Your my Miss Right (miss right) all right.
You want my kiss right (kiss right) all right
WHATCH THE VIDEO ON THE SIDE....VHOPE KISS OFF OF ROOKIE KING!!!!
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Something is touching his face, and it’s awfully persistent.
Lingering right on the cusp of sleep and the waking world, Hoseok tries desperately to fall back within his dreams, but the nudging he feels against his cheeks, and the whisper of breath across his face as someone speaks quietly, is keeping him from succeeding. He moans softly, tries to roll onto his side, but is greeted by a gentle weight on his chest that keeps him pressed firmly to the bed.
Instinct tells him it’s too early to be awake, that the sun hasn’t yet risen, and that there isn’t any possible way he’s gotten his usual nine hours of sleep. Because of this, it’s nearly impossible for him to coax his eyes open, and to make his mind function properly. He mumbles incoherently, shifting his head from his right cheek to his left. But upon moving, he only welcomes more nudging. It’s relentless now, accompanied by the tickle of something soft against his face, and a soft murmuring that seems urgent.
“Hyung,” he thinks he hears. “Hyung, wake up.”
“Nnnggh—” is all he can manage to say. The weight on top of him presses down heavily, forcing the air from his lungs in a choked gasp, and suddenly he’s aware that someone is straddling him; he can feel them positioned directly on his hips, and realizes that who he feels touching his face—or more accurately: pawing at his face—can only be one person.
Slowly forcing his eyes open, Hoseok blinks the blur of sleep away and finds himself nose to nose with Taehyung. He’s staring at Hoseok with an excited curiosity so deeply seated within his dark eyes that had it been anyone else, it may have been a bit creepy.
“Hoseok-ie,” he says happily, smiling widely. He nuzzles his forehead to Hoseok’s jaw, and begins purring softly deep in his chest. The large, orange cat ears that poke from his messy hair are standing upright, twitching softly each time Hoseok’s breath ghosts over them.
“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, though in his sleep induced state, it comes out sounding like garbled words instead. He brings a hand to his eyes and rubs them hard, patting his cheeks lightly in hopes of bringing himself further awake. His other hand cups the back of Taehyung’s head, blunt nails scratching him gently. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Shaking his head, Taehyung wraps his arms awkwardly around Hoseok’s back, and rolls onto the bed. They lay on their sides, face to face; Taehyung gently butting their foreheads together.
“Then, what is it?”
A faint blush creeps across Taehyung’s cheeks as he traces the lines of Hoseok’s face. He’s caressing lovingly, eyes trained on his mouth. “I need you,” he whispers.
“What’s wrong?” he asks again, this time more intently. He winds an arm around Taehyung and pulls him closer. He silently hopes it isn’t anything too important, or crucial, because he’s still fighting to keep his eyes from rolling shut. “Tell hyung what to do.” It’s then that Taehyung hooks a leg around his hip, the other slipping between his thighs, and Hoseok feels Taehyung’s problem press snugly against his body.
He pauses, his breath catching in his throat. Then, softly, he begins to laugh. “You woke me for this?” He covers his face with both his hands, rolls onto his back. “Yah, couldn’t you have waited?” He looks back at Taehyung, expecting to see an amused smile and twinkling eyes, but instead finds him with his ears flattened against his head, and his eyes impossibly wide.
“Are you mad?” he asks, voice faint.
Now, Hoseok has never been a man who enjoys babying others. Especially other men. Having the ability to touch as hard as he wants, and to be a rough as he wants to be, is one of the many reasons he likes being with men in the first place. He doesn’t feel he has to approach them with fragility, or be afraid of hurting them too badly, but when it comes to Taehyung, it’s as if Hoseok’s entire world is backwards. Whenever he looks up at Hoseok with those dark, sincere eyes, his face filled with troubled worry, Hoseok will undoubtedly feel a burning need to wrap his body protectively around him, to hold him close and whisper sweet nothings into his hair. It’s exactly how he feels now, staring down at his boy who so obviously wanted him—badly enough, it seems, that he’s offended that Hoseok’s first response isn’t to want him back.
“No,” he cooes softly, bringing Taehyung back into his arms. “I’m not mad.” He reaches out and scratches behind one of his angled ears, and watches as it curves and twitches. He feels Taehyung shudder, hears the hitch of his breath as he whines softly. Inherently, and without much thought, Hoseok nudges his thigh closer to Taehyung’s body, and grinds against him teasingly. A chill courses straight through him at the sight of Taehyung’s eyes rolling shut, his pink lips parting, just barely, as soft puffs of air come as silent moans.
“Hyung’s tired,” he says, nudging his nose into the side of Taehyung’s face. Exhaustion is still settled deeply inside his bones. “I don’t think I’ll be of much use to you tonight,” and this is how he truly feels. He can’t imagine propping himself between Taehyung’s legs, moving his hips—even barely so. He doesn’t even think he can move them at all. He’ll be lucky, he thinks, if he doesn’t wind up simply laying there, motionless, crushing Taehyung beneath him.
Taehyung quickly squirms away until he and Hoseok are face to face once more, and his ears are flattened again, his eyes large and swimming. He begins to whine lowly as his hands curl into the front of Hoseok’s shirt, his hips rocking ever so gently against his thigh. He won’t beg with words, Hoseok knows that, but as Taehyung leans in, still whining as he presses one heated kiss after another to Hoseok’s mouth, he thinks maybe he will hear the words please, hyung fall faintly from his lips.
But, Hoseok doesn’t want his kitten to beg tonight.
“Okay, okay,” he cooes lightly. Cupping either side of Taehyung’s jaw, he kisses him hard, and deeply, licking into his mouth. He hears Taehyung’s relieved moan, and smiles to himself. “You’ll have to do most of the work, though. Can kitty do that?”
Blushing fiercely at the pet name (as he always does), he nods in response. His eyebrows come together, though, as he asks, softly, “How?”
“You’ll figure it out. Go get the lotion.”
He’s up and out of bed in a matter of seconds, which isn’t unexpected. He has a way of moving quickly when there’s something he really wants. But what comes as a shock is how, after throwing the bottle of lotion on the bed, he simply discards all of his clothing. Hoseok watches, rather dazed, as he firstly slips his shirt over his head and throws it aside. Then his pink pajama bottoms are sliding down his thin legs, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. But soon those, too, are gone, left somewhere on the floor with the rest of this clothes.
He stands there, in all his naked glory, his cock hard, the head already wet with precome, as his thin tail sways languidly in the air behind him. He doesn’t move until Hoseok lifts the comforter, invitingly, and extends his arms for Taehyung to fall into. Once he comes to him, Hoseok smiles brightly, sighing contently as Taehyung nuzzles just under his chin.
“Come here,” Hoseok whispers, and pulls Taehyung on top of him to lie in a position very similar to the one he had woken in. Taehyung straddles his lap, his face buried into his neck; the painfully noticeable weight of his hard cock rests between them as they lie chest to chest.
“Comfortable?” he asks softly, petting behind Taehyung’s ears. He feels him nod against him. “Don’t move. Okay?” He doesn’t wait for a response before reaching, albeit rather awkwardly, for the lotion that lies beside him. He pops open the lid, lathers his index finger, and reaches down behind Taehyung, pressing the tip to his rim.
Taehyung goes stiff, then melts forward into Hoseok’s body, all but becoming boneless in his arms.
With his free hand, Hoseok takes hold of Taehyung’s gently fluttering tail, and creates a loose fist around it. Starting from the base, he draws his hand slowly up the length, his finger simultaneously pressing into his body. He feels Taehyung tremble all over, his own heart speeding up as Taehyung grinds his hips against him, the wetness from his cock seeping through the front of his shirt.
Taehyung purrs deeply, thickly. It’s hardly a purr at all, but more of a growl that comes off as too desperate. It’s music to Hoseok’s ears.
When he reaches the tip of Taehyung’s tail, he begins at the bottom again, applying more pressure, but not too much to hurt. As the soft caress of fur tickles his palm, and Taehyung pants opened mouthed against his neck, Hoseok slips a second finger alongside the first and stretches him wide.
“Hyuuung,” he whimpers, breathlessly. He shoves his hips back, using his elbows that are propped on either side of Hoseok’s head to keep himself steady, and arches his spine. He pushes with such force, so quickly; motions seamless, that Hoseok doesn’t have a chance to stop him before he’s shifting so far that nearly the entire length of Hoseok’s fingers slip deeply into him.
“Please,” Taehyung whines loudly, and Hoseok thinks his heart is going to burst through his chest. His cock is hard and throbbing in the confines of his boxers, the front of his pajama pants damp with come, his sleep shirt in an even worse state.
“Please, what?” Hoseok asks. He pumps his fingers in and out, hooking them slightly and trying hard to find the special spot inside of Taehyung. It’s not until he adds a third finger, pushing them as deeply as they’ll go, that he feels Taehyung jolt against him. His tail curves at the tip, his body now pressed flush against Hoseok’s, his cock digging uncomfortably into his stomach. But the sound he makes, the absolutely guttural, desperate moan that seeps from somewhere deep inside him, has Hoseok’s cock twitching, fresh wetness spreading down his length.
He hates when he’s this wet, and this hard, because he knows he’ll never last long enough.
He releases Taehyung’s tail in favor of cupping the side of his face, and moves him away from his neck. “Fuck my hand,” he demands, softly.
Taehyung whines, working his hips against Hoseok’s firmly erect fingers. “But—”
“Just for a little while. Okay?” He’s breathless, his cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. He tries not to moan his frustration and palm at his own cock as Taehyung touches himself. “Do it until you’re nice and worked up.” He grabs onto Taehyung’s hip, thumb pressing into the dip of sharp bones, and positions him further down on his fingers. He feels him tighten and flutter around them.
“I’m ready now,” he whines.
“Be a good kitty and listen to hyung.”
He whimpers, and it’s a sad little sound that makes Hoseok want to throw him on his back, and fuck him until he cries.
“Okay,” he whispers a bit scornfully, and rocks his hips down. He gasps, going stiff as they touch all the right spots inside him.
Hoseok watches with his lower lip pinched tightly between his teeth as Taehyung fucks himself. His skin glows with a sheen of sweat, one ear perked, the other angled as his eyebrows draw together. His entire face pinches up, his mouth opening slightly as he moans and gasps, working his hips faster.
His wrist is already starting to hurt, his fingers buckling once or twice, but Hoseok keeps them at work. He thrusts them deeper each time Taehyung’s body sinks down, and wiggles them slightly in hopes of grazing his prostate once more. He realizes, a bit too late, that he’s moaning deeply at the back of his throat, getting off on Taehyung’s show more than he should.
His cock is painfully hard, pulsing against his inner thigh. He thrusts up into nothing, whimpering at his own dismay.
He works a fourth and final finger in, bundling them up to create a thickness similar to his own cock, and Taehyung shivers, going still. His knees slide farther apart on either side of Hoseok’s hips. He shakes and trembles, leaning forward and pressing their mouths sloppily together. He kisses quickly, messily, his tongue pushing past Hoseok’s lips and licking into him.
“Please,” he whines, almost pathetically. “Please, hyung. No more.”
But Hoseok isn’t done, yet. He grabs onto Taehyung’s thick and stiff cock, feeling him tighten unbearably around his fingers. He jerks Taehyung off, fisting him roughly, his stomach flexing and filling with knots as Taehyung spasms above him.
“No,” he all but sobs. “Hyung, no, no. I can’t—” he thrusts into Hoseok’s hand, his jaw slack as he pants against his mouth. It’s almost as if he can’t help but react, his hips snapping forward as he grinds down. Sweat drenches his forehead, his fringe hanging limply in his eyes. His ears are completely flat against his head, lost within his hair as he makes the most terribly needy sounds Hoseok’s ever heard come from him.
“Fuck, fuck—” his voice cracks as he falls to pieces in Hoseok’s hands. “Please— s-stop,” and now he really is crying.
Hoseok’s heart flutters to his throat, his chest tight. He can’t breathe, and his hips won’t stop rocking off the bed even though there isn’t anything for him to grind against. “Shh,” he whispers softly, letting go of Taehyung’s cock. He holds his hips, guides him back up onto his knees and slowly removes his fingers.
With Taehyung hovering slightly above him, he’s allowed room to move, and finally pulls his cock free from his pants. He pushes the fabric down his thighs only enough to expose himself, and re-positions Taehyung so that his head is seated right against his rim.
He can’t help but moan out a gentle, “Oh…” as Taehyung’s tail wraps protectively around his own middle, the tip twitching and curving as he slips slowly down onto his cock.
He’s cute this way, Hoseok thinks. Cute and utterly debauched. The orange fur of his tail is a nice contrast against his skin, and the way he’s hugging himself with it only makes Hoseok’s body taut with desire. But all thoughts of cuteness are lost as he feels Taehyung’s hot, wet body enclose around him, almost too tightly for Hoseok to breathe.
Taehyung is slow at first, rocking gently back and forth. It’s like he’s experimenting, trying to find the perfect angle. His hands are propped on the hard front of Hoseok’s chest, keeping his balance; his eyes roll shut and his head tips back. His jaw is nothing but sharp lines, his neck long and thin, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallows. Hoseok wishes he could sit up, only to take the tender skin of Taehyung’s neck between his teeth, to mark him as his.
“Feel okay?” Hoseok asks, barely able to speak.
Taehyung doesn’t answer with words, but instead presses one foot completely flat on the bed, his leg bent at the knee. He leans farther back, his hands leaving Hoseok’s chest. He braces them against the mattress in the empty space between Hoseok’s spread legs. Without a single warning, not even a smirk or an excited smile, he begins grinding down, heavily, sheathing every inch of Hoseok inside him.
His back is arched, his head thrown back; he looks absolutely beautiful—at least to Hoseok. All the lines of Taehyung’s body, he wants to touch, to lick and to taste. The jut of his hipbones, the faint outline of his abdomen muscles; thighs that flex and tremble as he rides his cock as if it were the simplest thing he’s ever done.
Hoseok touches his tail, grabbing the tip and squeezing gently. He can feel how tightly it’s wound around him, constricting like a snake rather than a harmless appendage. He tries to pry it free so that he may run his fingers playfully over it, to massage him and make him feel good. But he finds that it’s hopeless. Taehyung’s too lost in his own world, the pleasure appearing to be too much. He’s moaning loudly, mouth aimed to the ceiling as he fucks himself hard.
Hoseok tries not to notice how the insides of his stomach feel like they’re on fire, his heart ready to explode from his chest. It’s hard to breath, to focus on anything but the sounds falling from Taehyung’s mouth, and the low curses he keeps whispering.
“Sit up,” Hoseok says, more urgently than he wanted to. He helps Taehyung to regain his balance, holding onto him firmly. His ears keep twitching, his head rolling lazily on his neck, eyes unable to stay open and focused for too long. “Hands right here,” and Hoseok places them back onto his chest, rubbing soothingly at the small of Taehyung’s back. “You’re okay,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
“No, no, no…” he whimpers.
Hoseok can only stare up at him, confused, because he has no idea what he’s saying ‘no’ to. But then Taehyung rises up, lowers himself back down. He rises again, and slams all of his body weight onto Hoseok’s hips, forcing his cock deep.
Hoseok gasps sharply, barely choking out a, “god dammit,” and Taehyung nods down at him.
“Yeah,” he whispers as if urging Hoseok on; agreeing that yeah, god dammit is fucking right. But then he’s bouncing steadily in his lap with unforgiving force and roughness, muttering out, “yeah, hyung. Yeah—” no longer sounding like he’s agreeing, but like he’s falling utterly apart without any way of stopping it. He whines and he moans, his tail finally releasing himself to wrap possessively around Hoseok’s wrist.
Heat pools in the pit of Hoseok’s stomach, his cock growing harder with each thrust. He knows his orgasm is dangerously close, that if he wasn’t staving off in favor of Taehyung, he would be a pathetic, whimpering mess already. Really, he should be thankful he’s learned how to keep himself calm, and to not come too quickly. But the urgency is building inside him, his body begging him to let go
He brings his legs up, bending them at the knee and propping his feet on the bed. He lets Taehyung lean back against his thighs for support, and with one hand pressed against the blankets for leverage, the other—still with Taehyung’s tail wrapped neatly around it—taking hold of Taehyung’s cock. He thrusts his hips up, frantically, using his legs to give himself speed. He all but cries out in surprise as Taehyung meets his every move with thrusts equally hard.
They fuck quickly—in a way that’s almost foreign to the both of them. And it feels incredible to Hoseok to have Taehyung’s heat all around him, his nails digging hard into his chest. His hips cut into the flesh of Taehyung’s thighs, and he knows there are going to bruises in the morning; he’s almost positive.
“Taehyung—” Hoseok throws his head back, arches up hard. He tightens his fist around his cock, roughly jerking him off, thumbing at the head, and feeling how slick and hot he is. He grabs onto the base of his tail, petting him quickly, matching his hands to the same speed.
Taehyung isn’t even moving anymore. He’s simply letting Hoseok touch him all over, allowing him to thrust into his body without any resistance. Hoseok has to wonder if Taehyung can move at all; maybe he’s just too tired, his body too used and fucked out.
He’s about to ask if he’s okay, when Taehyung’s whole body tenses.
He rises up farther on his knees, giving Hoseok all the room he needs to slide into him, and reaches out, bracing a hand against the headboard. “Oh—” his other hand reaches for the headboard, too. “Oh, God—” and he leans forward, burying his face against his arms.
The expanse of his chest is right above Hoseok’s head, and he leans up, mouthing openly at Taehyung’s skin. He feels him tighten, his cock stiffening, and right as he’s about to come, he feels the wet warmth of Taehyung’s release cover his stomach, his chest, coating his fingers and dripping down onto the bedsheets.
Hoseok’s vision blurs, blood pounds in his ears. He can hear the soft sounds Taehyung is making, and it only fuels the raging fire within him. It’s one more thrust, and his toes are curling, his thighs shaking uncontrollably as he comes hard.
He makes a choked, high-pitched sound, his arms coming up and wrapping tightly around Taehyung’s middle. He buries his face into his stomach as he rides his orgasm out, his cock suddenly too sensitive to bear.
He pulls out, lies motionless, still smothering himself in Taehyung.
“Hyung,” he hears faintly. “Yah.” A gentle hand caresses through his hair, the simple touch enough to make his nerves unwind. He imagines, if he could, he’d be purring too, like the sound emitting from deep in Taehyung’s chest.
He lets his arms flop at his sides, and expects Taehyung to curl up beside him, but instead he flops down right on top of him—right in all the mess.
“Taehyung-ah,” he whines. “Why?”
He shows no signs of knowing what Hoseok is complaining about. He simply rests his chin on him, and stares up with exhausted eyes. He begins peppering soft kisses on Hoseok’s mouth and cheeks, nuzzling at him and headbutting him gently. He’s always so cuddly afterward, which is probably Hoseok’s favorite thing.
But as he begins getting comfortable, nudging and resting his head into the crook of Hoseok’s neck, Hoseok says, “Ah-ah, no. You don’t get to sleep yet.”
“Why nooot.”
“You need to be cleaned up.”
“But—”
“You’re a mess. You can’t sleep like this. Come on,” and he pushes Taehyung up and off him, pointing toward the bathroom door. “Shower.”
“No.”
Hoseok laughs softly, his eyes squinting shut. “Be a good boy. Go.”
“Come with me,” he pleads softly, reaching out and taking Hoseok’s hand.
“Of course. Just run the water for me.” He makes a face when Taehyung glares at him, and rolls his eyes as his ears flick irritably. He knows Taehyung doesn’t like showers, probably not any more than the next hybrid does, but he also knows his demeanor will change once he’s under the warm water, and Hoseok is lathering his hair with soap.
So, Taehyung goes, as Hoseok knew he would, with his tail hanging lazily between his legs.
He watches him for only a second before taking one of the many discarded shirts off the bedroom floor and fretfully mopping up the mess from his stomach. He drops the shirt into the hamper on the way to the bathroom, his body still buzzing, his legs weak as he walks.
And he thinks, as he steps into the dimly lit room, Taehyung waiting obediently for him, that he’s certain he has the best kitten in the world.
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