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“This,” Jeonghan says, unbuttoning the front of Seungcheol’s fancy black shirt, “is mine.” He grabs the collar and strips it off Seungcheol’s arms. “Mine,” Jeonghan repeats, and takes the hem of the t-shirt, lifting, and Seungcheol can’t think to do anything but obediently raise his hands in surrender, and let it come off too.
“Mine,” Jeonghan repeats, eyes wide, dark, and he puts his hands on Seungcheol’s skin at last. One palm to each pectoral muscle. Not flat, because Seungcheol isn’t flat there right now. Seungcheol isn’t flat anywhere right now.
“Mine,” Jeonghan murmurs, his mouth up close now to the curve of Seungcheol’s jaw, those sweet, red lips maybe brushing a little artificial tint against Seungcheol’s neck. Like a predator, like blood, like he’ll eat him right up the same way he did the beef at the restaurant earlier. And Seungcheol gasps as he feels Jeonghan’s teeth – Jeonghan can’t be telepathic, nobody is. But Jeonghan knows his mind. Jeonghan can hear the things in his head, even when he doesn’t know how to say them.
“We’re on hiatus, I can mark my property however the fuck I like,” Jeonghan tells him now, words still half-heard, half-felt as they’re breathed across the skin that is now wet and warm. Jeonghan licks over where he’s bitten, like there’s something to taste. Probably really there’s cologne, astringent and sour, but Jeonghan does it anyway. One of Jeonghan’s hands has come to rest on Seungcheol’s waist, his thumb stroking slowly up and down the valley of Seungcheol’s hip. Jeonghan’s teeth dig in again, and Seungcheol can feel his dick kick in his nice trousers, and Jeonghan working one handed and blind, getting the fly open, pushing them down. They have to separate a little to manage the logistics of the underpants. Staggering back a little, now fully naked, Seungcheol looks at the carpeted floor of Jeonghan’s bedroom.
“Do you even know how hot I am for you?” Jeonghan asks, and Seungcheol blinks, bites his lip. If Jeonghan told him to look at him right now, forced him to meet his eyes and witness his reaction, Seungcheol would do it, but it would still be too much.
“I don’t dress like this for just any boy,” Jeonghan continues, and makes a little noise, a little gasp like he’s stretching. Seungcheol darts a quick gaze at him, because yes, he can’t get enough of it, of Jeonghan in that fluffy cardigan, throat bare, collarbones visible. Seungcheol would mark him in a heartbeat if Jeonghan allowed it, for a million reasons besides distracting attention from his own body, but that’s for a very, very special occasion only.
“I’ve probably worn these trousers a few places now,” Jeonghan concedes, thoughtfully, once there’s been the click of the cardigan going onto its hanger. Seungcheol can tell from his peripheral vision that Jeonghan is looking down as he undoes his own button-fly with due care and attention, and that’s calming, knowing that he himself is not being studied, so he allows himself to watch. Jeonghan pushes the trousers off, and carefully steps out of them. He has nothing on underneath.
“First time out for this little number though,” Jeonghan comments, turning around, bending over ostensibly to place the folded trousers on a chair, and Seungcheol can see…
“Or not so little,” Jeonghan says, consideringly. He shifts his hips, and the base of the thing sparkles, and Seungcheol was already hard but now he’s not sure there’s enough blood left for his brain, he’s aching, and Jeonghan gives a little gasp again: “Because you’re not so little, are you?”
“Are you, baby?” Jeonghan repeats, and Seungcheol flushes a different way, and maybe a little the same way, with that. That’s the kind of assertion that can come from the most challenging parts of his brain, a thought shape he’s struggled with. And yet in that tone, from Jeonghan…
“Lie down,” Jeonghan tells him softly, not giving him time to overthink it. And when Seungcheol has moved backwards to the bed – oh the joy of having them both off crutches at last, that had been a nightmare – he follows him immediately, crowding him down to lie flat on his back, climbing up to kneel straddling his hips and leaning in to kiss him.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” Jeonghan whispers, when they break to breathe, and he pushes his dick against the slight rise of Seungcheol’s abdomen, whining just a little as he lets himself rut. “About how hot you look right now. You knew you had to keep exercising to keep your brain right, and even with your knee, with all the pain you were in, you figured out how to do an upper body regime that worked for you, and now you’re chunky with good decisions, a big old roasted dinner of self-care, and I love you so much for that because you’re mine and I want my lovely things to be cherished.” He moves his hips again, rubbing like he can’t stop himself, and Seungcheol had never known his belly was an erogenous zone, not until he’d got a little more of one and Jeonghan had proceeded to go nuts about it.
“Hmmmmm, I think, uh,” Jeonghan interrupts himself, a little hitch in his breath, pausing in his movements to breathe, open-mouthed, and lick his own teeth. “I think you’re going to let me get off against you like this first, because… ngh… god, do you understand, how hot this is? How hot you are? And then, ah, uh! Then, I’m going to take the plug out, and I’m going to s-sit, ngh, on your dick, get all that big man of mine right up inside me where I want him.” His hips are working, pre-come leaking freely – the plug can only be helping, pressing up against him inside, and Seungcheol moves a hand to cup Jeonghan’s butt and the other to explore between the cheeks, reaching the base and pressing it, and Jeonghan gasps, and smacks his chest, and Seungcheol finds himself laughing with the sheer joy of it. With how good he feels, with how good his body feels, maybe not perfect by every standard, but it works for Jeonghan and that, perhaps, is all that actually matters.
“And then, baby,” Jeonghan says, tilting forward again, kissing him. They lose the sentence for a while, Jeonghan’s lips and teeth all over his chest, Seungcheol trying not to notice the occasional thrilling touch of Jeonghan’s own abdomen to his dick, because he’s got to last as long as Jeonghan needs him. “… baby, and then I’m going to sit on your face, and have you eat all your lovely come, the lovely stuff from your lovely body, right back out of me.”
“It’s mine,” Seungcheol tells him, agreeing, rejoicing, and watches the triumphant, happy smile breaking over Jeonghan’s face, until, like magnets, they are kissing again, unable to tell where one body ends and the other begins.