After Dark 》Minsung

12 》No Way

Shaking his own apprehensive excitement off, Minho captured Jisung up in another kiss.

Hungrier this time, rougher in the hand moving to the back of his head, fisting his hair, pulling him hard into the other as he ran his tongue along the younger's lips. Allowing them to shudder for a moment before they parted for him, and he delved the tongue between those beautiful lips. Trying to be gentle in the soft motions, trying to keep the reckless want to completely fuck the other's mouth with his tongue restrained, trying to be tender with this beautiful bit of sunlight in his hands beginning to writhe and squirm. Heated in the strangled hitches and breaking moans from the body arching against his.

Keeping Jisung busy in the kiss, his hand released itself from the loose elbow he balanced himself on, breaking away. Breaking down to the hem of Jisung's sweater and tugging on it lightly. Waiting at that threshold for a moment. Waiting for a confirmation.

When the camboy gave him a swift nod, Minho slipped his hand underneath the sweater.

The camboy immediately pulled back from the kiss with a soft moan. Squirming underneath the touch, more of those soft shudders and quivers slipped from the light part in his lips as the fingers tangled in the hacker's hair tightened. Those small movements, small noises, sounds like candy to his ears as a surge of heat pulled low in his abdomen.

Minho ran his hands over the lissom chest. Fingertips brushing over the valley of his cute little stomach, lingering to hold his waist to tug him closer, tracing the imprints of his ribcage, so delicate. So indescribably perfect in the glimmering eyes watching his every movement, hooded as their siren darkness kept that fast moment of eye contact burning into his mind, in the adorable little moans purring from his velvet-like lips. Satin skin. Perfect.

Fucking perfect.

My heart is thundering.

Minho kept his hand busy with roaming as his body pulsed, fingertips learning everything the younger was in slow motions. Methodical, drawn out, wishing to understand him. How he felt. Wanting to imprint the feeling of his body in his memories forever, wanting to relish in the slight layer of sweat building on the paced rise and fall of his chest, wanting to pinch and nip at every inch of his skin, to satisfy his own desire. To submit to his own shattering warm pooling in his gut, in his mind, beginning to ache deep within his chest, tingling him with a drunken daze hazing his thoughts that shuddered down his spine with his own rattling breaths. His own want to just, hurry this the fuck up, strip, get between his legs, and fuck him until he couldn't remember his own name, but holding himself back with those adorable eyes shimmering up at him with a pure excitement. Lust too, but he was so, adorably, excited.

With the hand in his hair unfurling, softly trailing down to his back. Cold fingers finding their way underneath the white fur of his hoodie to rake into his back.

Finding their way down to his waistband, fingertips dipping below the beltline.

For some reason, I want to do this right for him.

With a meager groan of his own, Minho lowered himself more.

I want to treat him well.

He pressed a quick peck to the tip of Jisung's nose, catching his breath as he paused for a moment. Lungs aching painfully at the suffocating proximity, close, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other's flushing skin, close enough to be addicted off of his honeyed scent, to be drawn deeper into the hands scaling the length of his muscles underneath the hoodie. Each skim down another jolt of electricity up his mind, every brush up chills down his spine. He nosed along the other's throat, pressing gentle kisses to the visible chokes. Words quiet against the other as he wondered, "Who would've thought you're so cute? So, fucking, pretty."