A Moth to a Flame

Chapter One

"You're so pretty," the man — who Soobin doesn't care to learn the name of, breathes out from underneath him, hot air hitting against Soobin's cool neck. His breath smells like cheap mint mixed with the stale scent of beer, making Soobin fight the urge to turn up his nose in distaste.

Soobin doesn't say anything, just holding the man's gaze for what feels like a lifetime. They're close, almost too close for Soobin's comfort. From this distance he can notice everything about him, especially the way his lips are covered in a thin coat of saliva from the constant licking of his tongue and the way beads of sweat glisten while making their way down the side of his face.

He's being flipped over on the bed before he even gets the chance to form a coherent thought, the silk sheets pressing against his bare skin, grabbing them tightly between his fingers to keep himself grounded. The man's hands are everywhere on his body, dragging from the top of his shoulders and across his exposed chest until they stop at his waist, grabbing the skin there as if it's his own personal stress ball. His nails dig into Soobin's skin, and he's sure that he's going to have small, crescent-shaped indents left behind.

The man's cock is pressed against his crotch and Soobin closes his eyes, pressing his head deeper into the pillow. He slowly grinds against him through their clothes, leaning down to press kisses against Soobin's neck, making sure to take his time on the way down.

How is it possible that something so wrong feels so good?

It's absolute torture and Soobin has to bite his tongue, holding back both the most pathetic whine threatening to escape and a mixture of profanities showing his annoyance at how long it's taking.

A pair of warm lips are pressed against his neck, sucking on the skin without care. He knows the marks will be hell to cover up over the next few days, but right now he doesn't care about any of that, he can only focus on the pleasure coursing through his body each time their skin comes into contact.

Soobin's arms wrap around the man's neck, fingers clasping together to pull him closer. He smells nice, like the perfect mixture of sage and cedarwood, something that only makes Soobin wish this was something that could last longer.

The man is intoxicated, totally wasted, staring down at Soobin with blown eyes, running his hands up and down his thighs and wrapping them around his waist. Soobin lets out a low moan, shivering when his thighs are grabbed tightly, his body being pulled down in the bed.

His head is no longer against the soft pillowcase pressed against his tousled hair, but rather the silk sheets that he was previously grasping. He feels exposed, vulnerable to anything that the man wants, like a prey cowering under its predator.

Lips are everywhere on his body – sucking on the sensitive skin of his neck before trailing down to his collarbones. His mouth is open, small puffs of air escaping his lips, becoming more ragged with each passing second. The most pathetic whimper escapes his lips when he feels the man's mouth against his clothed member, holding onto the sheets so tightly that his knuckles begin to blanch.

His back arches, fingers finding their way to the man's locks, pulling at the soft strands without remorse. But when he feels a pair of cool fingers make their way into the waistband of his boxers, seconds away from pulling them off, Soobin is pulling himself back up in the bed, stopping the man's actions.

"I want to try something," Soobin rushes out, placing his hands against the man's arms. The skin is warm, a thin layer of sweat coating his fingers from where they rest on his biceps. He can feel the man's muscles under his fingertips, letting his hands drop to the guys wrists. "Please?" he looks up at the man with big eyes, pouting for extra effect. He knows the effect he has on people, all it takes is a little show of his dimples and anyone caves for whatever he wants.