The Inventor

"Old Flame" (Part Two)

Warning, sexual content; there will be two posted, both the same. The first is for if you feel most comfortable reading smut "girl x boy", the second is "boy x boy". Go to whichever you feel most comfortable, or continue to chapter 43 if you would like to pass on the smut.

     He brought his lips from yours, sighing into the air as you undid the buttons on his shirt with little difficulty. Even with a hazy mind you could still manage to push the shirt from his shoulders, down his arms and onto the smooth wooden floor.

     "Hasn't changed," You muttered, running your hands from his shoulders to his defined torso.

     "What hasn't changed?" He breathed, trailing his lips down your neck to your collarbone.

     "You're still built like a god," You chuckled, "Not fair."

     He smirked, running his hands up and down your sides, "You're looking pretty good yourself."

     You weaved your fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth to yours insistently.

     The kiss wasn't refined or skillful, that would be close to impossible in the quickly heating room. It was a workshop, made for logical and precise calculation, not drunk hookups. And there was nothing logical about you and Minho.

     His hands braces the back of your thighs, lifting you with ease and setting you back on your bed. He stepped back, undoing the buttons on his jeans while you looked him over, wetting your lips when he stripped down to his boxers. He raised an eyebrow, not turning blind to the action.

     "Are you eye-shucking me?" He smirked.

     "Always am," You sat up, cupping the back of his neck and his waist, pulling him down onto the bed with you, "You do it to me."

     "Don't let it go to your head," He situated himself between your legs, wrapping them around his waist so he could grind into you.
You clenched your jaw, shutting your eyes for a few moments to regain your composure.

     Minho looked at you thoughtfully, gouging your reaction before sliding his hand down your waist to tug at the hem of your jeans.

     "Eager," You commented, pushing him up so you could rise from the bed and remove your jeans, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

     You threw the garment into the mess of clouds cluttering your floor, watching Minho's eyes drift down your chest, then flick back to your eyes with his face turning red.

     You raised an eyebrow, whistling and pointing to your eyes. His face only flushed more when you straddled his waist, running your hands over his chest.

     He swallowed hard, gripping your waist firmly, "Can I?"

     "If only I could get you to be this polite when you're sober," You muttered drunkenly, guiding his hands to your chest and leaning down to kiss his neck.

     Your hips moved against his experimentally, only two mere pieces of clothing separating the two of you.

     A guttural moan fell from Minho's lips, sounding so effortless and graceful to your ears. The sound made you grin against his skin, kissing down his chest to the waistline of his boxers. Then you peered up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

     "I want to try something," You announced, "Objections?"

     He shook his head, letting you pull down his boxers, keeping your eyes on his. You watched his expression carefully, running your hand carefully over his dick. Now is when you glanced at him, testing his reaction to where your hand moved.