( it feels a bit like this is what he's been chasing for so long. or something close to it, anyway, this sensation of being consumed on all sides by kang yohan's attention. because it's all there is now: the weight of him, the smell, every little breath and gasp against his skin. he's surrounded by him, filled up by him, and yohan is right. gaon barely has a grasp on what's happening but yohan is right all the same because he does like this. too much, maybe, even down to the ache. he likes it in a way that might become a problem later, another high to chase that he should be sworn away from.
he presses the wrecked noise he makes at that thrust into yohan's hair. he can feel how the tension gives way, how his body works to accommodate because the want is such a hungry, visceral thing. another snap of yohan's hips and his head drops back to the bed, mouth open at the sensation. it's all of it, everything, even down to the feel of yohan's body moving between his thighs. there are a hundred problems with this, even more reasons why they shouldn't be doing it, and instead of examining those with any kind of seriousness gaon hitches his hips up to meet yohan's next thrust with a filthy groan.
was this what they'd had in mind when they'd planted him to keep kang yohan in check? probably not. but they never really keep what gaon wants in mind, either, and this right here? he wants this. )
( He can't help the small, wild laugh that escapes him. It bubbles out of him, viciously pleased, his hips snapping to meet the tilt of Gaon's own pelvis, gaze intently caught on his parted lips, the kiss bruised swell of them. In the quiet of his bedroom everything hones down to the senses. His sight fixated on Gaon's flush, ears pricked to the slap of their bodies, the panting of breath, his palms fitted neatly to the other man's waist, the smell of smoke and sweat. He leans in again to lick the trail of moisture from Gaon's bobbing throat, delight too bright for a moment, the intimacy of it blindsiding him. There's no thought other than they belong like this, Gaon's body welcoming Yohan's fervour, two bold minds equally fixated.
Fingers slide from the younger man's waist, trip over shuddering muscles. Yohan shifts his balance back onto his knees, the other palm still curved against his hip to keep him in place. The change lets him fuck in at a different angle, watching as Gaon's body jolts with it. It also lets Yohan take Gaon's flushed, hard cock in hand, thumb playing with the head as another sticky burst of precome hits, fingers squeezing lightly. ) Aish, look at you.
( He's rarely covetous. There's not much he wants. Nice suits, shiny watches, fast cars. It all pales into comparison with the wash of possessive hunger that floods Yohan now. He shifts, tugging Gaon's leg higher around his waist, scraping his nail against the sensitive inner skin of his thigh, the other hand tugging his cock in a mean little pull. He wants. Gaon in his life, and his confidence, Gaon in his home, and in his bed, and a space carved out for him. He knows he'll do terrible things to keep it. )
( it's better than he ever could have imagined it would be. and he's thought about it before, too, a variety of scenarios that trip through his mind when yohan presses the right buttons -- whether intentionally or not. pressed into the kitchen counters, in the passenger seat of his car, laid out on his bed just like this, the sheets hot under his shoulders. but none of it has ever been as sharp or as clear as this, none of it considered the way yohan holds onto him like he needs grounding or the way the sweat sheens on yohan's skin in the low light or how it would feel to be wanted the way he does now.
he doesn't like the distance when yohan leans away. or he doesn't think he does, until yohan thrusts in and it's not deeper as much as it's new and gaon twists against it, groaning louder than he should, his thighs tensing. it's good, it's unrelenting. he feels himself fraying a little as yohan's hand wraps around him, attention split between too many things, everything just a little sharp, a little bright, sparking as he rolls his body to meet yohan's. his own hands are restless like this, wandering as yohan fucks into him, presses deeper than anyone else has ever been. one splays flat across his stomach, the other twisting into his own hair, seeking out some kind of grounding against the overwhelm.
he won't last long like this. he's sure they both know it. he wants to stretch this out into hours, to exist in this space beyond the parameters of his own skin, but the hunger is a stronger force and the urge to drive himself down around yohan's cock supersedes any other designs he might have. )
Harder-- ( croaked, not a plea but something close. he drags his hand down his face and reaches to yohan's chest instead, nails against his skin, scratching his way down like it might help to spur him on. )
( It does spur him on. The sting of nails leaves the faintest of red lines over his heaving chest, Yohan's parted lips twitching into a grin sharp enough to show his canines. That singular word is the dropping of a flag on a rainy street, a bright signal to go, and when has he ever managed to ignore something like that. Yohan shifts, two hands back on Gaon's hips, fingers flexing and then digging in hard as he draws his cock nearly all of the way out. The clutching heat makes his head pulse, a flush along his throat, sweat dripping. Next time he thinks he'll take his time, he'll tease a little more, but since Gaon asked -.
His hips snap on the next breath, the mattress creaking under his knees, the slap of their skin an echo to the frantic gasp that falls from one, or both, of them. It's a mean pace, entirely unforgiving. Gaon wanted it hard, and Yohan wants it fast, and he fucks into him like he means it, like if he could brute force their connection entirely through this he would. His head bows again, fringe falling into his wild eyes, the blown pupils of them skating over Gaon's face, his agonised mouth, the way he thrashes against the sheets. Every thrust forward Yohan uses the hands on his hips to pull Gaon close, fingertips slick where they meet skin. )
Touch yourself.
( A rough, gravelly whisper. A command, words broken up by his the way their bodies collide, the sheer desperation in it. )
I want you to come for me, Kim Gaon. You will, won't you? Like this? It's what you want, isn't it?
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he presses the wrecked noise he makes at that thrust into yohan's hair. he can feel how the tension gives way, how his body works to accommodate because the want is such a hungry, visceral thing. another snap of yohan's hips and his head drops back to the bed, mouth open at the sensation. it's all of it, everything, even down to the feel of yohan's body moving between his thighs. there are a hundred problems with this, even more reasons why they shouldn't be doing it, and instead of examining those with any kind of seriousness gaon hitches his hips up to meet yohan's next thrust with a filthy groan.
was this what they'd had in mind when they'd planted him to keep kang yohan in check? probably not. but they never really keep what gaon wants in mind, either, and this right here? he wants this. )
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Fingers slide from the younger man's waist, trip over shuddering muscles. Yohan shifts his balance back onto his knees, the other palm still curved against his hip to keep him in place. The change lets him fuck in at a different angle, watching as Gaon's body jolts with it. It also lets Yohan take Gaon's flushed, hard cock in hand, thumb playing with the head as another sticky burst of precome hits, fingers squeezing lightly. ) Aish, look at you.
( He's rarely covetous. There's not much he wants. Nice suits, shiny watches, fast cars. It all pales into comparison with the wash of possessive hunger that floods Yohan now. He shifts, tugging Gaon's leg higher around his waist, scraping his nail against the sensitive inner skin of his thigh, the other hand tugging his cock in a mean little pull. He wants. Gaon in his life, and his confidence, Gaon in his home, and in his bed, and a space carved out for him. He knows he'll do terrible things to keep it. )
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he doesn't like the distance when yohan leans away. or he doesn't think he does, until yohan thrusts in and it's not deeper as much as it's new and gaon twists against it, groaning louder than he should, his thighs tensing. it's good, it's unrelenting. he feels himself fraying a little as yohan's hand wraps around him, attention split between too many things, everything just a little sharp, a little bright, sparking as he rolls his body to meet yohan's. his own hands are restless like this, wandering as yohan fucks into him, presses deeper than anyone else has ever been. one splays flat across his stomach, the other twisting into his own hair, seeking out some kind of grounding against the overwhelm.
he won't last long like this. he's sure they both know it. he wants to stretch this out into hours, to exist in this space beyond the parameters of his own skin, but the hunger is a stronger force and the urge to drive himself down around yohan's cock supersedes any other designs he might have. )
Harder-- ( croaked, not a plea but something close. he drags his hand down his face and reaches to yohan's chest instead, nails against his skin, scratching his way down like it might help to spur him on. )
no subject
His hips snap on the next breath, the mattress creaking under his knees, the slap of their skin an echo to the frantic gasp that falls from one, or both, of them. It's a mean pace, entirely unforgiving. Gaon wanted it hard, and Yohan wants it fast, and he fucks into him like he means it, like if he could brute force their connection entirely through this he would. His head bows again, fringe falling into his wild eyes, the blown pupils of them skating over Gaon's face, his agonised mouth, the way he thrashes against the sheets. Every thrust forward Yohan uses the hands on his hips to pull Gaon close, fingertips slick where they meet skin. )
Touch yourself.
( A rough, gravelly whisper. A command, words broken up by his the way their bodies collide, the sheer desperation in it. )
I want you to come for me, Kim Gaon. You will, won't you? Like this? It's what you want, isn't it?