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When Junghwan wakes, the world around him is still warm and dark.
It takes a moment for him to adjust to the low light streaming in from through the gap in the blinds, but he can feel Kyungmin’s warm body tucked next to him, his chest rising and falling steadily in his rhythm of sleep. Knows by memory the image of his long eyelashes fanned out over his cheekbones. His fingers curled up against his chest. Junghwan tries not to wake him as he snakes his arm out from under him. He might need the rest after last night.
Right, last night.
Last night, when Junghwan made Kyungmin come three times. Once with his mouth, once with his fingers, and then one more time after that, Kyungmin’s body shaking beneath him as he spilled inside of him.
Something in Junghwan’s gut burns low and bright at the thought. They didn’t—Kyungmin had passed out right away, and Junghwan had cleaned him up a little bit, but he might—
Junghwan pushes himself up and reaches a hand down between Kyungmin’s thighs. Kyungmin’s still—he’s still soft. Wet at the rim. Junghwan bites back a curse. He wishes he could see through the night, see how much of him is still—he swallows hard, saliva thick in his throat as he runs his hand along the back of Kyungmin’s warm thigh.
“Kyungmin-ah,” he says into the dark.
No response. Just the slowly ticking clock and the puff of Kyungmin’s sleep-heavy breaths.
They’d gone—he might have gone a little overboard last night. He pushed Kyungmin to tears. He left marks all over his collarbones and bruises on his hips, but—
But Kyungmin likes it, his brain supplies. And it’s true, he does—he likes it all; he likes everything Junghwan gives him, even when it’s too much.
Junghwan gets up on his knees, hooks one leg over Kyungmin and palms the curve of Kyungmin’s ass, at the soft skin of his thighs. The muscle gives easily under Junghwan’s hands, unresistant in his unconsciousness. Kyungmin stirs beneath him, mumbling something into the dark night, fingers twitching against his chest.
He’s not awake. Not really; not yet. Junghwan knows the way he mumbles in his sleep—finds it cute, even, when he comes to bed late to the sight of Kyungmin, eyebrows furrowed, lost in his dreams. He reaches over to stroke Kyungmin’s hair where it’s matted against his forehead.
Junghwan always feels like a creep when he watches Kyungmin sleep. It’s never stopped him from doing it, but there’s a buried-away part of him that feels a little perverted almost all of the time.
But it doesn’t matter. He buries his face into the warm crook of Kyungmin’s neck, inhaling deeply, taking a hit of the smell of his warm skin as he presses his fingers against Kyungmin’s hip, where he knows there must be fingerprint bruises. He thumbs at the jutting-out bone and slides his hand down to brush his fingers against where Kyungmin is still leaking.
“Mmm,” Kyungmin mumbles incoherently, still drowsy with sleep, breath coming quicker as he shifts beneath him. “Ah,” he mouths into the pillow.
Junghwan doesn’t say anything in response, just spits into his hand, spreading it over his fingers. Kyungmin’s still so soft and loose, still wet with lube, dripping with Junghwan’s—all he has to do is—Junghwan presses one finger in easily, Kyungmin’s body just taking it.
He might need the rest. Now Junghwan feels like a hypocrite, too. He holds his breath, feeling like this might really rouse him, that it might snap Kyungmin awake.
But would it really be so bad? Kyungmin slowly brought to waking by the feeling of Junghwan inside him?
Junghwan turns his face over to kiss the back of Kyungmin’s neck, the top knob of his spine, the curve of his shoulder as Kyungmin squirms beneath him, his breaths coming quick and heavy, his fingers curling into the sheets beneath him. He pulls his hand back before pushing back in again in a slow, steady rhythm. The same rhythm he likes to touch and tease him with every time.
“What are you doing,” Kyungmin mumbles, words slurring together in a wet puff against the pillow.
Junghwan pushes a second finger in. He’s met with no resistance, Kyungmin’s sleep-limp body taking him easily. He feels him shift, mumble something else in his state of half-waking, and stills his hand, waiting for him to wake up, to realize; to push Junghwan away, to ask for more.
But Kyungmin’s still caught in this half-dream state, breaths shallower than before as he shifts fully onto his stomach, fingers still curled against the side of his chest. A soft moan escapes him and the sound fills Junghwan with wanting, makes his head feel warm and cotton-stuffed.
Junghwan keeps moving. He can feel himself, hard against his stomach, achingly so, straining against where he’s pressed against Kyungmin’s thigh, hunger settling deep in his abdomen. But he likes this too—likes to watch in the dim light of their room as he sinks his fingers into Kyungmin’s unresistant body.
Kyungmin lifts his arm, battling blindly at Junghwan’s leg. “It hurts,” he murmurs, voice still thick and heavy. “‘m still sore.”
And Junghwan’s sure it does hurt; he’s sure Kyungmin is sore, especially after yesterday, but all he does is hear what he says—hears but doesn’t listen—instead savoring the sound of his gasps, his quiet moans muffled into the pillows. Junghwan gives him a third finger and feels the way his thigh jumps beneath him, fingers twitching half from sleep and half from arousal. He watches, mesmerized, as Kyungmin moans, louder now, his plush lips shiny with spit, where it must be gathering behind the back of his teeth.
With his free hand, Junghwan reaches up to stroke at Kyungmin’s hair in what is hopefully a soothing manner. Something to ease the intensity of it all.
It only takes a few more presses inside of him before Kyungmin gasps sharply, his body jerking as he surfaces into full consciousness. “Hyung—,” he says, choked out, voice shaky. “Ah, ah—”
“Kyungminie,” Junghwan coos. “You’re awake.” He shoves his fingers back in again, crooking them deep inside of his body.
Kyungmin squirms beneath him, whining something nonsensical as Junghwan picks up the pace. He’s feeling mean—a little evil—at each drag of his fingers against where Kyungmin is still so wet and messy.
Junghwan leans forward to lick and bite at the back of Kyungmin’s neck. His hair is tangled with sweat. Kyungmin mumbles something, asks for something that Junghwan can’t make out. He’s still incoherent, having just barely escaped the throes of unconsciousness, but the wet noises he’s making all sound something like Junghwan’s name.
And the truth is that Junghwan likes this too—likes that he’s not quite lucid enough to speak, that he’s asking for something he doesn’t know how to ask for.
But Junghwan always understands. He can hear the shape of what he’s asking for even before he can ask for it; he always hears—doesn’t always listen—but he always knows.
He wouldn’t like it this much, maybe, if Kyungmin didn’t always indulge him. If he didn’t always let him do as he pleases; if he wasn’t so tolerant of his every whim. Maybe he wouldn’t keep trying to push the boundaries of Kyungmin’s patience if he didn’t know that he secretly likes it too—that he likes catering to Junghwan’s impulses.
“Hyung,” Kyungmin gasps wetly against the pillow, his back rising and falling with his quick, frantic breaths. “Hyung—hyung,” he whines, sounding so desperate. “Please—,” he cries, voice breaking off as he moans, shoving his face into the fabric.
He’s squirming like he’s not sure if he wants to move away or if he’s trying to push himself back onto Junghwan’s fingers, but Junghwan keeps giving it to him anyway, relentless.
“It’s going to hurt,” Junghwan says, voice low against the shell of Kyungmin’s ear. Kyungmin is still whining beneath him, hips bucking into the mattress. The sound of it goes straight to Junghwan’s—Kyungmin, underneath him, his pliant body taking it.
“Ah—I don’t care,” Kyungmin cries. “It already hurts—I want it, I want it,” he pants—gasps—into the pillow, head bowing forward so Junghwan can kiss his neck, his earlobe, the curve of his jaw. “I want it—please, hyung, I want it.”
It’s so cute, the way he always insists like this. Junghwan already knows he’s going to be grumbling later. About how sore he is, about how annoying Junghwan is. But it doesn’t matter—it goes like this every time. Junghwan trying to tease, Junghwan giving in to what Kyungmin wants, Junghwan giving in: again, again, again.
Junghwan stills his hand. Kyungmin whines, high and loud, pushing back against where Junghwan’s fingers are buried inside of him, trying for something, but Junghwan’s other hand on his hip keeps him there, keeps him pinned down.
“Jesus,” Junghwan says, pulling his fingers out and wiping them against the back of Kyungmin’s soft, bare thigh. “You’re so loud.”
“Hyung,” Kyungmin says, drawn-out and wanting. His cheek is pressed to the pillow as he turns and tries to look at Junghwan with his unfocused eyes. His cock is probably dripping against the mattress, his body still overstimulated from last night, from being shocked awake with Junghwan’s fingers inside of him.
“Shh,” Junghwan says, soothing, running his hands along Kyungmin’s sides. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Kyungmin turns his head to bury it in the pillow, then turns it left and then right again. “It’s not, hyung—I said I want it,” he half-sobs.
Junghwan wants to keep teasing him. He really does—he likes watching Kyungmin whine and moan and squirm beneath him, likes how worked-up and desperate he gets when Junghwan doesn’t give it to him, but he really does feel a bit bad for him now. He’s been taking it for so long.
Fine, he thinks to himself. I can give it to him. Even if Kyungmin can't ask him properly. He’s put Kyungmin through so much, already, both last night and then now. It would be mean of him to keep denying him what he’s begging for.
Kyungmin gathers his arms up to press his face against his forearms, whining something incoherent as Junghwan presses the tip of himself against Kyungmin.
“Yeah,” Kyungmin pants, desperate. “I want it, hyung. Give it to me—please.”
It’s hard not to give in when Kyungmin asks so nicely. When he’s ready and waiting like this.
Junghwan presses in, sinking himself in all the way at once, the glide made easy by how loose Kyungmin is, from the mess of spit and lube and Junghwan's come from last night inside of him. Heat simmers low in Junghwan’s gut, Kyungmin so tight and warm around him.
And as he bottoms out, as he leans himself over Kyungmin’s body, so much smaller than his own, he feels it like a slap to the face:
Junghwan always wants Kyungmin so badly—Junghwan has him in his hands, has him all to himself, and he still wants him so badly. He needs this—needs to be around him and inside of him, needs to hoard him away, needs to be touching him, can’t let anybody else touch him.
He gasps into Kyungmin’s neck. “Kyungmin-ah,” he pants, voice damp against Kyungmin’s sweaty hair. Kyungmin whines beneath him; Junghwan feels the sound vibrate through his own chest where it’s pressed against Kyungmin’s back. “Kyungmin-ah."
“Ah,” Kyungmin gasps. Junghwan mouths along the side of his neck, the bone of his jaw, the soft skin of his cheek. Kyungmin feels so nice inside, all his, only his—this ugly jealousy for nothing, this dirty possessiveness, churns inside Junghwan’s stomach, where it mixes with all the acid and burning arousal.
“Kyungmin-ah,” Junghwan tries again. Asking. Reaching.
Kyungmin turns his face toward him, something seeming to light up in his brain, to recognize what Junghwan is asking for. And he might even be about to say something in response before Junghwan pulls out and thrusts back in, slow and deep and hard.
“Ah—,” Kyungmin cries out, his whole body flinching as the force of Junghwan pushing back inside of him presses him up the mattress, Kyungmin’s hands clenching against the pillows beneath him.
It feels good, almost unbearably so—it feels this way every time, the deep enormity of his desire and wanting for Kyungmin, even now. Even when he’s pressed up inside of him. Every time. Junghwan keeps going at the same pace, slow and deep, the way he knows that Kyungmin likes it.
“Hyung,” Kyungmin whines. “It’s deep—it’s too deep.”
Junghwan bites the juncture between Kyungmin’s neck and shoulder, licks over the mark, and then finally asks, “Do you like it, Kyungminie?”
He doesn’t get a reply. He often doesn’t; he often gets instead the steady rhythm of Kyungmin’s punched-out ah, ah, ah’s as he fucks into him. It’s what he gets now. Their room is quiet except for the wet sounds of Kyungmin’s gasps and Junghwan moving inside of him.
“Hyung,” Kyungmin manages. “It’s—it feels good, I like it,” he pants. He’s gathered enough energy to push himself up so he’s propped up on his elbows, pressing his hips back to meet Junghwan on his every thrust forward. This too—it amazes Junghwan every time: how much Kyungmin always wants him back, how much he always wants it too, how much they always want the same thing.
Junghwan pushes himself up, too; he gets his hands back on Kyungmin’s hips—it’ll leave another set of twin bruises, he’s sure; another set to match the ones from last night—as he picks up the pace, moving faster now.
“It’s too much,” Kyungmin says beneath him, voice shaky. His head hangs low between his shoulders. Junghwan lifts a hand to thread his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, to run his thumb along the line of the top of his spine. “Can you—”
Junghwan already knows what he’s asking for before he can form the words. He slides his hand down along Kyungmin’s back before reaching forward to wrap it around his leaking cock. He’s so wet. He’s probably been leaking onto the mattress this whole time. It only takes a couple of quick tugs before Kyungmin is gasping, moaning, tightening around Junghwan as he comes.
Junghwan slows his pace, still fucking him through it; he’s careful, now, not to do too much, not sure Kyungmin’s tired eyes can handle crying again after last night.
Kyungmin’s body flops down onto the mattress, fully spent, Junghwan still buried inside of him. He’s pulling himself out, ready to finish by himself, to come on Kyungmin’s back, before—
“Hyung,” Kyungmin says, quietly, words slurred, “keep going.”
Fuck.
“Are you sure?”
Kyungmin nods, turning his face to the side to look at Junghwan. He looks so dazed, like he’s gone somewhere else. Junghwan feels so—he pushes back in; he watches his face intently as Kyungmin’s eyes flutter shut, as he turns to bury his face back into the mattress. Junghwan almost doesn’t hear what he says next.
“You can come inside,” Kyungmin mumbles into the sheets. “I want it. Feels nice.”
Jesus.
If that’s what Kyungmin wants—Junghwan can convince himself he doesn’t want it just as badly, that he doesn’t like the idea of the mark of him inside of Kyungmin just as much. He fucks back into Kyungmin, his body so malleable and willing beneath him.
Junghwan leans forward to kiss the cap of Kyungmin’s shoulder, to hear the soft sounds he makes, all of them buried in the sheets as he takes it, as Junghwan touches him: he runs his hands over his shoulder blades, down along his back, gropes at his soft thigh as he presses himself in—deep, deeper—and comes, spilling into Kyungmin underneath him.