short hiatus!!!

a strained groan bounces off of the walls, eyes shut and one hand scrambling for whatever's closest, the other gripping onto your shoulder—each finger dipping into you harder and harder. he bites his lower lip down this time, trying to silence his weakness. it doesn't work. you grow hungrier. sunghoon flinches as he feels you adjust yourself; spreading your legs across his thighs, arms still locked around his neck, your head slightly bobbing right below his jaw.

"no more—" his voice crackles, the hand that was bruising you now pushed against your collarbone, "—you said you only needed a minute."

there's slight protest plastered across your face that sunghoon, thankfully, can't see—otherwise, he would've pushed you off. fully. it's almost impossible to drown out his complaining: how you're too rough, that it's been too long... yet his fingers twitch every time he bumps into a curve, his knees buckle when you just barely move—and best of all, the beat playing in his jugular.

it drives you up the wall.

and you couldn't agree more, that you've gone over the time limit.

there's not one remorseful bone in your body with the way you rip yourself out of him, leaving his teeth to clash as he promptly reaches for the wound you so kindly gifted him. "sorry — did i hurt you?" your adrenaline-ridden voice is clouded away with the amount of cursing he exhales into the air, his cheeks puffing alongside his inconsistent breathing as if he's trying to not pass out.

"you — you said a minute..." there was a shake to him, a stutter, a want. it was hard to spot that dark desire with the amount of tremble he was bathing in, and sunghoon was so lost in thought that he doesn't even realise the gore that's seeping through the cuts of his fingers; you do.

you clasp your mouth, voice fighting to break through and bombard him with apologies and pleads to not turn you in. maybe you should have stopped when he asked you to, begged you to. "oh, fuck. i've never been this messy before, i—" his palm drops as you go to hold his wrist gently, turning it over to uncover a tint that's far too familiar to you by now. "—i'll get the bandages. i'm sorry." guilt. that's all you feel rush throughout your body—because you're still starving. a part of you hopes that he offers an alternative, which only fuels your shame.

sunghoon's blood wraps around your joint before you can detach yourself from him, your body crashing back to where you were perched at. he's holding you still, and you can't help but notice the puncture in his side, how deep it is. bloody. you lick your lips out of instinct; eyes widening in realisation and lids shielding you from the red not soon after.

"no need for bandages," your eyes shoot open to his croaky response, his words laced with fragility that he gave up trying to conceal, "keep going." there was no other expression displayed on his face, just his flushed cheeks and knitted brows; need. only warmth ran through your veins now.

there was no questioning. you wanted this. though, the look on your face stated otherwise—like you weren't sure—as if he weren't the one demanding you. no matter how many times you try to open your mouth, try to look angry, try to be... something else—nothing comes out. not like his words do.

baddum, baddum, baddum...

that slow drum, once again, plays in your ears. it's second nature for you to lean forward the way you do, taking in his odour as you do so—your hips fitting onto his like a missing puzzle piece, a low wince dripping from his blushed lips as a hand trails to your lower back—urging you to feed. it's obvious that he's holding his breath, because you can't hear his shallow blows anymore, not even the small grunts at the back of his throat he tries so hard to swallow down... your gaze locks onto the goosebumps forming around the bite—and you finally sink your canines back inside.

frigidity frosts your body over, you're more than relaxed—whereas sunghoon, is fighting the light. how close he is to it is irrelevant, he isn't pulling away. no—he's pulling you closer. your figures finally meet, like the flesh against your mouth wasn't enough, and he recoils at the sensation in his neck. beads of sweat begin to draw at his hairline, yours etching down your spine.

you lap over the mark a few times before going back to sucking the life out of him, your tongue circling and cleaning up the liquid you had spilled out of hunger.

"fuck — bite me." it hurt him, physically, to say that—his wording came out shattered, yet light, and at this point—it wasn't crazy to think he was enjoying this. sunghoon's knuckles alter from a faint white to a pale, unravelling the fist in your shirt—only to travel up to your hair and house the back of your head. all you're set on, is your stomach. how it's flipping, hot, hungry—that you don't even process how you fall back with a big yank. his fingers are intertwined with each hair strand, no stillness to his grip whatsoever. "you think you crave me?" his gaze drops to your mouth, then your chin, and the overall mess on your face. "i'm the one craving you. this is what i wait for everyday."

"now, come here."

a pause—before his tongue's inside of your mouth, your fleshy walls; tasting himself within you. iron. he's moaning into your mouth, the apple in his throat nodding whenever he gets hit with another metallic tang. you're caught in your own appetite, doing as he wishes and angling yourself so your teeth are levelled with his lower kisser—dragging it with your tusks before hearing a breathy gasp in response, a whined out please, rolling his pelvis into you. he wants all of it. all of you.

reaching down to his trousers, you nod to his pleading, planting a deep kiss to his swollen ones as you hesitantly touch the tent he's pitched. sure, you've straddled him plenty of times in need of plasma, though... not this—not lowering your hand to feel how how much of a sucker he was for your monstrous tendencies, all along. whilst palming his hard-on; all kinds of thoughts run through your mind, like if you should even be doing this. one second, you're eating dinner—then you're fucking your dinner.

whilst lost in thought, he's fumbling with your shirt, tracing the ridges and patterns—trying to be as respectful as he can, even though his cock's pulsating and aching to be inside of you. it's... overwhelming. you leave him no choice—his digits clutch the bottom of your top, bundling the fabric to your collarbone.

his large hand cups your tit, thumb running over your stiff nipple a few times before latching onto it—the texture of his tongue sending sudden shock waves throughout your body, the inconsistency of sucking and licking making your back arch, him groaning because of your sounds solely. fire grows in between your legs, a pulse awakening. "can i touch you? i mean, fuck," he rasps out, scanning your bare torso and where he's scrunched your shirt up to reveal your chest, "your pussy's begging for me, right?" sunghoon sharply sucks in his breath, cheeks hollowing, eyes big and glossy whilst peering up at you with wet, parted lips—then, your crotch catches his attention, the hair that's glued to his forehead and nape drifting as he shifts himself. his hands find their way to your love handles, gently squeezing you, loving you, putting pressure into his palms, and pushing you down into his tightened groin; grinding into your clothed pussy. and you like it, rocking yourself, lust intensifying with each hump.

"i'm waiting," your breath hitches as you slide back and forth, a finger dipping down, just to come back up with it slicked in juices, "my pussy is waiting."

a broken hum emerges from sunghoon, his eyebrows furrowing and cheeks flushing in passion, the rubbing becoming sloppier. "yeah? come and suck on me again, then, baby." you feel yourself clench around nothing from his voice alone—coated in desire, thirst, wishing he would give in and pound you.

but, you do as you're told, your grip on his jaw strong as you're placed on the other side of his neck—the side that doesn't need stitching— nibbling, teeth half-way in, and he's already lost it. he hasn't stopped nestling your cunt into him, and both of your liquids are overlapping, making 'love' like you two are, a slight noise to the fabric that you'd only hear if the room went quiet. there's a sting when you break contact, his discomfort melting as you fall loose, still rutting away. "i — i'm gonna come, hoon." huffs of pleasure interrupt your words, nudging your focus onto how the friction's playing with your clit just right—how it'd feel if his raw tip was playing with your bud, instead.

his grip snakes its way to your ass, giving you a tight squeeze before a light smack, enveloping both nipples at a time. you are so close, and he pulls away, his dna following him—stringing between your swells and his maw. "baby, just take my fucking blood. all of it. drain me."

and it feels like he's taking your blood, draining your life, because you break—spinning from desire and swooning to his lewdness; legs vibrating as he trails along your material to your drenched spot, kneading you like dough, his grunts frenzying the more his digits explore the moisture. "need you," the unexpected pressure on your ball of nerves makes you squirm, fingers barely brushing through your folds, "can't stop thinking about coming in my pants for you. i'm going to come all over your modest pussy." confidence pumps through his arms as he pins your thighs down—snuggling his boner right in between your sore lips. fuck.

it's been less than a minute, and he's quivering, saying your name and etching marks into your skin. sunghoon's cock is twitching to come out, destroy your lining, fuck your womb in—i will, watch me, breathy and with his lids glued; imagining it instead of committing to the thought.

"fu — fuck, gonna come, coming, coming—" his thrusts are personal, drawling, and he's caressing over the holes you left whilst doing so—mewling as if he's recollecting memories, chasing his own high. you feel the squelch beneath you, the amount of release that could've been inside, coiling your grasp around the soaked tent to make sure his cum leaks through to you.

as you both mix, you're both also air-starved—collapsing with one another, at last. sunghoon's chest heaves, and you can hear his heartbeat. louder than before.

baddum, baddum, baddum...

a dreamy smile plays on your face, your lashes fluttering shut as he lands an embracing hold around you, drawing you in closer with a lingering peck to the crown of your hair; clothes airing out with each beat.