𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐒

at first, minjoon is ready to cry. to protest and shake his head and do whatever it takes to make sure that gunwoo doesn't keep him waiting any longer. he's not sure he can take it. maybe it's the way his eyes shine over, maybe gunwoo sees how pathetically wrecked he is and decides to give him a break. either way, when he's tugged up the length of the bed and spread out on the mattress, the relief that washes through him is instant. the praise, too, settles something within him, something that simmers and rests just beneath his rib cage. he offers gunwoo a dopey smile, blissful and content as he adjusts, lifts his legs just so to hook over the other man's waist.

every drag of his hips against his hole causes minjoon's face to twitch with pleasure. with anticipation. he doesn't need to open his mouth to show how desperate he is for it -- gunwoo already knows. can tell by the way his fingers fist into the sheets, knuckles white and arms straining. he's about to start babbling when gunwoo adjusts, finally sinks into him. there's no resistance -- minjoon made sure he fucked himself open to take him with ease. just like he always did. and when he bottoms out, settles his hips against him with a satisfied groan, minjoon can't help the way his features melt. "full," he comments, one hand finally gliding up the length of gunwoo's broad back ( the bastard ). "so full, sir -- feels so fuckin' good."

he adjusts slightly underneath him, brings his legs a little further up as his back arches. he doesn't try to set a pace -- he knows better than to take the lead. gunwoo would never let him. not until he's earned it. right now, he's content to stay just like this. the hand at his back curls, presses into muscle as he urgers gunwoo down, bringing them chest to chest. his eyes are lidded, heavy with lust and want and something else he doesn't try to put a name to just yet. because he can't focus, can't think about the way his heart clenches when their noses brush. instead, he tilts his head, presses their lips together in a kiss that's too soft for the way he'd been swallowing his dick just a few minutes ago. "was made for this," he comments, the words airy and delirious when they leave his mouth. "was made for you, sir -- please." gaze flickering, he presses on the small of his back with his calf, urging him to move just slightly. "go slow. i wanna -- wanna feel all of you."

Gunwoo  watches  him  for  a  moment  after  he  bottoms  out,  just  a  beat,  long  enough  to  take  in  the  way  Minjoon's  face  has  gone  slack  and  soft  beneath  him,  that  particular  kind  of  wrecked  that  he's  never  been  able  to  look  away  from.  He  shifts  his  weight  onto  his  forearm,  the  other  hand  sliding  up  along  Minjoon's  side,  and  drops  his  mouth  to  the  corner  of  his  jaw.  "You deserve this."  he  says,  low  and  quiet,  perhapsa  silver  of  a  smile  on  his  lips,  amused  at  how  much  he  is  thanked,  like  it's  a  real  answer  to  a  real  question.  Because  it  is.  Minjoon  doesn't  have  to  say  it  out  loud  for  Gunwoo  to  hear  it,  he  can  feel  it  in  the  way  his  fingers  press  into  his  back,  in  the  arch  of  his  spine,  in  the  soft  desperate  press  of  that  kiss  that  doesn't  match  anything  about  what  came  before  it.  He  hears  the  thank  you  just  fine.  He  pulls  back  just  enough  to  look  at  him  when  Minjoon  says  he  was  made  for  this  —  made  for  him  —  and  something  in  his  chest  does  something  inconvenient  about  that.  He  lets  it  pass  without  comment.

Instead  he  nudges  his  nose  against  his  cheek,  tilts  his  head  so  his  mouth  is  close  to  his  ear  when  he  speaks.  "I  know,"  he  says,  and  there's  no  arrogance  in  it,  just  the  plain  weight  of  certainty.  "And  you'll  get  all  of  me."  He  draws  his  hips  back  slowly,  deliberately,  and  sinks  forward  again  at  the  same  measured  pace,  just  enough  to  feel  the  give  of  him,  the  way  his  body  pulls  him  back  in.  He  does  it  again.  And  again.  He's  not  in  a  hurry.  He  made  a  promise  when  Minjoon  said  go  slow  and  he  intends  to  keep  it.  The  hand  at  Minjoon's  side  travels  up,  settles  at  the  back  of  his  neck  as  Gunwoo  keeps  the  pace  even,  unhurried.  He  watches  his  face  more  than  anything  else,  the  way  his  features  shift  with  each  slow  roll  forward,  the  flicker  behind  his  eyes.  "Feel  that?"  he  asks,  pressing  in  deep  and  holding,  staying  there  long  enough  that  Minjoon  has  no  choice  but  to  feel  every  inch.  His  thumb  traces  along  the  side  of  his  throat,  not  pressing,  just  resting.

something shifts in minjoon the second gunwoo rounds on him. takes his hand. presses into his space for the second time that afternoon. he's sure the shock reads in his eyes, in the way they grow wide and nearly cross eyed with how close his bodyguard gets. ( there's something to be said about how quietly confident he is. maybe that's part of the issue -- minjoon can't control his envy. to know so thoroughly who you are, and what you're meant to do, must be a relief. and all minjoon does is make his life a living hell by picking fights for fun. because he's bored. because he's afraid and he doesn't know how to say it out loud. ) the tension in his shoulders rises before it falls, the subtle brush of a thumb against his hand calming his nerves. in fact, it startles him how quickly he calms down. how this is maybe the most comfortable he's felt in the last three months.

instead of speaking, instead of trying to validate himself, his eyes cut to the bushes behind him. to the flowers that he'd been eyeing so carefully. ( he knows it's gunwoo's job to notice, but it doesn't stop the blush that blooms on his cheeks. stupid. ) his jaw ticks, and minjoon reaches a hand back, plucks one like he intended, without hesitation. there's a moment where he rolls it between his fingers, lifts it to his face to inhale softly. it's nice, he thinks -- reminds him of his mother's perfume. maybe that's why the garden is littered with them. tilting his head, minjoon reaches out, tucks the flower behind gunwoo's ear. he thinks he's being cheeky with the way his eyes narrow, the way his grin grows a little smug.

however, when he allows himself to refocus, he notices how good he looks. how soft his features actually are when he's not busy barking orders at him. lips part on a soft exhale, and minjoon's voice is noticeably quiet when he speaks once more. "you could try to catch me," he jabs, just once. because he can. because he can't help it. ( because the look of determination on gunwoo's face is very attractive, and his mouth doesn't always keep up with is brain. he finds that, in the company of his bodyguard, it rarely does. ) "but i don't think you could. i don't think you know how slippery i can be when i really put my mind to it." teeth roll his lower lip, fiddle with the small piercing nestled in the corner. there's a pause, a moment of silence that minjoon lets hang in the air, before he cocks his head to the side. "and i never said i didn't like you. for the record. so don't put words in my mouth."

Gunwoo  had  dealt  with  stubborn  people  before.  Entitled  people,  reckless  people,  people  who  seemed  determined  to  make  every  situation  harder  than  it  needed  to  be.  Minjoon  somehow  managed  to  be  all  three  at  once.  Yet  when  the  younger  man's  hand  remained  in  his,  when  the  tension  finally  drained  from  his  shoulders  instead  of  escalating  into  another  argument,  Gunwoo  found  himself  strangely  reluctant  to  let  go.  He  noticed  the  glance  toward  the  flowers  immediately.  Of  course  he  did.  It  was  his  job  to  notice.  What  he  hadn't  expected  was  the  flower  suddenly  being  tucked  behind  his  ear.  For  a  second,  he  simply  stared  at  Minjoon.

Then  he  huffed  a  laugh  through  his  nose  and  shook  his  head.  "You're  impossible."  The  words  lacked  any  real  bite.  Gunwoo  could  feel  the  flower  resting  there,  ridiculous  and  obvious,  and  judging  by  the  smug  look  spreading  across  Minjoon's  face,  he  knew  exactly  what  he  was  doing.  The  problem  was  that  Gunwoo  wasn't  nearly  as  bothered  by  it  as  he  should  have  been.  His  gaze  lingered  for  a  moment  longer  than  necessary  before  he  finally  stepped  back,  folding  his  arms  across  his  chest.  It  was  safer  that  way.

hanna is so clear in what she wants. in what she needs jay to do to her. for her. it makes his brain go haywire, makes his mind go blank with how badly he wants her. he's positive he's never felt this way before -- never been this turned on by a single human being. his eyes are dark, struggling to stay open as he nods his understanding. "anything," he breathes, the word lost as he mouths uselessly at her neck. her shoulder. down towards her sternum without a second thought. "anything for you, aegiya -- fuck, you feel so good, i can't --," he stops, words cut off by a loud moan that rips through him when her fingers dance at the nape of his neck. play with the loose hairs that've long since come undone with the way he's been pawing at her. and vice versa.

with her command ringing in his head, he adjusts. hands flex against the underside of her thighs, and jay's grip increases for stability before he begins. he still starts slow, still afraid to go too hard in case he hurts her. but, as she reminded him, she won't break. and hanna's commandeering attitude, her sultry tone that makes his insides turn to mush, inspire him. so, he goes faster. his legs bend, and jay's hips begin to move -- with every thrust forward, he buries himself inside of her to the hilt. and when he pulls back, it's almost enough that he slips out completely. he wants her to feel him -- all of him. what she does to him, what she does to his body when she says things like this. holds him close like she'll break if they're apart.

"b-baby," he whines, head burrowing in the safety of her neck. his teeth move to suck a patch of skin between his lips, a soft mark left in its wake right at the base of her throat. "c-can you feel it?" he asks, unable to stop himself as he moves faster. he's sure they're loud, the sounds of skin on skin echoing in the bathroom, but he can't care. in fact, he almost wants someone to hear them. wants someone to know just how good she's making him feel. how completely wrapped around her finger he is. "i'm so -- fuck, i'm so fucking hard, and s'all because of you." he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, and jay keens against her, moans loud when he moves a hand, teases just outside where he's pumping in and out of her. "wish you could ride me," he admits softly. "wanna see it -- see you -- so badly, baby."

Her  fingers,  still  threaded  at  the  back  of  his  neck,  tightened  just  slightly.  She  felt  the  want  in  it.  The  same  want  curled  low  in  her  own  stomach,  hot  and  insistent,  because  she'd  been  thinking  the  same  thing.  "I  feel  you,  aegiya.  You  are  so  hard."  There  is  a  little  smile  on  her  lips  as  she  speaks,  quickly  dissapears  when  he  thrusts  into  one  particular  spot  that  makes  her  shiver  ,  goosebumps  all  over  body  as  she  clentches  around  him  in  turn.  "Fuck,  I  want  you  so  bad.  Am  I  wet  enough  for  you,  baby?"  Hanna  would  be  embarassed  at  how  much  she  feels  but  its  good  to  know  Jay  feels  as  well.

She  pulled  back  enough  to  see  his  face  —  flushed,  eyes  barely  open,  lips  parted  around  every  breath.  God,  he  was  beautiful  like  this.  Undone.  Hers.  "Then  sit  down,"  she  said,  voice  low  and  even  despite  everything.  Not  a  suggestion.  Her  hands  slid  from  his  neck  to  his  chest,  pressing  gently  but  with  clear  intent.  "Sit  down,  Jay."  She  tilted  her  head  toward  the  edge  of  the  tub,  the  closed  lid  of  the  toilet,  whatever  surface  would  hold  them  both.  It  didn't  matter.  What  mattered  was  getting  him  there.  "Let  me  ride  you,  want  to  feel  you  deep  inside."  And  if  someone  hears  them,  Hanna  is  happy  to  be  heard.  Let  them  know  how  good  he  feels  inside  her,  how  he  is  making  her  feel.

he hates it when his brother makes a point. because the more he explains the situation, the more the pieces fall into place. ( minjoon's been too focused on the fact that they made the decision without him. he still doesn't think he needs to be watched all the time, he doesn't think he's done enough to warrant constant surveillance. however, the stranger aspect should -- in theory -- help him, rather than harm him. because jongho is right. someone who doesn't know him, someone who exists only to help, ideally, shouldn't be able to judge him based on things they don't know. things that the media loves to extrapolate, due to the prince's somewhat frantic nature. and even if he's still not entirely sold, the tension slowly eases from his shoulders, knowing his brother has somewhat good intentions in mind. )

his lips press together, and his hands lace, steepled atop his crossed legs. "so you're telling me i get to make the rules for this... chaperone?" he says the words like a test. like he's still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "because while that sounds nice, there's no way mom and dad would go for something like that. this whole thing was their idea, anyways." a beat, his brows furrowing. "mostly, anyways. and if they don't even trust me to exist on my own, why would they let me boss someone else around?" the words sound harsher than he intends, but he can't help it. he's stubborn -- he knows what, whoever they get to take this job, is someone he will end up fighting with. ( and maybe that's the point, some part of his brain thinks. beneath all the anger and the complaining remains a very simple truth -- minjoon is lonely. this person will essentially be with him all the time. and he is positive he'll drive them away, be it on purpose or just over time. no one sticks around longer than a week. ) swallowing, his nails dig into the flesh of his palms. "will you back me up? if they try to make things... too strict, will you be on my side?"

Jongho  let  out  a  quiet  breath  through  his  nose,  shaking  his  head  once.  Minjoon  always  had  a  way  of  taking  a  reasonable  point  and  dragging  it  straight  to  the  worst  possible  conclusion.  It  was  almost  impressive.  Still,  the  tension  he'd  walked  into  earlier  wasn't  quite  as  sharp  now,  and  that  alone  felt  like  a  victory.  He  leaned  back  in  his  seat,  arms  folding  across  his  chest  as  he  considered  the  question.  "You  don't  get  to  make  all  the  rules,"  he  said  plainly.  "Nobody  does.  Not  you,  not  Mom  and  Dad,  not  whoever  they  hire.  That's  not  how  this  works."  His  gaze  held  steady  on  his  brother.  "But  you  should  get  a  say.  More  than  a  say,  honestly.  You're  the  one  who  has  to  live  with  it."  A  corner  of  his  mouth  twitched.  "And  trust  me,  Mom  and  Dad  know  exactly  how  impossible  you  are.  That's  why  I  am  the  one  pulling  the  strings."  And  he  could  tell  it's  a  way  to  start  pulling  his  weight  as  the  heir  to  the  crown.  It's  his  own  way  of  taking  care  of  his  brother  while  also  making  a  point  to  his  father  that  they  are  doing  what's  best.

❛ i know. ❜ jinu admits, quietly. his tone is a rumble. low, firm. ❛ the HUNTER - she caught me off guard. ❜ it's not a lie. there's a pause  / he straightens up some. or tries to. the wound at his shoulder making him wince. his dark gaze lifted to meet gwi-ma's. ❛ it won't happen again. i swear it ❜

Gwi-ma  regarded  him  in  silence  for  a  moment.  The  excuse  mattered  little.  Hunters  had  existed  long  before  Jinu  drew  his  first  breath,  and  they  would  remain  long  after  both  of  them  were  dust.  Being  caught  off  guard  was  not  a  reason.  It  was  a  mistake.  Yet  he  saw  the  pain  in  Jinu's  posture,  the  way  his  shoulder  refused  to  move  without  protest,  and  knew  the  wound  had  humbled  him  more  effectively  than  any  punishment  could.

maybe it's his eagerness that does the trick. maybe it's when the last bit of fight slips out of him that gunwoo decides he's earned the right to be touched. to be held. to be allowed to finally let go. he feels the slight shift behind him, when gunwoo stops being slow and cruel for the sole purpose of hearing minjoon's whines. because within moments, he's rocking into him with a sense of dutiful intent. there's nothing holding him back anymore, his hand pressed gently into the small of his back as the pace around his cock remains slow, but not withholding. it makes minjoon sag comfortably, makes his body sink into the mattress as his hands press into the sheets, looking for something to hold onto. something to ground him to the moment.

it's when gunwoo's head comes over his shoulder to capture his lips in a kiss that minjoon feels the tidal wave break. there's a whine, a cry that escapes his throat as he instantly chases the contact. one hand comes up, cups the back of his head to keep him firmly in place. ( it's the closest he's come to deliberately breaking the rules, but he doesn't care. he cannot care. because gunwoo's lips feel so good against his own. he wonders how he's supposed to pretend like this isn't all he's thinking about when they face the public once more. when they're forced to stand side by side and minjoon can't even reach out and touch the way he wants to. the way he needs to. )

Gunwoo  watches  him  come  apart  and  feels  something  close  to  satisfaction  settle  in  his  chest,  not  smugness,  exactly,  but  the  quiet  certainty  of  a  man  who  knows  he's  made  a  good  call.  Minjoon's  whole  body  shudders  through  it,  clenching  hot  and  tight  around  him,  and  Gunwoo  doesn't  stop.  Keeps  the  pace  steady,  keeps  his  hand  pressed  low  against  his  back,  just  to  feel  the  way  he  shakes.  He  lets  the  moment  breathe.  Lets  Minjoon  ride  it  out  the  way  he  deserves  to.  "Such  a  pretty  dump,"  Gunwoo  murmurs  against  the  shell  of  his  ear,  lips  grazing  skin. His  voice  is  low  and  unhurried,  the  kind  that  doesn't  need  to  perform  anything.  "All  that  composure  and  this  is  what's  underneath  it." 

He  tilts  his  head,  watching  the  side  of  Minjoon's  face  with  something  that  might  look  like  appraisal  from  the  outside.  "Wonder  what  they'd  think.  All  those  people  who  look  at  you  like  you're  untouchable."  A  brief  pause,  thumb  pressing  a  slow  circle  into  his  lower  back.  "Their  prince,  like  this.  Begging."  He  pulls  back  just  enough  to  look  down  at  him,  properly,  the  way  he  hasn't  allowed  himself  to  until  now,  and  something  in  his  expression  softens  without  quite  losing  its  edge. Minjoon's  still  rocking  back  against  him,  still  chasing  even  through  the  aftershocks,  and  that  earns  him  a  slow  exhale  through  the  nose.  A  sound  that  isn't  quite  a  laugh.  Gunwoo  reaches  around  with  his  free  hand,  the  one  Minjoon  spilled  over,  and  holds  it  out  in  front  of  him,  patient,  deliberate,  like  he  has  all  the  time  in  the  world. 

the way she takes charge is overwhelmingly sexy. jay's eyes fight to stay open, to watch the way pleasure twitches over her features as he does his best to work himself against her. it's amazing. she is amazing. a moan slips past his lips, echoes in his throat as he redoubles his effort. his tongue moves with insistence, presses inside of her with a certain gentleness before he's flattening it out, letting her essentially ride it to try and get the best angle.

his hand moves, squeezes once at her thigh, before it slides up between her legs to join his mouth. his thumb catches first, swirls gently against her clit. he doesn't want to overwhelm her, but jay has a good feeling that she'd tell him if he did. and, once her hand finds purchase on his shirt, he gives a small hum of approval. sliding along her folds, jay collects the slick that's already formed, and with a teasing push, sinks a finger into her without question. and god, she's tight -- but he loves it. can't hide the way he keens underneath her with how warm she is.

"f-fuck," he whines, voice pitchy as his head turns, presses open mouth kisses against the inside of her leg. his free hand moves to slide up, fingers gently wrapping around her wrist until he can guide her grip to his hair instead. his cheeks color when her fingers thread through the thick locks, but he doesn't comment on it. instead, he simply smiles, offers her an encouraging nod, before he's back to mouthing at her core like a man starved.

She  can  feel  him  smile  against  her,  and  it  does  something  unfair  to  her  chest,  warm  and  wanting  in  equal  measure.  Her  fingers  curl  a  little  tighter  in  his  hair,  like  she  needs  something  to  anchor  herself  to  while  the  rest  of  her  comes  undone.  He's  good  at  this.  Embarrassingly  good.  And  there's  something  about  the  way  he  looks  at  her,  even  now,  even  like  this,  that  makes  it  harder  to  breathe  than  anything  else  he's  doing.  "Aegiya."  Her  voice  comes  out  low,  a  little  high  pitched,  more  exhale  than  word,  her  hips  shifting  as  the  curl  of  his  finger  finds  something  that  makes  her  jaw  go  slack.  She  gives  a  short,  involuntary  sound,  not  quite  a  moan,  closer  to  a  sharp  intake  —  and  her  free  hand  drops  to  the  sheets,  fingers  twisting  into  the  fabric.  She  doesn't  look  away  from  him. 

the words pinch a nerve the second they leave gunwoo's lips. and, for a second, minjoon isn't even sure why. ( does he want gunwoo to look at him? to notice him? he's not stupid -- his bodyguard is... well, mind blowingly hot. but minjoon was quick to overlook that fact because of the way he acted. his attitude. his holier than thou approach in trying to get minjoon to be someone he's not. ) but now, as the sentence lingers in his brain, he finds himself... scowling. he's pissed. it's evident in the way his jaw clenches, in the way his eyes roll dramatically as he huffs out a longer than necessary groan. "yeah, right," is all he manages, unable to push himself further, lest he get picked up and carried around like a rag doll again. ( and he notes that, too -- the way his fighting instincts die down in gunwoo's proximity. he doesn't linger on it, but he doesn't ignore it. )

instead, he focuses on the trail. on the garden. it's pretty, he notes. his mother does a good job of maintaining it. ( or, well, the staff does, under her careful guidance. ) his eyes catch the way the flowers blend into each other, something almost soft pricking at his skin when his smile grows into something genuine. he's about to reach out and take one from the root for himself when he's snapped back into the moment, head turned towards his bodyguard with a calculating gaze. "you don't know that," he spits back first, though the venom behind his words is lesser than. it's almost tired, in the way they slip from his lips, and minjoon's hand returns to his side, fist clenched as his fingers press into his palm.

"you think i like having someone tell me what to do all the time?" his brow is raised questioningly as he looks to gunwoo, takes the right hand turn along the trail towards the hedges. ( not quite a maze, but close enough. ) "what, you think i get off on you trying to control every aspect of my free time? because i don't." it's spoken a little too loudly, a little too aggressively to be believable. like most things that leave minjoon's mouth, it feels performative, and his shoulders roll, muscles tensing under the way he's trying too hard to hold himself up. "i'm not breaking free 'cause you told me you knew all my tactics." there's a pause, his tongue pressing into his cheek as his head shakes. "even if it'd be funny to watch you chase after me, i'm not going to sprint across the grounds in broad daylight just to prove a point." he turns, presses a finger to the center of gunwoo's chest. "especially not to you."

Gunwoo  looked  down  at  the  finger  pressed  against  his  chest,  then  up  at  Minjoon's  face.  The  challenge  was  there,  plain  as  day.  Not  in  the  words  alone,  but  in  the  way  he  stood,  shoulders  drawn  tight,  jaw  set  hard  enough  to  crack  stone.  Every  sentence  sounded  like  a  fight  Minjoon  had  already  rehearsed  in  his  head  before  speaking  it  aloud.  Instead  of  stepping  back,  Gunwoo  reached  up  and  caught  the  hand  poking  at  his  chest.  Tight  enough  that  Minjoon  couldn't  immediately  pull  away  without  making  a  point  of  it.  His  fingers  wrapped  around  Minjoon's  wrist  and  hand  alike,  steady  and  unyielding.  "Then  don't."  The  answer  came  easily.  "If  you're  not  running  because  you  don't  want  to  run,  that's  your  choice."  Gunwoo  held  his  gaze  without  blinking.  "I  don't  need  credit  for  it."

His  grip  loosened  slightly,  though  he  didn't  let  go.  Not  yet.  "And  for  someone  who  supposedly  doesn't  care  what  I  think,  you  spend  a  lot  of  time  arguing  with  me  about  it."  There  was  no  smugness  in  the  observation.  If  anything,  it  sounded  tired.  Honest.  Gunwoo  glanced  toward  the  flowerbed  Minjoon  had  been  eyeing  moments  earlier  before  looking  back  at  him.  "You  keep  acting  like  I'm  trying  to  control  your  life."  His  thumb  shifted  against  the  back  of  Minjoon's  hand.  "I'm  doing  my  job.  That's  it.  I  tell  you  not  to  do  stupid  things  because  if  something  happens  to  you,  I'm  the  one  who  has  to  answer  for  it."  A  beat  passed.  "You  don't  have  to  like  me.  You  don't  have  to  listen  to  me  because  you  respect  me.  Hell,  you  don't  even  have  to  listen  to  me  at  all."  His  eyes  narrowed  slightly.  "But  don't  stand  there  and  pretend  every  decision  you  make  is  about  proving  you  don't  care."

sometimes, he has to wonder how gunwoo manages to stay so calm in moments like this. his voice is still even when he speaks, when he has his cock shoved down minjoon's throat. ( and minjoon wants that, wants gunwoo to essentially use him until he can't wait anymore. there's always a thread of patience that runs through everything he does -- minjoon would be envious of it if it didn't turn him on so much. ) groaning, his eyes open, vision bleary as he continues to bob his head. when gunwoo told him to do something, he did it. that was the agreement. that's what made his head quiet, made the knot in his stomach loosen with every push and pull of his scalp.

so, he simply focuses on the task at hand once more. with a wriggle, he pushes in a second finger alongside the first. it still doesn't hurt, but it's nowhere near enough, even as he scissors them to ensure he's opening himself up enough to take gunwoo's cock. when he's decided he's ready for it, of course. with another groan, minjoon begins to pump them dutifully, his jaw still slack as he stays on gunwoo's dick. he can feel the ache, can feel the way it's starting to hurt, but he doesn't care. he could never care, when he knows he's making the other man feel good. and, if he's good enough, gunwoo will be sure to tell him just how nicely he's working him over. he's drooling a little, saliva pooling out of the side of his mouth as he sinks down all the way, swallows intently, and hollows his cheeks on the way up.

it's when his fingers curl in a particular way that he has to pull back, his eyes closing as he cries out. ( and when the noise comes, he's shocked at how wrecked his voice sounds. at how worn down he already is. ) his hips begin to grind against the mattress, his fingers working faster as he feels himself approaching dangerous territory. "p-please," he tries, looking up to gunwoo with nothing but pure want and desperation in his gaze. "sir, please. it -- it feels too good, opening myself up for you." it takes a few pumps, but eventually, he halts his movements, hips stuttering uselessly beneath him as he holds out. "i -- i need it. i need you. i need your cock inside me so fucking badly, i don't think i can -- i can wait any longer. i'm gonna go crazy without you filling me up." turning his head, minjoon presses a kiss to gunwoo's thigh, an almost out of place token of affection. "please -- i'll do anything, sir. please fuck me."

Gunwoo  watches  him  for  a  moment  longer  than  necessary,  the  way  Minjoon's  hips  stutter  uselessly,  the  way  his  voice  cracks  around  please  like  the  word  costs  him  something.  It's  a  pretty  picture.  It  always  is.  He  reaches  down  and  cards  his  fingers  through  Minjoon's  hair,  not  gripping,  just  resting  there,  a  deliberate  contrast  to  how  thoroughly  he'd  been  using  that  mouth  minutes  before.  "You  think  I  don't  know  that?"  he  says,  conversational,  almost  mild.  "I've  been  watching  you  work  yourself  open  for  me  this  whole  time."  His  thumb  traces  the  shell  of  Minjoon's  ear.  "I  should  have  you  just  work  yourself  up  until  you  come.  He  lets  him  wait  a  beat  longer,  because  Minjoon  asked  so  nicely  and  that  means  he's  earned  the  anticipation,  not  a  quick  reward.  Then  he  pulls  back  and  gets  a  hand  under  Minjoon's  arm,  hauling  him  up  off  the  mattress  with  more  ease  than  the  moment  probably  warrants.

"But  I  know  you  can't  wait  anymore.  And  I  know  you  will  feel  good."  he  says,  and  it  isn't  a  question.  He  guides  him  toward  the  headboard,  arranging  him  the  way  he  wants  him,  on  his  back,  hips  at  the  right  angle,  Gunwoo  settling  his  weight  between  his  thighs.  He  takes  a  moment  to  look  at  him  properly.  Minjoon  is  already  a  mess,  and  they've  barely  started.  "You  did  so  well  tonight."  Gunwoo  remarks,  like  he's  noting  something  mildly  interesting.  There's  a  flicker  of  something  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  "Shhh,  baby,  relax,  I  will  give  you  what  you  need."  He  rolls  his  hips  forward,  slow  and  deliberate,  the  length  of  his  cock  dragging  over  Minjoon's  hole  without  any  pressure  behind  it,  just  the  suggestion  of  what's  coming.