Work Text:
mingyu kim (kuya josh)
5:48 PM
Papunta na ako sa condo mo
?
Your brother asked me to.
Sumama ka raw sa pupuntahan namin
no
i dont wanna go
im gonna play roblox later
You’re 22
and what abt it, oldie?
roblox is for all ages naman :/
Okay
Pero sasama ka nga raw
tell kuya im sick!!!
i wanna stay in the condo nga lang kasi later >:(
Billiards daw yun mag-eenjoy ka raw
billiards? : )
Don’t start something you can’t finish, Wonwoo.
im not doing anything???
Alam ko ginagawa mo.
what?
oh!
do u remember railing me from behind last week just because i lost sa game natin? :)
u practically won… pero bakit parang ako pa rin yung nanalo, when i made you cum three times with all of my holes?
Ako na bahala sa kuya mo, huwag ka na sumama.
u know what…
i actually wanna go na pala!
billiards sounds fun today haha
pick me up na
👍🏻
drive safely, kim :)
Wonwoo entered Mingyu’s car.
“Bagong salamin?” Mingyu asked, voice too casual.
Wonwoo didn’t look up from his phone. “Yeah. Why?”
Mingyu stared. “Tangina.”
That made Wonwoo glance over, brows lifting. “What?”
“You can’t just show up looking like that.”
Wonwoo scoffed. “Like what? Matino?”
Mingyu exhales hard through his nose.
Wonwoo licked his bottom lip, slow. Tucked a finger under the frame of his glasses and pushed them up higher.
“Well,” he said, eyes meeting Mingyu’s now, sharp behind the lenses. “Good thing I’m not easy.”
Mingyu’s grip on the wheel tightened.
“Put those away,” Mingyu muttered, eyes flicking back to the road, jaw tense.
Wonwoo hummed, smug. “Put what away?”
“‘Yung glasses. Or your mouth. Either works.”
“Why?” he asked, innocent and not. “Are they distracting you?”
Mingyu laughed once, dry. “You’re gonna kill me.”
Wonwoo turned his head, leaned back against the seat, one leg crossing over the other. “Not my fault you can’t focus.”
“You know what you’re doing.”
“I really, really don’t,” he said, dragging the tip of his finger across his bottom lip. “I just wanted to see clearly.”
Mingyu glanced at him. Regretted it instantly.
“Keep your eyes on the road, Kim.”
Mingyu tapped the steering wheel with one hand, the other tense against his thigh. He hadn’t looked at Wonwoo in a while.
On purpose.
Kasi kapag tiningnan niya ulit… tapos na. Wala nang control. And right now, he needed to pretend he still had some.
“Sorry nga pala…” he started, voice low, like he wasn’t sure he should say anything. “If minsan hindi ako nakaka-reply agad.”
Walang sagot agad. Wonwoo stayed curled up against the window, elbow propped, chin resting on his knuckles. Mouth slightly parted. Still. Quiet.
“Okay,” he said eventually, still not looking.
Mingyu cleared his throat.
“Like, sa texts mo. Or when you send stuff tapos ‘di ko agad nasasagot. I see them, ah. Sobrang sabog lang lately. Review, work, lapit na ‘yung boards. Lahat sabay-sabay.”
Wonwoo blinked, slow.
“I’m not exactly waiting by the phone, you know.”
That one stung more than it should’ve. Mingyu bit the inside of his cheek.
“Still,” he muttered. “Ayoko lang na isipin mong I’m just using you or something.”
Doon lang siya nilingon ni Wonwoo. Head tilting slightly, eyes half-lidded behind thin new glasses. Mouth unreadable.
“Mingyu,” he said. “We’re not a thing.”
Said too casually, like a fact. But may bigat sa dulo. Just a little.
“It’s honestly okay if you don’t reply.”
Mingyu didn’t say anything back. Jaw tight. Hands gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Beside him, Wonwoo adjusted in his seat. Nag-unat, then shifted, knees opening a bit wider, thigh brushing the console like it was nothing.
“Medyo busy na rin naman ako lately,” he added, voice light. “Second year’s been fucking me raw.”
Mingyu let out a soft breath.
“Can’t believe we’re still doing this sometimes.”
Wonwoo turned to him, half-smirking.
“What, the driving?”
Mingyu glanced at him—then looked away instantly.
Because of the fucking glasses.
It was the new pair. Mas manipis, mas malinaw, and somehow, mas nakakagigil. They made Wonwoo look softer, smarter, crueler—like someone you’d want to fuck just to see if he’d fall apart or mock you for trying.
Mingyu swallowed hard.
“No,” he said. “The part where I keep hooking up with my friend’s little brother behind his back.”
Wonwoo finally turned fully, meeting his gaze. Calm. Still. Like he was used to being the problem.
“He doesn’t know.”
“I know,” Mingyu said. “But if he ever finds out…”
“You’re dead.”
Mingyu laughed, rough and quick.
“Like, actual dead. Yung tipong bubuhatin ako ng Kuya mo sa bintana tapos ililibing sa lupa ng walang dasal.”
Wonwoo smirked. Shifted again, and this time let his hand fall to his thigh—fingers resting, tapping lightly. Like he knew exactly what Mingyu was looking at.
“Might be worth it, though.”
That made Mingyu glance again—longer this time. His eyes dragged down: from Wonwoo’s mouth, to the stretch of skin at his neck, to the sliver of skin peeking beneath his shirt, to the space between his thighs.
Putangina.
Wonwoo just leaned back like it was nothing. Glasses slipping slightly down his nose, and he didn’t bother fixing them. Eyes half-lidded, almost bored.
Then he sighed. Quiet. Controlled. Still not looking at Mingyu when he said:
“Your eyes, Kim.”
A pause. A breath.
“On the road. Not on me.”
The car slowed to a red light, the city humming quiet around them. Headlights from the cars behind them cast a faint glow inside the car, catching on Mingyu’s jaw, on the veins in his forearms where he gripped the wheel too tight.
He hadn’t said anything since Wonwoo told him to keep his eyes on the road. Wasn’t even looking at him now. Pero obvious sa body language niya—‘yung slight shifting in his seat, the tension in his leg—that the silence was starting to press in on him.
Wonwoo, meanwhile, looked completely unbothered.
He stretched again, arms up for no reason, shirt riding high just enough to tease. Legs still wide. He was scrolling through his phone now, thumb moving slow.
Then—without warning—he angled the screen toward Mingyu.
“Look at this,” he said, like it was nothing. “Took it yesterday. Kaka-kuha ko lang ng glasses.”
Mingyu looked.
And then froze.
It was a mirror selfie. Blurry around the edges, low warm lighting, shot like he didn’t even try. Oversized black shirt hanging off one shoulder, slipping low on his collarbone. No shorts. Just skin—soft, white, long legs spread slightly apart like he’d sat down carelessly and snapped it mid-laze.
And the glasses.
Those fucking glasses.
Perched on the bridge of his nose, catching a faint glare. His hair a little messy. His mouth barely in frame but parted just enough to look dangerous.
Mingyu’s jaw clenched. His thighs tensed.
And Wonwoo was watching him.
Didn’t even pretend not to. Just stared openly as Mingyu’s eyes dropped down the photo again—then flicked to the tight stretch of his own jeans, where the reaction hit immediately.
“Oh,” Wonwoo said softly. “You liked that one pala.”
Mingyu sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Putangina, Won—”
But he cut himself off. Palms curling tighter around the steering wheel.
Wonwoo leaned in slightly, not touching him, just close enough to speak lower.
“I almost sent it to you last night,” he murmured. “Pero sabi ko… bakit ko isesend kung pwede kong ipakita in person?”
He was grinning now. Quiet, evil, satisfied.
Mingyu kept staring forward, like the traffic light was going to save him.
“Focus, babe,” Wonwoo added, voice dipped in honey. “The light’s still red. You’ve got, like, ten more seconds to suffer.”
Mingyu didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
Which was exactly how Wonwoo wanted him: stuck. Silent. Hard.
Then, just before the light turned green, Wonwoo leaned back again—slow, controlled—and sighed, long and exaggerated, like he was just settling in.
Mingyu’s hand twitched against the gearshift.
Wonwoo caught it. Smiled wider.
Then the next traffic light turned red.
Mingyu braked a little too hard.
The sudden stop jolted them forward for half a second—and then everything stilled. Except Mingyu. He let out a sharp exhale, one that came straight from the chest, then leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the steering wheel.
Just stayed there.
Silent. Breathing hard.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Wonwoo.”
He was hard now. Painfully obvious through his jeans. Couldn’t even adjust without making it worse.
Beside him, Wonwoo turned slowly in his seat, gaze dragging down his lap like he was inspecting damage. His voice was quieter now. Meaner.
“Shit,” he murmured. “You’re actually—”
Mingyu didn’t move.
So Wonwoo reached out, fingers grazing over Mingyu’s thigh—light at first. A soft brush, almost harmless. Then firmer. He traced the line of tension down to his knee, then back up again, slower this time.
And when his hand started moving higher, toward where Mingyu was visibly straining against his jeans—
Mingyu caught his wrist. Firm.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low, warning.
Wonwoo looked at him, eyes sharp. Smirk curling. “Why?”
“Because I swear to God—”
The light turned green.
Mingyu sat up fast, like he needed to breathe again. Didn’t say a word. Just shifted gears, pulled into motion, and made a sharp turn at the next street.
Wonwoo blinked, surprised for half a second.
“Where are we—?”
Mingyu didn’t answer.
Two turns later, they pulled into a dimly lit parking lot—half-abandoned, the kind you only find behind shuttered warehouses and closed-down stores. No other cars. Just concrete, shadows, and silence.
He parked.
Killed the engine.
And let the silence hang between them for one long, loaded second.
Then he turned to Wonwoo, jaw tight, chest rising and falling with quiet rage—and something hotter underneath.
“Take off your seatbelt.”
Wonwoo barely had time to obey.
The click of the buckle had barely echoed when Mingyu reached over, gripped the back of Wonwoo’s neck, and hauled him forward.
Their mouths crashed.
There was nothing soft about it. It wasn’t careful, it wasn’t sweet—just heat and months of pretending this didn’t mean anything, slamming into the kind of kiss that said otherwise.
Wonwoo’s head tilted back slightly, letting Mingyu take whatever he wanted. Glasses still on. Nakakabaliw . ‘Yung frame halos nakasabit na sa ilong niya, ‘yung salamin nagfi-fog na from all the heat between them.
Mingyu groaned, low, hand gripping the back of his neck tighter.
Putangina, ang sarap.
Wonwoo’s mouth tasted like chewing gum and spite. Malambot pero matigas din—parang siya. Isa pang ungol, tapos naramdaman niyang kinagat ni Mingyu ‘yung ibabang labi niya, not too hard, just enough para maramdaman niya ‘to sa buong katawan.
“Fuck,” bulong ni Mingyu habang hinihingal. “You look so fucking hot like this.”
He said it r ight against his lips , na parang hindi na niya kayang lumayo pa.
Tumingin siya saglit—Wonwoo’s lips swollen, eyes hazy, glasses sliding down, leeg pula. Shit. Kahit sinong may control, mawawala ‘pag ganito.
“Tangina, ‘yung salamin mo,” Mingyu muttered, halos sinisisi pero sinasamba rin. Thumb brushing the side of the frame. “Bagay na bagay sayo.”
Wonwoo smirked, breathless.
“You’re so obvious naman—do you want that, or gusto mo lang talaga akong ma-kiss?”
“Both,” Mingyu growled.
And then he kissed him again.
This time mas mabagal, mas madiin. Parang kinikilala ‘yung bawat galaw ng bibig niya. Wet sounds filled the small space, mixed with the quiet static of the radio and the squeak of leather as they moved against each other.
Mingyu’s tongue slid into his mouth—messy, sure, but God , it felt so fucking good.
Wonwoo moaned low. ‘Yung tipong halos hindi mo maririnig kung ‘di ka dikit na dikit. His hands fisted Mingyu’s shirt, pulling him closer, parang gusto na siyang sakupin.
Mingyu kissed him harder, deeper, rougher.
One hand cupped Wonwoo’s jaw. The other slid up his thigh, slowly. Skin over skin, heat meeting heat. Malapit na. Masyado na silang malapit.
Hindi na sila nakarating sa backseat.
Mingyu had just slammed the gear to park and shoved the driver’s seat back as far as it would go, breath already ragged. The second the space opened up, Wonwoo climbed into his lap—straddled him, legs wide, weight dropping into his lap like he belonged there.
Which, right now, he did.
Wonwoo’s mouth was already on his again—open, hungry, messy as fuck. They kissed like they were starving. Parang ilang linggo silang hindi nagkita kahit kakakain lang nila ng dinner magkasama kagabi. Mingyu’s hands were all over—palms roaming from thighs to waist, sliding under the oversized shirt but not even touching his cock yet, just everywhere else
Mingyu’s grip tightened on his waist. “Shit—”
“Hmm?” Wonwoo breathed out, grinning, voice light but dangerous. “Missed this?”
Then he kissed him.
Mouth first. Mind later.
And everything else after that just turned into heat.
It was all lips and teeth and hands everywhere. Sloppy, wild, wet. Parang ‘di nila alam kung sino ang nauuna—kasi pareho silang sumusugod. Parehong sabik. Parehong hayok.
Wonwoo ground down once, slow and cruel. Then again. ‘Yung hips niya marunong—too fucking smooth for someone playing innocent kanina.
Mingyu groaned straight into his mouth.
“Fuck—Wonwoo—”
“Yeah?” Wonwoo pulled back, smiling like a brat. Glasses fogging. Hair a mess. “You like that, big boy?”
His voice had that rich kid charm. Soft pero nakakainis. Like he knew exactly what he was doing—and loved every second of it.
Wonwoo’s glasses were fogged. Halos mahulog na sa ilong, barely hanging on as his breath came in quick, shallow bursts. His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen from all the kissing, and Mingyu—Mingyu looked like he was ready to lose it.
Like he was two seconds away from either begging or snapping.
And Wonwoo? He fucking loved it.
He reached up slowly, fingers brushing the arms of his glasses—calm, collected, parang hindi siya naka-straddle sa lap ni Mingyu, dry humping the life out of him.
“Wait,” he breathed out, grinning a little. “These are, like, in the way.”
Mingyu couldn’t even move. He just watched, helpless, wrecked, lips parted as Wonwoo slid the glasses off—slow, sexy, may laman bawat galaw.
He didn’t fold them neatly. Didn’t check where they landed. Just tossed them somewhere into the backseat without looking, eyes never leaving Mingyu’s the whole time.
Then he leaned in closer.
“Better, ‘di ba?” he whispered, lips brushing against Mingyu’s like a threat. “So we can kiss properly.”
And before Mingyu could even think of a comeback, Wonwoo was kissing him again.
Hot. Open. Desperate.
Mingyu groaned into it—low and guttural, hands gripping his thighs like if he let go, he’d fall apart completely. And maybe he would.
Wonwoo pulled him deeper, hips rolling again like he knew exactly how hard Mingyu was by now.
And without those fogged-up lenses between them?
Walang sagabal. Wala nang barrier. Lahat dikit. Lahat lasang laway.
And God, it tasted like fucking heaven .
Mingyu gasped. His head thudded back against the seat.
“Putangina—”
Wonwoo smirked, lips dragging along Mingyu’s jaw.
“Awww,” he cooed. “Is baby Kim gonna cum in his pants?”
Mingyu growled, hands now gripping Wonwoo’s ass tight enough to bruise. “You’re such a fucking brat.”
“And you love it,” Wonwoo whispered, grinding again.
Harder this time. Mas madiin. Mas bastos.
Wonwoo’s mouth was still on Mingyu’s—sloppy, wet, parang wala nang pake sa paligid—when his hands started moving down.
One hand slid between them, dahan-dahan lang, fingers playing with the waistband of Mingyu’s jeans. Then—he unbuttoned it.
Mingyu flinched.
“Wonwoo—”
“Shhh,” Wonwoo whispered, voice raspy against his lips. “Just wanna feel.”
He dragged the zipper down, slow.
Mingyu let out a low, broken groan, hips twitching up like he couldn’t help it. His cock spilled out, flushed and aching, already leaking against his stomach.
But Wonwoo didn’t touch.
Didn’t even wrap a hand around it.
Instead, habang si Mingyu ay halos mawalan na ng ulirat, siya pa ang umatras kont i—just enough para abutin ‘yung sarili niyang shorts.
Then he popped his button open too.
Mingyu froze. Watching.
Wonwoo peeled the fabric open, just enough to show the edge of soft white panties, already soaked where it mattered most. ‘Yung pagkabasa— kitang-kita . Sobrang obvious na.
Mingyu’s throat worked around another curse.
“Putangina,” he muttered. “Are you… wet na agad?”
Wonwoo gave a lazy shrug. Smirking.
“Look what you did,” he said, voice almost sing-song. “You haven’t even touched me, Kim.”
Mingyu looked wrecked. One hand clenched on Wonwoo’s thigh, the other halfway between wanting to grab his hips or fist his own hair.
Wonwoo leaned in closer, mouth grazing the shell of his ear.
“You wanna feel how wet?”
And then he rolled his hips forward.
Dahan-dahan. Just enough for Mingyu’s cock to slide against that soaked fabric. Heat meeting heat. Wet meeting wet.
Both of them gasped.
Wonwoo moaned, low and smug.
Mingyu swore under his breath like a prayer.
“Touch me,” Mingyu rasped, forehead pressed against Wonwoo’s shoulder, voice cracking like he hadn’t begged in years. “Please… tangina.”
Wonwoo froze for half a beat.
Then smiled.
That smug, sinful smile that meant he’d already won.
“Awww,” he murmured, brushing his nose against Mingyu’s cheek. “Big boy wants my hand now?”
Mingyu didn’t answer—just breathed hard, thighs tensing beneath him. His cock was throbbing against his stomach, painfully bare, still untouched. Still fucking begging for it.
Wonwoo shifted in his lap, sinadya talagang igiling konti ‘yung hips para lalo siyang mabaliw. Then finally— finally —his hand slid down between them.
Warm fingers wrapping around thick heat.
Mingyu groaned. Loud.
Wonwoo stroked him once—slow and tight, thumb teasing the tip. His palm slicked easy from the precum, and the way Mingyu twitched under him? Walang hiya . Parang mawawala na sa sarili.
“Shit,” Mingyu gasped, hips bucking up helplessly. “Putangina, Won—”
“You’re enjoying this hmm?” Wonwoo whispered, kissing under his jaw.
Another stroke. Firmer this time.
Mingyu’s breath hitched. His hands flew to Wonwoo’s waist, gripping like a lifeline, like kung bibitawan niya ‘to, titilapon siya sa langit o sa impyerno, ‘di niya sigurado kung saan.
“You like this?” Wonwoo murmured, mouth brushing over his ear, hand still pumping him slow. “Gusto mo talaga ako ‘yung gumaganyan sa’yo habang nakaupo ako sayo?”
“Fuck,” Mingyu gasped. “Wonwoo—shit—faster.”
Wonwoo smiled against his skin, but didn’t speed up just yet. He twisted his wrist, teasing the head, fingers squeezing a little tighter near the base.
Mingyu was close—too close.
His thighs were tensing, hips stuttering up into Wonwoo’s hand, desperate for more. Ungol na lang ‘yung lumalabas sa bibig niya, low and guttural, like he was already falling apart.
“Shit—baby, ‘malapit na—” he choked out, head thrown back, neck flushed. “Tangina, I’m—”
But before he could finish, Wonwoo pulled his hand away.
Mingyu almost cried out.
“What the—”
Wonwoo leaned back just enough to look at him. Smiling. Flushed. Wrecked, pero in full control.
“Sayang naman,” he whispered, reaching between them, tugging his soaked panties to the side—bare and dripping underneath, ready. “’Di ba mas masarap pag dito mo ilabas?”
Mingyu’s brain short-circuited.
“Putangina, Wonwoo—”
But it was too late.
Wonwoo lifted his hips slightly, guided Mingyu’s cock to his entrance, and then—slowly—sank down onto him.
Skin meeting skin.
Heat stretching open heat.
And fuck—they both moaned at the same time, low and broken and shameless.
Wonwoo gripped Mingyu’s shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as he took him in inch by inch. Wet. Tight. Warm. Clenching around him like he needed him deeper, needed him now.
Mingyu’s hands flew to his hips, barely able to breathe.
“Holy fuck—fuck, baby—”
Mingyu’s head hit the seat hard as Wonwoo finally sank all the way down, his pussy swallowing him whole in one long, messy slide. Ang lagkit. Ang sikip. Ang init. Parang nilamon siya buo. No warning, no slow build—Wonwoo just took him in.
“Fuck—ang lalim,” Mingyu gasped, hands gripping Wonwoo’s hips, fingers digging into soft skin. “Tangina, baby, you’re—so fucking tight—”
Wonwoo moaned, head thrown back, hair clinging to his forehead. Sweat glistened down his neck. Basang-basa siya. The wet glide of him fucking Mingyu echoed in the tight space of the car, walang preno, walang hiya.
Wonwoo ground down harder.
Then lifted his hips, slow.
Then dropped again. Mas malalim. Mas mabigat.
Mingyu grunted, low and breathless.
“Fuck,” Wonwoo gasped, moving again. “I feel so full.”
Mingyu was nearly trembling under him.
Wonwoo leaned forward, mouth brushing his ear. Still fucking moving—smooth, hypnotic, devastating.
“You were gonna cum, huh?” he whispered, voice breathy and wrecked. “Just from my hand?”
He rolled his hips, dragging his soaked pussy up along Mingyu’s cock, then sat back down hard. A messy, wet grind. God, that sound.
“Eh paano na ngayon, baby?” he breathed. “Nakapasok na ‘yan sa’kin. Feeling mo ba makakaya mong ’di labasan?”
Mingyu moaned. “Putangina, no—Wonwoo—fuck—”
His voice cracked, jaw clenched, trying to hold on.
Wonwoo just smiled. Tumuwad konti sa lap niya para mas makita niyang paano siya kinakantot ng puke nito. His soaked panties were still clinging to one thigh, pushed aside and forgotten, as he fucked himself on Mingyu like he owned him.
“Look at me,” he panted, hands on Mingyu’s shoulders for balance. “Look at how your cock disappears inside me.”
Mingyu looked—and moaned loud. Halos tumirik ang mata.
That view—Wonwoo’s pussy stretched open around him, clenching every time he dropped down, juices dripping all over his dick, thighs trembling—it was fucking obscene.
Wonwoo kept going. Faster now. Mas mapuwersa. Mas basa bawat giling. Skin to skin. Heat to heat. Tunay na kantutan na.
Each bounce made Mingyu groan deeper. His cock gliding in and out, slick and soaked, like it belonged there. Wonwoo was falling apart above him, flushed, sweaty, undone. Pero ayaw pa rin magpatalo.
“Put it inside,” Wonwoo gasped, voice breaking. “I want all of it. Wala kang ititira, Gyu. Punuin mo ‘ko.”
Mingyu’s control snapped.
He grabbed Wonwoo by the hips and fucked up into him—hard. Rough. Desperate.
Wonwoo screamed. Loud. Ungol na halos iyak, sapaw sa tunog ng basang katawan nila habang nagsasalpukan.
“Cum for me,” Wonwoo sobbed, grinding down hard. “Gusto ko, ngayon na—iputok mo lahat sa loob—”
Mingyu growled against his shoulder.
One, two, three thrusts—
Then he came.
Hard.
Deep.
Wonwoo gasped as heat spilled inside him, legs shaking, whole body tensing habang nilalabasan si Mingyu sa loob niya. Sobrang dami, ramdam na ramdam niyang tumatama sa mismong loob, like he was getting bred on purpose.
He stayed there, seated on him fully, moaning softly as he felt every pulse inside him.
Then finally, when it stopped, Wonwoo looked down—
Still filled. Still sitting on his cock. Still dripping.
Mingyu was still inside him.
Still hard and leaking .
Wonwoo had barely moved, legs trembling where he straddled him, when Mingyu suddenly gripped his waist and whispered against his neck—
“Get in the backseat.”
Wonwoo blinked. “What—”
But Mingyu was already moving. Hands strong, demanding, guiding him off gently enough not to hurt, but fast enough that it made Wonwoo shiver.
His thighs were slick, cum still dripping out as he crawled into the back, body flushed, panties still hanging from one knee. He barely had time to turn around when Mingyu grabbed his hips again and pushed him down over the seat—ass up, face pressed to the leather, glasses long gone.
The second his legs parted, Mingyu groaned.
“Putangina—tingnan mo ‘tong puke mo,” he hissed, crouching behind him. “Still so fucking wet.”
Wonwoo only laughed, breath shaky, mouth swollen from all the earlier kissing.
“Ano, Gyu? Gusto mo ulit?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mingyu growled, grabbing his ass with both hands, spreading him open. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around after that ride with cum still inside you?”
Wonwoo tried to answer—really, he did—but all that came out was a choked moan when Mingyu slid back in.
No warning.
No prep.
Just one hard, deep thrust—fucking all of it, right back inside.
Wonwoo screamed. “Fuck—fuck—shit, ang sarap—”
Mingyu didn’t give him time to adjust.
He just started moving.
Hard. Fast. Brutal.
His cock slamming into Wonwoo’s soaked pussy from behind, skin hitting skin with loud, filthy slaps that echoed in the car. The windows were fogged, the seat was shaking, and neither of them gave a damn.
Wonwoo’s hands scrambled for something to hold on to, fingers slipping against the door as Mingyu fucked him like he was trying to ruin him.
“Puta ka, ang libog mo,” Mingyu growled, gripping his waist, dragging him back onto every thrust. “You like this? Like getting used like a hole in a car park?”
Wonwoo moaned, high and broken.
“Yes—yes—don’t stop—fuck me harder—”
Mingyu spit on his back. Watched it drip. Then gripped him tighter.
“’Yan ba gusto mo, baby?” he hissed. “Kantot na kantot ka, ‘no?”
Wonwoo nodded, face rubbing against the seat, voice cracking with every thrust.
“Please—please—Mingyu—”
Mingyu reached between his legs, fingers finding Wonwoo’s clit and rubbing hard, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Wonwoo sobbed, his pussy clenching tight again, fluttering around Mingyu’s cock like he was about to—
“Cum for me,” Mingyu snapped. “Putangina, now.”
And Wonwoo did.
Hard.
His entire body spasming, legs shaking, pussy gushing all over Mingyu’s cock. It was wet, messy, hot as fuck. And Mingyu didn’t stop—kept fucking him through it, chasing his own high.
“Shit—shit, I’m gonna—”
Another thrust. Then another.
Then Mingyu groaned, low and filthy, and came again inside him—deep, hot, filling him all over again until it was spilling out between his thighs.
Wonwoo collapsed onto the seat, legs still trembling.
Mingyu pulled out with a wet sound, groaning low as he watched his cum drip out of Wonwoo—slow, obscene, coating the curve of his ass and the leather seat.
“Fuck,” he muttered, voice rough. “I’m still not done. Ang tigas pa rin.”
Wonwoo tried to catch his breath, cheek pressed to the seat, hair sticking to his face. “Then come here,” he whispered, lips still swollen. “What are you waiting for?”
But Mingyu didn’t climb over him right away.
Instead, he reached down to the floor, picked up Wonwoo’s glasses—slightly fogged, one arm a little bent—and slid them carefully back onto his face.
Wonwoo blinked up at him. “Gyu—”
“Put those on,” Mingyu said, voice dark, possessive. “You look so fucking hot with them on.”
Wonwoo’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the words going straight to his already overstimulated core. His heart pounded against his ribs as Mingyu gripped his hips again and bent him forward over the seat—face down, ass up, sweat-slick skin glowing in the dim light. His pussy twitched around nothing, still sensitive from the orgasm that had just torn through him minutes earlier.
And then Mingyu slammed into him in one brutal, claiming thrust.
“Fuck—Mingyu—” he gasped, eyes wide behind the lenses.
“That’s it,” Mingyu hissed through gritted teeth, fucking him deep and hard. “Let me see you fall apart wearing those.”
Wonwoo moaned, loud and wrecked. His glasses slipped slightly down his nose, his vision blurring with heat and fog, and he barely had time to think—just feel. His whole body jolted with every thrust, each one sending him forward, hands scrabbling for leverage against the sticky leather seat.
And then—because he knew what he was doing, because he was evil and loved the effect it had—Wonwoo reached up mid-fuck, just one finger, and casually pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Mingyu saw it.
And fucking snapped.
“Putangina,” he growled, breath catching in his throat. “Did you just—fuck—do that again.”
Wonwoo chuckled—low, smug, breathless. He looked over his shoulder, still getting railed, and did it again. He reached up with one finger—measured, indifferent. Like he was adjusting them in a classroom, not while being fucked senseless.
“You like that?” he panted, biting down on a grin. “Tangina, you’re so easy.”
Mingyu made a sound that was barely human. His hands dug into Wonwoo’s waist like he was trying to brand his fingers into his skin. He slammed back into him, pace brutal now, jaw clenched.
“You’re evil,” he gasped, eyes locked on the way the glasses framed Wonwoo’s flushed face. “Fucking evil. Alam mo bang sobrang tigas ko nung ginawa mo ‘yon?”
Wonwoo let out a broken laugh that turned into a moan. “Then keep going,” he said, voice cracking. “Come on, Gyu. Fuck me harder.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Mingyu spat, but he was already moving—hips snapping, rhythm relentless. “Puta, ang ganda mong tignan sa salamin,” he grunted, thrusting harder. “Kanina nakaupo ka sa’kin like a fucking angel, tapos ngayon, tingnan mo— binabarurot ka na parang puta sa likod ng kotse.”
Wonwoo whimpered, his body shaking. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”
“Not a chance,” Mingyu growled. “Lalabasan ka ulit. Gusto kong makita kung paano ka tumirik ang mata habang suot mo pa ‘yang salamin mo.”
And Wonwoo did—his orgasm tore through him, loud and messy, his whole body convulsing as his pussy clenched tight around Mingyu. His moans turned into high-pitched gasps, glasses fogging all over again as his legs gave out, collapsing under the weight of pleasure.
Mingyu groaned deep, hips stuttering as he spilled inside him, unable to stop himself. He pressed deep, grinding it all the way in, forehead pressed to Wonwoo’s shoulder as he rode the high out with a shudder.
When it was done, both of them frozen, catching their breath, sticky with sweat and cum and everything else in between—
Wonwoo laughed.
Quiet at first, then louder. Still breathless, but smug. “Still hard?” he murmured, cheek resting against the seat.
Mingyu groaned behind him. “Put those on properly.”
Wonwoo turned, pushed his glasses up with one finger again—slow, bratty.
“Better?”
Mingyu stared.
And yeah, he was already hard again.
Wonwoo was pulling his shirt down, hair messy, legs still slightly shaking as he reached over for his glasses that fell while Mingyu was fucking the hell out of him.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, slipping them on. “Great, I don’t think I can walk properly later.”
Mingyu laughed from the driver’s seat, wiping his hands with an old shirt. “Aba hindi ko na kasalanan yan. ‘Di ba gusto mo pa nga kanina?”
“Yeah, pero not when I have to walk in front of my kuya later?!” Wonwoo shot back, bratty and breathless. “Like hello, do you want us to get murdered?”
Mingyu leaned back slightly, that smug-ass smirk creeping up his face. “Edi galingan mo maglakad. Hide it.”
Wonwoo gave him a glare through fogged lenses. “Wow thank you for the suggestion ha.”
Mingyu laughed harder. “Don’t pretend you didn’t love it.”
“Whatever.” Wonwoo leaned back into the seat, fixing his hair in the mirror. “I’m not the one who begged.”
Mingyu looked at him through the rearview, raising a brow. “Begged?”
Wonwoo smirked. “Oo. ‘Touch me, Wonwoo. Please tangina—’ Remember that?”
Mingyu groaned, head falling back. “Puta. I’m gonna get killed and bullied.”
Wonwoo giggled, bratty as hell. “Deserved.”
Then he tried to sit up straighter—only to flinch, his thighs pressing together on instinct.
Mingyu saw it.
“Gago,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Paika-ika ka nga.”
“Shut up,” Wonwoo said, hiding his face behind a hand. “Fuck you.”
“You did.”