back when Suho opens his eyes again, looking at him as if Sieun is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He slips slightly forward, making his thigh press the bulge of Suho’s strained cock, earning himself a low growl from his boyfriend that does little to calm the feverish ache inside him.
His pulse is everywhere — in his throat, behind his eyes, between his legs. Sieun doesn’t even realize he’s shaking and crying, sobbing as he rides Suho’s thigh like he needs it to survive.
“I want to see you,” Suho whispers, holding himself up on his elbows, leaning closer as his fingers play tentatively with the waistband of Sieun’s underwear, barely grazing his dripping tip. “Can I?”
Sieun nods, eyes squeezing shut. His cheeks burn, no longer from shame but from lust. He should feel embarrassed when Suho lowers his underwear, his cock now on full display, throbbing and leaking precum.
“Fuck— you’re beautiful,” Suho says, his voice soft, amazed.
Sieun’s bigger than he imagined, thicker — his fingers close around the base, stroking it gently and expertly. It makes Sieun shudder.
Suho sits up, one hand working up and down Sieun’s shaft and the other hand at his back, drawing small circles along the base of his spine as the boy arches into his touch.
Sieun moans into his mouth when Suho kisses him, the slide of his tongue — warm and wet — making Sieun quiver, fucking himself into the fingers gripping his length. His nails dig into Suho’s shoulders, a hand bruising the other’s waist as he rocks down again, erratically.
Because this is how Sieun breaks down: into Suho’s mouth, licking behind his teeth and sucking his bottom lip, frantically thrusting upwards. Pulling him closer and holding him tighter, nails digging into his boyfriend’s arm and waist. Anchoring himself to Suho.
“That’s it, baby,” Suho gasps, sounding just as wrecked as Sieun feels, his hips unconsciously rolling against Sieun’s thigh pressed between his legs. “Do you think you can come just from this?”
Sieun nods, sobbing when Suho’s thumb finds the tip of his cock again, smearing precum all over his length, wrist moving in circular motions, just enough to make Sieun see stars, white dots clouding his vision. “Mmhm. I’m close—”
He is. If not for how rough he sounds, then for the way his movements turn clumsy and sloppy. He presses his forehead against Suho’s shoulder as a way to harbor and comfort himself, hips trembling as he rides unrelentingly — every drag down Suho’s thigh and into his fingers, closer to his bare chest, a silent plea, desperate for relief.
“Look at you,” Suho whispers, pressing his lips to Sieun’s sweaty temple, strands of hair clinging to the boy’s damp forehead. “Fucking my hands, trying to make yourself come… So pretty.”
The praise hits Sieun like fire to gasoline, his breath hitching in ragged bursts. “Suho-ya,” he pleads, rocking his hips harder — once, then twice — aching from the burn coiled and tightening low in his belly, dizzying and overpowering.
“Go on, baby,” Suho murmurs, his grip heavier on Sieun’s shaft. “Come for me. Let me see it.”
With a high, broken whimper — almost a sob — Sieun’s body arches into Suho’s arms, his fingers dig into Suho’s skin, pulling and gripping, as he spills all over Suho’s hand, spurts of semen smearing their stomachs and dripping down his underwear.
His body trembles, his movements clumsy and desperate, chest heaving with the quelling aftershock of his orgasm. Suho continues to jerk him off, slower but tighter, milking every last drop out of him.
“You did so well, baby. So pretty.” Suho’s voice is warm and affectionate. He uses his other hand — his clean fingers — to brush away the strands of hair covering Sieun’s forehead.
Suho’s lips rest there, pressing gentle, continuous pecks, soft and endeared. Sieun almost purrs at that, leaning closer into the touch. He lifts his head just enough to capture Suho’s mouth with his, the contact soothing every nerve termination, making his fingers curl tighter on the other boy’s warm skin. The kiss is calm, lips brushing softly against each other, tongues dancing slowly, tangling closer in tender and delicate motion.
Sieun likes kissing. He loves kissing Suho. So much that he could spend the rest of his life like that, in Suho’s arms, surrounded by his warmth and scent, kissing and feeling his heartbeat against his own chest.
It’s the way Suho holds him, gently and carefully. The way Suho smiles into the kiss, leaning closer and drawing figures on his skin. The way Suho tastes so overwhelmingly sweet on his tongue, all over his mouth.
Maybe he’s addicted to it, but how could he not be? Suho gives, and Sieun takes, yearning to give it all back, to make Suho understand just how much Suho means to him. To show that he adores Suho just as much as Suho adores him.
To make him know just how much Sieun loves him. Since the first time.
His body collapses onto Suho, spent and feverish, hissing at the contact of Suho’s hand still on his oversensitive member. But he doesn’t squirm away. He stays there, eyes dropping to watch the mess he made — sweat and cum all over his underwear, his flushed cock still twitching and Suho’s slender fingers still gently stroking his shaft, almost a caress.
“You’re still hard,” Suho says, his tone amused as his fingers tug at the foreskin.
He is. Even though Sieun’s body is spent, sleep and tiredness tugging at his muscles, making him all weak and pliant, he still feels like he could do it again. Fuck, he wants to do it again.
So he simply hums, relishing in the warmth of Suho’s touch as he lazily rolls his hips again, slowly pushing himself into Suho’s lap, straddling him. When he settles over the heat of Suho’s strained cock, he lets out a sigh — craving, needy.
“Fuck—” Suho growls, instinctively thrusting upwards, voice cracking when Sieun grinds his hips down again. And Sieun breathes it in — lets it settle in his chest like it had always lived there.
“You’re hard too,” he says, lips brushing gently against Suho’s collarbones as he moves his hips in circular motions, pressing down just enough to feel the outline of Suho’s cock against his ass, savoring the sting the touch sends down his spine.
Suho hisses as he closes his eyes, wallowing in the feeling of Sieun’s weight above him. “But I’m fine. We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to.”
The thing is, Suho isn’t fine. He’s far from fine. And Sieun knows that because Suho’s body talks loudly. And even if it didn’t, Sieun could’ve guessed from how sweaty and flushed he is.
Suho’s eyes are half-lidded, dark and sultry, staring down in awe at the way Sieun’s cock still contracts against his hold. His lips are pink and swollen, glistening from their previous kiss. Sweat glimmers all over his flushed neck, dripping down his torso, down his abdominal muscles, defined and golden, glowing under the early morning sun seeping through the curtains.
And Suho looks so good. Eyes drunk on lust, yet so contained, so careful that Sieun thinks he might just die from the sight. High, overdosing on it as an unshakable ache gnaws at him, igniting an entire wildfire inside him.
“I want to,” he says, barely above a whisper as he grinds down into Suho’s lap, the friction now barely satisfying the intensity he craves and needs.
Without halting his movements, Sieun grabs Suho’s wrist and lifts the hand that was holding his cock, inspecting the way his sperm dries on Suho’s skin in an almost analytical way. And Suho has such pretty hands. Such pretty fingers, long and slender, thick at the base then slimming down with such pretty nails — beauty marks on his knuckles stained with his juices. It’s obscene.
Sieun doesn’t think. He simply leans in and darts his tongue tentatively, licking a stripe of his cum smeared along Suho’s index finger.
It tastes cold, salty and sweaty. Something else he can’t quite pinpoint. But it tastes good. So good that he licks another stripe along the length, swallowing the digit into his mouth when he reaches the tip. Sucking it down, letting it rest heavy and warm on his tongue. Suho shudders under him.
“You’re insane,” Suho groans, his voice throaty, almost warning. But he doesn’t pull away. He just stares at Sieun’s hand holding his wrist, at Sieun’s mouth still wrapped around his finger.
Sieun sees it as consent, so he licks and sucks on the other digits, then at Suho’s palm, until they are clean from any remains of their previous deeds. And it really shouldn’t feel this good to taste himself mixed with Suho’s sweat, but it does — it feels so good that he barely acknowledges that he’s actually moaning.
Suho’s hands grip the nape of his neck and their lips clash again, almost missing each other, teeth clattering. Suho’s tongue darts, probing at his mouth and invading demandingly, the heat in his chest growing a hundredfold.
It should feel disgusting. Filthy. Profane.
But Suho kisses him with intent — dominance, even — his groan reverberating through Sieun’s mouth as their tongues move against each other frantically, and Sieun just lets him. Suho thrusts hard into Sieun’s ass over their clothes, making the younger boy whimper, shake on his lap.
Suho kisses down Sieun’s jaw, his whole expanse of his neck — biting and sucking — hands holding his waist. Sieun presses down each time Suho thrusts up into his ass. The incessant contact makes him burn so good that Sieun can already feel small drops of tears pooling at the corners of his eyes again. His fingers grip strands of Suho’s soft and damp hair, trying to ground himself.
Suho sucks the skin just above his collarbone and Sieun whimpers, arching into the touch as white dots start to paint the corners of his vision. He can feel Suho smirking against him, where he just bit, then he soothes the bruises with his tongue, tracing his lips and doing the same on the spot next to Sieun’s pecs.
And it feels so good— too good. So good that Sieun’s cock is already fully hard again, twitching every time it touches Suho’s stomach, overheated and reddening, begging for attention.
But this shouldn’t be about him anymore, no. It should be about Suho. It will be about Suho.
“Suho-ya,” Sieun mutters, his voice low and rough as he tugs at the ends of Suho’s hair, pulling him slightly away from his chest, just enough so he can at least try to pretend that he can think about something that doesn’t involve that feverish heat within him.
Suho slows down, sighing and settling for moving Sieun’s hips against his in circular motions. He looks up at Sieun through half-lidded, sultry eyes, dark and hazed.
“What is it, baby?” He sounds strained, yet attentive.
“I wanna make you feel good too,” Sieun says, his voice merely above a whisper, soft and shy, his cheeks tinting even pinker than they already were. “Teach me how you like it.”
Suho’s breath catches, swallowing hard around nothing. He doesn’t say anything, he just stares at Sieun — eyes wide, breathing heavily. Before he can say a word, Sieun kisses him again. And Suho lets him, kissing him back like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.