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On one busy day, during the busiest month of the year, under the scorching heat of the summer sun, Kwon Soonyoung catches Jeon Wonwoo smoking on the rooftop of their office building.
“So this is where you hide during lunch breaks?” Soonyoung laughs hysterically at how Jeon Wonwoo’s eyes open comically wide, clearly startled by his unannounced presence. He takes bold steps and moves unabashedly towards his colleague, Wonwoo, whose feet seem to have been planted steadily on the ground, a lighted cigarette in between his chapped lips, smoke fusing with the humid air.
He steals the cigarette from Wonwoo’s grip, debating whether or not he should try it, out of plain curiosity. His heart races uncontrollably, rapidly, but he pretends that he knows what he’s doing—shakily inhaling a lungful of smoke.
His conclusion? It’s terrible so he lets it all out with a blaring cough.
Smoking’s off the list and he’s never going to do it again.
He hurls it on the floor, steps on it with force, and witnesses a different side of his colleague which he hasn’t seen yet before—because in all honesty, he didn’t peg Wonwoo to be the hotheaded type. And right now, Soonyoung feels like he’s in an office romance drama, a twisted one, he supposes, because instead of feeling butterflies in his stomach, he perceives danger looming upon him—he’s pushed against the dilapidated wall with Wonwoo’s hand grabbing his collar tightly, glowering at him as he grits his teeth in obvious anger, hostility evident in his tone. “What do you want?”
Maybe he’s twisted, too, because the more Wonwoo shows his aggression, all the more thrilled he gets.
Soonyoung chuckles at the ridiculous question posed at him. It’s hilarious how Wonwoo still has the audacity to ask him that, as if threatening him, when it should be the other way around. He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think you’re getting the wrong idea about our little situation here, Mr. Topnotcher.” He could be a little condescending sometimes and sometimes just so happens to be now. “I caught you, our cluster’s little shining star,” There’s a pregnant pause, an eerie silence enveloping them and it’s impossible not to notice how Wonwoo’s expression stiffens at the mention of being their cluster’s ace. Soonyoung then takes this opportunity to loosen Wonwoo’s grip on his collar. “...smoking. Wouldn’t that cause a dent on the image you’ve worked hard to build?”
He straightens his collar, dusting it off to look presentable before he goes back to their area, never breaking the piercing eye contact with Wonwoo. There’s no one on the rooftop but them and it’s a pity that no one is present to serve as a witness to the scene unfolding before him—Wonwoo going almost berserk when he’s provoked, teased with the cringy title he so abhors. “What am I supposed to do then?” Wonwoo sounds a little docile now—the sudden shift in his tone amuses Soonyoung.
“How do you plan on shutting me up?”
-
Wonwoo thinks Soonyoung is doing all of these just to get a kiss from him. Again.
He lifts his hand up, his thumb gently brushing the outline of Soonyoung’s alluring full lips, successfully eliciting a pleased hum from Soonyoung, further fueling his theory that his colleague is doing this just for a mere kiss which he could’ve just asked from Wonwoo. But this is Soonyoung they’re talking about—he could go roundabout, as indirectly as he could, without the need to plead, in order to get what he wants. You see, Kwon Soonyoung never had to go on his knees and get his vulnerable pride on the line to beg (maybe, except for that one fateful night, as how he remembers it), because unlike Wonwoo, Soonyoung was born with a golden crown atop of his head and a silver spoon in his mouth. Soonyoung is a prince-in-training in this modern times, with his parents allowing him to experience the world before the treasure is handed down to him.
He sneers, raising his brow suspiciously at Soonyoung whose face looks innocent enough to hide whatever devious scheme he has been concocting with this clever mind of his. “What do you have in mind?” Soonyoung clutches the hem of his shirt and yanks him a bit closer, bodies pressed against each other, so near that he could see the beads of sweat trickling down the column of Soonyoung’s pale and smooth neck. If he’s not holding a grudge against this pretty man in front of him, he would have indulged him; would have sucked on his neck and left marks on his supple skin to claim Soonyoung as his own; would have done what Soonyoung wants him to do to him— on his own accord. Soonyoung wouldn’t have to resort to this , because in all honesty, Wonwoo could have let him have his way.
But Wonwoo could be petty. After all, he’s human just like everybody else.
The streak of sunlight casts a soft glow upon Soonyoung, illuminating his already radiant skin and Wonwoo is quick to avert his gaze, afraid to be enchanted by Soonyoung’s charm once more. The first time didn’t go so well, so it’s just natural for Wonwoo to be cautious, to be wary so he wouldn’t be put under the same spell twice and commit the same mistake.
“Seal my lips with a kiss, yeah?” It irks Wonwoo how nonchalant Soonyoung looks when he says those words—lips curve into a smirk, eyes boring holes on his face with his intense gaze at him. But finding Soonyoung attractive despite what he did to him four months ago irritates him even more. “That way, I can guarantee,” Wonwoo flinches when Soonyoung tries to reach for his face, tucking the loose strands of his ebony hair behind his ear. “…your secret’s safe with me.”
“Then what?” The slight rise in his tone seems to have rattled the steady and stable Soonyoung. Noticeably perplexed with his reply, Soonyoung lightly pushes him away, creating a distance between the two of them. Did he unintentionally give Soonyoung the impression that whatever he asked for, he would obey? Whatever his whims are, he would blindly follow? If that’s the case, then he got it all wrong—is what Wonwoo thinks. “Pretend like the kiss never happened the following day?”
“What?!”
“Figure it out yourself. I’m going back. I have an income tax computation to finish.”
And just like that, Wonwoo walks away looking pretty smug, satisfied with what he did—leaving Soonyoung hanging—as a way to exact his revenge.
-
Soonyoung does not, for the record, kiss and then forget.
But maybe that’s because he hasn’t really kissed anybody. Not yet. Soonyoung had reminded his previous partners that his lips are off-limits.
So it’s impossible for him to allow Wonwoo easy access.
Or, at least, that’s what he knows of.
Though, apparently, Wonwoo’s words, not his—they already kissed. Without him remembering a thing.
And it frustrates the hell out of him.
-
Immediately after their bi-weekly cluster meeting later that same day, before Wonwoo could even protest against what Soonyoung was about to do, Soonyoung marches his way towards Wonwoo and drags him outside of their office and into the emergency exit staircase, shutting the heavy metal door behind them. Before coming into the secluded area, Soonyoung noticed, through his peripheral vision that Minghao and Mingyu were giving him speculative glances when he, without a uttering a single word, grabbed Wonwoo’s hand and led him outside, but it wasn’t the right time to care about what they think—he’s here to resolve this pressing issue at hand: did he and Wonwoo really kiss? When? How was he not able to remember a thing?
“Have you thought about what I said to you earlier?” Oh dear, if only you know how it affected me so badly. But it’s not like Soonyoung would tell him all of that. No. Over his dead body.
“Yes,” Soonyoung does his very best to sound brave, but deep down, his insides are already twisting and churning from the way Wonwoo is eyeing him from head to toe. In front of their managers, Wonwoo is a timid subordinate, submitting his output always on time, getting praises left and right. In fact, from what he heard, he’s up for an early promotion to assistant manager this year. But this Wonwoo in front of him is a breath of fresh air. No one’s going to believe Soonyoung when he tells this tale of Wonwoo’s unexpected duality.
He’s a little intimidated, yes, but he’s a prey willingly entering the trap of his unruly predator. The nuances between these two versions of Wonwoo are so fascinating to him that he can’t help but do and say things to get under his nerves. “But I’m still skeptical about your claims.”
The next thing Wonwoo does is the hottest thing Soonyoung has ever witnessed him do (from the day they met and up to this moment, because he’s not yet aware that there’s a third version of Wonwoo waiting to be set free). Wonwoo slams his fist on the metal door, startling him with the clanking sound reverberating in the cramped space, and successfully pinning him against the door. His eyes are fixated on Wonwoo’s tightening jaw, traveling downwards when Wonwoo’s free hand gets busy, unfastening the first button of his dress shirt, loosening the knot of his neck tie, looking visibly livid.
One thing about Soonyoung, he’s easily sidetracked. So, instead of resolving the so-called “pressing issue” at hand, he lets himself be swayed by the current.
“I don’t kiss smokers like you, Wonwoo.” He says, as a matter of fact, mocking Wonwoo with his tone, wanting to infuriate him even more than he already is and it’s working. “So I highly doubt I kissed you.” And he’s not yet even finished. No. Once he starts, there’s no stopping him and his sharp tongue to utter words laced with contempt and spite to rile him up. “I can’t stand the horrendous smell of smoke, but if it’s you, I’d let you have a taste of me.”
“Use my mouth whenever you feel like smoking.” Soonyoung tries to lure him in, curiosity getting the best of him and he just won’t stop until it’s satiated. Not even his slightly trembling knees will put an end to this pretentious act of bravery. “In fact, quit it.” It’s not a request, but a command, as if leaving Wonwoo no other choice but to heed it and be at his mercy. “I’ll be your new addiction, Wonwoo.”
“You’re funny, Soonyoung. You act so high and mighty, but you were the one begging to be kissed that night.” The rancid smell of cigarette smoke lingers in Wonwoo’s mouth—the unpleasant odor is akin to a dirty ashtray, but it’s faint, barely even perceptible as the smell of the perfume on his clothes perfectly does its job of masking the carcinogenic scent. Wonwoo’s scent, overpowering the stench of smoke, feels like an invitation to a hot summer night of passionate intimacy, skin to skin, panting as they release their highs. It’s saccharine enough to draw him in and to make him want to revel in his scent, but adequately devilish to make him wonder if it’s okay to covet him, to put a claim on his lips and parts of his body he has not yet seen.
“Whatever.” And so what if he was the one begging that night? It doesn’t change the fact that he was so captivating Wonwoo had no choice but to give in. In the end, it was Wonwoo who bent his ideals and stomped on his own ego to get a taste of a Kwon Soonyoung. In the end, Kwon Soonyoung reigned as the winner between the battle of egos.
At least, that’s what he believes in.
From Soonyoung’s point of view, Wonwoo didn’t really turn down his whimsical demands. The way he’s seeing things—Wonwoo desires for it just as much as he does so he wastes no time and fumbles inside his pocket until he finally reaches the thing he’s looking for. The lemon mint candy he sneaked out from his manager’s workstation. He hastily tears the candy wrapper with his teeth, the corner of his lips stretching into a smirk as he sees Wonwoo looking at him, confusion painted on his face. Wonwoo staring at him with such intensity makes his heart thump, excitement rushing through his veins. The candy finds itself in between his lips, his hand on Wonwoo’s nape, and as if the man opposite him finally understands what he has been trying to do, Wonwoo voluntarily parts his lips, prompting him to launch himself onto Wonwoo, carefully slipping the candy inside his colleague’s mouth.
And it’s supposed to be just that—Soonyoung sharing his lemon mint candy to Wonwoo, but somehow, it escalates to something more.
And yet, somehow, it still feels less.
Like it falls short of something.
-
Wonwoo still can’t wrap his head around what is happening.
Shortly after, the candy is forgotten, slipping out of his mouth and falling onto the floor as their tongues danced around the rhythm of their racing heartbeats.
This shared kiss feels like the first, but he knows it’s not. It’s probably the taste of candy altering his memories, or the thrill of getting caught, or maybe, it’s because of Soonyoung’s hands untucking his dress shirt, gaining access to his bare skin, clawing on his broad back as their kiss deepens, feelings and sensation going frenzy. It’s the very moment when they break free from each other, the sight of Soonyoung lolling his head back helplessly, his rugged breathing resonating in the confined space, his pale neck fully exposed, hardened nubs seen through the thin fabric of his drenched top that Wonwoo finally realized that Soonyoung ignited a fire inside of him that had long been extinguished.
And a kiss just won’t cut it.
He wants something more, more than a kiss, something that won’t feel less than the intimacy he had craved for when their lips were connected a few moments ago. Wonwoo wants to relish this delicacy in front of him, this feast in the form of his debauched colleague, whose mop of chestnut brown locks is disheveled into a bewitching mess, mouth open agape, beads of sweat around his neck resembling a jewelry adorning his smooth and rosy skin.
“Soon—” Soonyoung collapses in Wonwoo’s arms, all of Soonyoung’s weight shifts to him and he’s sane enough to take this opportunity to map out the curves of Soonyoung’s voluptuous body. He gingerly lifts him up, placing his hands on his slender waist, while the other’s arms are over his shoulders for more support. Soonyoung’s half lidded eyes are enough for him to realize the predicament this pretty man is in. Between the two of them, while he himself is slowly losing his inhibition, he knows Soonyoung has it worse.
He can’t go back to their office, especially if he looks like this. And it’s not like Wonwoo would allow him either.
He’s not kind enough to share what’s his.
“W-want. M-more, Jeon.” The tremors in his voice confirm Wonwoo’s hunch. A sober Soonyoung would have never submitted to him out of his own free will. “Kiss. Not enough. Want more. More. Please.”
“My place or yours?”
“Rooftop. Please.”
“Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes. Please, Jeon.”
Wonwoo finds Soonyoung’s habit of talking in phrases endearing so despite trying to hold himself back (because he’s still mad about the forgotten kiss), he assesses the situation with a cool and rational mind. It would take the shortest time to reach the rooftop if he would carry Soonyoung and ride the goddamn elevator to reach the empty last floor before their destination, but that’s risky. And he’s selfish, he won’t let others see Soonyoung in his most defenseless state. The safest and most viable option, he thinks, is to carry Soonyoung and walk the plight of stairs.
Five floors before they reach the top.
He senses the urgency in Soonyoung’s action because even without him telling what to do, Soonyoung springs up to give himself a leverage, wrapping his legs around Wonwoo’s toned torso. He clings onto him for support, while his head is buried on the crevice of Wonwoo’s neck, as if taking refuge against his skin and in his warmth.
The moment Wonwoo locks the door behind them, he finds himself looking at the vast emptiness. There’s nothing to use as a makeshift bed comfortable enough to lay Soonyoung down. There’s a monobloc chair on their left and a worn-out office table beside it. He looks to their right and sees two rusty stools. Naturally, he chooses the table on their left. “Can you stand up for a while, Soonyoung?” He asks. Contrary to his tone laced with animosity earlier, he sounds rather gentle right now. Soonyoung only answers with a whimper, so he’s left with no choice but to wipe the table clean while Soonyoung is still hanging onto him, as if they can’t be separated from each other.
He brings Soonyoung down on the table, checking if Soonyoung has settled in nicely as he sits on the hard surface of the archaic-looking desk. He cups his face, making sure Soonyoung is facing him directly. “Tell me, Soonyoung. What do you want me to do?” Because if you ask Wonwoo, he would, without hesitation, confess all his greed and desire and follow through each of them without taking Soonyoung’s own plea in consideration.
Soonyoung glares at him, Wonwoo has no idea why. “Must I tell you everything you should do, Jeon? Aren’t you the smarter one here?” Wonwoo bites back at Soonyoung’s insolent remark with a searing snarl of profound rage. He realizes once more that Soonyoung doesn’t know how to humble himself and isn't used to the idea of throwing his pride aside to submit to someone else.
“Then you would have no qualms if I do as I please?” Wonwoo forcefully pulls Soonyoung’s hand towards his crotch, making him feel the hardness of his cock outlined on the soft fabric of his trousers. “Even if I enter you raw and unprepared with my dick? Feel it, Soonyoung. Are you sure you would be able to take me without breaking apart?”
“Answer while I’m still asking you nicely, Kwon.”
No avail, still. Soonyoung seems to have been too stunned to speak, hand still grazing over his clothed cock, seemingly trying to gauge its length and girth.
“Are you done sizing up my cock, Kwon? You seem to be enjoying this already.”
“F-fuck my thighs, please.”
Soonyoung saying please is so uncharacteristic of him. It may have caused a dent in Soonyoung’s ego, but to Wonwoo, it’s a resounding symphony of victory to his ears.
-
Good boy.
Those are the words which Soonyoung heard before Wonwoo ordered him to undress. He willingly complies after hearing such praise, removing his trousers in a haste, leaving only him wearing his bikini underwear, thinking it was such a good choice to wear one this day. He casts his pants at the edge of the table and when he’s about to unfasten his button-down shirt, Wonwoo abruptly stops him, bunching his top above his chest, but never fully discarding it. He feels shy at the sudden exposé but Wonwoo’s cold hands sliding from his abdomen to his exposed chest, giving his plump breasts a playful squeeze, showering him with compliments he didn’t expect to hear feels rather comforting and empowering.
You take such good care of them, Kwon.
They’re just the right size. They fit perfectly in my hands, Kwon.
Fuck, didn’t know you were hiding these beautiful pair under your boring choice of office attire.
Soonyoung pretends not to hear the slander on his office getup and focuses on the words that washed his insecurities away. For the longest time, he had been insecure about his chest. He did figure skating as a kid until his sophomore year in college and growing up, he noticed how his body is built differently from his fellow athletes. It didn’t help that the figure skating outfits are meant to contour the shape of their bodies. So when he had to retire early to focus on his studies and their family business, he was more relieved than dejected.
“I like it. Tell me more. How much you like them.”
“I’ll show you.”
Wonwoo leans down, licking a stripe in between the valley of his chest, swirling his tongue around his hardened nubs, giving each of them equal attention while his free hand travels down to his still-clothed member, stopping right where the wet spot is located, circling sensual touches around the area, making him squirm on his seat, screaming his name over and over again, like a chant of prayer. Like Wonwoo is some god and he, a faithful devotee.
“Does this turn you on? Doing this outside with a chance of someone coming right in on us with you naked from the waist down?” Wonwoo tells him as he swiftly removes the last piece of clothing covering his manhood, revealing it in all its glory, cum trickling down the side and onto the base of his cock. Soonyoung looks at him worriedly, looking around for a sign of people other than them. “Worried?”
“Don’t be.” Wonwoo lets out a hearty laugh before circling his huge hand on Soonyoung’s neglected cock. “We’re on the top floor. Look around you. No building is as tall as ours.” He’s right. The only way someone would find out about them is if they enter the door and walk in on them. His eyes fixate on the door knob, attempting to decipher if it had been locked. “Don’t worry. I locked them, too. I was just teasing you earlier.” Wonwoo goes right back into pleasuring him, right hand pumping his cock, left playing with his balls. Soonyoung brushes Wonwoo’s clothed member with his knees, earning a whine from the said man.
He unfastens his belt, then the button of his pants. It’s difficult for him to pull them off with the way he’s positioned. Fortunately, Wonwoo seems to have noticed his concern as he takes the matter into his own hands, pulling them down on his own, all his bottom garments pooling down around his ankle. Despite knowing what to expect, Soonyoung is still surprised with the real thing looking more massive than what it felt like when he palmed it through the offending fabric of Wonwoo’s pants. Wonwoo spreads his legs apart, coming closer to and positioning himself in the middle, feeling his own cock come into contact with Wonwoo’s own hard one adds more to the sensation Wonwoo is making him feel as his right hand continues to slide up and down his member with ease, liquid leaking out of it used as a provisional lube.
“Do mine, too, Kwon.”
He grabs his length, index finger playing with the tip of his cock. He notices Wonwoo’s pace quickens when he finally moves his hand up and down on Wonwoo's cock, taking it longer for him to complete one whole round owing it all to Wonwoo’s sizable length.
“Fuck, Kwon.” The way Wonwoo hisses at him, lolling his head back, encourages him even more, trying to match Wonwoo’s tempo. “Fuck, fuck.” Soonyoung dives down, giving his tip kitten licks, the apex of his tongue frolics on his slit. Soonyoung shuts his eyes close, mind filled with the image of Wonwoo drowning in pure gratification, making him unable to hear the words that came out of Wonwoo’s mouth next. So when Wonwoo’s load spurts on his face, he flinches a little, relieved that he has his eyes closed as he feels the wetness all the way to his cheeks and forehead.
It’s as if Soonyoung is a blank canvas, splashed with colors by an artist bearing the name of Jeon Wonwoo.
“Let me see the mess I made in you.”
Wonwoo pushes his body up to get a full view of him, fingers on his chin, moving his head side-to-side, scrutinizing every part of his face where his cum landed. “What would people say if they see the one and only heir to Kwon Tech looking like this? The rightful heir subservient under the command of a mere commoner? A slave to his hot colleague’s cock?” Soonyoung melts upon hearing his words, feeling he’s about to release his load with a few more pumps.
“Tell me, Kwon. What would be a better news headline?”
That’s it. That’s his last straw.
He releases his high without a warning, just his desperate and unrestrained moan ringing in his ears, and his body collapses, Wonwoo catches him, gently pushing him on the table, back hitting its hard surface. “Are you going to fuck my thighs now, Wonwoo?” Please say yes. Please say yes. I can’t take it anymore.
“Do you want me to?”
He answers with an eager nod, brings his knees in, folding his legs in half, feet resting on the table, then closes his thighs tightly, chilly air hitting his sensitive nubs and delicate skin stirs the excitement bubbling inside of him, not minding how there are still traces of Wonwoo on his face.
This third version of Jeon Wonwoo, Soonyoung thinks, is a culmination of years of repression, hiding behind the mask and layers of hypocrisy in order to live up to the epithet everybody has bestowed upon him that he had been forced to accept.
But, so far, despite everything, Soonyoung likes this third version the best.
-
“Cute.”
Wonwoo wipes the cum on Soonyoung’s gorgeous face with his thumb and coats his member generously with it, lining his dick in front of the small gap in between Soonyoung’s luscious thighs, but never penetrating them. It’s such a sight to see, Soonyoung trying to reach for his cock while laying down, saying the words: please, my thighs. fuck them already, please, in between shaky and helpless sobs.
“I will, princess.” Wonwoo kisses each of his knees, spotting the smile that formed on Soonyoung’s lips when he called him with such a befitting title. “But you have to promise me one thing.”
“Don’t forget about this, Soonyoung.” Even if he does, Wonwoo will go out of his way to make him remember the zealous pursuit of intimacy they shared together, under the night sky illuminated by the countless stars and the radiant crescent moon.
He doesn’t wait for him to reply, knows that it would take Soonyoung a while to reply with the current state that he’s in or if he manages to croak out a response, it would just be trivial incoherencies. He doesn’t wait, those reasons aside, because he is impatient, as simple as that.
He holds onto Soonyoung’s knees and thrusts in. The loud gasp Soonyoung lets out is unbridled, as if he’s baring his true desires, completely pliant to him, without a care in the world if someone or anyone is behind the door listening to them. The series of wanton noise that slips from Soonyoung’s lips every time he thrusts in and out of the narrow space in between his soft thighs pushes his buttons, drives him to the edge, eliciting a guttural moan from him, helping him forget about the perils of getting caught in this clandestine deed.
Wonwoo busies his hands, carving dents on Soonyoung’s abdomen, fingers pressing down where it’s the most sensitive. With each press, Soonyoung arches his back, squeezing his thighs even more as a reflex. Wonwoo sees the tears brimming in Soonyoung’s majestic set of orbs, crying out of pure ecstacy. “So good, Wonu. The best, Wonu. Out of all of them.”
“So fucking tight, Soonyoung. You—Ahh—” The persistence in Soonyoung impresses Wonwoo. Everytime Wonwoo thinks he already has the upper hand, Soonyoung proves him wrong and puts up a fight. “Ahh— fuck. Feels like I’m really fucking your hole.” Wonwoo acknowledges that Soonyoung does truly know how to work his magic—he knows how to give his partner a good time, because despite being somehow immobilized by this immense pleasure Wonwoo is making him feel, he finds a way, generous enough to give back just as much pleasure and gratification he receives.
Soonyoung fondles Wonwoo’s balls masterfully with his foot and Wonwoo can only take so much. He peers at him, seeing him play with his nipples, viscous fluid accumulating a pool on his stomach—Wonwoo thinks Soonyoung truly resembles a painting with strokes of cum and sweat across his beautiful body.
“Touch yourself, Soonyoung.” He orders him, now much quicker in his pace, table quaking from his rapid and unrelenting movements, Soonyoung’s body jerking up and down with every intentional thrust. “Yes, like that. Faster, Soonyoung.”
Wonwoo slaps the side of Soonyoung’s thighs, leaving marks of pinkish, but mostly red, loving how his skin bounces with each slap.
“Wonu, near. Please, ahhh—please.”
“Fuck!” The way Soonyoung’s endearment to him rolls off his tongue turns him on, making him hornier than he already is—if that’s even possible. All the begging, the desperate pleas, the obscene spectacle he’s witnessing—he couldn’t have imagined having laying his eyes on this, being the cause of this. And as if his libido takes over his judgment, Wonwoo moves his hips faster, their moans filling the stillness of the night. “Fuck, fuck. You’re so pretty, Soonyoung. So, so—”
“Wonu!” Soonyoung screams, squirting, not just once, heaps of his load onto himself—on his chest, near his nipples as if Soonyoung lactated, and onto the dress shirt bunched all the way above his chest. Soonyoung relaxes onto the table, body obviously worn down from the carnal activity that just took place.
When Wonwoo hears Soonyoung’s scream a few moments ago, he knows it won’t be too long till he releases his own. He stays in position, continuing each thrusts, holding Soonyoung’s legs into place before they give out just like the rest of his body, with no intention to withdraw his cock from the gap in between Soonyoung’s heavenly thighs, releasing his high with a husky, strangled moan. “Soonyoung-ah!” He pushes Soonyoung’s thighs aside, lines his cock on Soonyoung’s pinkish rim and brushes the tip of his leaking cock against it. And like clockwork, Soonyoung grinds his hole against his dick, infuriatingly slow. “Let me fuck your hole next time, Soonyoung.”
Soonyoung hums and Wonwoo isn’t sure if he understood what he meant, but he’s holding onto that for now.
Wonwoo hears Soonyoung whine at the sudden loss of contact when he steps back a little, placing his hand on the table for support, huffing and panting for air.
“Was—was I good?” Soonyoung asks, eyes shining brightly, waiting for an answer.
Maybe it’s time to let go of the persona that took over him when Soonyoung presented himself like a feast. “The best.” And he kisses his forehead. The continuous ringing of Soonyoung’s phone breaks the silence after Wonwoo’s praise seemingly made Soonyoung conscious, his ears and cheeks painted with a nice shade of rose. He gets it from the pocket of Soonyoung’s pants and stares at the screen lighting up.
-
“It’s Minghao. Would you like to speak to him?”
Soonyoung tiredly mouths the word no, but Wonwoo smirks, already formulating a devious plan in his mind. He slides the answer button to the right and places the phone near Soonyoung’s head.
Hey, Soonyoung. Where are you? We’ve been looking for you!
“Hi, Ming—ahhh!”
What was that? Are you okay?
“I’m okay,” Lies, of course he’s not, not when Wonwoo is nibbling on his nipples, hands fondling his breast. “A bug bit me.”
Wonwoo looks up to him as if telling him: Oh, I’m a bug now?
“Ahh—Won, Minghao. I’m okay. I am. Why did you call?” Soonyoung mentally scolds himself for nearly committing a mistake.
Dinner. Me and Mingyu are wondering if you’d join us.
“Of course, wait let me just—” Wonwoo doesn’t let him finish his sentence, tongue swirling around his hole making him moan into the call.
What the fuck, Soonyoung? Don’t tell me you’re—
“Oh, hi. This is Wonwoo speaking. Care to bring Soonyoung an extra shirt?”
What the fuck did you do to my best friend?
“Something similar to what Mingyu did to you the other day.”
Fuck, you saw us? Fine, fine. I’ll bring one by the door. I’ll bring tissue and wet wipes, too. Clean him up, okay?
Soonyoung ends the call, raising his hands up, asking Wonwoo to pull him up so he can sit, his dress shirt naturally falls, covering his bare skin from the cold, night air. “They fucked and you saw?”
“Yeah. Accidentally, by the way! I immediately left. Just so everything’s clear.” Wonwoo explains to him, the two of them chuckle like kids when their gazes meet, as if they didn’t just have the most mind blowing session earlier.
His eyes follow Wonwoo’s movement—bending down, getting something from the pocket of his pants. Wonwoo gets back up with a handkerchief in his hands, wiping himself clean before wearing his boxers and pants properly.
He hears footsteps from the other side of the door, followed by a knock, both of them blissfully aware of what it means.
“Your turn. Let’s clean you up, princess.”
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Extra 1:
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Extra 2:
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Extra 3:
