It's kind of a little (a lot) mind-blowing, the way Mingi rolls his hips—that's the first thing Himchan thinks of, which, he'll think later, is a little stupid, considering. But it's true—Mingi leans back and braces himself on Himchan's thigh and moves and it's like nothing that Himchan had ever expected and everything that he wanted all rolled up into one bewilderingly arousing package. Honestly, Himchan can't even do anything, because Mingi is so thoroughly in control of both his own movements and this entire situation—this can't be his first time, Himchan realizes, and though the thought should irritate him, all it does is make him moan.
Mingi gives him absolutely no quarter, and it doesn't take all that long before Himchan—embarrassingly—palms at the rise of Mingi's hipbones and gasps something incoherent before coming. Mingi laughs, but it's desperate and breathless, and when Himchan gets too sensitive to keep thrusting into him, he pulls out and all but throws Mingi back down onto the bed.
"Tell me what you want," he gasps, and Mingi smirks, stretches out and spreads his legs like he wants Himchan between them. (He probably does.)
"Your fingers," Mingi says, his own fingertips tripping along his ribs and stomach. "Please, hyung, I need—"
This time it's Himchan's turn to cut Mingi off, although he does it with a lot less finesse and grace than Mingi had done to him, sliding three fingers into Mingi (he doesn't even need lube, Mingi is sloppy from Himchan's orgasm anyway) and pressing up, relentless, until Mingi has to bite down on the outside of his wrist to keep himself from moaning too loudly (Himchan does have neighbors, after all). It's sort of gorgeous to watch Mingi fall apart, his skin shining sweat-slick and his eyes fluttering closed, stomach and thigh muscles tensing as he rocks back into Himchan's fingers with a kind of singleminded intensity that makes Himchan dizzy.
When Mingi comes it's with a gasp, followed by a low moan of Himchan's name stifled against the skin of his forearm, and then Mingi spills all over his own stomach, with no help from Himchan whatsoever. Himchan works him through it, keeps his fingers up against Mingi's prostate until Mingi squirms away, exhausted and oversensitive.
"Mmmgnh," is the sound Mingi makes when Himchan withdraws his fingers, wiping them carelessly on the bed and then sprawling out next to Mingi. Even like this, messy and spent, with Himchan's come between his legs and his own smeared on his lower stomach, Mingi is gorgeous, and the look in his eyes when he finally opens them to glance up at Himchan is enough to stop Himchan in his tracks.
"So," Himchan says, at a loss for words.
"So," Mingi says, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Himchan's wrist, "stop staring like a creep and cuddle me. I can feel your come, that's gross, next time you're using a condom."
"Yes, sir," Himchan says with a laugh (to hide his blush), and he wraps his arms around Mingi, lets Mingi fold himself into Himchan's chest and relax there. This, at least, is familiar, even if nothing else about this evening has been.
"Let's do that again sometime," Mingi suggests into the hollow of Himchan's collarbone, and Himchan wonders when (if ever) he's going to learn to resist.
2/2 aww ye
Mingi gives him absolutely no quarter, and it doesn't take all that long before Himchan—embarrassingly—palms at the rise of Mingi's hipbones and gasps something incoherent before coming. Mingi laughs, but it's desperate and breathless, and when Himchan gets too sensitive to keep thrusting into him, he pulls out and all but throws Mingi back down onto the bed.
"Tell me what you want," he gasps, and Mingi smirks, stretches out and spreads his legs like he wants Himchan between them. (He probably does.)
"Your fingers," Mingi says, his own fingertips tripping along his ribs and stomach. "Please, hyung, I need—"
This time it's Himchan's turn to cut Mingi off, although he does it with a lot less finesse and grace than Mingi had done to him, sliding three fingers into Mingi (he doesn't even need lube, Mingi is sloppy from Himchan's orgasm anyway) and pressing up, relentless, until Mingi has to bite down on the outside of his wrist to keep himself from moaning too loudly (Himchan does have neighbors, after all). It's sort of gorgeous to watch Mingi fall apart, his skin shining sweat-slick and his eyes fluttering closed, stomach and thigh muscles tensing as he rocks back into Himchan's fingers with a kind of singleminded intensity that makes Himchan dizzy.
When Mingi comes it's with a gasp, followed by a low moan of Himchan's name stifled against the skin of his forearm, and then Mingi spills all over his own stomach, with no help from Himchan whatsoever. Himchan works him through it, keeps his fingers up against Mingi's prostate until Mingi squirms away, exhausted and oversensitive.
"Mmmgnh," is the sound Mingi makes when Himchan withdraws his fingers, wiping them carelessly on the bed and then sprawling out next to Mingi. Even like this, messy and spent, with Himchan's come between his legs and his own smeared on his lower stomach, Mingi is gorgeous, and the look in his eyes when he finally opens them to glance up at Himchan is enough to stop Himchan in his tracks.
"So," Himchan says, at a loss for words.
"So," Mingi says, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Himchan's wrist, "stop staring like a creep and cuddle me. I can feel your come, that's gross, next time you're using a condom."
"Yes, sir," Himchan says with a laugh (to hide his blush), and he wraps his arms around Mingi, lets Mingi fold himself into Himchan's chest and relax there. This, at least, is familiar, even if nothing else about this evening has been.
"Let's do that again sometime," Mingi suggests into the hollow of Himchan's collarbone, and Himchan wonders when (if ever) he's going to learn to resist.