Routine is something that Wonwoo finds himself comfortable with.
The easy schedule that he and Jeonghan fall into, the feeling of having control over their lives (even if, ultimately, such a thing doesn’t actually exist), the feeling of knowing what Jeonghan likes, what he wants to do — it gives him a sense of confidence in his everyday life, even if people would claim that such a life is dull and boring. But see, Jeonghan never lets anything be boring. For how much Wonwoo prefers the silence, the serene ambience of their quiet yet comfortable home, Jeonghan craves excitement, though not in ways that would tire Wonwoo, no.
Jeonghan knows Wonwoo like the back of his hand, the same way Wonwoo has even the smallest of things about Jeonghan saved and securely tucked away in his mind. So Jeonghan, in all his sly and mischievous self, knows just what gets Wonwoo going, knows which buttons to push, knows how to please him.
“I want you to take a picture of me,” Jeonghan says on a relatively quiet Friday late afternoon.
This isn’t a particularly peculiar request. Jeonghan has always been Wonwoo’s favorite model, whose beauty Wonwoo can only hope to capture in pictures (it’s never enough, he thinks, no matter skillful he is, no matter what he tries — Wonwoo hasn’t reached the standards he’s set for Jeonghan just yet), ever since the two of them have worked together five years ago, back when Jeonghan was still a starting model and Wonwoo already a somewhat established photographer.
“What kind?” Wonwoo asks, and Jeonghan hums, upper body resting on top of Wonwoo’s lap, legs up in the air.
(When they began dating, no one was particularly surprised. Apparently it was something that everyone else knew was coming (“We see the way you look at Jeonghan hyung, man,” Jihoon said, gesturing to Wonwoo. “He looks at you the way you look at him too. It’s honestly disgusting.”), and that if neither of them decided to confess to the other, their friends would have taken it into their hands. Dating at work isn’t something that Wonwoo expected he’d do himself. But there are a lot of things he never thought he would do that he did after Jeonghan came crashing into his life.
Watching Jeonghan walk down the runway has been an exhilarating experience, clad in an attire meant for androgyny, and he fits the clothes as much as they fit him. And everyone’s attention is split between his visage and his outfit.
Talking to Jeonghan afterwards has been another exhilarating experience, soft voices and coy simpers. He doesn’t seem to mind how quiet Wonwoo is, who has always opted to listen to others rather than to talk himself.
What makes Jeonghan different?
Some of the models he’s met before have charming personalities — Wen Junhui and Kim Mingyu, for example — adding more life to their already picture perfect faces. But Yoon Jeonghan has always stood out, Wonwoo thinks. Wonwoo isn’t unfamiliar with dealing with picture perfect faces, some needing only a little bit of cosmetic to fit the beauty standards that society has set for the rest, but the first ten seconds he has laid his eyes on Yoon Jeonghan — an upcoming and rising runway model — Wonwoo has known his fate.
He thinks it’s the way Jeonghan bursts with so much life even while he’s silent, observing. Wonwoo thinks it’s the way Jeonghan’s eyes seem to tell more than his lips ever could, and that when he walks, the eyes of all that watch the runway focus on him like there’s nothing else — like they aren’t in a fashion runway, where their attention should have lied on the clothes. Wonwoo thinks it’s the way Jeonghan calls his name with such a soft voice. Wonwoo can list down so many things about Jeonghan, but he knows.
The first ten seconds he laid his eyes on Yoon Jeonghan, Wonwoo fell in love.)
But what Jeonghan doesn’t mention along with his request, hours later after the sun has set into the horizon, is that it involves three tall mirrors standing in a half-circle, a relatively tall box in the middle of it all, and most importantly, Jeonghan doesn’t mention anything about wearing nothing except only a silk robe that Wonwoo loves seeing against his lover’s skin so much. Judging by the mischievous glint in Jeonghan’s ways, Wonwoo can tell that this is exactly what Jeonghan was aiming for.
How sneaky, Wonwoo thinks to himself with a light scoff, but he doesn’t mind. Instead, he raises his camera to his eyes, and Jeonghan sits on top of the box.
Getting into the zone has long become second nature for Jeonghan, who immediately moves his body. His silk robe is loose around his figure, exposing a good amount of skin by his shoulders, one side slipping down to his elbows. He places a hand in between his legs, knees facing inwards as he leans forward, raising his other hand to his lips, finger barely touching the soft, pinkish flesh. Jeonghan looks at Wonwoo as if tempting him, but Wonwoo is a professional.
He takes Jeonghan’s photos in strides, having familiarized himself with every angle that accents the other’s features (which, Wonwoo finds on the second time he’s had the opportunity to work with Jeonghan, quite a lot — and rarely does Jeonghan have any bad angles). There’s just the right amount of skin exposed, just the right amount of sensuality, and Jeonghan makes it look so easy.
Enough to make it feel hot even on a rather chilly evening.
Jeonghan’s eyes are his strongest feature, Wonwoo thinks, as he watches Jeonghan lean on one arm, raising his other hand to his chin, lips parting. Only Jeonghan’s face up to his collar bones are captured within the camera. Jeonghan’s eyes seem to look directly into Wonwoo’s and it makes his breath hitch in his throat, makes him gulp inaudibly as he takes Jeonghan’s photo again.
Jeonghan seems to catch onto it, and a corner of his lips curls up teasingly, knowingly. Wonwoo keeps his face passive — or tries to. His eyes narrow, pupils darkening at the sight.
His lover takes it with pride, revels at it even, and he turns so that his back is facing Wonwoo, robe low enough to reveal skin. He raises a hand to his arm, fingertips lightly dancing upon the limb, and he turns his head to look back at Wonwoo.
This time, Jeonghan smiles — in the way he knows that riles Wonwoo up, in the way he knows that’ll send heat throughout Wonwoo’s body. It’s both mischievous and sly, confident and seductive. It’s so Jeonghan, so perfect and fitting on delicate features, and Wonwoo almost forgets to capture the sight, mind overcome by thoughts that should be kept within the bedroom. But Jeonghan seems to have other thoughts and— oh, Wonwoo thinks to himself as realization dawns upon him, this is what Jeonghan wants.
And what Jeonghan wants, Wonwoo delivers.
Wordlessly, Wonwoo sets the camera down on a nearby table, and saunters toward Jeonghan, who stays in his position, only letting his hand fall to his lap. Wonwoo stands in front of Jeonghan, before he places his hands on the other’s shoulders to make Jeonghan face the mirror. With the box Jeonghan’s sitting on, Jeonghan reaches only near Wonwoo’s shoulders, even if Wonwoo is somewhat slouching. Wonwoo presses his chest against Jeonghan’s back, and the older leans in just as easily while Wonwoo snakes an arm around Jeonghan’s petite waist. Jeonghan feels so warm like this, fits exactly in Wonwoo’s arms, and Wonwoo nuzzles against Jeonghan’s hair with a small inhale.
“That was fast,” Jeonghan says, resting a hand on top of the arm around his torso. He speaks as if he doesn’t know why, and Wonwoo entertains him.
“You were making it extremely difficult.” Wonwoo turns his attention to the mirrors around them, and thinks he truly adores the way they look together — the way Jeonghan looks so satisfied in his arms, yet tonight his eyes tell a different story.
“Oh? How so?” Jeonghan’s eyes meet Wonwoo’s gaze in their reflections. They speak of wanton desire, swirling in the dark pools of his eyes, and Wonwoo absolutely takes immense pleasure knowing that it’s only him who can make Jeonghan like this; only him that Jeonghan yearns for like this.
The silk robe, at this point, doesn’t cover much of the man’s skin. Jeonghan’s chest is partially exposed by the already loose robe, and Wonwoo’s other hand reaches for Jeonghan’s shoulder. Jeonghan’s skin is warm under Wonwoo’s touch, and Wonwoo can feel the rise and fall of Jeonghan’s chest; he can feel how Jeonghan’s breaths slow down. Jeonghan’s hand moves to reach out behind him, holding onto Wonwoo’s arm.
“I want you to watch yourself,” Wonwoo says, voice low and deep, as his hand by Jeonghan’s waist glides northwards slowly, as though taking its time to trace Jeonghan’s skin. Jeonghan shivers at his voice and at his touch, only adding fuel to Wonwoo’s already building desire. His hand then finds Jeonghan’s jaw, grips it lightly to make sure Jeonghan is looking at the mirror like Wonwoo is. “You like that, right? You like seeing how you look when you’re all flushed and needy.”
“... I don’t,” Jeonghan all but says weakly, and Wonwoo’s lips curl into a coy curve.
Wonwoo lets his hand slide down from Jeonghan’s shoulder, dragging the robe down as Wonwoo reaches more and more skin, until he finds the belt around Jeonghan’s waist. Slowly, he undoes the belt, lets Jeonghan’s robe slide open to reveal the man’s bare body underneath. Contrary to Wonwoo’s initial assumption, Jeonghan is definitely not wearing anything under the fancy robe, and the older shivers visibly as he’s exposed. Jeonghan’s cheeks are flushed a deep pink and red, but he doesn’t look away.
“You do,” Wonwoo says, almost as if he’s stating the obvious — but there’s a small teasing lilt to his voice. Jeonghan has always loved the attention, has always loved having all eyes on him. He’s beautiful and he knows it, works it to his advantage most of the time, and Wonwoo lets him. It also isn’t a secret that Jeonghan loves looking at his own pictures, admiring his own visage — and so it’s only natural, Wonwoo thinks, for Jeonghan to want to adore how his own reflection looks back at him with the same pair of dark, lustful eyes.
Jeonghan inhales sharply then. “So what if I do?” he replies. “Would you fuck me right here and now if I told you that?”
Such crass words don’t fit Jeonghan’s features at all, but Wonwoo likes it. The idea that Jeonghan has just proposed is tempting, and Wonwoo can still feel the way Jeonghan breathes under his touch. “Perhaps,” is the answer he offers, and Jeonghan’s eyes visibly narrow. “If you deserve it. Do you get what I mean?”
Jeonghan takes yet again another inhale. “You are such a tease sometimes,” he says, drawling his words like a whine.
“Payback,” Wonwoo murmurs, and then he lets his hand slide down from Jeonghan’s hip to his thigh, spreading the older man’s legs. Jeonghan lets Wonwoo take the lead this time — perhaps that was the plan all along. But Wonwoo doesn’t touch Jeonghan where he knows the older man wants him to go. He places his hand on top of Jeonghan’s thigh. “I want you to touch yourself for me, angel.”
It feels as if Wonwoo’s senses have focused on Jeonghan and him alone. He can just feel the hitch of Jeonghan’s breath, the way Jeonghan’s breathing pauses for the briefest of moments. Jeonghan then moves his hand southwards, barely touching his length, knowing how Wonwoo wants it too well. A wave of satisfaction surges within Wonwoo.
“Do you need lube?” Wonwoo asks. His goal is to tease, not to hurt, after all.
To his surprise, Jeonghan shakes his head almost shyly, but he recovers himself rather quickly, as he meets Wonwoo’s eyes — Wonwoo doesn’t think Jeonghan has ever left their eye contact ever since, not intentionally at least — and he answers, “I… I might have touched myself earlier. In the shower. Right before the photoshoot.”
That answer alone almost drives Wonwoo mad. The image makes him feel hotter, temperature in the room suddenly rising and he gulps, running his tongue over his lower lip. “You’ve been very impatient, haven’t you?” Jeonghan shivers under Wonwoo’s caress, Wonwoo’s thumb lightly massaging the other’s thigh. “But you don’t mind waiting a bit more, right? I want to watch you touch yourself. I want you to watch yourself. Do it for me, angel.”
Jeonghan nods, and something glints in his eyes. “Watch me carefully then,” he murmurs, and he slides his hand in between his thighs, fingers circling his entrance. Wonwoo’s breath catches in his throat. “Don’t you dare look away.”
Watching Jeonghan is one of Wonwoo’s greatest pleasures, one that is his and his alone. No one else has had the pleasure of watching Jeonghan come undone right in front of his own reflection, two fingers inside his hole, curling his digits and tensing against Wonwoo’s chest, squirming under his own touch. His legs are pulled to his chest, trying not to fall from the barely wide enough seat he’s decided to use for tonight’s photoshoot (but Jeonghan manages to fit on it, and if Jeonghan behaves then Wonwoo might be able to fuck him above it). Wonwoo’s name falls from Jeonghan’s lips in between shaky, light breaths, gasps when Jeonghan touches his own prostate. “W-Wonwoo, I—”
Watching Jeonghan truly is one of Wonwoo’s greatest pleasures, and he intends to enjoy it thoroughly. Jeonghan looks so fucked even when it’s just his fingers, barely enough, and Wonwoo reaches his hand toward Jeonghan’s own smaller one in between his thighs. Wordlessly, Wonwoo slips one finger along with Jeonghan’s fingers — eliciting a loud, breathy gasp from the older — and he uses his thumb to take hold of Jeonghan’s hand. Jeonghan’s eyes are unfocused when he meets Wonwoo’s once more in the mirror.
His name falls from Jeonghan’s lips again, and Wonwoo thinks it’s one of his favorite sounds.
“You look so pretty like this, angel,” Wonwoo mutters, and he begins thrusting their fingers together into Jeonghan’s heat. Sinful noises escape the older, and all of it goes straight into Wonwoo’s groin. Jeonghan’s pre-cum drips into his stomach, pooling a little, and his limbs are already trembling with just this much. Like this Wonwoo can easily reach Jeonghan’s prostate, and he takes control of Jeonghan’s own fingers in a way that has Jeonghan gasping, squirming as Wonwoo takes advantage of the hold he has over Jeonghan.
He adores the red flush spread throughout Jeonghan’s body, adores the choked moans, broken gasps — it only fuels the heat building in Wonwoo’s gut, doing wonders to his own self-control, but he keeps his desire to satisfy himself in favor of making Jeonghan cry under his touches, cry until he can no longer think of anything else other than Wonwoo’s name.
Wonwoo slides another finger inside Jeonghan, knowing how much more the older man can take, and takes in Jeonghan’s soft whimper. He clenches around the digits inside him, legs trembling as they threaten to close together. But Wonwoo tuts lightly, and he uses his free hand to hold onto Jeonghan’s thigh, spreading it so that the both of them could see clearly the way four fingers fit so easily inside Jeonghan’s hole yet still so tight, his pretty little cock (because everything about Jeonghan is so pretty it makes Wonwoo want to ruin him even more) twitches against his skin.
“Wonwoo,” Jeonghan’s voice trembles. “Want—Want you so fucking bad, please.”
“Not yet, angel,” Wonwoo replies, and Jeonghan fucking mewls, throws his head back as Wonwoo curls all of their fingers together, presses them against Jeonghan’s sensitive bundle of nerves. “I want you to come for me like this — with only our fingers together; without touching your cock. Can you do that for me, Hannie?”
Jeonghan whines, clenching around them. “Just fuck me, Wonwoo, please.”
It’s that whine that lights a sadistic streak in Wonwoo’s libido. “And if I say no?” And to prove his point, he thrusts their knuckles into Jeonghan.
And Jeonghan gasps loudly, a breathy, “fuck!” reaching Wonwoo’s ears. “Fuck. Fuck, oh God, you’re such a fucking tease.”
“You deserve it, don’t you think?” Wonwoo says with a light chuckle, but he doesn’t touch Jeonghan’s cock yet, doesn’t remove their fingers inside the man’s hole just yet. Instead he slides their digits in and out of Jeonghan ruthlessly, leaving the other crying, the latter’s free hand grasping onto Wonwoo’s arm like a lifeline, nails digging into skin. Jeonghan’s breath stutters as his lips part widely, and his noises fill the room. “You’re so, so pretty like this, Hannie. Come for me, and maybe I’ll fuck you after.”
Wonwoo emphasizes each word with a stronger thrust than the last, and Jeonghan breaks. Beautiful tears spill from the latter’s eyes, and he arches his back, squeezes his thighs shut (or tries to, but Wonwoo’s hand stops one leg from moving the way Jeonghan wants it to) — and in his high comes in the form of the scream of Wonwoo’s name and cum spilling uncontrollably onto his skin, onto their wrists. Jeonghan trembles as he gasps for his breath, and his hair tickles the skin of Wonwoo’s neck, but Wonwoo barely notices the feeling.
All he can think of is the way Jeonghan clenches around their fingers together, desperately chasing release; the way Jeonghan looks so wrecked even with just their fingers, even without his cock being touched. Wonwoo engraves the image of Jeonghan’s flushed cheeks into his mind (tucked in the same space where their shared memories of lust have been kept); of Jeonghan’s glassy eyes, tear-stricken skin; of Jeonghan’s dazed stare; of the feeling of Jeonghan’s warmth, flushed against Wonwoo’s chest.
Wonwoo realizes belatedly that he hasn’t undressed himself at all, and his pants feel a little too tight around his groin. But instead he decides to focus on Jeonghan, plants a soft kiss on the side of the other’s head. “You did so good, my little angel,” Wonwoo whispers, and Jeonghan seems to relax more in his hold. Slowly, Wonwoo pulls their fingers out of Jeonghan, and he hears a soft sigh fall from Jeonghan’s lips. Jeonghan’s legs still visibly tremble, most likely trying to rest down the high from his orgasm.
“But I’m not done with you yet,” Wonwoo says, and Jeonghan’s barely able to let out a small hum before Wonwoo shifts so that he can easily hold Jeonghan’s chin, tilts his head up so that Wonwoo can kiss him. And when he kisses Jeonghan, it’s all sorts of soft and careful, slow and languid, far too different from the way he handled Jeonghan just minutes ago. This makes Jeonghan melt in his arms, and he clings onto Wonwoo, holds onto his shoulders tightly.
When Wonwoo bites Jeonghan’s lower tier, not hard enough to bruise but enough to pull a reaction out of the other (a sharp, low exhale, and Jeonghan’s breath dances upon Wonwoo’s lips), Jeonghan pulls away a little, just enough for the man to catch his breath. They’re both panting, breathing heavily (though Jeonghan even more so) when Jeonghan speaks again, whiny and needy, “Wonwoo—Wonwoo, please. I…. I want you inside me so bad.”
And who is Wonwoo to deny such an adorable request?
They find themselves in their shared bedroom near the photoshoot area, with Wonwoo placing Jeonghan on the bed, still clad in his robes — albeit now a complete mess. But they don’t mind it. Somewhere along the way to the bedroom, Jeonghan has managed to unbutton Wonwoo’s shirt, clumsily pushing it off the younger’s torso. Amidst their messy liplock, with pulling away for air in between, Wonwoo has lost his pants along with his underwear. It’s so easy to lose himself in Jeonghan — the way he so needily holds onto Wonwoo, the way he so sinfully lets those noises out.
Jeonghan is intoxicating in so many ways, and Wonwoo indulges himself as always.
Wonwoo kisses Jeonghan with the intent to consume. He lets his tongue ravish Jeonghan’s mouth, dancing with Jeonghan’s, leaving no area untouched. He rolls his hips against Jeonghan’s crotch, and the man moans into his mouth, into the kiss. Their hands roam each other’s bodies, just taking in what’s already familiar under their fingertips, having already memorized every line, every curve — everything.
They have explored their bodies enough time to know what gets the other to keen, to be weak under their hands. Wonwoo, in particular, has had quite too many opportunities to study Jeonghan — the beauty mark on Jeonghan’s left cheek, to which Wonwoo places a small, soft kiss upon, and he feels Jeonghan melt under his hands;
the sensitive spot above his collarbones, which Wonwoo now bites onto the skin, teeth sinking into the flesh in a way that Wonwoo knows would bruise, in a way that would leave a mark (and honestly, Wonwoo wants the entire world to know, even if Jeonghan needs a perfect, unblemished body in the industry the both of them work in but right now Wonwoo throws caution to the wind);
the skin on Jeonghan’s earlobe, to which Wonwoo breathes against as he leans into when he whispers, “You’re doing well, love — so, so well,” as he strokes Jeonghan’s length to hardness once more, and Jeonghan cries in sensitivity, “you can do one more for me, right?” (because Wonwoo knows Jeonghan’s cues well enough to know that his whimpers of stop, it’s too much aren’t telling him to stop; Jeonghan wants him to go more, give more and Wonwoo thrives on giving, on providing, because Jeonghan deserves to be spoiled and nothing less — even if Wonwoo teases him every now and then.)
When Wonwoo positions himself at Jeonghan's entrance, he takes it as a chance to bask in the exquisite visage splayed beneath him.
And what greets him is a masterpiece. Jeonghan’s skin is illuminated by the night lamps on their bed tables, the moonlight that slips through the curtains, and it gives the man an ethereal glow, despite the lewd, lustful mien he adorns on his countenance at that very moment. Jeonghan looks at Wonwoo like he’s the only thing Jeonghan can ever want, with his hands placed on the sides of his head, knees bent as close as they can to his chest. Jeonghan is so bare, naked and all for Wonwoo to take.
“You’re… so beautiful, angel. Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” Jeonghan can’t even find the strength to utter a decent reply, falling somewhat into an incoherent murmur and into a hum.
This isn’t the first time Wonwoo has seen Jeonghan’s body and it certainly won’t be the last — but he touches it then as though it is: gentle, careful, and Jeonghan keens at the praise, at the touches, and his eyes close briefly. Wonwoo reaches out to cup Jeonghan’s cheek lightly, caresses the skin, and Jeonghan meets his gaze. Eyes dark, still dazed with lust and desire.
So Wonwoo places his hand beside Jeonghan’s face, and pushes into Jeonghan’s heat. Jeonghan’s toes curl as he lets out a choked gasp, his legs wrapping around Wonwoo even tighter the moment Wonwoo bottoms out. Wonwoo can’t help the curse that comes out of his lips. Jeonghan feels so, so good around him, so hot and tight around his cock. He doesn’t move immediately, however, and waits until Jeonghan gets used to it, until Jeonghan’s body calms down from its light trembling.
“You can move now,” Jeonghan murmurs after a few moments, his hands digging into the mattress. “Please. I—” He inhales a shaky breath, “—I need you now.”
Wonwoo doesn’t need to be told twice. The pace he sets right off the bat is brutal and fast, hovering over Jeonghan the way he knows will make the older cry. With each thrust onto Jeonghan’s sweet spot, the older man jolts in pleasure, voice that’s unused to screaming filling the room with hoarse, breathy moans. Jeonghan’s prettier like this, Wonwoo thinks to himself as his own jaw clenches, his hips moving mercilessly. Jeonghan looks even prettier when he’s disheveled, way past the point of even minding the noises that come out of his lips, the tears that taint his cheeks.
And Wonwoo wants nothing else than to see more.
Jeonghan’s hands find their way to Wonwoo’s back, nails digging into the skin, breaking skin until they leave marks — and it stings, but Wonwoo doesn’t mind. Instead it makes him groan lowly, and he leans down to capture Jeonghan’s lips, swallowing the other’s moans as his own pace slows down a little to accommodate the new position.
Like this, Wonwoo’s deeper, closer, and he whispers praises upon Jeonghan’s skin when he pulls away from the kiss. He whispers praises upon Jeonghan’s jaw as he breathes upon the skin, and Jeonghan grabs onto his hair, pulls at it that causes a burn to head straight to his own cock. Wonwoo’s name drops from Jeonghan’s lips like a mantra, mixed with a string of curses and unintelligible words, completely lost and drowning in pleasure. Wonwoo stops in his movements (eliciting a loud whine from Jeonghan’s lips, a rather high-pitched, “why did you stop?” answered only by a wicked grin on Wonwoo’s tiers), moving so that he’s kneeling in between the older’s legs. Placing his hands on Jeonghan’s sides, he begins thrusting again — this time faster, similar to the initial pace he set earlier.
Jeonghan so easily cries with each thrust, pretty little face stricken with both tears and wanton desire. He’s completely crumbled, fingers once again digging into the mattress by his head, and Wonwoo thinks this is Jeonghan at his prettiest: Jeonghan without limits, without control, only pure want and instinct . It is one of Jeonghan’s most vulnerable states, and Wonwoo feels absolutely honored to have been given the permission to witness such a magnificent sight.
Together, they chase for their high — Wonwoo holds the hand that Jeonghan reaches out to him, pinning it down as Jeonghan all but screams, “I’m—I’m coming, Wonwoo—” And Wonwoo utters a low, throaty, “come for me then, angel. Come.”
Jeonghan does then — back arching, voice filling the room once more with a loud, drawled moan of Wonwoo’s name, fingers digging into Wonwoo’s knuckles and onto his back (no doubt leaving more marks, but Wonwoo has never minded anyway — not even once). Wonwoo revels at the sight, at the sound, and everything that is Jeonghan beneath him.
That’s more than enough to drive Wonwoo to the edge.
He follows Jeonghan after — leaning over Jeonghan, lips finding their way to Jeonghan’s shoulder (and Wonwoo bites hard, harsh enough to leave yet again another mark, one that will stay for days and Wonwoo won’t regret one bit of it), and his hips stutter into Jeonghan, his cum easily filling the older’s tight heat. He lays still for a few moments, letting his high fall as he relishes the feeling of being inside Jeonghan. He feels Jeonghan caress his hair, and it’s almost — almost — tempting to just stay inside Jeonghan and collapse.
But he knows Jeonghan will hit him if he does, so he looks up to see Jeonghan with a soft, tired smile. “I love you,” Jeonghan says first, and Wonwoo smiles too. It’s contagious, really, when Jeonghan smiles, it feels as if the world does too. Perhaps he’s biased (and there’s a high chance of that happening, honestly), but he thinks Jeonghan has the prettiest smiles he’s ever seen in his entire life.
Wonwoo moves so that he can plant a kiss on Jeonghan’s lips, careful not to move his length too much from inside Jeonghan’s heat. The kiss is chaste, soft and quick, and Wonwoo leans away to prop himself up on his elbows. “I love you too.”
Jeonghan chuckles lightly, before he hits Wonwoo’s arm lightly. “Now get off me. I don’t want to fall asleep with your dick still inside me.”
“You like waking up like that though.”
“Oh, fuck you.”