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“Do you like it?”
Seungkwan blinks once, then twice, realizing just now how out of focus his vision was until then. In front of him, Chan is touching his own waist, pulling at the elastic waistband of the sweatpants he’s wearing under a pair of baggy jeans. He’s frowning, trying to pull down the crop top he’s wearing as if it’s going to turn into a normal t-shirt at his command.
“Um,” Seungkwan says and it sounds a little too constricted. He clears his throat, nodding. “Yeah. Looks good.”
“Isn’t it a bit much?” Chan whispers, still looking at his own body, tracing a finger around the prominent muscles on his stomach. Seungkwan watches the slow movement, entranced. “I feel like it might be too much. I don’t know.”
“I’m not going to compliment you twice in a row,” Seungkwan mumbles and immediately hears Chan’s familiar laugh. Seungkwan at least wants to smile with him, but Chan’s still touching his own abs, and Seungkwan can’t stop looking. “Just go. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Seungkwan can’t focus as the photographer instructs Chan on how to pose, how to tilt his head in a certain angle, and what he could do to improve his facial expressions. Seungkwan can’t focus on anything but the skin of Chan’s stomach, the way he touches it so delicately from time to time, as if he’s trying to hide it from everyone watching him.
Someone calls Chan’s name, and he goes into a different room to change into a new set of clothes. Seungkwan blinks once, then twice, and he’s back in this reality—he hears the sounds around him, realizes the studio’s lights are too bright. He breathes in, then out, and forces himself to forget about Chan wearing a crop top. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.
*
“Are we getting fried chicken?”
Seungkwan probably shouldn’t have invited Chan to his apartment when he’s still thinking about the crop top, but he’s here now, and Seungkwan can’t just kick him out. He nods, his mind still not entirely functional, and Chan sings happily something about getting half and half. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and throws a paper bag on the couch. Seungkwan frowns at it.
“What’s this?” he points at the bag, throwing his own things on the couch.
“Oh,” Chan raises his eyebrows when he looks at what Seungkwan’s pointing to, then back at his phone, unbothered. “They gave me some of the things I wore today. Not sure if I’m going to wear most of them again, but at least I got a new jacket.”
“A new jacket,” Seungkwan whispers, touching the paper bag and pushing a finger forward to open it slightly. “Did they give you that crop top?”
“Yeah,” Chan snorts. “Might not wear that one again.”
“You should.”
“What?”
“You should,” Seungkwan says it again, louder this time, and looks up from the paper bag to find Chan staring at him, frowning. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, as if he’s trying to figure out if Seungkwan is serious or not, but he doesn’t say anything. “You should wear it. Again. You looked good in it.”
Chan stops for a few seconds and laughs. Loud, a little disbelieving, and Seungkwan gets why he’s acting like that, but he can’t let Chan think he’s not being serious about this. Seungkwan doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything either—he lets Chan figure out for himself that he means it.
“Okay, then,” Chan says eventually, a smile still on his face. “But where? It’s not really my… style. I wouldn’t know how to wear it.”
“You should start by wearing it now,” Seungkwan raises his eyebrows, challenging him. He picks up the paper bag with two fingers, shaking it in Chan’s direction. “Why not?”
Chan looks like he wants to say something. Ask something. He stares at Seungkwan in silence for a few seconds and then reaches out to grab the paper bag out of his hand, almost too forcefully. Chan is still looking at Seungkwan as he digs out the crop top, dropping the bag on the floor, and reaching behind his back to pick at the collar of his black t-shirt.
“Why?” he finally asks, pulling his t-shirt up, dragging it over and off his head.
“Why not?” Seungkwan asks back, watching as Chan drops his t-shirt on the floor.
“Why though?” Chan puts the crop top on, and Seungkwan immediately feels like he’s back in the studio when Chan came out of the dressing room wearing that for the first time. “I want you to tell me why.”
Chan’s jeans aren’t exactly high waisted, and there are no sweatpants under them to cover most of his abs, so there’s more skin on display like this. Soft, soft skin, with fine dark hair under his belly button, trailing down until it disappears under his waistband. Seungkwan takes a deep breath, taking one step forward, and exhales shakily. His hands reach out to Chan’s waist, his fingers barely touching it, but he watches as the muscles jump under the sudden attention. He smiles to himself and looks up, finding Chan wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, watching Seungkwan’s hands.
“You look really good,” Seungkwan whispers, pressing both hands firmly on Chan’s waist. He hears a shaky sigh and presses his hands a little further, trying to make his thumbs touch. They don’t, but it’s surprisingly close, and he exhales through his nose. “God, look at that. Such a tiny waist.”
“Hurts,” Chan mumbles and Seungkwan immediately lets go, touching Chan’s skin lightly, watching as the imprints of his fingers show up in red on Chan’s waist.
“So sensitive,” Seungkwan says out loud, but it’s more of a reminder for him to keep. He touches the skin of Chan’s hip with the tip of his index finger, dragging his nails up softly, going over the red marks on his waist and finding his ribs, stopping just a little under the hem of the crop top. Chan gasps and Seungkwan laughs lightly. “So, so sensitive.”
“Hyung,” Chan whines, and Seungkwan looks at him, looking at the way his chest shakes with an exhale. “Come on.”
“I just want to touch you like this,” Seungkwan lies, watching as Chan frowns in frustration. He laughs again, leaning forward to lightly touch Chan’s neck with his lips, whispering against the skin: “Can’t I touch you?”
“Yeah, you can. But come on,” Chan gasps when Seungkwan drags his nails in circles, over his ribs, on his belly, closer to his belly button. “Come on, please.”
“What are you begging for?” Seungkwan laughs again, almost mocking, and he can see the frustration taking over Chan’s expression when he looks up. Seungkwan’s lips find the skin of Chan’s neck again, and he bites it lightly. “Tell me.”
“Kiss me,” Chan says, and Seungkwan loves the nearly desperate ring to it, licking his own lips. “Please, just kiss me.”
Seungkwan obeys him, but not just because Chan asks him, but because he’s dying to kiss him too. His arms circle around Chan’s waist, the feel of skin on bare skin instead of a t-shirt almost overwhelming, and he’s so hungry they nearly lose their balance. Chan holds him close, arms around Seungkwan’s shoulders, but Seungkwan is the one keeping them up right—every step forward Seungkwan takes, Chan takes another one back. Seungkwan pulls away for a second to make sure they’re going in the right direction and finds the marble counter that separates his living room from the kitchen.
When Seungkwan pushes Chan against the counter, he hears hissing, and stops.
“This thing’s cold,” Chan says with a giggle, but lurches forward to kiss Seungkwan again.
Seungkwan lets him, dizzy with the feeling of Chan’s tongue sliding against his, drunk on the sounds that come from deep within Chan’s chest as they make out. Seungkwan lets go of his waist for a second to feel it with the tip of his fingers, dragging his nails lightly over the skin to get more needy gasps out of Chan, and when he pauses the kiss only to hear a desperate whisper of his own name, he hugs Chan’s waist harder, bringing their bodies closer together.
Chan groans when Seungkwan presses him against the cold marble again, but instead of stopping himself, Seungkwan relishes in the way Chan pulls the hair on the back of his neck. They press their hips against each other and one of Seungkwan’s hands slides down to Chan’s ass, until he finds the back of his thigh and pulls his leg up, holding it tightly. Chan moans into his mouth, pausing for a second to breathe.
“Please,” he whispers, grinding forward, trying to find Seungkwan’s hardening cock with his hips. “Please, please.”
Seungkwan could torture him some more, ask him exactly what he’s begging for one more time, but when Seungkwan looks down and finds Chan’s abs moving as he grinds against him, the words die on his tongue. He watches, breathing in, letting go of Chan’s leg to drag his hand up to his waist again. He finds the red marks of his fingers, pressing over them, holding Chan as he desperately grinds against any part of Seungkwan that is solid enough to get him off. Seungkwan, still holding him by his waist, pushes him away; Chan’s whining in response is almost immediate.
“Who said you could do that?” Seungkwan isn’t proud of how drained he sounds already, but he looks up at Chan’s frustrated groan. “Chan, look at me,” Seungkwan says, harder this time, and Chan does. His brows show he’s a little unhappy, but he’s looking. “Are you going to do as I say? Answer me.”
Chan rolls his eyes and throws his head back with a smile, but as soon as Seungkwan uses one of his hands to force Chan to look at him again, he stops. He blinks before he nods slowly, and when Seungkwan nearly squishes his cheeks, he huffs.
“Yes, I will,” he grumbles. Seungkwan raises one eyebrow and watches as Chan struggles not to roll his eyes again. “Promise.”
“Good,” Seungkwan whispers and drops his hand, taking a step back. “Wait here.”
Seungkwan runs to his room and nearly stubs his toe on the wall trying to be quick to grab his lube, muttering a few curse words when he runs back to the living room. Chan is there, waiting for him with a mocking smile on his face and one hand palming himself through his jeans as he leans almost seductively against the counter. Seungkwan walks up to him, pulling his hand away and Chan laughs.
“I heard that,” Chan whispers and Seungkwan sticks his tongue out at him. “So mature.”
“Quiet,” Seungkwan kisses him quickly, hearing a satisfied hum, and drops the lube on the counter to hold Chan by his waist again. “Be a good boy for me and kiss me, yeah?”
Chan giggles as Seungkwan kisses him again, harder this time, licking into his mouth with a hum. As much as he’s a fan of Chan’s waist, Seungkwan also loves his ass and his thick thighs, nearly dropping everything he’s doing to force Chan to sit on the tall stool next to them just so he can massage his thighs like he usually does. However, when he lightly drags his index finger up against Chan’s waist and hears another one of Chan’s needy moans, he forgets all about that. Seungkwan opens his eyes, looking down at Chan’s body, and licks his lips.
“You look so good in this,” he whispers, watching as Chan moves his hips forward. “Can you pull your shirt up for me, baby?”
Chan nods, whispering a yes that barely counts as saying something, and props his right arm on the counter, holding himself up with Seungkwan’s help. Chan uses his left hand to drag his crop top up, showing off his toned chest all flushed red and a little sweaty, shaking every time he breathes under Seungkwan’s hungry gaze. Seungkwan hums, watching him intently, and moves forward to kiss him right in the middle of his sternum.
“Gorgeous,” Seungkwan whispers against his skin, getting a breathy moan as an incentive to keep going. He trails his kisses down, feeling Chan’s abs jump slightly under his lips, and smiles. “So gorgeous, and all mine.”
“All yours,” Chan whispers back, and Seungkwan can’t help the way his smile widens. “All yours, hyung, please.”
“Gorgeous and impatient,” Seungkwan sighs and finds the mole a little under his ribs, kissing it for a little longer. “You promised you were going to do as I say.”
“Fuck—hyung, come on,” Chan whines, and Seungkwan decides to be nicer to him. He drags his kisses up his chest, kissing his Adam's apple and then finding his lips again. Chan hums, content. “Please?”
“Okay, fine,” Seungkwan whispers and finds Chan’s hand on his chest holding his crop top up. He slaps it away and holds the hem in between his fingers, pulling it up further. “Open your mouth.”
Chan frowns for a second, then he smiles in disbelief like he did earlier. He stares at the hem of his crop top in between Seungkwan’s fingers, then he looks up at Seungkwan, and down to his fingers again. With a long exhale that almost sounds like a deep sigh, Chan opens his mouth slowly, looking into Seungkwan’s eyes. He bites down when the fabric is in between his teeth, and Seungkwan takes a moment to look at him—Chan’s toned chest all flushed red, a little shiny with sweat, going up and down faster than usual because he’s visibly, from head to toe, aroused. His stomach moves in synchrony with his chest, the ghost of Seungkwan’s harsh fingers are still painted pink on his waist’s skin, and, fuck.
“You’re beautiful,” Seungkwan whispers. “Look at you.”
Chan whines, biting down harder on his crop top, and Seungkwan chuckles. It’s barely a full sound, more of an exhale, but it almost makes Chan stomp his foot down on the floor. Beautiful, gorgeous, all his, and impatient. Seungkwan holds him by his waist again, making sure the red marks won’t disappear from Chan’s skin, and instead of grinding against him to make him suffer some more, he uses all of his strength to turn Chan around and bend him over the counter with a firm hand in the middle of his back.
Seungkwan hears a sharp inhale, and then:
“What the fuck,” Chan says and looks behind his shoulder. Seungkwan’s smiling at him, watching as he adjusts his feet. “Really?”
“I didn’t say you could open your mouth, did I?” Seungkwan raises one eyebrow and watches as surprise turns into clear excitement. Chan laughs, a little breathy, then he sighs—with one hand, he puts the crop top back in between his teeth, propping himself up on his forearms. “Good boy. So obedient when you want to be.”
Chan laughs again, but instead of fighting back, he drops his forehead on the cold marble counter with a sigh. Seungkwan tries to make his thumbs touch again around Chan’s waist, getting a groan as a response, so he bends down to kiss in between Chan’s shoulder blades as an apology. Seungkwan touches Chan’s back, dragging delicate fingers along all of the marks he can find—the red one where Chan leaned on the counter, another where Seungkwan’s been holding him tightly, the mole on his hip, and the other mole a little further up, closer to his waist. Seungkwan holds him right there, on the mole, grinding against the curve of Chan’s ass, and smiles at the hoarse moan he hears.
“How are you all worked up already?” Seungkwan whispers, and he can tell by Chan’s humming that he has something to say—Seungkwan could figure it out at this point, mostly because he knows Chan that well, but also because Chan can probably feel Seungkwan’s hard cock on his ass. “Should I call you a needy baby too?”
Chan kicks one of his legs back, making Seungkwan laugh for a second, but then there’s the echo of a slap against the thick fabric of a pair of jeans followed by a strangled moan that puts control back in Seungkwan’s hands. Chan is breathing heavily, forehead resting on the counter, and he tries to look behind his shoulder again; Seungkwan wants him to see him smiling, kneading his ass, grinding against it slowly. He can tell Chan wants to laugh that same laugh that’s a little raspy, very bratty, a laugh that tells Seungkwan he can’t quite believe this is happening.
“You need to understand one thing,” Seungkwan whispers his words carefully, hands dragging up from Chan’s ass to his waist again, holding it tightly. “I’m only going to give you what you want if you behave. Got it?”
A sound comes from Chan’s chest, still that same laugh, and he takes a second to rest his forehead on the counter before he looks behind his shoulder to nod. With his crop top still in between his teeth and some drool dripping slowly on the marble now, Seungkwan smiles at him, grinding more forcefully against his ass. He bends over to kiss Chan’s nape, licking at the clammy skin and grinding some more just because he can, and just because he loves how desperate Chan gets when Seungkwan teases him for too long. With one hand, Seungkwan trails his fingers down around Chan’s waist, touching his belly and dragging his nails along his happy trail until he touches the cold button of his jeans. Chan gasps, grinding back against Seungkwan’s cock, making Seungkwan laugh.
“Yeah?” Seungkwan whispers against Chan’s nape, feeling him nod. “Want me to touch you, baby?”
Chan groans, a sound somewhere in between needy and frustrated, and Seungkwan could be meaner to him, but he doesn’t want to, not anymore. Seungkwan undoes the button, pulls the zipper down, and tries not to be clumsy as he starts dragging down Chan’s jeans. It’s his turn to gasp when he wraps one hand around Chan’s hard cock still over his underwear and feels a cold, wet spot at the palm of his hand.
“You really want this, don’t you?” Seungkwan holds Chan’s cock in his hand, going up and down slowly. Chan doesn’t look behind his shoulder when he nods again, but he does grind back on Seungkwan’s cock. Seungkwan smiles. “You want it like this? Bent over the counter? Want me to fuck you while I hold your tiny, tiny waist?”
Chan doesn’t nod this time, but he moans, and Seungkwan’s breath gets stuck in his throat at how desperate he sounds already. He isn’t doing much better, if he’s being honest—he’s so hard it hurts, and he realizes he’s nearly delirious with how much he wants this. So he pulls back entirely, getting a frustrated sigh out of Chan, and bites back an apology. His hands fly down to his pants, undoing the buttons and the zipper as fast as he can, pulling his underwear down along with them and moaning when he touches his hard cock for a second.
Chan makes a sound and Seungkwan looks up, seeing that he’s looking behind his shoulder, chest and back expanding and emptying out as he breathes heavily. He’s still using his arms as support on the counter, but he’s trying to get his pants down as best as he can without using his hands; Seungkwan almost laughs at him, Seungkwan wants to make fun of him for being so desperate, really, but he decides to help Chan. And so he pulls Chan’s pants down further along with his underwear, stopping somewhere in the middle of his thighs, hearing him sigh in relief.
“You can’t touch yourself,” Seungkwan instructs and Chan immediately nods, resting his temple on the counter now. “Good boy.”
Seungkwan scrambles to get the lube on the counter, dripping some of it on his fingers, rubbing them together to make sure they’re all coated evenly. Chan arches his back when the sound of Seungkwan closing the lid echoes in the living room, and he can’t help but laugh a little, slapping Chan’s ass playfully. Seungkwan stops by his side, one hand touching his forehead lightly and the other finding its way down Chan’s back.
“So desperate, baby,” Seungkwan says and it’s not meant to be mocking, but Chan still huffs. He smiles and watches as Chan’s eyes roll to the back of his head when one of his fingers finds his hole, circling lightly around the rim, always teasing him. “I thought you were behaving better now. Was I wrong?”
Chan shakes his head as best as he can, and Seungkwan should probably scold him again for trying to fuck back on his finger, but Seungkwan pushes his index finger in slowly instead, Chan moaning louder at that. It sounds broken when Chan tries to breathe in, and Seungkwan is sure his own breathing isn’t doing much better, but he tries to hide it by gently caressing Chan’s forehead with his thumb. He whispers infinite praises as he pushes in and pulls out, laughs some more when saliva drips down Chan’s lips when he pushes another finger in, and smiles when he wipes some sweat from Chan’s forehead at the third finger.
“Good?” Seungkwan asks, and Chan replies with an almost unintelligible mumble of good. He bends down to kiss his forehead, and hears a content hum. “Okay. Don’t forget you can’t touch yourself.”
Seungkwan gets another nod, kisses Chan’s hair this time, and positions himself behind him again, pulling his fingers out. Looking over Chan’s back and stopping his eyes exactly where his crop top hides the rest of his skin, Seungkwan feels his chest getting lighter with a long exhale. He touches the hem of the crop top, trailing a dry finger down Chan’s spine until he finds that same mole on his waist—his left hand stops there, holding Chan tightly. His right hand finds the lube on the counter again; Seungkwan uncaps it quickly, drips it on his cock, strokes himself and throws the lube back on the counter.
He breathes in. Seungkwan positions his cock against Chan’s hole, pushing in. He breathes out.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans, bending over Chan’s back, hearing him moan as well. His forehead presses against one of Chan’s shoulder blades as he keeps pushing in, and he moans again, deeper this time, when Chan tries to push back on his cock. “Fuck, fuck.”
Seungkwan nearly loses his balance when he feels his thighs touching the back of Chan’s thighs, his cock completely disappearing inside of him. He looks at it for a second, but it’s too much, and he teased Chan for too long to realize he was holding himself back as well. Seungkwan closes his eyes, swallowing hard, pulling back slowly and slamming his cock back in again, pushing Chan forward as they both moan. He takes a deep breath, feeling his forehead getting sticky with sweat, and stands up again; Seungkwan sees his own hands on Chan’s tiny waist and remembers how his thumbs almost touched each other earlier. He holds Chan firmly, pulling back and pushing in, slowly finding a rhythm.
Chan was never big on speed, but he’s always valued precision—Seungkwan finds the angle he knows Chan likes best, hearing his moans getting louder and watching his knees getting weaker. Chan doesn’t try to hold himself up on the counter anymore, hissing when his warm, sweaty and naked chest touches the cold marble, the hem of the crop top still stuck in between his teeth like Seungkwan told him to do. His fingers flex around nothing, as if he’s holding back from touching himself, and Seungkwan smiles, going just a little faster to watch Chan’s hair bounce, to hear the vulgar slap of skin against skin. Seungkwan wishes he could say he’s not holding Chan’s waist too tightly, but he’s not trying that hard not to. He wants to look at this later and still see the red imprints of his fingers there, wants Chan to look at it and remember who he belongs to.
“Shit,” he whispers to himself, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fucks into Chan just a little faster, a little out of rhythm. “God, you’re always so tight. So, so fucking tight, all for me, all—”
He groans, dropping his forehead in between Chan’s shoulder blades again, regretting not taking his own clothes off now that his body is hot all over and he’s too fucking sweaty. Chan isn’t doing that much better—the back of his neck is red and shiny with sweat, and his ears are an even deeper shade. Seungkwan stands up again, slowing down a little even when Chan groans in frustration. His teeth can’t hold the crop top for long after that, and his moans sound more clear now that his mouth is free.
“Please, harder,” he mumbles, barely intelligible. He’s watching as Seungkwan fucks into him over his shoulder, one hand finally gaining enough strength for him to push his torso up, even if just a little. “Fuck, fuck, fuck me, you fuck me so good, so, so good.”
“Who,” Seungkwan tries to breathe out, going harder and a little faster, watching Chan lose strength in his arm again. “Who else, Chan?”
“No one,” Chan shakes his head, sweaty bangs sticking to the marble and his forehead. Seungkwan doesn’t need to complete his question anymore, not at this point. Chan always knows how to answer. “No one else, no one but you, no one— fuck, no one else fucks me like you do.”
“That’s right,” Seungkwan says, a weak laugh coming out as an exhale, and he frees one of his hands to wrap his arm around Chan’s waist, finding his leaking cock easily. Chan moans louder, his thighs shaking, but Seungkwan holds him up firmly. “No one else does, and no one else will. Yeah?”
Seungkwan doesn’t bother being graceful or coordinate as he fucks into Chan and drags his fist up and down Chan’s cock. Seungkwan knows him too well, has done this a million times and never gets bored of hearing how breathy and whiny Chan gets when he’s getting closer and closer. When he hears a mix of please, and hyung, and his own name, all mumbled together as if he’s trying to form a sentence that he isn’t capable of forming anymore, that’s when Seungkwan knows. There’s that desperate whisper of I’m so close that drives Seungkwan insane, and the way Chan’s muscles get all tensed up, the way he closes his eyes too tightly, and that’s when Seungkwan knows.
That’s also why Seungkwan stops pumping his fist and pulls out of Chan completely, watching his own cock twitch, missing him already.
Chan himself groans, loud and frustrated, sounding too much like he’s about to cry. Seungkwan smiles down at him, holding himself up on the counter, Chan caged between his body and his arms. He starts laughing at the same time Chan pouts, cheek resting on the marble as he opens his eyes slowly, the first frustrated tear rolling down the side of his nose and onto the counter. Seungkwan laughs a little harder watching it, but he’s too out of breath and too hard to sound like this isn’t painful for him too.
“Oh, pretty baby,” Seungkwan bends over him again, wrapping both arms around Chan’s waist and kissing his cheek. “You wanted it this bad?”
“Fuck you, seriously,” Chan sniffles, but he laughs a little too, another frustrated tear rolling down his nose. “You’re evil.”
“Am I?” Seungkwan lines his cock up again, pushing in easily. He feels Chan breathing in, then out, and fucks into him slowly with shallow thrusts. “I don’t think I’m evil. Am I not fucking you good, Chan?”
“You are,” Chan licks his lips, pushing back on Seungkwan’s cock, trying to match his new rhythm. “You are, sorry. Can you go faster, please?”
“Of course. Look at you, so polite,” Seungkwan smiles against the back of Chan’s neck, but before he stands up, he finds the hem of the crop top again. He shows it to Chan, watching him squint at it, but he still opens his mouth and bites down on the fabric again. “Such a good boy. I promise I won’t do that again, okay?”
Chan nods, humming happily, but it turns into a moan when Seungkwan picks the pace back up slowly. He stands up like he meant to do, but instead of holding Chan by his waist again—the imprints of his fingers look more like a bruise now, and honestly, that’s enough for him—Seungkwan grabs the back of his crop top into a fist with his left hand, pulling him up from the counter and making him gasp in surprise. Chan closes his eyes again, tilting his head to the left, giving Seungkwan easy access to his neck. If Seungkwan knows exactly what Chan likes, then it’s obvious Chan knows what Seungkwan likes as well; he kisses the skin in between neck and shoulder, biting it lightly, drawing more gasps out of Chan.
Seungkwan always wishes he could drag things for longer, but his thighs are burning already, and there’s a familiar heat crawling up his legs and down his belly. He goes faster like Chan asked him to, but harder exactly how he knows Chan likes, and wraps his right hand around Chan to touch his cock again. His hand closes in a fist, up and down, back up, back down and up again, thumb dragging slowly on the head the way he knows Chan likes; Seungkwan’s hips go faster, less graceful, and he hears it again.
A hyung, please, I’m so close, said in between teeth, coming out as a desperate plea. Seungkwan buries his nose where he bit Chan earlier, breathing him in, fucking into him so deep he’s almost sure he sees stars behind his eyelids. He can’t help but moan along with Chan, whispering praises as if it’s as natural as breathing; pretty baby, all mine, so pretty, over and over again, words all jumbled together, but somehow Chan understands all of them, whispering back a string of yes, yes, yes, all yours.
When Chan comes with a broken moan, the crop top falling from his teeth again, Seungkwan lets himself fuck into him deeper, so deep, feeling Chan trying to trap him in. That’s all it takes for Seungkwan to lose strength in his legs and then he’s coming inside Chan, hard, as Chan himself comes all over his fingers. He’s shaking, trying to get his heartbeat to slow down, and smiles when he feels Chan’s own erratic heartbeat against the knuckles of his fingers.
They both fall on top of the counter, Seungkwan’s hand trapped uncomfortably in between their bodies. He realizes for the first time his clothes are sticking to his body, and his pants fell down to his ankles at some point—he relaxes his fingers, letting go of the fabric of the crop top he was holding onto. He takes another deep breath, leaving a gentle kiss on the back of Chan’s neck, and stands up, slowly pulling out of Chan.
“Fuck,” Chan says with a breathless laugh. “No wonder you were acting so weird after I put on this crop top.”
“Weird is a nice way to put it,” Seungkwan whispers and laughs along when Chan laughs a little harder. “Shower?”
“Yes, please,” Chan gets up from the counter as well, wincing. “Are you joining me?”
“Duh,” Seungkwan hugs him from behind, kissing his nape and slapping his ass one last time, making Chan giggle. “Let’s go. We can clean this up later.”
Seungkwan watches as Chan pulls the crop top up and then over his head, dropping it on the bathroom floor before going into the shower, and silently thanks whoever decided to style his boyfriend like that.
He also sets a mental reminder to buy the magazine when it’s out. To support Chan, of course. Nothing else.