( It's gasoline thrown over a burning fire, Gaon's mouth a searing heat. Yohan groans into it instinctively, pressing closer than before, slotting himself neatly against the firm shape of the other man's body like he belongs there. The kiss is almost too sharp, the need of something unmet for too long, and Yohan isn't sure which of them is hungriest for it, only that his blood has never raced this quickly outside of something dangerous. But maybe it is. Maybe this is something calamitous, the young judge's hands taunting him with their greedy sweep, the pulse in his veins chasing after, twitching in tandem to the music outside.
He laughs against Gaon's mouth, giddy, teeth flashing briefly before he's kissing him again, an all-encompassing thing, tongue slipping in like a thief when a gasp allows him entrance. His own hands are not still either, though one seems to want to brand itself around the curve of Gaon's hip. The free one ruffles fabric beneath his touch, skating up to a broad chest and squeezing once, thumb gliding over a nipple peaked beneath the fabric before it all slides away again.
Not to give him peace, no.
Yohan hems Gaon back, ass against the marble and his fingertips a light caress down the front of his shirt, three fingers a taunt. They take their time even as the sharpness of his teeth dip into the plush of Gaon's sweetly terrible lip, hooking very briefly around his belt before they fall even lower, wrist turning so he can run his palm over the front of Gaon's trousers, another amused breath pulled through. )
Yes? ( Against his mouth, and the firmer pressure of his hand. ) Judge Kim?
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He laughs against Gaon's mouth, giddy, teeth flashing briefly before he's kissing him again, an all-encompassing thing, tongue slipping in like a thief when a gasp allows him entrance. His own hands are not still either, though one seems to want to brand itself around the curve of Gaon's hip. The free one ruffles fabric beneath his touch, skating up to a broad chest and squeezing once, thumb gliding over a nipple peaked beneath the fabric before it all slides away again.
Not to give him peace, no.
Yohan hems Gaon back, ass against the marble and his fingertips a light caress down the front of his shirt, three fingers a taunt. They take their time even as the sharpness of his teeth dip into the plush of Gaon's sweetly terrible lip, hooking very briefly around his belt before they fall even lower, wrist turning so he can run his palm over the front of Gaon's trousers, another amused breath pulled through. )
Yes? ( Against his mouth, and the firmer pressure of his hand. ) Judge Kim?