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“…What is it you want, Joowon-ah?” Dongsik murmurs softly, slowly; and instead of a coherent string of words, Joowon’s breath hitches in his throat—the muscles in his thighs jump beneath Dongsik’s hands, burning beneath the tension he’s placed upon himself. Dongsik’s tone is light, teasing: but Joowon does not feel smaller for it—no, if anything, Joowon feels quite elated: high on his own deep-set emotions, and as Dongsik’s mouth presses to the warm shell of his ear, Joowon feels the breath of his life trail down the line of his neck and toward the base of his spine. Softly, Dongsik whispers, “If you’d only just say it, Joowon-ah… I’d give you just about anything you want, you realize?”
And Joowon knows that Dongsik means it—knows, that in no capacity, would Dongsik ever fall short on his promises or the quiet rasp of his well-meant intentions; knows that his words are always embedded with a fierceness that Joowon, sometimes, still feels so astounded by, but… but how is he to respond—how is he to even think, like this?
Joowon’s skin feels as if on fire. Each little movement… Every little twitch and breath, Joowon’s clothes brush against the heat of his skin, rendering him breathless with sharp sparks of friction—and it’s a wonder, really, that he has yet to light the both of them on fire; that their hearts still beat, that the house still lives. Joowon feels strung out and yet placated in the same breath; his mind and his limbs are no longer in that precise, perfect sync he’s long-since honed since childhood. Joowon’s unsure of how he manages to speak—but as his voice finally trails out of him, it's barely above a whisper.
“...Hyung.”
“Joowon-ah,” Dongsik says quietly, sigh-like and fond—and for a moment, Joowon swears that it sounds much like a personal prayer, perhaps a semblance of a plea. Is it possible, Joowon wonders, that he is able to wreck Dongsik as thoroughly, and in the same staggering way, in which Dongsik wrecks him? Joowon almost wants to ask, to prod and to slink until he’s wormed his way into the innermost chamber of Dongsik’s mind, but his chance has escaped him. Slowly, the palm of Dongsik’s hand drags up his clothed erection, trailing up and just above Joowon’s unbuckled belt if only to press, lightly, against the tautness of his lower abdomen. Joowon’s body trembles, his breath rushing out of him in hot, quiet rasps as the muscles beneath Dongsik’s touch flex and release.
As Joowon shifts on the couch, his back seemingly molding further to the firm, immovable warmth of Dongsik’s front, the thick plastic cover draped over the couch beneath them rustles, and the sound of it only makes Joowon all the more aware of the situation at hand.
“H-Hyung…” Joowon digs his fingers into Dongsik’s thighs, mindful of his bad leg no matter how insistent he is that it doesn’t much bother him anymore. He shifts again, trying in vain to get comfortable where he’s sat between his partner’s spread thighs—but it’s difficult when Dongsik is so intent on teasing him, goading and coaxing him with each and every touch. Dongsik’s left hand stays splayed against his upper thigh, close to his hip; the other alternates between rubbing along the hard outline of his cock and lying flat against the flesh that houses his bladder, the light, barely-there pressure easing before it's back again. Joowon’s eyes flutter shut as his head tilts to the side, allowing Dongsik’s mouth to trail from his ear and down to the slope of his shoulder. “Hyung, I…”
Dongsik hums his inquiry, smiling into Joowon’s skin as he shudders against him, beneath him, in-tide with him; but when Joowon doesn’t grace him with a response, he lightens up on the teasing, if only momentarily. Dongsik drags his mouth from the crook of his shoulder and up his neck, slow and deliberate as he kisses his way back up to the shell of Joowon’s ear—and it’s a difficult task, to keep his hands still on such a responsive body, on Joowon’s body, but Dongsik has learned of patience before; has practiced it, too many times before. He takes a moment to bury his nose in the now-mused locks of Joowon’s hair, basking in the familiar scent of him until he has no choice but to pull himself away from it.
Against him, Joowon’s body is still taut. Dongsik can feel the tiny little tremors that wrack through him; can hear the quiet, quick huffs of his breath—and he knows, that before this goes any farther; that before Joowon inevitably allows himself to fall apart in the hold of Dongsik’s hands, that he needs to make sure; needs to be sure. Joowon has long-since swathed him in tendrils of trust and of love; and as much as Dongsik still finds himself in awe at the thought of it, of Joowon’s trust so willingly given to him in the smooth, faultless palms of his hands, there is a small, weathered part of him that fears the idea of going too far, of pushing Joowon away, of that trust turning to doubt, of never having it again.
And Dongsik has been reassured—assured—countless times before, enough times that Dongsik has given some back to Joowon, ten-fold. After everything they’ve been through together… After the tears and the sorrow and all of their unveiled secrets, Dongsik has all but been allayed that there is very little chance of Joowon going anywhere; but the reassurance is nice to hear no matter how differently it is conveyed each time it is said. Joowon tells him with a different set of words each time, and he implements it with a soft gaze and an even softer touch, but still.
Still.
“…Jagiya,” Dongsik murmurs, his smile widening in tandem with the strangled noise that leaves his Joowon-ah: a muddled, weak mix of a laugh and a groan and a low, tired moan. “How does it feel? Is it painful at all, Joowon-ah?”
Joowon shakes his head, barely able to swallow down the whine that bubbles up, unbidden, in the back of his throat. Dongsik’s touches have turned light, feather-like in lull—a barely-there sensation that only has his body aching for more. In his mind’s eye, Joowon is sound enough to realize what this is: a check-in, a brief, momentary stopping point to ensure they’re still on the same page—and while Joowon feels his heart grow two sizes too large in the midst of the care that Dongsik has selflessly bestowed upon him, another part of him just wants to curse, to plead and to please. It’s too much. It’s not nearly enough. Joowon wants more, and more—whatever Dongsik will ultimately give him, because he knows, all in the same breath, that he will give Dongsik just as much in return.
“Words, Joowon-ah. I need to hear you say it,” Dongsik reminds him gently.
“Y-Yes. Fine. It’s…” Joowon trails off, his focus slipping as Dongsik’s right hand begins to roam downward, just beneath his navel; there’s no pressure, not yet, but just the mere anticipation of it has Joowon’s body flaring alight, tense and ready. In vain, Joowon tries to swallow down another whine, simply to keep it hidden, but a tiny tremor of it slips out. Judging by the soft brush of laughter that rushes past his ear—fond, and not at all unloving—it does not go entirely unnoticed. Joowon feels his skin burn hotter, brighter. “It—It is painful, but…” he exhales shakily, attempting to regain even a semblance of control as Dongsik’s breath fans, light and warm, against his ear. "It... It's nice."
Ah. Dongsik figured as much, initially—but it’s still quite thrilling; different, to hear it in the deep lull of Joowon’s breathless voice.
“It’s nice, Joowon-ah?”
“Y-Yes, Hyung. Yes.” Joowon is quick to nod, his voice trembling in-tide with the tremor of his thighs.
Dongsik hums—and although Joowon cannot see his face, he knows that Dongsik is smiling, soft and fond and gut-wrenchingly loving. “Well. Who knew this little prince liked a bit of pain?”
Joowon sighs, the noise of it tilted toward a soft moan as he allows his eyes to slip shut. Dongsik’s hand presses against his bladder, insistent yet gentle. Joowon’s cock twitches in his pants, bringing forth another slow, dull ache that has his mouth falling open, his heart racing. Any more of this, and Joowon will likely soil himself. Just the mere thought of it is enough to have his face flushing, his arousal spiking—quick and sweet in the pit of his stomach. “W-When it… Fuck.” Joowon swallows hard, struggling for control as his bladder throbs in tender protest; and for as kind as Dongsik’s voice rings, his touch now differs. Joowon’s body feels taut, pulled tight beneath his hand, but it doesn’t at all stop Dongsik from pressing down—still gentle, a touch that Joowon barely even feels, but the slow, teasing drag of it has him feeling as if he’s scrambling for purchase; like he’s facing the edge of a cliff.
“Jagiya,” Dongsik mutters softly, more prompting than reprimanding. “When…?”
Joowon shakes himself, turning his head to the side if only to bump his forehead against Dongsik’s cheek. More than anything, he wants to crane his neck up—wants to kiss him, wants to breathe him in and lose himself little more in the lull of all that Dongsik is: Dongsik, Dongsik, Dongsik; in the end, however, Joowon doesn’t move a muscle, more inclined to speak to him earnestly, more inclined to tell him softly, “When it comes from you, Hyung, yes.”
“Goodness… You’re far too good to me, Joowon-ah,” he praises, and as Dongsik quietly laughs, Joowon feels it drape over him warmly, much like how the weight of Dongsik’s body presses to his back in slow, shared moments in the room that has begun to house the two of them, more often than not. As Dongsik’s hand shifts to lay the flat of his palm to Joowon’s stomach, he feels that same warmth wrap around him tighter, rendering him safe and content to float. Like this, Joowon knows his trust is still safely kept. “How is it, Joowon-ah? How do you feel? Can you tell me, hm?”
“G-Good. Good.” Joowon glances down, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way Dongsik touches him, through cloth. He watches how Dongsik’s right hand travels downward, cupping him through the fine material of his pants—and Joowon cannot completely control the noise that rushes out of him, the feel and visual of being fondled as he is dizzying. Joowon’s hand jumps from his partner’s bad leg and to his wrist, not to stop him or urge him onward, but to simply hold onto him with a loose, shaky grip. “F-Full,” Joowon whispers. Even to his own ears, he sounds winded—his voice is deep, lullful and heady. “I feel… full.”
“…How full is full, Joowon-ah?”
“I-It’s almost… almost too much, Hyung.”
Of course. Dongsik thinks back to when he had first walked in through the door, put-off only for a moment at the silence that had initially greeted him until he heard the same, albeit quieter, string of words that always welcome him back—welcome home, Hyung, all in the thrum of Joowon’s voice. When Dongsik had followed the sound, he had found Joowon where they’re seated now—on the couch, with his thighs shaking and pressed together, all with a thin sheen of sweat dampened to his brow. Immediately, Dongsik’s eyes had zeroed in on the (half empty, half full?) glass of water—how many glasses has he already drank, he’d thought to himself—on the small table in front of him; and there had been no way to miss the large, clear plastic cover placed over the old, worn couch.
And Dongsik had thought, with his mouth suddenly very, very dry with the sight of Joowon so flushed, so sweaty, …oh, we’re doing this, then.
“…Almost, huh?”
“A-Almost.”
With that in mind, Dongsik cannot help but ask, “Do you need to take a break, Joowon-ah?”
“No. No.” Joowon is quick to shake his head, firm in his resolve. All he wants, now, is to let Dongsik coax him into letting go; to feel him and love him and drown in the mix of their shared trust. It’s a heady thing, to be granted with such a significant thing—and Joowon knows that it goes both ways. In return to the trust he’s so willingly given to Dongsik, Dongsik has offered up his own: trust that Joowon knows how far he wants to go, trust that Joowon will speak if he feels as if his boundaries are being crossed—trust isn’t something new between them, not by any means, but it is still very much an intoxicating thing. “No, I…” Joowon sighs, hips bucking upward on their own accord as Dongsik’s hand abandons his erection in favor of resting just below his navel again: a strangely comforting weight in light of something so heavily dire. Dongsik applies no pressure, but Joowon still feels so close to the edge. “…I want—want to go longer.”
“Longer, Joowon-ah?” he whispers, low to the shell of Joowon’s ear. “You don’t want to stop?”
Joowon shifts, biting at the soft flesh on the insides of his cheeks as his bladder aches; as his body shudders. He’s barely able to hold back a groan as he feels Dongsik’s hard cock press against his back. Joowon feels just shy of delirious as he asks, “Do you want to stop?”
“That isn’t what I asked, Joowon-ah.”
“Then, I believe you have an answer, Dongsik-ssi,” Joowon says, snark and stubborn—but then a guttural noise is quick to follow as Dongsik gently bites his ear.
“…what a cheeky prince I have,” Dongsik mutters, but he’s smiling as he kisses Joowon’s ear, soothing the ache and smiling even wider as his partner shudders against him once more. “Still… You’ve been quite good, you know, Joowon-ah?” Dongisik rubs at Joowon’s stomach, marveling at the feel of his muscles flexing beneath his touch. It hasn’t been very long since they started, but Joowon’s body is already catching on: when Dongsik’s hand comes to a still, Joowon’s body tenses; when Dongsik’s other hand moves from his hip and up to the rise and fall of his chest, Joowon’s body trembles. “You listen very well, too. You even let me touch you, just like this… ah, goodness—do you have any idea what you do to me, Joowon-ah?” he asks quietly, and when Joowon nods frantically, squirming back against him with a breathless little hitch of yes, Hyung, yes, Dongsik can’t help but reward him with a bit of pressure at his bladder. “Sweet boy, Joowon-ah… tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
“J-Just you,” Joowon croaks, his eyes half-lidded as he reaches behind him. Like this, Joowon is able to bury his fingers in the curls of Dongsik’s hair, tightening his hold to keep him close, but Dongsik has never once needed such prompting. Joowon’s head tilts to the side, and then Dongsik’s mouth is latched onto his neck, gentle as he sucks a bruise into his skin; all the while, his hand remains steady to the ache that lies beneath Joowon’s navel. Joowon hisses at the sensation, biting yet sweet—his cock is hard, uncomfortably so despite how achingly full he is. How much water had he drank while he waited for Dongsik to come back home? After the fourth glass, Joowon had become too focused on holding it in and staying as still as possible to count anymore. “Just you, Hyung. Just you—”
“Just me? Goodness, Joowon-ah… you’ll have to be more specific,” Dongsik tells him slowly, the thrum of his voice sounding out between the kisses he presses to the new, angry bruise on Joowon’s neck—another claim, another way for Joowon to recall him in their moments apart. Dongsik holds him closer, one hand pressed to the rapid beat of his heart while the other is pressed to Joowon’s bladder, the slight swell of his lower belly; and despite being unable to see Joowon’s face, Dongsik knows he’s close to forfeiting all control just by how he trembles in his hold—and Dongsik would be an old, rotten liar if he said it wasn’t turning him on. Between them, Dongsik’s cock swells, growing heavy as Joowon shakes, as Joowon’s breath hitches. “…Jagiya. I’m right here, you see? Joowon-ah has me, in every way imaginable… surely, Joowon-ah know this?”
“I—I do. I do,” Joowon hurriedly agrees, still rather delirious as his fingers twitch in Dongsik’s hair before he allows his touch to fall away. “I… I just…” Joowon releases a shaky breath. As a whine bubbles up in the back of his throat, Joowon doesn’t bother trying to hide it; it rushes out of him, high and wanton, and Dongsik only holds him tighter for it—but the tighter Dongsik holds onto him, the closer they’re pressed together, the harder it is to want to keep his control intact… but a little voice, one that sounds all too much like the low, heated whisper of Dongsik’s voice reminds him, isn’t this what you wanted?
“I…” Joowon licks at his bottom lip. He wants to let go. He wants to be made into letting go—to have his control meticulously chipped away; and for as carefully as Dongsik had agreed to this, he seems to be just as into it as Joowon is, if not more. Dongsik’s palm hardly eases up on the pressure against Joowon’s bladder, and even as Joowon’s breath leaves him in short, shallow gasps, even as his body shakes against Dongsik’s own like he’s falling apart at the seams, the pressure of his hand remains steady—a promise and a tease all in one.
“Jagiya?” Dongsik prompts softly, his voice a stark contrast to the amount of pressure he so suddenly applies to Joowon’s bladder. “You just…?”
“A—Anything,” Joowon rasps, effectively torn away from what little thoughts that had plagued him. “Anything you’ll give me, I… I want it.”
“…Is that so? How terribly greedy of you, Han Joowon,” Dongsik says, but he doesn’t at all sound particularly bothered by it. “But… It’s fine, I suppose. After all… I’m a very greedy man myself, you know? I want all of you, too.” Dongsik guides his hand lower, dragging the heel of his palm against the hard outline of Joowon’s cock, cupping him through his pants and sighing at the heat of him, the feel of him; even through layers of clothing, his Joowon-ah is so responsive, so warm. “Don’t you want to let go, Joowon-ah?” Dongsik asks quietly, spoken right into Joowon’s ear; his hand trails up, one last drag against Joowon’s cock before his hand is settled atop his bladder once more.
Joowon nods, over and over—small, weak little bobs of his head more than anything else as his grip on Dongsik’s wrist tightens if only to loosen.
“Jagiya… Did you forget? I need to hear you say it.”
“A—Ah…” Joowon groans as he shifts in place, unsuccessful as he tries to roll his hips up and into his partner’s touch. He tilts his head, craning his neck so he’s able to bump his nose against Dongsik’s jaw, just barely enough to be able to press a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth once Dongsik graces him and turns his head to allow it. Joowon’s bladder gives another dull, painful throb; his throat is tight with a sound that barely escapes him. “H-Hyung, I… I want to let go.”
“Sweet boy… Sweet Joowon-ah,” Dongsik praises, muttered in lull—his voice is light, and airy, and sweetened to affection. He rubs his hand against Joowon’s lower stomach, sliding his other hand down to the middle of Joowon’s torso, right at the sensitive base of his sternum—and although his hand is no longer directly over his heart, Dongsik still feels the beat of it so intensely. “Let go, Jagiya. I won’t be mad,” he tells Joowon softly. “Go ahead. Make a mess, Joowon-ah.”
Joowon chokes on a moan, his body tensing—still so reluctant to let go no matter how cruelly his bladder aches to. Squeezing his eyes shut, Joowon gasps as Dongsik’s fingers begin to knead into his skin with slow, gentle motions—and it's enough to have him cursing beneath his breath, enough to have him seeing stars; enough to have him breaking out in a sweat. It hurts. It’s good. Joowon can’t help but want it, but chase after it; the deeper Dongsik’s hand prods into the meat of him, the harder it is to control the urge to urinate. Like this, it really is like he’s being made to let go. “H… Hyung—”
“Just like that, Joowon-ah,” Dongsik urges quietly, his touch insistent—coaxing as he tells him, “no one’s stopping you.”
Joowon shakes his head weakly, the breaths that leave him short, gasp-like. Despite wanting, Joowon fights the urge to let go, his cock growing heavier in his pants as the pleasure mixes in with the pain. Half of Joowon’s brain is putting on all the brakes, persistent that he does not lose control—that he shouldn’t, not here, seated between Dongsik’s thighs the way he is; but the other half, the other part of his brain that vividly recalls the way Dongsik had looked at him when he had first brought this up, just wants to let go and please him and earn his praise.
And Joowon wonders… if he were to tilt his head back, just far enough to get a good look at Dongsik, would he look as he did the week prior, with his gaze all cautious and curious and heated, solely focused on him? Joowon doesn’t try—doesn’t get the chance to look, too preoccupied with how full and warm he feels, but it is a thought that stays at the threshold of his mind as he fidgets in his partner’s hold.
“M—More,” Joowon groans, body jolting as Dongsik’s touch becomes much too insistent; near painful, near bruising. “H-Harder, Hyung. Please.”
“Please?” he echoes, his tone gone soft and amused. It isn’t entirely uncommon for Joowon to plead, once wound up enough—but it isn’t exactly the norm, either; a treat saved for luckier times. Dongsik kisses the shape of Joowon’s ear, and says, his voice thick with a heat that makes him shake, “You ask so nicely, Joowon-ah. Of course I’ll give you more. I’d be a bad Hyung if I didn’t, don’t you think? All you need to do, Joowon-ah, is let go. Can’t you do that for me, Jagiya? Hm?”
“I—I can. I can. T-That’s all I…” Joowon curses beneath his breath, hissing as Dongsik deepens the pressure, borderline uncomfortable as his hand digs into the warmth of Joowon’s skin—yet still, it’s all so arousing, heady, dizzying. Beneath Dongsik’s hand, Joowon’s bladder throbs; and despite the unmistakable, dull pain, his cock aches at the feel of it, the pressure of it—the pain and the pleasure, the thrum of Dongsik’s voice and the beat of his own heart, racing, in his ears. Joowon shifts, his hips shallowly undulating against his partner’s touch until he’s forcing himself to still; to be good, to earn the praise he’ll surely be given, the praise he is surely owed. “Hyung. Please.”
“…goodness, Joowon-ah. Why do you fight it?” Dongsik gently asks. He keeps his touch deep, persistent—rubbing low, slow circles against the swell of Joowon’s bladder. Against him, Joowon is trembling, his words strung together and barely coherent—but by now, Dongsik knows him, inside and out. He can tell by the way Joowon gasps that he’s close—close; can tell by the tremor of his limbs that it’s almost too much, but Dongsik doesn’t fear pushing him too far, not now. “Let go, Jagiya. I won’t be mad,” Dongsik reminds him softly, each little touch purposeful and teasing. Softer—lower, Dongsik whispers to him, “I want to see the mess you’ll make, Joowon-ah.”
Joowon moans, a high, stifled little noise that sounds just shy of painful—and as Dongsik touches him, still so determined and firm, coaxing him further over the edge with his hands and his voice, Joowon allows himself to let go.
Joowon groans his relief—instant, palpable in how it seems to blanket over his entire body, from the core of him and outward, onward; and as urine seeps through his clothing, Joowon feels the calm release of his own tension uncurl; feels the unfurl of his belly and the unknitting of his own doing. Dongsik’s hand rubs against him still, soft as his hand trails down from Joowon’s lower stomach if only to cup his hard, wet cock through his soiled pants—and it should be disgusting, completely off-putting, but Joowon feels his arousal spike as Dongsik caresses him gently, the heat it brings him pooling hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach as the smell of his release gently fades upward.
“That’s it, Joowon-ah,” he praises him kindly, quietly—and Joowon isn’t so far gone that he doesn’t notice the rich, deepened lull of Dongsik’s voice. Joowon trembles in his hold, choking on a groan as Dongsik’s hand pushes into the tender flesh of his stomach, urging him to let it all out. “That’s it, Joowon-ah. That’s it. There you go,” he breathes, watching over Joowon’s shoulder as his pants further darken in color. “Fuck, Joowon-ah.”
Joowon moans, his eyes fluttered to a close as his pleasure rises, heightened by Dongsik’s touch; Dongsik’s voice; Dongsik, Dongsik, Dongsik. Joowon’s hands are shaking, his heart stuttering, skipping and halting as half of his brain, stupidly, urges him to flee—to tear away from Dongsik’s hold and never dare speak of his again; but the other half, the other part of his brain that gets off on Dongsik’s praise—on Dongsik’s voice, on Dongsik’s touch, simply lets himself be. Joowon feels his legs shake as his Hyung’s persistent touch eases; his bladder is slowly, but surely, emptying of all his urine—and even the distinct smell of it has him aching, wanting.
“H-Hyung,” Joowon tries, softly. Inside his soiled pants, his cock twitches—a strange sensation amidst the slight heaviness of his soiled clothes.
Dongsik chuckles, low and sweet in Joowon’s ear—and instead of shame, or embarrassment, or a dreadful mixture of the two, Joowon’s feels the same as he had before: elated, high on his own deep-set emotions as Dongsik presses another soft kiss to the shell of his ear. Joowon shudders at the feel of it, a quiet gasp quick to roll off his tongue as Dongsik’s hand gives one last psuh against his bladder before it is slipping downward, further, past Joowon’s unbuckled belt and fly and beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs.
“D—Dongsik.” Joowon feels his face catch fire, his eyes flying open just in time to witness the moment Dongsik’s hand disappears completely beneath his soiled clothes. Joowon squirms in place, his mouth falling open as he feels Dongsik’s erection press against his back. “A-Ah… Hyung…” Joowon’s mouth is dry; his head spins. Dongsik’s hand brushes against his cock, and it is as filthy as it is downright arousing. “It’s…”
“…Dirty?” Dongsik guesses, his laughter quiet and mirthful rather than unkind. Carefully, he takes Joowon’s cock out of his soiled clothes—and Joowon cannot help but notice that Dongsik doesn’t seem at all unsettled by the mess, nor the fading warmth or the scent of his urine. All in all, Dongsik still seems just as into this as he’d been at the start of it all, when he had helped guide Joowon down by his hips to sit between his legs on the couch. Idly, Dongsik strokes Joowon’s cock: slow, piss and precum easing the slide. He marvels in the hitch of Joowon’s breath, letting the quiet lull of it wash over him. “I don’t mind the mess, Jagiya,” Dongsik tells him. “I want to take care of you.”
“It… It can…” Joowon trails off weakly, struggling with his words. “I can… w-wait, Hyung.”
“…But I don’t want to,” he murmurs, petulant—but then Dongsik’s hand comes to a still, his grip firm but lax enough at the base of Joowon’s cock. He tilts his head, carefully eyeing what little of Joowon's profile he can see from this angle. Joowon’s face is (prettily) flushed, a pleasant shake of pink that Dongsik is no stranger to—and just like that, Dongsik feels his heart rising to his throat, fond and sweet in a way that has his voice softening, his touch gentling. He doesn’t quite remember ever loving like this, before. “Can’t I take care of you, Joowon-ah? Would it be too much?”
Oh. Joowon hears the softness in Dongsik’s voice; the affection, the loyalty, the adoration which presents itself, softened, in moments wherein his heart feels the fullest. And Joowon thinks, that in all his life, he’s never once let anyone in quite like how he had allowed Dongsik in.
“…Please,” Joowon finds himself whispering, soft and hoarse with his heart in his throat—lodged, there, along with his breath and love, honeyed and sweet.
“Please…?” Still, Dongsik’s hand does not move. He inclines his head, lips brushing against the warm, sensitive slope of Joowon’s neck as he teases him. “Please… what, Jagiya? Let me think. Is it… ‘please, stop,’ or could it be… ‘please, Hyung, take care of me’? Goodness, Jagiya… I’m not too sure what you mean.”
“Please. Please,” Joowon amends. He allows his head to fall back and onto Dongsik’s shoulder, turning his head just so he’s able to tilt his chin up; his nose bumps against Dongsik’s jaw, and as his partner turns his head if only to get a better look at him, Joowon says, low and unashamed, “please, Hyung, take care of me.”
“…Sweet boy,” Dongsik murmurs. He twists his wrist, dragging his hand up Joowon’s cock slowly. He watches as Joowon’s eyes flutter to a close, intent on the raw, honest view of his pleasure—and as the flush on Joowon’s face burns just a bit brighter, Dongsik rubs his thumb is slow, teasing circles to the ruddy head of Joowon’s cock. So filthy. So wet. Between them, Dongsik’s cock throbs. “I won’t stop until you cum, Joowon-ah,” he tells him softly, guttural—close to desperate with just the sight of Joowon’s second undoing. “Don’t hold back.”
And Joowon’s mouth falls open, his moan hitched and sweet as he nods, over and over. Already, his body feels taut—the slick, wet sound of Dongsik’s hand on his cock buries any and all coherent thought in his mind; and it’s only when Dongsik turns his head, his lips pressed firmly to Joowon’s sweaty temple as he strokes him quicker, faster, with the words ‘that’s it, Joowon-ah, just like that,’ does Joowon allow himself to wholly surrender.