let's escape now

"sung — please, i really, really have to —"

"alright." he leans in closer, his lips brushing yours, "i didn't keep you in here to make you cum on my fingers anyway."

he eases them out of you and you sigh in relief, but he doesn't step back. he kicks your towels into a corner — long forgotten on the floor, still wet from your earlier shower — and grabs your hips. he turns you and bends you over the sink in one fluid motion. your cheek meets the cold surface and you gasp when his hand fists into your hair, keeping you still, exactly where he wants you.

"jisung, wait — i have to pee," you finally manage to blurt out. it's embarrassing how your pitch rises on the word, and you feel your face grow hot.

he laughs. "that's not my problem."

"no, i'm serious."

"so am i," he says, lining up the head of his cock with your entrance. "you know what you have to say if you really want me to stop. but you don't want that, do you?"

you whimper. not at his words, but because he's pushing inside in one long, swift stroke that leaves no room for you to breathe.

"fuck," he groans against your shoulder, "still so tight. it's like this pussy never learns how to take me properly."

your hands are gripping the sink, scrambling for purchase while your body struggles between pleasure and the unbearable pressure. everything inside you is too full, too stretched, too much.

"jisung, i can't hold it, i'm gonna…"

he tightens his grip and tugs your head back, desperate to hear every plea.

"good."

then he starts moving with slow, deep strokes. the kind that push you right to the edge, aimed straight at that spot that has you clench around him.

"you feel that? how full you are? how bad you need to let go?"

you whimper again, mumbling i can'ts between the jostle of your body against the basin.

"you can." his hand slides down your stomach, pressing low. "and you're gonna make a mess either way, so why don't you stop fighting it? c'mon baby. just piss on it."

your whole body feels taut, stretched too thin and begging for release. still you're holding back; it's impossible to give in. too filthy. you've never thought about it before — the possibility of it, the instinctual need to just let go — but with every stroke of jisung's cock the pressure builds. it pushes you dangerously close towards the edge, a dull pain throbbing in your core and radiating outwards until all you feel is tension.

he must feel how close you are, the fluttering of your walls around him and the firm swell of your tummy underneath his fingertips.

"baby," he kisses your nape, "just let go. let go for me."

he pulls out almost all the way, then drives his hips forward — so deep you can't do anything but listen to him. everything inside you tightens and unravels at once, your body crying out in release.

it takes a second before you feel it. the warmth of it, the wetness, the rumble of jisung's groans against your back when the mess hits his thighs.

"fuck," he babbles, "fuck, baby, you're soaking me — oh my god —"

you've never felt this kind of pleasure before. this kind of relief. it keeps pulsing in sharp bursts every time he thrusts into you. you feel it run down your legs and onto the floor. it's humiliating; the sound of jisung's thighs hitting the back of yours so slick and wet it makes your sore cunt ache for more.

jisung grabs your hips to hold you in place, locks his eyes on the mess in front of him. "holy fuck," he moans, awestruck, "you're still going — baby, shit, that's so hot —"

he's losing himself in it, voice breaking off into a string of stuttering moans as he buries himself deeper. hot, messy ropes of cum paint your pussy and he collapses against your back.

for a moment your whole world shrinks to nothing but the sound of your heavy breaths synchronizing as the pleasure slowly fades.

"….holy shit," jisung sighs again.

"holy shit."

he lifts his head, peppering a trail of kisses down your spine. "next time," he whispers into your skin, "you're doing that on my tongue."

the dim lighting from the garage lights makes it hard to see his face, but it doesn’t matter since your eyes flutter closed as his lips travel down your jaw towards your neck. he bites at your skin gently, pressing a fond shaped kiss to the burning spot before he pulls back.

“that eager that you couldn’t wait until we got to our room?” he asks, and you know his ears are burning red even though you can’t see them well.

“check in isn’t for another 15 minutes,” you don’t defend yourself because you kind of are eager, and instead you settle your hips down further into his. “what else are we going to do with that time?”

“i don’t know, wait in the lobby- mmph-“ you cut him off, returning your lips to his and starting a frantic rhythm that threatens to knock you off balance before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer into him.

you can feel his smirk against your mouth and you tilt your head just enough to bite at his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth a little too harshly and letting it go with a wet pop. you almost feel guilty when a whine escapes the back of his throat but you stop yourself from saying sorry.

he always prefers his pleasure with a cherry of pain on top, after all.

you reward his good behavior of shutting up and letting you have your ways with him with a slow roll of your hips. you can feel his growing length through his sweatpants between your legs and your body responds in kind, pulsing around nothing as you move.

“fuuuck,” he groans when you start up a steady pattern of movement, throwing his head back and exposing the milky column of his throat. you take his unspoken invitation and mouth at his pulse point, enjoying the way his heart beat jumps every time you grind against him. you’re throbbing alongside him, a growing wetness hidden in your pants, but you ignore it for now. as much as your body wants you to, you aren’t getting off right now; you refuse to take off your clothes in the middle of the day in a public space, but you know that chan is ready and willing to do any humiliating thing at a moment’s notice. he doesn’t even get off on it, he’s just weird like that.

“that’s it, channie,” you coo, your mouth close to his ear as you nose at his cheek. “let me make you feel good. i bet you’ve been thinking of doing this all day.”

“n-no, you freak,” he stutters out, and his hips jerk up to meet yours. “you’re the one who comes up with these weird ideas. i was going to-to fuck you in the- ah, the hotel bed like a normal pers-ah-“

the way he’s trying to talk with his mind clouded in pleasure is unbearably cute. so cute that you forgive him for the blame he tries to place on you for having a dirty mind. before you met him you were as vanilla as plain ice cream, he’s the one that made you like this with his weird smooth talking and long list of kinks you’ve slowly been discovering together.

“keep talking and i’ll leave you like this,” you reach a hand between your legs where your body meets his and wrap a hand around his hard cock through his clothes. you bet he’s leaking, already on edge enough to come soon, and even though you started it you’re grateful that he decided to wear black today.

you don’t know if you could have had the strength to suffer that kind of embarrassment if he had been wearing something lighter that would show undeniable proof of what you were doing minutes before entering the lobby.

“no,” he uses his grip on you to pull you impossibly further into him, crushing your hand between your bodies and sending a shuddering gasp through you both. “you’re finishing this.”

his hands move to your hips and he curls his fingers into your skin as if he thinks you’ll run away if he doesn’t hold on hard enough. he starts moving you back and forth, setting his own rhythm without any help from you, grinding you back and forth as if you were inanimate. no matter how many times you’ve been intimate with him, the moment when he switches from subby and pliant to taking what he wants has always given you whiplash.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders and enjoy the ride, a little overwhelmed by how good it feels and too lightheaded to really argue. it doesn’t take him long to reach his climax with the way he’s bucking up against you and panting into your shoulder. he jerks you towards him in one final pull before his entire body tenses and goes taut and his breath catches in his throat.

you can feel his dick twitch in your hand once, twice, before he relaxes into a puddle against the driver’s seat. his breaths are slow and heavy and his heartbeat is still pounding, and there’s a small line of sweat that trails from his temple to his jaw that you lean in to lick away.

“you just had to mess with me while i was working,” you roll your eyes but accept when he turns you around to lean you against the empty kitchen counter. “did you accomplish your goal of being one annoyance closer to me murdering you and taking the insurance money to hire movers?”

“no, but i did accomplish my goal of getting your attention,” he leans into your space, pressing you up further into the countertop. “you’re working too hard, baby. take a break.”

“i just need to get one more box done, then-“ the rest of your sentence is muffled by the palm of his hand and you make angry eye contact with him above his wrist. it’s the only thing you can do to retaliate, since he doesn’t get grossed out if you lick his hand and gets weirdly turned on if you bite it.

“box later,” he insists, pulling his hand away to tame a stray lock of your hair down against our head. “lunch now. hungry.”

“and he’s reduced to caveman speech,” you give in easily when you feel the weariness of your muscles sink in. it is easy to ignore when you are busy, but with the languid comfort that comes with his weight pressed against yours it draws your attention.

“would a caveman do this?” he leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss, letting his breath out into a sigh against your mouth. he squeezes his hands against your hips and lifts, and your center of gravity shifts as you’re placed on top of the counter.

“that’s exactly what a caveman would do, i think,” you say, breaking the kiss to thunk your head against the cabinet behind you. you can see his brain working to produce a witty comeback by the way his eyes narrow, but he must lose the fight with his own intelligence because he sinks to his knees a moment later without a word.

“i think cavemen like snacks,” he leans his head against your thigh and plays with the waistband of your shorts with his hands, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. “does my food consent to a little pre-lunch sample?”

“as long as we can let this metaphor go, you can do whatever you want,” you feign nonchalance but your heartbeat is picking up, crescendoing into a racing pace when he manages to wiggle your shorts and underwear off of you.

you would go into the semantics of your bare ass on the kitchen counter being unhygienic, but you’re moving out tomorrow and soon that’ll be someone else’s problem. hopefully the new tenant bleaches everything.

he noses at your folds, unhurried and curious like he’s discovering something for the first time. when his tongue darts out to taste you, you’re almost embarrassed by the whine that leaves your throat without permission. really, you shouldn’t be so effected by such a simple touch, but you both have been too busy with packing the last few weeks to do anything other than unsatisfying quickies in the shower and it’s left you restless.

your breath hitches when he grabs your thighs and pushes your legs further apart. his next lick is harder, more of his tongue reaching out to draw a broad stroke between your hole and your clit. your hips jerk when his teeth graze against your skin and a small gush of slick escapes as you clench around nothing.

“the snack talks back,” he smirks, using two of his fingers to spread the wetness around. he teases at your entrance, and chokes on a gasp when your hands fly to his hair to press his face against your core.

“oh my god, shut up,” you loosen your grip when he gets the message and starts sucking at your clit, meaningfully this time instead of whatever he was doing before while thinking of some weird prehistoric era joke. he dips his fingers into you, crooking his fingers and making shallow thrusts that light up your nerve endings. fuck, this will be over too soon with the way you’re reacting.

you let go of his hair to cover your mouth as you start panting along with the pulsing in your pussy, and he whines into you pitifully. you’re not sure if it’s because he wants you to pull on his hair or because he wants to hear you, but he relaxes when your hand fists back into his curls.

“fuuuuuck, baby,” your hips are moving in minute jerks and you can feel the familiar burning heat spread through your core as your orgasm builds. you twitch one last time as it finally snaps, and your walls pulse desperately around his fingers as he eats you through it. your legs close around his ears as you come, your vision blacking out for a moment in response to his enthusiastic licking and sucking.

you relax your legs and push him away once the pleasure sparks into overstimulation, electricity crackling against a fine line between good and too much. he stays for a few seconds longer, stubborn in his desire to clean you up and hear you whimper, before falling back into his heels.

his face is glistening with your slick, his lips are red and swollen and he looks so satisfied with himself that you’re abruptly annoyed again.

“don’t say it,” you warn, the fear you wanted to instill dulled by the lethargy in your voice. “whatever stupid joke you’re going to say, keep it in your head.”

“i wasn’t going to say anything,” he protests, the mirth in his eyes revealing that he was, in fact, going to say something. “wait, but i’m actually hungry. let’s order takeout?”