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Entry tags:
[FIC]: made to measure: 3 (a good day).
made to measure: 3 (a good day), nc-17, woohyun/dongwoo.
if we're together we will never cry.
i breathe in your arms,
we kiss in your arms
when i hear your voice,
it feels like i'm dreaming
i can tell from your eyes,
i can tell about your love
you are my heaven
ailee, "heaven"
MADE TO MEASURE: 3 (AGAY GOOD DAY)
woohyun/dongwoo
Dongwoo wakes up with his head on Woohyun’s chest, Woohyun’s arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Woohyun’s awake already—probably has been for a while—and he’s propped up on a few pillows, a well-loved collection of poetry held open in his hand. “Morning,” Woohyun says when Dongwoo shifts to look up at him. He’s wearing reading glasses. Dongwoo can see that becoming a problem in the immediate future.
“Hi,” Dongwoo says, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “What are you reading?”
“On the ground, a long, long kiss; oh the shuddering, / biting wormwood, teeth so white set on edge, / bestial laughter tasting so sweet, tasting / as sweet as tears,” Woohyun reads aloud. “It’s Midang.”
Dongwoo shakes his head and pushes himself up a bit to lean against the headboard. When they’d met, he wouldn’t have pegged Woohyun for the type to sit in bed on a Saturday morning reading books of famous Korean poetry—now, it doesn’t surprise him. “Shuddering and biting, hmm?” he says, smiling.
“And teeth set on edge, don’t forget those.” Woohyun dog-ears a page of his book and sets it to the side. “Want breakfast? —Or lunch. Whatever.”
The clock on the bedside table reads 11:48. “Maybe later,” Dongwoo says, shifting to sit across Woohyun’s lap.
They kiss lazily for a few minutes, nothing but shamelessly indulging in each other. Woohyun’s hands skim aimlessly over Dongwoo’s skin, his back, his sides, eventually coming to rest at his hips, and Dongwoo pulls back only long enough to remove Woohyun’s glasses. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he says.
“Only when I’m too lazy to put in contacts,” Woohyun says.
“Like this morning?”
Woohyun shrugs. “Didn’t feel like getting out of bed.”
Dongwoo kisses him again, working his way into Woohyun’s sweatpants to take his cock to hand. Woohyun’s half-hard already, but when he rubs his thumb over the tip Dongwoo can feel the way Woohyun’s cock twitches in response. It’s easy as anything, first thing in the morning (afternoon), to ease into the sensation of it all with none of the desperation or blind lust—not that Dongwoo doesn’t appreciate that, too, but sometimes he likes the softness of this kind of thing.
“I could get used to spending our days off like this,” Woohyun says when Dongwoo shifts to kiss along the line of his jaw, down his throat, his collarbone. “Stay in bed all day, have a lot of sex, maybe get up to eat.”
“That’s the idea,” Dongwoo says, glancing up from where he has his mouth pressed just above Woohyun’s navel.
“Jesus, Dongwoo,” Woohyun says, meeting Dongwoo’s eyes for a moment before tipping his head back against the wall. Dongwoo makes a curious sound, and Woohyun elaborates— “You get this look right before you do something you think I’ll like. Devious. It drives me out of my fucking mind.”
And then Woohyun doesn’t say much else, because Dongwoo tugs his sweatpants down over his hips and leans down to press the flat of his tongue against the head of Woohyun’s cock. Woohyun’s fingers find their way into Dongwoo’s hair, reassuring, as Dongwoo goes down on him, fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, tongue pressed against the vein on the bottom. Woohyun makes these sounds, too, when Dongwoo does certain things—hollows his cheeks and sucks, or flicks his tongue against the slit at the very tip of Woohyun’s cock—that are enough to have Dongwoo so hard it almost hurts, his cock straining against his boxers even as he’s focusing on Woohyun.
Woohyun’s not very coherent in moments like these, so Dongwoo has learned to read his body—the way his fingers clench in Dongwoo’s hair, the way his stomach muscles tense, the way his thighs flex against Dongwoo’s shoulders. And when Woohyun is on the edge of orgasm, gasping with it, Dongwoo pulls away.
“Oh what the hell,” Woohyun says, closing his eyes tight for a moment and pushing his hair out of his face. “How did I get myself involved with such a tease—”
“Shut up,” Dongwoo says, laughing breathlessly. He kicks his boxers off, over the edge of the bed, and straddles Woohyun again—this is what he wanted, both of them gasping with it, and Dongwoo’s so hard he thinks his head is about to explode, so close he can practically taste it.
It’s not coordinated. He wraps one hand around both of their cocks, and from there it’s like they’re teenagers again, moving against each other with no finesse or purpose other than seeking pleasure. Shameless hedonism, that’s what it is, but when Dongwoo comes—prompted by the way Woohyun had moaned Dongwoo’s name when he came, teeth sinking into Dongwoo’s shoulder—it’s still enough to leave him boneless and lightheaded.
They lay together in a sweaty disheveled tangle for a minute before Woohyun laughs. “Wow,” he says, reaching out to run his fingers through Dongwoo’s hair. “We should start the day like that every day.”
“All in favor,” Dongwoo says, raising a hand.
“All opposed,” Woohyun replies. Neither of them raise their hands—of course—and Woohyun declares, “Motion passed.”
Dongwoo smiles and lets his eyes fall closed, and feels rather than sees Woohyun roll off the bed and pad away toward the bathroom. He returns after a moment, bearing a warm washcloth, which he drops on Dongwoo’s stomach. “You started it,” he says, smiling when Dongwoo cracks an eye open to look at him. “You get to do cleanup duty.”
Honestly, Dongwoo feels too good to even pretend to be offended, so he just picks up the washcloth and wipes down his and Woohyun’s stomachs. He tosses the washcloth in the same direction as he’d tossed his underwear, then leans down to kiss Woohyun—less purpose this time, more just enjoying the little sparks of pleasure still traveling his nervous system.
Woohyun curls one hand behind his neck and holds him in place. “Jang Dongwoo,” he says, looking up at Dongwoo. “I’m so in love with you I don’t even know what to do about it, you know that?”
Dongwoo had suspected—for some time, actually—but it still makes him grin to hear the words aloud. “I know,” he says, leaning down to kiss Woohyun again. “I love you. Even though you’re cheesy and embarrassing and you read poetry in your spare time.”
Woohyun pinches his side. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“No,” Dongwoo agrees, laughing. “I guess I wouldn’t.”
if we're together we will never cry.
i breathe in your arms,
we kiss in your arms
when i hear your voice,
it feels like i'm dreaming
i can tell from your eyes,
i can tell about your love
you are my heaven
ailee, "heaven"
MADE TO MEASURE: 3 (A
woohyun/dongwoo
Dongwoo wakes up with his head on Woohyun’s chest, Woohyun’s arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Woohyun’s awake already—probably has been for a while—and he’s propped up on a few pillows, a well-loved collection of poetry held open in his hand. “Morning,” Woohyun says when Dongwoo shifts to look up at him. He’s wearing reading glasses. Dongwoo can see that becoming a problem in the immediate future.
“Hi,” Dongwoo says, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “What are you reading?”
“On the ground, a long, long kiss; oh the shuddering, / biting wormwood, teeth so white set on edge, / bestial laughter tasting so sweet, tasting / as sweet as tears,” Woohyun reads aloud. “It’s Midang.”
Dongwoo shakes his head and pushes himself up a bit to lean against the headboard. When they’d met, he wouldn’t have pegged Woohyun for the type to sit in bed on a Saturday morning reading books of famous Korean poetry—now, it doesn’t surprise him. “Shuddering and biting, hmm?” he says, smiling.
“And teeth set on edge, don’t forget those.” Woohyun dog-ears a page of his book and sets it to the side. “Want breakfast? —Or lunch. Whatever.”
The clock on the bedside table reads 11:48. “Maybe later,” Dongwoo says, shifting to sit across Woohyun’s lap.
They kiss lazily for a few minutes, nothing but shamelessly indulging in each other. Woohyun’s hands skim aimlessly over Dongwoo’s skin, his back, his sides, eventually coming to rest at his hips, and Dongwoo pulls back only long enough to remove Woohyun’s glasses. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he says.
“Only when I’m too lazy to put in contacts,” Woohyun says.
“Like this morning?”
Woohyun shrugs. “Didn’t feel like getting out of bed.”
Dongwoo kisses him again, working his way into Woohyun’s sweatpants to take his cock to hand. Woohyun’s half-hard already, but when he rubs his thumb over the tip Dongwoo can feel the way Woohyun’s cock twitches in response. It’s easy as anything, first thing in the morning (afternoon), to ease into the sensation of it all with none of the desperation or blind lust—not that Dongwoo doesn’t appreciate that, too, but sometimes he likes the softness of this kind of thing.
“I could get used to spending our days off like this,” Woohyun says when Dongwoo shifts to kiss along the line of his jaw, down his throat, his collarbone. “Stay in bed all day, have a lot of sex, maybe get up to eat.”
“That’s the idea,” Dongwoo says, glancing up from where he has his mouth pressed just above Woohyun’s navel.
“Jesus, Dongwoo,” Woohyun says, meeting Dongwoo’s eyes for a moment before tipping his head back against the wall. Dongwoo makes a curious sound, and Woohyun elaborates— “You get this look right before you do something you think I’ll like. Devious. It drives me out of my fucking mind.”
And then Woohyun doesn’t say much else, because Dongwoo tugs his sweatpants down over his hips and leans down to press the flat of his tongue against the head of Woohyun’s cock. Woohyun’s fingers find their way into Dongwoo’s hair, reassuring, as Dongwoo goes down on him, fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, tongue pressed against the vein on the bottom. Woohyun makes these sounds, too, when Dongwoo does certain things—hollows his cheeks and sucks, or flicks his tongue against the slit at the very tip of Woohyun’s cock—that are enough to have Dongwoo so hard it almost hurts, his cock straining against his boxers even as he’s focusing on Woohyun.
Woohyun’s not very coherent in moments like these, so Dongwoo has learned to read his body—the way his fingers clench in Dongwoo’s hair, the way his stomach muscles tense, the way his thighs flex against Dongwoo’s shoulders. And when Woohyun is on the edge of orgasm, gasping with it, Dongwoo pulls away.
“Oh what the hell,” Woohyun says, closing his eyes tight for a moment and pushing his hair out of his face. “How did I get myself involved with such a tease—”
“Shut up,” Dongwoo says, laughing breathlessly. He kicks his boxers off, over the edge of the bed, and straddles Woohyun again—this is what he wanted, both of them gasping with it, and Dongwoo’s so hard he thinks his head is about to explode, so close he can practically taste it.
It’s not coordinated. He wraps one hand around both of their cocks, and from there it’s like they’re teenagers again, moving against each other with no finesse or purpose other than seeking pleasure. Shameless hedonism, that’s what it is, but when Dongwoo comes—prompted by the way Woohyun had moaned Dongwoo’s name when he came, teeth sinking into Dongwoo’s shoulder—it’s still enough to leave him boneless and lightheaded.
They lay together in a sweaty disheveled tangle for a minute before Woohyun laughs. “Wow,” he says, reaching out to run his fingers through Dongwoo’s hair. “We should start the day like that every day.”
“All in favor,” Dongwoo says, raising a hand.
“All opposed,” Woohyun replies. Neither of them raise their hands—of course—and Woohyun declares, “Motion passed.”
Dongwoo smiles and lets his eyes fall closed, and feels rather than sees Woohyun roll off the bed and pad away toward the bathroom. He returns after a moment, bearing a warm washcloth, which he drops on Dongwoo’s stomach. “You started it,” he says, smiling when Dongwoo cracks an eye open to look at him. “You get to do cleanup duty.”
Honestly, Dongwoo feels too good to even pretend to be offended, so he just picks up the washcloth and wipes down his and Woohyun’s stomachs. He tosses the washcloth in the same direction as he’d tossed his underwear, then leans down to kiss Woohyun—less purpose this time, more just enjoying the little sparks of pleasure still traveling his nervous system.
Woohyun curls one hand behind his neck and holds him in place. “Jang Dongwoo,” he says, looking up at Dongwoo. “I’m so in love with you I don’t even know what to do about it, you know that?”
Dongwoo had suspected—for some time, actually—but it still makes him grin to hear the words aloud. “I know,” he says, leaning down to kiss Woohyun again. “I love you. Even though you’re cheesy and embarrassing and you read poetry in your spare time.”
Woohyun pinches his side. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“No,” Dongwoo agrees, laughing. “I guess I wouldn’t.”