Archive of Our Own

“Goddammit!”

The frustrated exclamation bounces off the walls of their shared dorm room embarrassingly loud as Wooyoung lets his head hit the pillow for the nth time that cursed afternoon. 

His black hair is a damp mess of wet strands partly clinging against his sweaty forehead. His face is a strained strawberry red and his chest is moving up and down in short, irregular panting breaths that make his ribs hurt. 

From between his legs, a mop of equally black hair appears, the soft locks a mess sticking in various directions from how hard Wooyoung has been pulling on them. Warm fingers uncurl themselves from where they were previously wrapped around the plush caramel flesh of Wooyoung thighs. There is some muted shuffling of blankets, the crispy sounds of soft fabric moving and shifting near deafening in the uneasy silence that grows.

Tears prickle in the corner of his eyes as Wooyoung stares at the ceiling, the salty drops blurring his vision as they gather on his red rimmed waterline and threaten to spill over.

He can't bring himself to look at Yunho. He's too embarrassed, too disappointed. Too hopelessly turned on with his orgasm just within reach but never really getting there. Every nerve in his body is on fire, his muscles taut with need, but the finish line just refuses to come.

To be completely honest, Wooyoung is pissed. Not at Yunho, hell no. At himself. At his stupid body and mind not cooperating, at his dumb brain needing these stupid pills to somehow function a bit.

“Doll, it's okay,” comes that deep, soothing voice from between his thighs, the tone way too sympathetic, way too sweet, and Wooyoung bristles, snapping his legs shut. His knees almost hit Yunho square in the face in the process, the sharp bones barely missing the older’s jaw.

“It's not,” he spits, his voice cracking. Immediately, he regrets how harsh and mean he sounds, guilt tugging at his heartstrings. He doesn't even have to look down to know that Yunho's brows furrow for just two, three seconds at his rudeness, and the obnoxious, intrusive lump that forms in his throat doesn’t disappear when he swallows with great difficulty.

“It's not,” he repeats, softer this time. He slides a sweat slick hand over his flushed face, putting pressure on one of his eyesockets with the palm as if he’s trying to push both the tears and the humiliation away. His body feels like there are a thousand miniscule needles poking him everywhere all at once, the strained muscles in his abdomen aching dully, making the protruding veins on his lower tummy stand out even more.

“I can’t– I’m trying to get there but–”

Another dull sting between his legs where he's wet and puffy and sore sends a new wave of frustration through him, and he groans in exasperation as his balled fists hits the mattress below him with a muffled ‘thud’.

“It's been hours and I still can't fucking cum! What is wrong with me!”

“It's not you,” Yunho instantly argues, gentle yet determined, leaning his chin on Wooyoung's knee after having pressed a tender kiss on it. “It's the medication, Woo-ya. You and I both know that.”

Decreased libido. Difficulty reaching orgasms and/or delayed orgasms. Wooyoung remembers reading the side effects in the packaging leaflet. Something vague about the pills causing overactive serotonin activity that could inhibit dopamine function, resulting in a decrease in sexual desire and performance.

Back then, when he first started taking the medication, he didn't think much of it. He couldn’t care less about any of the side effects, really – all he wanted was for those devastating panic attacks to disappear as soon as possible. Being so on edge and alarmed all the time terrified Wooyoung, it didn’t match his usually carefree, bubbly personality at all.

The anxiety attacks seemed to pop up out of nowhere, though the tension at his parttime job and the massively increased workload in his third year at university definitely added fuel to the fire, leaving him in various very uncomfortable situations: gasping for air slumped against the grimy tiles of a random bathroom stall, shaking from head to toe during an important lecture unable to focus on a word his professor was saying, sitting up straight in bed with thoughts racing through his head until exhaustion finally took him at 4:30AM.

Eventually, the panic attacks got so bad that the standard nervous system regulating stuff like breathwork, meditation and maintaining a healthy sleeping schedule and diet no longer worked at all. Wooyoung was an anxious wreck with purpling eyebags reaching his knees when he had the doctor’s appointment, a state of being that was so unlike his usual lighthearted demeanor and scared the shit out of him. So naturally, he gratefully accepted the medication, relieved that he only needed the lowest dosage for now, combined with biweekly scheduled therapy sessions to teach him how to cope with spiraling thoughts.

The first two weeks were the worst. Wooyoung knew this would happen, his doctor had warned him for it. The panic attacks were absolutely brutal those two weeks, hitting more often and harder. He was extremely thankful for having such a solid support system around him, pulling him through it and helping him wherever they could: his childhood best friend San who often dropped by to distract him with silly games and yapping sessions until late at night, his parents who frequently called him to check in with him, and of course, Yunho, staying by his side at all times.

Now that Wooyoung has gotten used to the medication, the side effects aren’t that extreme anymore: they’re just annoying nuisances. He has to carry a water bottle with him at all times because of his permanently parched mouth and he experiences hot and cold flashes which makes him transpire a bit more, but other than that, the meds really help, and that’s all that really matters to him.

Yet, there is still that one side effect that bothers him: the part about sexual desire and performance.

Getting aroused is absolutely no problem with a boyfriend as handsome and lovely (and funny, smart, with a gorgeous body and an amazing dick, and cute, a great kisser, and and and…) as Jeong Yunho, his former library crush turned room mate turned university sweetheart for three years and counting now. Wooyoung is head over heels, absolutely smitten, falling deeper in love with the older boy every day. Holding his hand, visiting an art gallery, studying together with stealing a kiss every now and then, climbing that tall man like a clingy cat to hug him, making out with him at some lame frat party that's just an excuse to get absolutely shit faced: Wooyoung doesn't care, as long as he gets to do it with Yunho.

Yunho makes him happy, makes him feel beautiful and sexy and above all, cherished, loved. The fact that their sexlife is insane, electrifying, completely mindblowing is a nice bonus, but a very, very welcome one. Yunho knows exactly what makes him tick and isn't scared to try out new things, their adventures between the sheets varying from sweet, sappy love making with soft whispered praises to downright animalistic fucking, breeding, with Yunho sobbing on Wooyoung's strap or Wooyoung screaming himself hoarse on Yunho's sizeable cock.

So, getting turned on isn't exactly what bothers or worries Wooyoung. He gets wet from Yunho even looking at him. It's… getting there. Reaching his peak. Climaxing. Orgasming.

It takes forever for him to cum. Normally, he’s able to finish himself off quite fast – maybe even too fast, but sue him: he’s young, horny, healthy, and he has a cute boyfriend. Yunho likes taking his time with him, dragging it out, sometimes even edging him, yet Wooyoung prefers cumming multiple times, as hard and as quickly as possible, each orgasm fueling his body with even more need to keep going and going and going until his body finally gives up on him in pure blissful exhaustion.

But nowadays with the medication, it seems to take ages for him to finally get there, and when that euphoric, rapturous sensation is within reach, so close he can taste it on the tip of his tongue, so close he can feel it graze along his fingertips when he reaches out, it slips from his grasp like thick smoke. It’s like there is an invisible wall he keeps slamming against, a spark that refuses to catch.

The continuous denial of that ecstasy drives him insane. Each time he tries, he ends up panting on the bed like he just ran a marathon, feeling strung out like a storm cloud ready to burst but caught in a windless sky. His throat hurts from gasping for much needed air, his heart thunders in his ears, and heat lingers in his tired body, heavy and consuming, the dooming omen of the pressure not breaking no matter how hard he tries making him want to sob.

A second and third kiss on his lower thigh followed by a gentle nibble slows Wooyoung's train of thought until it eventually comes to a stop. He opens his eyes, sluggishly props himself up on his elbows until he's sitting up and leaning heavily against the headboard. Then he looks down, his heart clenching in a confusing mix of shame, arousal and love when Yunho instantly finds his eyes and smiles at him, soft and endeared. 

His lover's lips are moist and an alluring cherry red, remnants of Wooyoung's slick coating the soft cushions like a suggestive sheen lipgloss. Yunho's chin and jaw are sticky, the tip of his sharp nose as well, and there is an adorable rosey flush draped over his cheeks, the colour reaching all the way to his ears and traveling down to disappear below the neckline of his shirt.

Wooyoung extends his hand, cupping Yunho's jaw. Yunho instantly nuzzles against his palm, a pleased sigh leaving his mouth as Wooyoung lightly scratches his chin like one would do to a puppy. If Yunho had a tail, it would sure as hell be thumping against the bed right now.

Normally, that silly thought would make Wooyoung grin, but right now, he just feels upset and guilty.

“Your jaw must be fucking aching by now,” he mumbles, his thumb tracing sympathetic patterns over his lover's jaw before moving his scratching up to that particularly nice spot behind the other's ear where Yunho loves to be caressed. 

Yunho, as always, instantly has his answer ready, deflecting Wooyoung's words.

“Maybe a bit, but I don’t care,” he shrugs, leaning further into the younger's touch.

Wooyoung scoffs, not believing him at all. 

“It's been what, two hours?”

“Forty five minutes,” his boyfriend corrects him. Then, Yunho's face breaks into a grin. “Or at least that's what I think. Could be twenty. I’m not exactly keeping track of the time when my face is buried in your pretty pussy.”

That earns him a flick against his forehead from Wooyoung's thumb and index finger. Yunho flinches, snorts, beaming up at the younger, and Wooyoung can't suppress the grin that tugs at his own lips as well, the thinly veiled compliment warming both his tummy and his cheeks.

“Still,” Wooyoung objects, and when he thinks about the pitiful situation he's currently in – sweating like a whore in church on Yunho's bed, the sheets below his tired body a crumpled up mess, his pussy throbbing in time with his heartbeat and clenching around nothing from not being able to cum for what feels like hours – the smirk slowly drops from his face.

“Aren't you tired? Or bored?”

“Bored?” Yunho parrots back. He's frowning, his expression a mixture of disbelief and something akin to hurt. 

“Baby, have you seen yourself? You’re a literal walking wet fucking dream.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, murmuring out a ‘duh’, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like the bratty fuck he is. A light handed yet reprimanding smack hits the inside of his upper leg and makes him jerk. Yunho just quirks an eyebrow at him, and Wooyoung sulks, pressing his lips in a thin line, shutting up and allowing Yunho to continue without interrupting him.

“Anyone, men, women, everyone in between, would literally die if it meant spending even one single minute between your lovely thighs,” Yunho proceeds, trailing a fingertip over the sensitive skin of Wooyoung’s thighs to give weight to his words, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The gentle touch instinctively encourages Wooyoung to let his legs slide open again, albeit a bit hesitant, a bit slow, still unsure.

Like a moth to a flame, those brown eyes Wooyoung loves so much leave the younger’s face for a brief moment, leisurely traveling over Wooyoung’s still very much half naked body from where his shirt is bundled up right underneath his chest to his stomach, further down to eventually land on his pussy. Yunho blatantly stares – there isn’t really a better word for it – shameless and brazen, his pupils dilating when they zone in on his boyfriend’s cunt, taking the sight in front of him in like it’s his first ever time seeing it.

“Fuck,” he curses, worrying his bottom lip between his front teeth, his nails lightly digging in the plush flesh of Wooyoung’s legs as if he’s holding himself back from diving back in head first and devouring Wooyoung’s pussy like it’s a five course meal.

“I mean, look at that…”

“You’re drooling,” Wooyoung teases, blushing a darker shade of red at the undivided attention on his most intimate part.

Yunho grins, a stupid, dopey curl of his lips, rubbing the back of his flushed neck with his free hand equal parts sheepishly and devastatingly adorable. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning it from the drying leftovers of Wooyoung’s slick and his own drool alike, before mournfully tearing his gaze off of where Wooyoung is still open, pink, wet.

“Sorry,” he mutters, obviously not feeling sorry at all whatsoever, and from Wooyoung’s peripheral vision, the younger easily spots how his boyfriend’s still rock hard cock gives an interested throb behind those loose baseball shorts.

“‘s just so pretty…”

Cleaning his mouth turns out to be completely redundant: Yunho quickly leans in, swift and fast like lightning, pressing a barely there, fleeting kiss right on Wooyoung’s overly sensitive clit. Wooyoung squeals in surprise, his frame jolting on the mattress and his feet nearly kicking his lover in the face with the way his legs spasm, the strange noise he utters a bizarre mix of a moan and a cackle.

Mirth and hunger glisten in Yunho’s eyes as he finds Wooyoung’s gaze again, his grin widening in a way that shows a dangerous flash of sharp teeth.

“I like making you feel good, and I absolutely love eating you out,” the eldest proceeds, smoothing a hand over Wooyoung’s hip, his thumbs brushing lazy, soothing circles.

“Besides, you don’t owe me some fantastic finish like we’re in a sleazy porn movie. I just like being here with you, doing this with you.”

“Fuckin’ sap,” Wooyoung instantly fires back with another roll of his eyes, but he can’t ignore how his face grows even hotter, impossibly so, nor the way that simple declaration has the butterflies deep within his belly flapping their wings even more frantically against the walls of his stomach.

Yunho simply smiles at him, that feral smirk transforming into something softer as he blows barely there raspberries all over the younger’s torso, his heartshaped lips lightly pressing down on every millimeter of skin he is able to cover. In his eyes, there is no disappointment, no frustration mirroring Wooyoung’s own, just steady warmth, like he has an endless reservoir of patience that Wooyoung can’t even fathom to understand.

That sharp, stinging desperation in Wooyoung’s chest shifts. It’s bittersweet – he’s aching, but wrapped in the warm safety of Yunho’s strong arms. He can barely suppress a yawn, his body drained and weary from the nonstop attempts to cum, and to be fair, he isn’t exactly sure if he can handle yet another broken promise of his peak.

The mere thought causes Wooyoung to squeeze his eyes shut, ashamed of the wetness gathering on his lashes.

Yunho senses his hesitation, his apprehension. Notices how bone tired his boyfriend is, compassion and pity clear on his handsome features as he studies Wooyoung’s blotchy face.

“We can also just make out and cuddle…?” He suggests, pushing himself back up from his elbows in case Wooyoung takes up on the offer.

Wooyoung’s eyes snap open, the words hitting like thunder. If another cursed day goes by without him cumming, only fueling the already unbearable frustration, he's terrified he’ll end up ripping out his own hair in pure misery. He grabs his lover by the collar of his shirt and drags him up, closer towards him, until their noses are touching.

“No,” he protests, his tone a bit more whiny than he would like to admit. “No. Please. I wanna cum. God, I need to cum or I’ll go insane.”

Yunho’s breath on his flushed face is moist and hot. Wooyoung’s heart skips a beat and his clit throbs when he smells the distinct scent of his own arousal, heady and musky. It’s enough to fan the flames, the simmering heat that sizzles at the base of his spine to flicker back to life.

Fuck, he’s still so turned on that it hurts.

“It’s been days, Yuyu. Weeks, even,” he admits, his ears burning at the confession.

He’s not lying. Whenever Yunho was gone, Wooyoung had tried getting himself off in various ways in multiple positions – on his back, frantically rubbing at and jerking his dick with just his fingers, rutting against a pillow face down ass up with Yunho’s sweaty shirt shoved under his nose, riding his vibe or even one of his bigger, more intimidating tentacle-like dildos that always manages to make him cum in under five minutes – but it just didn’t fucking work. It was nice, sure, pleasurable even, but he just couldn’t get there, that maddening ache awake and alert under his skin and buzzing with frustration and annoyance.

Yunho pouts at his revelation, his eyebrows knotting together in a sympathetic grimace. He leans in and pecks Wooyoung on the tip of his nose.

“I really need to cum,” Wooyoung continues, whispering the words against Yunho’s parted mouth. “And I wanna do it on your tongue.”  

Yunho curses under his breath, capturing Wooyoung’s lips in a slow yet searing kiss. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push, just lets those big hands roam with unhurried reverence, all along Wooyoung’s jaw, his arms, his tummy. 

The sensation of blunt nails softly scraping over his skin causes Wooyoung’s lips to open in a pleased sigh, and Yunho immediately takes the opportunity to lick deep into the younger’s mouth, making Wooyoung taste himself: slightly salty, tangy, mixed with the sweetness of Yunho's lovely mouth. Their tongues twist, tangle, entwine, soft sounds of content bleeding through as spit wets their jaws and chins.

When they part, they’re both breathing heavily, a string of saliva connecting them for two, three seconds before breaking off and landing on the neckline of Wooyoung’s shirt.

“Then we’ll keep trying,” Yunho whispers, nuzzling his nose against Wooyoung’s.

The grounding presence of Yunho’s broad torso atop of his suddenly disappears. Wooyoung’s heart clenches in anticipation, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing up straight as his legs fall open wider almost instinctively, inviting and welcoming Yunho back in.

Silent and breathless, he watches Yunho’s every move, shuddering when his lover nips at his pulse point before bundling his shirt up just a bit more for better access to his upper body. Long, elegant digits ghost over the intricate flower tattoos that cover the faded scars right under his chest, lingering there for a just moment, loving fingertips tracing the botanical labyrinth of black lines. Wooyoung smiles, basking in the adoration, the worship, his pulse fluttering under Yunho’s fingers.  

“Just focus on my tongue and on the pleasure,” Yunho mutters, trailing down a slow, loving path of licks and laps from Wooyoung's sternum down, down, down.

Wet lips ghost over his ribs, sucking a mark over the ink below them as if Yunho's jealous that he's not the one under his skin, and Wooyoung sighs again, pleased with the loving care and attention. He squeals and giggles when Yunho’s tongue suddenly dips in Wooyoung's navel, teasing but above all tasting, and the way Yunho sensually licks his lips to let more of Wooyoung's essence seep deep into his tastebuds brings forth a new wave of wetness from the younger’s core.

Yunho looks up at him through his long lashes while slowly but deliberately continuing his route down, his pretty brown puppy eyes hooded and partially covered by his black fringe. If Wooyoung really concentrates, he can see the tiny golden flecks in those eyes.

“Can you do that for me, kitty?” asks Yunho, his nose right above the unruly patch of jet black curls. Wooyoung can feel his breath fanning over his clit and hole, and with a shudder and a stuttery exhale, he nods.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” his boyfriend breathes back, that adorable, lovesick smile playing around his lips. “I know it's hard, but try not to concentrate on coming too much. Don’t force it. Let it come naturally. Just enjoy it while I enjoy you, angel.”

With those words, Yunho slithers further downwards, but not before burying his nose in the wiry hairs and breathing Wooyoung in, deep and long and slow as if he's savouring it, his nostrils flaring and his eyes fluttering close at the younger's scent. 

Wooyoung gulps, bites his bottom lip, takes a fresh handful of sheets between his hands to ready himself. Tries to relax his restless body to the best of his abilities, his smaller frame sliding down the headrest and sinking back into the soft mattress. He shoves a pillow under his head, propping himself up to lean on his underarms, his eyes fixed on the older boy getting comfortable between his thighs.

He waits, equal parts anxious and aroused, but he doesn’t look away.

Yunho starts slow. With both hands, he gently parts Wooyoung a bit wider, prying him open, index fingers on both sides of the younger’s folds. His fingertips brush over Wooyoung’s puffy lips, soft and tender, tracing the curvature of them. Opaque slick coats the digits, and Yunho brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean with a grateful groan.

Before Wooyoung has any time whatsoever to react to the lewd sight of his lover’s eyes glazing over at his taste, Yunho repeats his tactic from mere minutes ago, pursing those heart shaped lips to press featherlight kisses onto Wooyoung’s clit. It’s soft, tender, creating wet smacking noises that border on vulgar and cause Wooyoung’s blush to darken from a soft peach to a deeper red. The older boy kisses the lips between Wooyoung’s legs like he does the lips on Wooyoung’s flushed face: attentive, sweet, yet passionate, ardent. Wooyoung’s pulse quickens, need and want starting to bubble in his veins once more.

Yunho leans back just a bit, propping up his head in one hand, biting his lip as he studies every single millimeter, every pore of Wooyoung's cunt, fascinated and enchanted. 

“So beautiful,” he breathes, awestruck. 

He lets his mouth ghost over Wooyoung's labia, following the slick curves where black hair is already matted against the moist skin, the thick curls drenched with arousal. 

“So gorgeous, Young-ah,” Yunho praises again, a rumble from his throat that vibrates all the way through Wooyoung's core. “So pretty and wet...”

Even though Wooyoung knows he's wet – he can feel himself leaking under Yunho's scorching gaze, the translucent moisture seeping out of him and staining both his boyfriend’s fingers and the blankets below him – the comment still makes him shiver, his voice thin as he murmurs back:

“Always for you, Yunnie.”

The first lick after their break mere moments ago is to be expected, yet it still takes Wooyoung by surprise and steals the oxygen straight from his lungs. Yunho keeps his tongue broad and smooth, not yet prodding or flicking with the tip of it, just slow, gentle and above all dripping wet laps right above Wooyoung’s perineum all the way up to his clit and back down again. It’s already difficult for Wooyoung to keep his eyes from slipping shut, the tender licks so delicious that it sends shivers through his warm body.

“Yunho, fuck,” he whispers, just to feel the familiarity of his lover’s name in his mouth as something grounding, a lifeline, and from between his legs, Yunho winks at him, playful and teasing.

“Good?” Yunho asks him, his deep voice getting raspier, asking for the obvious. As if he doesn’t know the answer, as if he doesn’t know how quickly Wooyoung’s brain turns to mush when Yunho touches and plays with him like this.

“So good, puppy,” Wooyoung answers on a shuddering exhale, his eyes never leaving Yunho’s. Yunho hums against his pussy, a soft, grateful little noise at the petname, his fingers digging into the plush of Wooyoung’s thighs just a bit harder, just a bit more possessive.

Wooyoung hopes it leaves marks, a reminder of devotion.

Under Yunho’s kittenish licks that slowly but surely increase in pressure and pace, Wooyoung’s quiet gasps transform into breathy moans. The younger’s hand finds Yunho’s silky black hair, trembling fingers weaving themselves into the strands. Wooyoung doesn’t pull or tug, doesn’t maneuver Yunho’s head around – he doesn’t have to. Yunho knows him and his body like the back of his hand, he knows exactly what Wooyoung likes, when to tease, when to intensify the pressure or tempo, when to alternate between wet kisses and gentle nibbles.

Despite how worked up Wooyoung already is, Yunho takes his sweet, sweet time. He savours it, worships Wooyoung's cunt with adoration and reverence, suckling softly on the smooth folds in a way that is both so loving and lewd that Wooyoung can feel his heartbeat thrumming in his clit. Yunho's eyes are closed, his long eyelashes resting on his high cheekbones where the pink flush is draped across, making him appear angelic and sinful at the same time. Wooyoung is certain he'll never tire of the sight of his boyfriend between his spread legs.

Those pretty lips Wooyoung loves so much then wrap around Wooyoung's dick, and Wooyoung trashes in his lover's embrace when Yunho starts to bob his head at a relaxed but delicious pace. Up, down, up, down, slow yet deliberate. Back, forth, tongue flat against where Wooyoung is most sensitive, mirroring the exact movements Wooyoung makes when he’s sucking Yunho off.

“Baby,” Wooyoung sighs, his heart soaring at both the sensation and the sight, cupping Yunho’s sharp jaw and letting his thumb graze over his boyfriend’s cheeks to spur him on.

“Yeah, just like that…”

Strong arms come up to maneuver him around, and Wooyoung gladly lets himself get manhandled until his calves are resting on his lover’s shoulders, giving the older boy even better access. Happily, Yunho buries his flushed face even deeper in Wooyoung’s cunt, letting a blissed purr vibrate through Wooyoung’s body as he tugs the younger impossibly closer towards him.

Wooyoung turns to putty in Yunho’s grasp, the gentle suckling on his engorged clit and those large hands around his thighs causing his head to tip back against the pillows with a delighted moan. He sinks into the bed, boneless, the thumb on Yunho’s cheek not stopping their tender caresses as Yunho keeps suckling, the soft hums his boyfriend produces sending zaps of electricity up Wooyoung’s spine and making him push back against the heavenly suction. Vaguely, he registers the barely there creaking of Yunho’s bed, the old wood groaning under them, and the realisation that Yunho is rutting himself against the mattress while pleasuring him has him whining high in his throat, goosebumps littering his bare stomach and arms until he’s shivering all over.

“Fuck, feels amazing,” he praises, his eyes rolling back at a particular nice suck on his clit, “you’re so fucking good at this, Yunnie…”

Like Wooyoung is Yunho’s ocean, Yunho is Wooyoung’s moon, his lover’s gravitational pull soaking the shoreline that is Wooyoung’s trembling body in an rhythmic ebb and flow which grows in intensity with each second that passes. Wooyoung gently sways back and forth in time with the waves Yunho creates for him, pushing up his pelvis to press harder against that cunning tongue and follow its cadence, dancing on the smooth surface of the water like he's weightless.

Yunho effortlessly alternates between sucking him off and drawing unhurried patterns with his tongue, dipping lower every now and then to lick up every new wave of milky fluid that trickles out of Wooyoung’s weeping hole, groaning and swallowing gratefully. It feels divine, jaw dropping, absolutely fucking phenominal, and Wooyoung is floating, lost somewhere between that comforting cusp of being awake and dreaming, moaning softly as he rolls his hips against Yunho’s wonderful mouth.

The tide swells and rushes with each kittenish lick over his swollen cock, with each swirl of a soft, wet tongue around where he's most sensitive, building towards that crest that promises that delicious mind-bending release. Like an ocean under the relentless forces of nature, the waves grow in size, bigger, larger, higher.

Wooyoung is panting now, his breath tight and ragged in his throat. His toes curl, his hands are restless: he’s clutching the sheets between his fingers, roaming them over Yunho's neck and strong shoulders, traveling up to teasingly tickle his own belly and chest, grasping at each and every possible straw to stimulate himself even more. Heat blooms in his tummy and between his moist thighs, the impending wave towering above him like a skyscraper.

“Yun,” he grits out from between clenched teeth, “Yunnie, Yunho-ya, o-oh God–”

Pressure coils low in his gut, tighter and tighter, his thighs quivering, chest straining with the weight of what’s about to break. Yunho grunts hungrily, licks, laps, nibbles, sucks, every drag of his clever tongue both shoving Wooyoung closer, closer, closer.

One of Wooyoung’s legs dangles dangerously over the edge of ecstacy, and he only needs one little push, just one little shove to plummet headfirst into the depths of euphoria. His muscles tense, his jaw clenches, all taut rope with frayed ends. The knot in his lower stomach tightens even more and he moans, loud and raw.

He's there, he's almost there… 

But just as the intimidating waves threaten to crash, they falter, dissolving into foam.

“Please,” he whimpers, more to his own disobeying, stubborn body than to anything else. An ugly, broken wail crawls out of his throat and his fingers twist and pull at his own damp hair at the maddening suspension between almost and nothing.

Again, it's slipping from his grasp like thick smoke. The water withdraws torturously slow, pulling back from the shore. 

“No– please, no no no–”

Frantically, he bucks his hips up, wildly searching for that last, final push. He feverishly rides Yunho's face until it's borderline painful, the sharp edges of his lover's nose and chin digging in his drenched folds, his body twisting and writhing as though he can somehow force the wave forward.

“Shit, almost– I’m–”

For two, three torturous seconds, it comes back, so sudden and the current so intense that it threatens to drown him and consume him alive. He curses, chokes on a garbled moan, and somewhere, there is the distant sound of fabric ripping as he claws at the blankets beneath him like a feral beast.

His feet slip and slide over the covers as he tries to find purchase, and Yunho gulps for air, that lovely tongue working harder, putting more pressure behind his licks and flicks, groaning and panting in the sopping wet heat of Wooyoung's cunt, but…

It's no use.

“Fuck–!”

Wooyoung outright sobs when his release vanishes into thin air for the nth time that afternoon. His entire frame shakes like a leaf in the wind, his face a strawberry red from the tension, his arms slick with sweat. He’s exhausted, strung out, his chest moving up and down in irregular movements as he tries to get fresh oxygen in his lungs that feel two sizes too tight. Fresh tears gather in the corners of his eyes, and he can't stop the despairing sniffle escaping him.

Don’t cry, he scolds himself, don’t fucking cry now. Don’t be absolutely fucking ridiculous and cry when the most attractive man alive is eating your pussy like a starved man.

But of course, Yunho notices. He always does. In that fury, there is the anchor that is Yunho, a quiet presence, a safe harbor. Wooyoung doesn’t know if he should hate or love him for that.

This time, Yunho doesn’t withdraw, doesn’t remove himself from between Wooyoung’s soaked thighs. He just looks at him, the lustful storm in his eyes fading temporarily to make place for something kind and understanding – not judging, never judging.

“It's–” starts Wooyoung, mumbling the words, his bottom lip jutting out and trembling pathetically.

“It's gone again… I was almost there, so close but– I fucking can’t–”

He quickly wipes his wet eyes with the already damp neckline of his shirt, ashamed and embarrassed, not wanting to finish the sentence. 

Yunho kisses the inside of his thigh, nibbling at the caramel skin to soothe, to calm, before moving back to Wooyoung's cunt fluttering and clenching hopelessly around nothing.

“‘s okay,” he slurs against the wet heat, gently sucking Wooyoung’s folds between his red slick wet lips. “Cry if you need to, it’s okay. Just feel. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Big, warm hands smooth over the planes of Wooyoung's stomach, fingertips digging in certain spots like pressure therapy, attempting to calm a shaking, quivering, almost sobbing Wooyoung down.

That defiant, stubborn part of Wooyoung wants to argue, wants to shout that it’s just not fair, but the steadiness and sheer devotion on his boyfriend’s words unravel him like a spool of thread. He yields, surrenders, lets himself slump back against the mattress and does exactly what Yunho asks of him: feel.

Slow, adoring circles and patterns over his slippery clit have him gasping, his hips dancing and moving on their own to chase the sensation even though he's so ultra sensitive that just a puff of air on his pussy hurts.

“What do you need, honey?”

“I–” he tries, his voice brittle and breaking at the end. He inhales shakily, threading his fingers through Yunho’s soft locks and brushing them away from his lover’s sweaty forehead.

Uncertainty is not his thing. Hesitation even less so. It leaves him feeling too open, too exposed. Too vulnerable. But with Yunho, it's safe to be unguarded. It always has been.

“I-I’m not sure, I don’t know…”

“My fingers?” Yunho offers, and Wooyoung squirms and writhes on the sheets when Yunho’s right hand unwraps itself from his sticky thigh and a promising fingertip ghosts over his dripping entrance. The mere thought of getting filled up now that he’s on pins and needles makes him recoil, but on the other hand… Yunho’s fingers are so nice, so long, and they always feel so good in his pussy. It's tempting.

He presses his lips together in a tight line, not sure whether to roll his hips forward or to move away from the digits that pause right before his hole.

“My words?”

“Anything,” Wooyoung breathes back, still indecisive, the turmoil in his pent up body threatening to unleash itself yet again. “Anything, everything, all at once, Yunnie, I don’t know–”

“I’ll give it to you, Woo-ya,” promises Yunho, raspy and hoarse. “Whatever you want from me.”

And he keeps his promise.

Wooyoung keens when Yunho carefully slides just his middle finger in to the first knuckle, his walls immediately clenching around the delightful intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he curses, “oh my God, baby…”

In response, Yunho presses more of those infuriatingly delicious open mouthed kisses onto his thrumming cock, tenderly moving just the tip of his finger in and out of tight, wet heat. He's so soft, so gentle, so careful.

Wooyoung whines under his ministrations, the ache of his denied orgasm still painfully prickling on top of his scalp as if the sea itself is rising under his skin. One, two tears cascade down his temples, wetting his hairline.

He wants more. Needs more.

Shame and guilt let his heart clench in his chest. He wants it all, every little trick in Yunho’s book, every card up Yunho's sleeve that the latter uses to drive him to the brink of euphoria. He feels greedy, he is greedy, he knows that, but he also knows that Yunho is more than willing to give it to him however he likes, to do whatever he wants and desires.

So, he inhales sharply, a deep, shaky breath before he voices his desires.

“K-keep looking at me,” Wooyoung pleads with a stutter, a pang of arousal pinching at his tummy when those long eyelashes flutter open at his command. Yunho's lidded eyes that were closed in bliss find his, darkened with lust, the brown now completely eclipsed by the black of his pupils.

Wooyoung shudders.

“Like that, yeah, fuck you're so hot…”

Yunho moans against his pussy at the praise, and then there is that tell-tale sound of Yunho's bed creaking under them again as his boyfriend ruts himself against the blankets.

“Just one finger,” the youngest proceeds. He hisses when Yunho's long finger slides in just a little bit deeper, the sensation dancing on that fine line between pain and pleasure. “‘s really sensitive, sorry–”

“Shh. Don't, kitty,” Yunho immediately interrupts him with a shush, messily slurping at the sticky wetness that seeps out of Wooyoung's cunt and coats his finger in a new layer of slick. “Don’t apologize. Mm, you taste so good…”

Wooyoung's breath catches in his throat. His heart skips two, three beats, heat blossoming in his gut at the whispered words, at the filthy-sweet praise.

“And talk to me like that,” he pleads, raw with desperation. “Please Yuyu, please talk to me–”

“You want me to talk to you?” Yunho repeats his request, his eyes big and wide and glistening with something feral, something dangerous as Wooyoung nods so fast he almost pulls a muscle in his neck.

“Want me to tell you how much I adore your cute cunt, sweets? Is that it?”

Wooyoung instantly flushes three shades darker. Their dorm room feels sweltering now, the rising heat a suffocating blanket draped over the two of them. Wooyoung’s heart rams against his ribcage and almost thumps out of his chest when the words reach his auditory canal. He is absolutely no stranger to dirty talk – there is nothing he loves more than pushing Yunho to the brink of insanity with just filthy promises and lewd whispers, but Yunho easily takes the first place, passing with flying colours when it comes to using vulgar words muttered in that addicting low purr.

Wooyoung whimpers at that deep voice, the timbre gruff and gravelly and the tone sugary sweet, a knife wrapped in velvet. He sucks his lip between his front teeth and bites as he feels himself dripping around Yunho’s finger, his slick trickling out of him in a steady stream, staining the blankets.

“Please,” he whispers.

Yunho never denies him anything. A smirk curls around the corners of the older’s lips as he traces the curvature of Wooyoung’s puffy folds with the tip of his nose, not caring at all how his lover’s arousal now soils the entire bottom half of his face. It’s a different texture than Yunho’s silky smooth tongue, harder, more persistent, and Wooyoung writhes, gasps, his body torn between wanting to lean in and chase the foreign sensation or to crawl away from it.

“I love how you're always so wet for me,” Yunho purrs, sharp teeth grazing over Wooyoung’s outer labia as he hums out the words in that sultry tone. “Love how you get wet from just my kisses or my touches, how easy this little hole is for me, just for me–”

Briefly, he moves to the side, taking a good chunk of Wooyoung's moist inner thigh between his teeth to bite down – punctuating his possessive words by sucking an equally possessive mark into the sensitive flesh and hungrily licking up the dollops of translucent arousal that trickle down so temptingly slow and sensual.

“Your thighs are soaked,” he breathes out, a strange yet wonderful mix between a laugh and a groan, his canines leaving red indents in the golden skin before he slithers back to Wooyoung's center.

“Soiling both yourself and my bed, hm? My sheets will smell like you for days, angel. ‘s gonna keep me up all night. Are you imagining it, Woo-ya? Me sniffing my blankets like a damn dog and jerking myself off when you’re asleep next to me just because you smell so good?”

“Yunho,” moans Wooyoung, hissing at the dull sting of pain, his ears white-hot at the perverse fantasy like he’s running a fever.

Each and every word vile Yunho utters fuels the fire, need and want hot like molten lava in his veins.

“You’re fucking dripping, baby,” murmurs Yunho, the sentence partly muted by the way he’s all but shoving his face in Wooyoung’s cunt, his tongue thirstily dipping in next to his finger to scoop out even more arousal as if he’s gagging, dying for it.

“Can feel it all over my tongue, Young-ah, making my face all wet ‘n sticky…”

Wooyoung’s wetness pools on Yunho’s tongue, the opaque slick shimmering in the rays of the afternoon sun. The click of Yunho’s throat when he swallows it all down with a grateful moan is deafening, miraculously still clearly audible over the earsplitting noise of Wooyoung’s blood buzzing in his ears, and the sight of Yunho’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down is so beautifully erotic that Wooyoung is unable to stifle the goddamn wail that rips out of him.

“God, you taste amazing, so fucking sweet, can’t get enough of it…”

“Yun, Yuyu,” Wooyoung gasps, bucking up his hips. “Keep talking–”

“You always make me so fucking hard, doll, fuck,” Yunho lisps, gathering saliva in his mouth and spitting a vulgar blend of his own drool and Wooyoung’s lavish slick right back onto the younger’s clit. It’s filthy, foul, and everything Wooyoung loves about Yunho, that bold, unfiltered and brazen part of him that always makes its wonderful appearance whenever they find themselves tangled between the sheets. Together with the nasty gesture, Yunho’s clever mouth doesn’t stop running, and all the words that drip from those wine red lips like poison are music to Wooyoung’s ears, causing his cunt to weep all over the bedding.

“Everything about you has me throbbing, everything about that pretty pussy of yours. From all the way up here…” 

A sweet little nuzzle of his nose in the unruly bush of Wooyoung’s thick black curls decorating his pubic mound, and then–

He dips lower, diving in at the speed of light, swiping that cunning pink tongue right over Wooyoung’s asshole, and the younger squeaks, squeals, squirms in Yunho iron hold, his wide eyes fixed on where Yunho is licking his fluttering opening.

“...To here.”

The pressure is light, teasing almost as Yunho barely grazes over his rim, but it’s enough to make Wooyoung choke on a desperate hiccup, his treacherous brain unnecessarily feeding him memories of Yunho fucking his ass with that amazing dick of his while three of his long fingers fill his cunt, stuffing him full from both ends.

“Jesus–” Wooyoung wheezes, clawing at the sheets once again, nearly going cross eyed.

Yunho reads his dirty mind like a book, as always, doesn’t miss the spit dumbly spilling from between Wooyoung’s parted lips. He breathes out a knowing laugh, one of those proud, smug ones that drive the younger up the wall in all the best ways. His hot breath fans over where Wooyoung is dripping and aching and clenching, and his eyebrows furrow upwards in pleasure as he sneaks a hand under his own body and squeezes.

Breathless and stunned, barely recovered from the sudden taunting kittenish licks over his asshole, Wooyoung watches Yunho’s jaw drop open in a strangled moan, craning his neck to hopefully catch a sliver of his boyfriend touching his pretty cock.

“‘m literally leaking all over the blankets,” Yunho confesses with a groan, voice low and rough. “Fuck Wooyoungie, I’m making such a mess because of you and your lovely pussy, ‘m almost as wet as you are…”

To add power to his words, he brings his hand back up, but not before rutting against it one last time, stifling his heartfelt grunt in the thick curls of Wooyoung's bush.

His fiery gaze finds Wooyoung again as he shows his hand, and he really isn't bluffing: tacky precum webs between his long fingers and seeps down the pronounced bones of his wrist, the moisture glistening in the afternoon sunlight that filters through the blinds, tempting and hypnotizing. 

Wooyoung salviates, drooling like a dumb dog. He swears he can smell how wet and aroused Yunho is, that delicious musky scent of his lover intermingling with his own tangy one, permeating the thick air with sex and lust. His clit pulsates in time with his heartbeat, and his tongue automatically lolls out, longing for that heady taste of Yunho in his mouth right now.

Sluggishly, his movements slow and laggy, he tries reaching out, attempting to wrap his fingers around his lover’s wrist to pull him in. 

But Yunho is quicker. For the briefest moment, he shuffles backwards a bit to give Wooyoung a crystal clear view of what he’s about to do. His eyes never leave Wooyoung’s, the warm shade of brown deepened to molten earth after rain, darkened by the razor sharp pull of desire, the kind of gaze that holds, pins, and devours all at once.

His pink tongue darts out, slow and teasing, and one by one, he licks his soiled fingers clean. He wraps his smirking lips around the digits to suck them off, making sure to give a little show to the younger who just simply lies there panting and gawking and so turned on that it’s making him dizzy. Yunho groans around his fingers, popping them out of his mouth with an obnoxious lewd noise before grinning at Wooyoung, all pointy teethed and full of insatiable hunger. 

“We taste so good together,” he purrs, and Wooyoung's cunt fucking weeps at that.

Wooyoung involuntarily clenches around that one tentative finger still barely breaching his pussy, and he whines, demanding and high-pitched, giving an impatient little wiggle of his ass as he drags Yunho in closer with the barely there strength of his quivering legs.

“Oh? Want my mouth back on you, pretty?” Yunho asks oh so sweet, letting himself be guided by Wooyoung’s wordless request, moving down, down, down, until his face is mere millimeters away from where the younger is open and aching.

“Please,” Wooyoung pleads, his eyes wet and glassy, desire crowding out reason until all he can do is beg, caught between awe and pure hunger.

“Yeah?” Yunho coos, nudging the hood of Wooyoung’s clit with the tip of his nose, soft yet teasing, a promise of more to come. “Want me to suck your pretty dick until you cum on my tongue? ‘s that what you want, Woo-ya?” 

“Fuck, please–” Wooyoung stutters out, his already trembling frame getting wrecked by another full body shiver, the word on his lips like a prayer.

“Please Yunnie– Ah–!”

Yunho doesn’t waste any time. That pink tongue that was sinfully wrapped around his own long fingers mere seconds ago licks a dripping wet strike up from Wooyoung’s ass all the way up to his most sensitive bundle of nerves, and Wooyoung moans out an incoherent babble of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’, his back arching off the mattress to chase the sensation.

The finger in Wooyoung’s pussy slides deeper, still slow and cautious but a bit more determined. The eldest twists the digit around, discovering, exploring, prodding against Wooyoung's silky smooth walls just to let Wooyoung get used to the sensation of being filled. He starts a pace, leisurely and unhurried, crooking his finger in a delicate ‘come hither’ gesture, those big, brown eyes on Wooyoung's at all times.

The combination of the gentle, mellow rhythm and the soft swirls and skilled figure eights of Yunho's smooth tongue over Wooyoung's dick quickens Wooyoung’s pulse drastically, desire hot and sticky like warm honey seeping over his goosebump littered skin, his lip held between his front teeth as he watches Yunho play him like an instrument.  

“Mm, my cute kitty,” Yunho slurs against his cunt, dazed and pussydrunk but never losing that sharp edge of obsession and possessiveness Wooyoung loves so much.

“So fucking beautiful. Mine.”

“Yours,” Wooyoung breathes, combing back some stubborn strands of black hair away from his boyfriend's eyes with a shaking hand. 

“Yours, fuck, don’t stop–”

Ever watchful, ever focused and immersed, Yunho slowly but surely increases the tempo of his middle finger pumping in and out. With his free hand, he spreads Wooyoung wider, smoothly alternating between those loving, open mouthed kisses on Wooyoung’s clit as if he’s making out with it and that infuriatingly delicious bobbing of his head and sucking the younger off like he was born to do so.

Wooyoung’s face is contorted in pure fucking bliss as he stares down at Yunho working absolute magic on his leaking pussy, his cheeks hot and his ears burning, secretly thanking God and all His angels above for blessing Yunho with the miraculous gift of eating him out exactly how he likes.

His lover’s rhythm slows, then quickens, teasing him through peaks and valleys, but always making sure that every lap and every lick shoves Wooyoung closer, closer, closer.

And then, Yunho’s long finger bends, prodding against Wooyoung’s sweet spot just right.

“Oh my God,” moans Wooyoung into the stuffy air of their shared room, loud and raw, blabbering disconnected sentences as his eyes cross so hard he’s seeing double. “Yunho, Yuyu– there, keep sucking me off– holy fucking shit don’t stop, it’s so fucking good–”

He feels more than sees Yunho smile, proud and adoring, the groaning of the bed under them as Yunho ruts himself against the mattress even harder only fueling the fire that burns brighter and brighter in Wooyoung’s gut.

“That’s it, sweets,” mumbles Yunho, groaning in the younger’s cunt as more wetness seeps forth, transforming the gentle, smooth laps and licks into quicker flicks with the tip of his tongue, adding more and more pressure.

“Love this pretty pussy so much, so fucking soft and pink, could suck you off and eat you out for hours…”

Wooyoung just whimpers at the words. He mewls, whines, moans, letting out broken sounds that are half sobs, half groans, his mouth parched as he pants and pushes up his hips, too out of his goddamn mind to reply with something that makes sense.

“Yunho, Yunnie– oh, fuck–”

On pure instinct, his legs fall further open until he's all spread out, his oozing cunt proudly on display with nothing to hide. Yunho grunts appreciatively, the hand he was previously using to pry Wooyoung open traveling up the younger's hips, his tummy, his sternum, until it comes to rest right above his chest. 

Ghosting fingertips brush over a nipple that stands stiff in arousal, circling the hard peak before pinching it between thumb and index finger, tugging lightly. Wooyoung jolts like a live wire, his body torn between arching into the maddening touches on his chest and wanting to push back against Yunho's mouth filthily slurping on his throbbing clit.

“Puppy, shit– you drive me fucking insane,” Wooyoung gasps, a pitiful gulp of air breaking off in yet another moan. He feels it building, heat blossoming in his very core and spreading out to his limbs, overwhelming and overpowering.

Wooyoung’s grip on his lover's silky hair is absolutely relentless now, clutching the strands like a lifeline, like it’s the only thing that anchors him to this earth. He barely registers the soft hiss Yunho produces at his frantic tugging and pulling, and the rational part of his brain, the last slivers of his sanity melting like snow in the spring sun scream at him to loosen his grip, to ease up and not hurt his boyfriend.

Mournfully, he detangles his trembling fingers from Yunho’s damp locks, his sweating hands frantically padding around the mattress in search of more blankets to hold, to grip, to claw at, and his thighs tighten around Yunho’s neck even more as he pants and moans and groans, desperate for something to hold tight as he dances towards the edge.

Even while fully concentrating on getting Wooyoung there, his finger, mouth and tongue never stopping their heavenly assault on Wooyoung’s clit and cunt, Yunho senses his unrest, spots that frustrated furrow of his brows. 

“Don't think about that,” Yunho growls, forcing Wooyoung's fingers back into his (now very messy) hair. “Don't hold back. C’mon doll, pull, tug harder, I don’t care, use me–”

The words cut through the misty haze, coaxing rather than commanding, each one fanning the flames of desperation.

“Yunho,” Wooyoung mewls again, dragging out the syllables, mindlessly obeying the older boy and twirling his fingers back into the strands as soon as the plea falls, guiding him up and down, back and forth.

Harshly, he yanks on the hair in his hands, arches his back so wildly that Yunho’s nose collides with his pubic bone, clenches his thighs around Yunho’s face so violently that the other’s red cheeks get smushed. He’s a complete and utter mess, riding his boyfriend’s mouth and staining the bed. He can’t help it. It feels so fucking good, his brain near melting out of his overly sensitive cunt, unbearable heat pooling low in his gut so hot it feels like his entire body is on fire.

Yunho lets him. Lets him buck against his face, his mouth, nose and chin alike, lets him rut his pussy over his tongue as he pumps up the tempo of his finger even more, lets Wooyoung use him like he promised, his own wanton moans muffled and his cock leaking as it slides back and forth over the sheets.

Yunho’s roaming hand is still certain, persistent – it kneads at the supple flesh of Wooyoung’s chest, nails scratching over the now puffy nipples, tugging and pinching and teasing all at once. He still murmurs praise and filth alike against Wooyoung's cunt, half muted vulgar yet loving words that urge the younger forward, sweet as salt air on open water.

“Fuck,” Wooyoung wheezes, too pent up to feel ashamed about the squeak that leaves his lips or the lewd squelching from between his moist thighs. A desperate string of expletives tears itself out of Wooyoung’s dry throat, both of his holes fluttering and clenching wildly.

“Shit, fuck– Yunho-ya, Yunnie, baby, I’m–”

The tide inside him swells, fierce and aching. Wooyoung braces for the dooming disappointment, for it to vanish again, for that cruel retreat that leaves him hollow and frustrated. He whimpers against the wave rising inside him, terrified it will disappear into thin air like all the times before.

But this time, it builds and builds. Keeps building. Higher, bigger, an intimidating skyscraper that disappears into the clouds, tall and formidable. The wave grows and grows, until finally – finally – it rises too high to fall away.

“I-I think–” Wooyoung starts, voice tight and strangled, and then an airy, almost crazed laugh rolls out of his mouth before he can stop it.

It’s coming. He’s coming.

Both utter relief and euphoria slither through his veins like molten hot lava, fire licking at the base of his spine, the coil in his tummy curling tighter.

Fresh tears fill his eyes, but this time, they’re not tears of frustration. They cloud his vision with salt and wetness, and he blinks them away rapidly, not wanting to miss a single moment of Yunho sucking on his clit. He stares down at his lover, wide-eyed and unbelieving, chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin, knuckles whitening in Yunho’s hair.

“Holy fuck, Yun, I think I’m actually about to cum–”

Despite the tears blurring his sight, he catches it – that wild sparkle, that feral glimmer in Yunho’s big brown eyes as the older turns him inside out with burning devotion.

His lover's hand travels down, strong fingers curling around Wooyoung’s hip, guiding his rhythm, moving him back and forth over his tongue. Wooyoung’s cock throbs, thunderous and almost painful, every lick, every swirl dragging him closer and closer.

Weeks of frustration have carved Wooyoung hollow, and now the hunger is spilling out all at once – desperate, frantic, unrelenting. Every nerve in his body is alight, prickling with energy, zaps of electricity running up his spine.  

“Close,” he whines, “‘m so close…”

Between his shaking thighs, his lover doubles, no, triples his efforts, eagerly lapping at Wooyoung's clit like the eager puppy he is, panting and groaning in that tight, wet heat as if he's the one on the receiving end. His finger curls deeper, prodding against Wooyoung's sweet spot with each thrust, and he messily slurps, licks, suckles, flicks his tongue in each and every way he knows has Wooyoung creaming and melting right on his bed.

“I can feel it,” Yunho pants out, dirty, starved. “Fuck, you're clenching and leaking so much. You’re right there, kitten, c’mon.” 

Black spots start to blur the edges of Wooyoung's vision, his view narrowing until it's just Yunho between his drenched legs looking up at him through his lashes, laser focused and dedicated to getting Wooyoung there.

“I’m–” Wooyoung can't even get the words out. His body locks up, drawn like a bowstring. It creeps up on him eerily fast, the wave growing and growing, towering above him and threatening to dissolve him any second now. 

“Yunho,” he warns, his boyfriend’s name nothing more than a pitiful prayer wrapped in a pathetic squeal, high pitched and despairing. “‘m gonna– Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, Yunnie– I’m cumming–”

His abs tense, his back arches. The tide doesn't ebb this time: it finally crashes down – violent, drowning, all consuming. His climax tears through him in a ferocious rush that leaves his entire body convulsing, his hips jerking and bucking uncontrollably, completely lost in the wild current.

He doesn't even register the guttural cry crawling from the deepest depths of his body and reverberating through their dorm room, or Yunho clawing at the sheets as he both licks and talks the younger through it. All he hears is the blood roaring in his ears, all he sees is that white light as he trembles through his peak. All he feels is his release flooding him after weeks of denial, so intensely that it borders on painful, every nerve lit on white-hot ecstasy.

Yunho's tongue and loving, roaming hands devotedly carry him through the crashing surf until there is nothing left but wild trembling, sweat, slick and the ragged sound of his irregular breathing. The aftershocks are vicious as he rides out his mind blowing peak, his pelvis spasming when his hips chase the very last broken shards of euphoria.

Exhausted and worn out, Wooyoung collapses back onto the bed, his legs relaxing and bonelessly sliding off of Yunho's shoulders.

Maybe he's crying. His face is warm and wet, but he's too floaty, too dazed to determine if it's sweat or tears. Behind his ribcage, his heart still hammers, but the hollow ache is gone, washed away in the flood that has at last broken free.

He doesn't know how much time passes as he lies there, unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling, catching his breath. It could be mere seconds, or minutes. Hours, even. For a long while, it's just Wooyoung in that comfortable warm cocoon of post orgasmic bliss, floating outside of his own body on Yunho's bed in a puddle of his own sweat and slick.

When the black void eventually fades away from his eyes and the colours of their shared dorm room return – the monotone and silvers of Wooyoung's belongings and the earthy tones of Yunho's, he blindly pats beside him, expecting his fingers to lace together with Yunho's. 

However, he doesn't feel the weight nor warmth of his lover's body next to his.

Just when he confusedly lifts up his head to look around, searching for Yunho, something lukewarm and wet being placed on his tummy startles him.

“Wh–”

“Shh,” a deep voice shushes, and when Wooyoung blinks twice, thrice, Yunho's handsome face comes into view. The older boy kneels beside Wooyoung on the bed, the mattress dipping where his bony knees are digging in the soft foam. The warm wetness gets dragged tenderly over the younger's sweat slick sternum, and through the foggy haze of his peak still lingering in his body, it takes Wooyoung longer than he would like to admit before he realises it's a washcloth.

“It's just me,” Yunho whispers with a kiss to his temple. He slides the cloth down to carefully dab over the inside of Wooyoung's thighs, cautiously wiping away the rivulets of arousal coating the skin.

“Just cleaning you up, angel.”

The younger hums noncommittally, sagging back onto the bed. He follows Yunho's deliberate movements with hooded eyes that threaten to slip shut any second now, the combination of the pleasantly warm cloth and Yunho's gentle touches more than enough to make him feel weightless, floating on the calming tide that is his boyfriend.

When the last remains of sweat and slick are gone, Yunho slowly settles next to him, and the mere graze of the older’s bare skin against his own has Wooyoung gasping, his treacherous cunt fluttering weakly around nothing.

Wooyoung's voice is hoarse and unsteady when he parts his lips to speak, shame lingering like a shadow when he realizes that he may have been a bit egoistical when it comes to finally finding his own release. He has probably left the love of his life high and dry, rock hard and aching within two uncomfortable layers of clothes.

“Lemme–” he starts, his still trembling hands clumsily wandering to the elastic band of Yunho's baseball shorts but freezing when he feels something damp. Distinct milky wetness, warm and tacky, sticks to both the fabric and Yunho's taut tummy, smeared up all the way to his pink tinted chest, the tell-tale heady, earthy scent of his boyfriend's release making Wooyoung's nostrils flare as he flushes scarlet.

“...Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A soft, familiar chuckle. The carefree sound of it immediately calms Wooyoung down, the hint of a smile tugging at his own lips as he spots Yunho's bright red ears. He lowers his arms and finds Yunho's eyes again. 

“Did you…?” 

“I did,” Yunho fills in the blanks for him, moving and maneuvering them both to a not damp spot of the bed until they're chest to chest, their equally sweaty bodies sticking together like glue. It's hot, unbearably so, but Wooyoung doesn't mind at all, basking in the grounding presence and melting into that steady, solid warmth of Yunho's taller frame. 

They must be a complete and utter mess like that: curled together on partly wet, partly ripped sheets, Wooyoung's lower body bare with his crinkled shirt just under his chest, Yunho with his own shirt bundled up to reveal his cum streaked tummy and his equally soiled baseball shorts. The September sunlight illuminates their flushed skin, rose against caramel, wrapping them in an intimate cloak of the last rays of summer.

A stubborn black strand falls into Wooyoung's face as they breathe each other in, and Yunho plays with it absentmindedly before tucking it behind Wooyoung's ear.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to see you cum,” he admits, soft and genuine, nuzzling his nose against Wooyoung's. “Just seeing you lose it like that made me nut so hard I almost blacked out with my face in your pussy. Fuck, what a way to go.”

An ugly cackle rolls out of Wooyoung's mouth before he can stop it, relief and gratitude washing through him in calming waves. He presses harder against Yunho, burrowing like a little animal as though he wants to dig a hole in his lover's body and stay there forever. Which he kind of does.

He buries his face in the curve of Yunho's neck, kissing the damp skin and inhaling his scent. Sweat, bodywash, cum, home. His Yunho.

“It's been terrible,” he murmurs. “Thought I was never able to cum again.”

His legs entwine with Yunho's lankier ones, pulling him in even closer. He sighs, closes his eyes, fingers curling into the sheets, his knuckles knacking.

“...Was scared you got tired of trying and waiting.”

Two gentle but commanding fingers on his chin force him to reappear out of that safe space that is the slope of Yunho's neck and shoulder. Averting his eyes is useless – as always, his lover is determined, persistent in everything he does.

Strong hands slide down his back, fingers drawing comforting patterns. Yunho leans in, capturing Wooyoung's mouth, and Wooyoung is unable to hold back the trickle of wetness that seeps out of him at the taste of his own arousal on those heart shaped lips. Time slips away as he licks at the seam of Yunho's mouth, sighing dreamily when his tongue finds his boyfriend's. They kiss lazily, unhurried, an intimate, soft slide of wet tongues exploring and curling around the other, the only sound that dares to disturb the comfortable silence their bodies leisurely dancing on the blankets.

“Never, pretty,” Yunho ensures him when they break apart for much needed air. “I don't care how long it takes. We'll keep trying even if it locks up my jaw or gives me an RSI.”

A warmth swells in Wooyoung's chest that has nothing to do with lust. Gratitude, bone deep, mingles with all things soft and pleasant, but above all, adoration, love.

Wooyoung laughs, playfully biting at Yunho's grinning lips. Even through his exhaustion, his giddiness finds the strength to push Yunho flat on his back, the both of them smirking like the lovesick idiots they are when Wooyoung eagerly climbs on top of him like he belongs there. 

“Or until your dick falls off?” 

“Or until my dick falls off.”

And for the first time in weeks, Wooyoung feels whole again.