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“Qin please...”
“Ter, please let me cum... D-Duang can’t take it any longer.” His voice came out tired and begging, reduced to nothing but a mere whimper.
Right. Now that he thought about it, Qin had been sitting on Duang’s cock for quite a while now. Duang had been a bad puppy and came home covered in what Qin could only assume was woman’s perfume, he didn’t recognize it, as far as he knew Duang barely had any female friends and even if he did Qin would’ve recognized it. But this was only unfamiliar but completely new. He smelled it the second Duang walked through the door of his condo and pulled him into a tight hug.
A hug that Qin usually found himself melting into and immediately returning with equal tenacity. However, this time, a mild floral scent hit him as he lifted his face which had previously been buried in Duang’s collar.
And at that his expression which had held his usually calm reserved smile fell instantly. He scrunched his nose, then closed his eyes inhaling deeper. The perfume smelled slightly of lavender and citrus with a cool undertone of what Qin could only guess to be bergamot. His parents owned many perfumeries across Thailand, so he had gotten accustomed to identifying scents.
And this scent, and unlike anything him or Duang used.
Some woman had gotten close enough to him and lingered long enough that he could smell her on Duang’s collar. When he asked Duang about it he thought for a moment before remembering that he and a few others had hugged each other after they’d all finished a group project in which Duang, and a few others had been assigned to work on over the course of a few weeks.
To Duang, it meant absolutely nothing.
To Qin, it felt like the final piece of a puzzle he’d been trying to not put together.
He knew Duang would never intentionally hurt him, and yet there he was standing in front of him with perfume lingering on his collar.
He knew it wasn’t a valid reason to get upset, Duang had done nothing wrong, it wasn’t his fault. But Qin couldn’t stop himself from thinking that perhaps Duang needed a little reminder of who he belonged to.
Especially after the incident at X’s bar, there had been another stupid situation where some drunk girl fell onto him, getting far too close before anyone could stop her. Qin had warned him afterwards, half serious and half annoyed, to not let something like that happen again.
And yet, only a month later, here they were in a similar predicament.
It started had started with a new art course that had recently been made available in the art department, it was a specialized course which include area specific focus in students wanting to improve specific skills.
When the semester began, Duang decided to take the additional art credit simply because he could, calling it good practice and a chance to improve himself. He’d always enjoyed drawing, and he found that Jamie and Pae were interested in taking the same class, he’d figured there was no reason not to.
Qin hadn’t minded, at least, not at first. The class size was pretty small and consisted of equal parts girls and boys, with 16 people in total.
He knew Duang well enough to know none of them mattered; after all, Duang loved him and he knew it, Duang knew it, and everybody around them knew it really. He never gave Qin a reason to doubt that.
And there really wasn’t anything wrong, Not, technically.
Duang hadn’t changed in any way, he hadn’t given any of those other people his attention the way he gave it to Qin, he wasn’t seeking them out and wasn’t hiding anything from qin.
Then there was Mira, she was his classmate, bright, cheerful and had a puppy-like personality that mirrored Duang’s. As normal classmates do, they started getting close talking more often and somehow along the way. Mira’s name made a frequent appearance alongside the names Qin was regularly used to hearing.
Now it was Mira this, Jamie that, Pae this, Mira that.
Mira never made her intentions obvious enough for Duang to recognize them, she never crossed a line yet always found a reason to be around him. Around his Duang. And like a leech, she lingered.
And Duang, being Duang, assumed she was just being friendly.
To him, Mina was simply a new friend, and classmates he talked to on the occasion.
To Qin, she was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
He warned Duang about this before, not because he thought Duang would cheat, never that, but because Qin knew himself well enough to know that he could become unreasonable if he started caring too much.
Don’t spoil me too much,” He once said.
“Aow! ter why?”
“Because I’ll get used to it.” Duang laughed and said that’s all he could ever want.
Qin laughed with him, but he was serious. That if Duang kept giving into him, indulging in whatever he wanted, he would eventually become demanding and unreasonable.
Apparently, he’d been right.
Because along the way, Qin had gotten used to being Duang’s first priority. He’d gotten used to having Duang’s attention whenever he wanted it, used to being the first person he looked at, no matter how busy his day was, there would always be a piece reserved for Qin.
Lately, though things had changed, the new semester had made things busy for the both of them, and between class assignments, and Duang’s new art course they’d barely had any time alone together.
And now each time he saw Duang he was always surrounded by people, not that it was an unusual sight, because whether or not Duang realized it he had this way of making people gravitate towards him. And the people in his art class were no different, Mira included. They all wanted a piece of him. And lately it had started to feel like they were taking Qin’s piece as well.
He wanted to tell Duang, but somehow, saying I miss you felt embarrassingly vulnerable.
So instead, he waited, convinced himself if was nothing , that sooner or later he and Duang would go back to how things were. But it had been two weeks and thing’s hadn’t changed.
Qin started feeling guilty for being bothered about it.
Not because Duang had done anything wrong, he wasn’t ignoring Qin, he wasn’t choosing those people over him, wasn’t choosing Mira over him.
He simply couldn’t see what Qin saw, and Qin knew that.
Which meant every time jealousy tightened in his chest, he had nowhere to put it.
That is, until the perfume.
Before Duang, Qin had never considered himself a jealous person. On the contrary, his personal and genuine lack of care towards others made him believe he was truly immune to such pettiness.
Apparently, he’d been wrong.
Because somewhere along the way, Duang had become the one person whose attention Qin couldn’t bear to share.
And After weeks of keeping those feelings to himself, Qin had finally reached the point where he pretending he wasn’t jealous was impossible.
He tried to be patient, tried to ignore it, and tried even harder to convince himself that his jealousy was nothing more than a childish insecurity that would eventually disappear.
It hadn’t.
So Qin made up his mind. If Duang couldn’t see what he was seeing, then Qin would simply have to make him understand.
Not because he wanted to hurt him.
Not because he doubted Duang’s love.
But because sometimes Duang was too oblivious for his own damn good.
“Ter, is everything okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.” Duang said, and frankly speaking he wasn’t wrong. Ever since he’d come home and Qin smelled that perfume on him and told Duang to go shower immediately and how they were lying down in bed side by side.
Qin reading a book, and Duang drawing something in his sketchbook.
“Duang,” he said drawing out the last few syllables of his name. Slowly he placed the book down and turned to face him. Qin looked at him for a moment then smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. This was laced with something potent underneath something that made Duang stop drawing all together as he gave full undivided attention to Qin.
“Why are you looing at me like that?”
“Come here.”
“Qin—”
“I said come here.” He commanded, the air shifted from a comfortable silence to a cold tension that demanded obedience. The edge in his voice made it clear he expected Duang to obey and listen without hesitation, and that he did.
His tone, the glint in his eye, said all Duang needed to know. Qin was upset, and he didn’t know why but all he could tell was that he was in for punishment. Already knowing his position, he slowly hopped off the bed and made his way to Qin’s side, and then kneeled down on the floor, placing both hand behind him. Leaving himself completely and utterly at the others’ mercy.
Qin gave a brief nod in response, and said, “Good boy.”
Then slowly he extended his hand to reach Duang’s face and lifted his chin slightly, looking at his face and then scowling as if he’d just remembered something unpleasant. His touch wasn’t gentle, it was deliberate. Two fingers under Duang’s jaw, a small tilt and Duang’s gaze were forced up to meet his.
Qin studied him in silence, taking in the dampness of his skin, the way his lips parted as if he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or beg, the tremor he tried to hide and failed to swallow. Qin took it all in.
With that same calm precision, Qin let go, not a caress but an abrupt withdrawal. Duang’s chin dropped and he caught himself, shoulders tense, throat swallowing around nothing. He didn’t speak, he didn’t dare.
Qin’s eyes didn’t soften, if anything they sharpened, narrowing visibly.
“Strip and get lie down on the bed.”
The words landed like an order and remained as such, no elaboration, no reassurance, no room for question. As his order had been clear, Qin didn’t move to help he simply waited, watching as Duang fumbled with obedience hand unsteady and breath uneven.
He watched as Duang complied, just as he’d been trained tom because Qin had made it clear he was not in the mood for useless banter. He moved to the bed as instructed he sat laid down and watched as Qin finally stood up and began removing each piece of clothing.
One by one, until there was nothing left.
Qin was honestly breathtaking.
Because of his new schedule Duang had been so busy he barely had time to spend with Qin nowadays. Today he’d finally finished his final project in his new art class and rushed home to tell Qin the good news.
He was hoping they’d finally get to spend some quality time together, cuddle, watch a movie or two or maybe even go out to eat something nice, but honestly just lazing around all day sounded great as long as Qin was with him. He missed his boyfriend so much these past few weeks. Despite living in the same house, it felt a bit different ever since the semester had started but Duang was focused on finishing all his work early so he could finally have more time to spend with his darling Qin.
However as soon as he had arrived home, he could tell something was off, not wanting to push until Qin was ready to speak, he stayed silent.
Sure, he was hoping that they would get be intimate, but this was not how he imagined it happening.
.
.
.
Qin was on top of him straddling his lower region while he rubbed their lengths one against the other.
“Duang,” he said breathlessly, his voice laced with a barely concealed amusement as a sly grin spread slowly across his face.
“Qin—"
Tilting his head down, his eyes met Duang’s black and teary ones, the same ones that had been held back pleading and so, so desperate for Qin’s permission.
Qin let his eyes wander to the marks blooming on Duang’s toned and slightly tanned skin, leaning down he pressed soft kisses to each one, licking the bite marks only to bite down on the exact same spot.
Only this time harder and with more pressure, a small yet sharp reminder of who Duang belonged to.
“Qin, pleas—"
“Shh...”
“Not yet… Qin isn’t done with you yet.”
It had been a grueling thirty minutes of push and pull, with Qin pulling Duang so, so so close to the edge before cruelly taking it back, slowing down for what felt like the hundredth time. Lifting up only an inch or two and then coming down in a hard and filthy grind, only to… come back up again… and repeat. He bent forward a little bit, making Duang’s length follow in suite of his hole in its tight and unrelenting grip.
“ah…,” Qin moaned softly “Duang, ter…” he whined.
“D-duang…I-it feels… It f-feels... ah!”
The string of soft and quiet moans escaping Qin, made something in Duang's chest tighten, his carefully maintained composure beginning to slip, as every quiet sound escaping Qin seemed to chip away at his last bit of self-control.
Duang felt like his restraint was about to snap any second, especially with the way Qin’s body was glistened in a thin sheet of sweat above him, all beautiful, and all Duang’s.
Each bounce, grind, and lift, was met with a small reaction from Qin. His composure started to slip. Whether it was a twitch or a sudden shudder that seem to start deep within Qin’s spine and settle in his lower abdomen, he kept going.
Moving in a slow downward grind, he swiveled his hips ever so slightly, moaning softly as Duang’s cock hit that spot.
He tilted his head back, throat bobbing slightly as he swallowed against the saliva pooling on his tongue.
Licking his lips, he shifts his position, his hand which had been originally resting on Duang’s chest now found their place on his thighs. The change in angle revealing the outline of Duang’s cock through Qin’s belly.
“You like that puppy?” Qin ask condescendingly, his hooded eyes watching Duang gulp as he eyed the visible bulge in Qin’s belly.
He slowly lifted himself off Duang’s hard, angry cock. Watching him with a silent thrill as he felt the slick— lube and Duang’s precum slowly slide down his thighs. He reeled in the way Duang’s breath hitches at the sight of his exposed hole.
Now empty and gaping and desperately needing to be filled, Qin’s hole involuntarily clenched at nothing, fluttering with the memory of Duang’s presence, his girth, his thickness. A quiet petulant sound escaped Qin, as he realized he wanted… no needed. To be filled again. His ears and neck were turning a deep rosy pink, as warmth flooded them.
For a moment, he simply watched and observed as Duang’s shaft stood rigid, clearly not having enough yet either it filled him with enormous pride known he was the only one that could make Duang feel and react like this, that he was the only one that would ever get to see this version of him.
Flushed a soft rosewood color, with a deep blush tip, all pretty and glistening at the top with precum that had been leaking out for the better part of what felt like hours. The veins on his cock standing prominent in their intent to be shown, straining and twitching at the loss of heat provided by Qin’s warm and welcoming interior.
Twitchin visibly under Qin’s gaze as if begging him to reach out, begging to be enveloped in Qin’s warmth.
Qin dragged his gaze up reluctantly, his eyes traveled across Duang’s face, and God, he was a mess.
From the dried tears that had fallen, to his lip now flushed a bleeding red due to how hard he had bitten down. Qin drank in every single detail and relished in the control, of being so wonderfully obeyed.
Truly Duang was such a good boy.
Duang’s brown hair was plastered to his forehead due to sweat, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink that seemed to spread down his entire body, from his ears, to lips, to neck, across his collarbones and even down to his—hard aching length.
Duang’s eyes were glassy and unfocused as he took deep breaths, he looks ruined. So perfectly and thoroughly ruined.
And the best part of it all?
He was all Qin’s.
“Look at you,” Qin spoke softly, his voice low and delicately sweet, contrasting with the dirty scene in front of him. He reached out, placing the palm of his hand to Duang’s face, outlining the contours of his cheekbone and eyes. His fingertips light and gentle handling Duang with care equating a piece of fine China.
His touch being nothing—if not delicate, almost tender if not for the sharp glint in his eye that spoke more than he’d ever need to.
A silent, I’m not done with you yet.
“You’re such a mess honey…and I’ve barely touched you.”
Duang’s breath stuttered, his jaw clenched under the feeling of Qin’s fingertips which had now slowly started massaging his ears.
It was a touch so intimate and gentle at same time he would’ve spent more time appreciating the caress if it wasn’t for the itching lust in Qin’s eyes.
“Qin…please…”
“Please what?” Qin titled his head in a slow catlike manner. He let his finger linger on Duang’s ear and then trail down from his Jaw to his throat, feeling the drubbing pulse beneath the sweat glazed skin. “Come on, use your words puppy.”
“I want…” Duang’s voice cracked. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears cascading down from his temple to hairline. “I want… no Duang needs to cum. Please baby, hm? Please Qin?... Duang can’t take it anymore. I can’t— and I’ve been good right? I’ve a good boy, I listened and haven’t touched you, I haven’t—” he whined pathetically.
“Shhh…” Qin pressed his index finger to Duang’s lips, his body now settled low on top of Duang his back arched as he came to Duang’s ear and whispered, “Yes you’ve been such a good boy.” Qin’s hand, which had formerly been resting on Duang’s throat slid down in a slow sensual slide and it made its way past his abs and down to his hard and aching length.
Slowly and with the utmost care, Qin started stroking him. His eyes pinned to Duang’s as he watched his every reaction; the initial panic and then the way Duang bit his lip in order to suppress any sound that threatened to release itself, the way his eyes welled up so quickly he had to shut them. He watched it all.
The sound of the slick and the Duang’s precum made everything incredibly overwhelming. The thought of Qin’s beautiful fingers touching him made Duang almost break down right then and there.
“Duang…” Qin dragged out in a sultry voice, “Won’t you look at me baby?” he asked almost innocently.
Qin’s hand started stroking faster increasing pressure with every upward stroke, then slowing down when going downwards, then back up again. He played with the tip using his pointer finger to dig into the slit, rubbing it fervently. “Come on Duang, I thought you were going to show me how good you were.” Qin grinned as he dug his nails slightly into Duangs cock.
The sudden twinge of pain, causing Duang ‘s eyes to snap open quickly to be met with Qin’s beautiful face. “There’s my good boy.” The praise sent a visible shudder through Duang’s body, and his cock twitched again, a fresh bead of precum welling at the tip and sliding down his shaft and onto Qin’s hand.
Qin looked down and lifted his pointer finger form near the slit, a string of sticky precum following his finger as he moved it up.
Now sitting up, Qin shifted again, repositioning himself slowly. And slowly agonizing slowly lowered himself down on Duang’s throbbing heat. He watched with meticulous attention as Duang’s cock pressed against his entrance, the thick head stopping at the rim before Qin forced it in with a bit more effort, but after that, the slide was almost hypnotizing, still slicked and wet from their earlier endeavors, Qin’s breath caught. A shaky sigh escaping him as he was stretched open again, the familiar fullness returned and spread through him pressing firmly against his concave walls.
Below him Duang’s made a sound that was something between a groan and a sob, small desperate and barely human.
Qin sank down until he was fully seated, until Duang was buried to the hilt inside him. He stilled, letting them both feel it, the heat, the pressure and the undeniable intimacy of it all. He could feel Duang’s cock throbbing inside him, every pulse, every twitch, and every desperate involuntary movement Duangs hips gave as his body fought against restraint.
“Duang.” Qin clicked his tongue, pressing his hands flat on Duang’s chest and pushing him down firmly. “Stay still.”
“I’m trying,” Duang whispered, his voiced ragged and worn out. “I’m trying, Qin—”
“Try harder.”
And like that Qin began to move, he started slow, deliberate rolls of the hips—forward and back, riding in tight controlled circles had kept Duang deep inside him at all times. The friction was maddening, even for Qin. He could feel every ridge, every vein of Duang’s cock against his walls, dragging and following along with his movement, never letting even for even a second.
It was almost too much but not enough at the same time; he bit into his lower lip to keep from moaning loudly and Duang was pressing into that spot that made sparks of white dance behind his eyelids.
He couldn’t, he really couldn’t anymore, his breath quickened.
Not yet.
He would not give Duang the satisfaction.
After everything Qin had been feeling unbeknownst to Duang, the weeks of insecurity and jealousy, it fueled his desire to draw this out, for as long as his body would allow him to.
Duang could feel it, the slight tremor in Qin’s pale thighs, white and milky just like Duang liked, he was obsessed. The way his breath hitched every time he grinded down just right, the way his hole clench involuntarily around him.
Duang knew Qin’s body almost as well as he knew his own, and he could tell that Qin was close, and beneath that cool and controlled exterior, Qin was unravelling.
But he would wait, wait until Qin gave him permission because Duang was nothing if not a great listener.
Qin increased his pace gradually, the slow rolls gave way to shallow bounces, each one pulling Duang halfway out before sinking back down with a wet, obscene squelch that echoed through the room. Qin’s breath came faster now, his moans which he’d been suppressing began to slip freely. Soft at first and a low cadence and then louder, more frequent, spilling from his lips in breathy mewls that he couldn’t hold back no matter how hard he tried.
“AH!..ahnh …ngh...”
He was losing his composure, and he knew it. But he couldn’t stop, not here, not now, when he was this close. The pleasure was building, welling at the base of his belly almost shamefully so, a shy ripple of ecstasy coursing through him in pulsating waves.
Duang’s cock hit that spot again, and Qin’s spine arched, his head falling back as a moan tore from his throat—loud, shameless, and thoroughly wrecked.
“AHH!”
“ugh…” he breathed, he couldn’t believe a sound like that escaped him, feeling a tiny bit of shame and embarrassment, he shut his eyes, concentrated on the feeling of Duang in him.
“Qin-” Duang gasped beneath him, hands curling into fist desperately at the sheets underneath him, his knuckles white, fingertips digging into his palms so hard enough to leave crescents. Every muscle in his body was taut, straining, and fighting against every urge, every instinct screaming at him to grab Qin’s hips and thrust and fuck—to plant his feet on the mattress and drive up into that tight, unyielding heat, until they both shattered.
His cock throbbed inside Qin—and Qin could feel it, that thick pulse against his inner walls, every time the slick obscene sound of their bodies met in the room, it was too good.
Just too fucking good.
And God was it wet—lube, precum, and sweat all mixed together frothing at the seam of where Duang started and Qin ended. Dripping down Duang’s shaft and pooling at the base of him, and further down to soak the sheets beneath them.
“Don’t,” Qin warned breathlessly, opening is eyes which now had begun to water, even as his own hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering. He spoke, “Don’t you dare—ngh...ah!...don’t move” he commanded softly.
But his voice had lost its edge. It was thin and shaky now stripped of his authority, and they both knew it.
Qin chased his high with increased desperation. He rode Duang faster, harder, bouncing on his lap with a rhythm that was no longer controlled but hungry, his eyes burning, breath ragged, his moans filling the room, in a constant stream of pleasured drunk sounds. His own cock, neglected and flushed, slapped against his belly with every movement, leaking precum in a steady drip that joined the rest of their mixed fluids pooling on the low space under Duang’s abdomen.
Moans rolled through like a tide, thickening the air with tension.
Sweat rolled gently down his chest, his stomach, catching the flicker from the candle placed on the counter beside them. His pale skin gleamed in a small sheet of what could only be described as pure unadulterated lust.
Qin was intoxicating.
He was close, he could feel it, that tightening coil in his stomach that twisted with an electric charge which seemed to keep building, thrust after thrust, grind after grind, every drag of Duang’s cock against that pulsating swell of nerves made his vision blur.
He could feel his eyes tearing up, he couldn’t, it was too much. He was right there—right on the edge of the cliff and if he gave one or two more thrusts, he would probably cum,
But then—cruelly, beautifully cruel like all things about him, Qin stopped.
He pulled himself back, not just for himself but for Duang.
His hips slowed to a crawl, then stilled entirely, sitting fully impaled on Duang’s dick and panting heavily. His thighs trembled violently, and his chest heaved in the pure exertion of his previous effort. his lips parting in shallow shaky breaths.
To prolong it, to draw it out, to remind Duang who was in control, even when Qin’s body was betraying him.
Duang let out a broken, pitiful whine. “Qin please, please ter I can’t—”
“Duang.”
Qin’s voice was breathless, but it commanded the room. He tilted his head and his eye dark, glassy and half lidded locked with Duang’s with an intensity that rivaled their desire for release. It’s intensity pinning the man in a place more restrictive than any restraint ever could.
“Open your mouth,” Qin said.
Duang obeyed instantly, his jaw falling open with hesitation, without question, Because Duang in all that he was had never known to deny Qin, but rather accept everything given to him with open arms. His dark eyes stared up at Qin, wet and pleading and trusting, not knowing what to expect, his tongue resting just behind his lower teeth, his breath hot and uneven against his lips, as small shallow breaths of air escaped him.
And just like that, Qin leaned forward slowly, his face hovering just above Duang’s. He tilted his head, and a slow satisfied smile ghosted his lips, the kind of smile a cat gave a mouse once it realized it was cornered and had nowhere else to go.
He gathered the saliva pooling on his tongue and let it fall.
It descended in a smooth, unbroken line—glistening, delicate—drifting down from Qin’s lips in a thin, silver tread that caught the dim light before softly landing on Duang’s waiting tongue. Qin didn’t stop, instead he let it flow steadily, in a continuous, intimate stream, watching with half-lidded eyes as it pooled in Duang’s mouth, watching the way Duang’s throat worked as he received it, the way his eye’s never left Qin’s face.
The act was obscene.
It was vulnerably tender.
It was ownership.
And without being prompted, without being told, Duang swallowed.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible hoarse and raw yet terribly sincere.
Then, softly almost gracefully Qin smiled, not the sharp mocking smile for earlier. Not a condescending smirk or cruel grin. This was different. It was raw in its beauty, a genuine smile that softened his feature and made him look almost angelic, sweet, satisfied, and pleased in a way that went beyond physical comprehension.
A smile that solely belonged to Duang.
One that he was only granted when Qin felt truly fulfilled. His eyes warmed, and for a moment in the quiet solace of their shared chamber. Duang could see him, really see him—the Qin that only existed for him. In these moments of passion, stripped of all pretense. Where he truly became “Duang’s Qin.”
“Good boy,” Qin murmured, his words velvet.
He cupped Duang’s face with both hands, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones, wiping away the tears and sweat that had gathered there. Then tenderly and filled with devotion he leaned down and kissed him. Soft, slow, and deep, a kiss that’s tastes like love and comfort all bundled into one act.
“Okay,” Qin whispered against Duang’s lips. “You can cum.”
The permission hit Duang like a physical punch, and a sob a deep groan tore from is throat relief and desperation mixed all into one as an overwhelming sense of gratitude crashed together in his chest. His entire body seized and shook, his hips jerked upward involuntarily ramming himself deeper into Qin.
“Ah—” Qin gasped, his back arching in a sharp bow as the sudden thrust pressed hard against his prostate. His nails dug into Duang’s shoulders, and he grinded down, meeting Duang’s movement taking him as deep as he could.
“Cum for me, puppy,” Qin breathed, his voice trembling. “Fill me up.”
Duang broke.
With a sound that was half a groan and half a cry, his hips snapped upward and he came hard, pulsing, his cock throbbing violently inside Qin as he released. Qin felt it immediately, the hot rush of cum flooding his insides, spreading through him in a wave of wet warmth that made his breath catch and his walls clench down instinctively. He could feel every pulse, every jet, every uncoordinated contraction of Duang’s cock as it emptied into him, and the sensation was-
Overwhelming.
The heat… his fullness, the way Duang’s cock twitch and jumped inside him with each wave, against his walls, against that spot. Sending sparks of pleasure cascading through his body. The way he could feel the cum pooling deep inside him, warm and thick filling him up until it began to leak out around the tight seal of his entrance, sliding down his thighs in warm, sticky trails.
Qin’s mouth fell open in a silent moan, his eyes wide and glassy, his body frozen in place as wave after wave of heat pulsed into him. His thighs clamped tight around Duang’s hips, holding him deep, refusing to let him pull out even an inch, he wanted it. All of it. Every drop, he wanted to feel it, to keep it, and carry the warmth of it inside him long after they parted.
A quiet yet visible claim that Duang had been there, in him.
Duang’s hips stuttered and slowed, the last few pulses weaker but no less warm, and finally with a shuddering exhale he relaxed. His cock softened slightly inside Qin, but remained thick enough to keep him stuffed, and Qin relished in the fact that he could still feel the warmed of his release settle deep within his body.
For a long moment, neither moved. The room was filled with a sound of their combined breathing, ragged and uneven then slowly beginning to calm.
Then Qin exhaled.
And he smiled.
It started slowly, spreading across his face like sunrise, soft and warm yet incredibly luminous. His lips curved upwards in an expression so warm, so deeply satisfied and genuinely happy that Duang stared in awe. The sight contrasted his previous countenance, the sharp controlled contours of his features softened so tenderly it made Duang’s heart throb, and in the dim light, skin glistening with sweat, hair damp and falling into his eyes, his cheeks flushed a hot rosy, pink, he looked ethereal. Otherworldly. Beautiful in a way that made Duang’s chest ache.
He looked like someone who had just been thoroughly, completely, perfectly wrecked, and was absolutely, unapologetically content about it.
Duang stared up at him, despite the haze, despite the exhaustion that lingered in tremors through his muscles, a single thought surfaced in his mind, clear, warm, and fond.
Adorable.
Qin was truly so adorable, the way he sat their cock-warmed and full of his cum looking like a cat stuffed with milk, it was just too cute. He wore that soft, satisfied smile as if he hadn’t just spent the better of what seemed like hours torturing them both. As if he hadn’t been cruel and commanding in the way to took complete control. As if right now, in this moment he wasn’t the softest most beautiful thing Duang had ever seen.
And the best part was, Qin would never admit it.
He would never admit he loved this. That he loved the feeling of Duang releasing inside him, the warmth of the fullness. That he loved the feeling of being filled, being claimed and being his. He would never say it out loud, could never confess how his heart raced when he felt the first pulse of heat erupt with him. How his body sang in satisfaction when Duang’s cum dripped down his thigh, ad how he secretly, desperately, and greedily wanted it every single time.
But his smile said it all.
And Duang would keep that secret for him. Forever, if he had to.
Qin shifted slightly, and Duang’s cock slipped out of him wit a wet obscene sound. Qin’s breath hitched—he always hated that part, that sudden emptiness, and he clenched involuntarily, feeling the hot trickle of cum immediately beginning to leak out from his entrance sliding down his inner thigh in slow thick trails.
He glanced down at the mess, then back at Duang, and his smile turned slightly wicked.
“Look at what you did, you bastard.” He said, but his voice was too soft, too warm, and too pleased to carry any real accusation.
Duang let out a breathless laugh, “You let me.”
“I allowed you,” Qin corrected, lifting his chin with a semblance of superiority. But the effect was entirely ruined by the way he immediately winced, oversensitive, and he shifted off Duang’s lap entirely hissing softly ad his body adjusted to the emptiness.
Duang’s hands finally free, finally allowed to reach for him, immediately settled on Qin’s waist with a gentleness that sharply contrasted everything that had come before. His thumbs stroked Qin’s hipbones, and he looked at him with those dark, teary eyes still wet, still red at the edges, but now softer, calmer, filled with something that made Qin’s heart tightened.
“Come here,” Duang whispered.
Qin immediately lowered himself down onto Duang’s chest, tucking his face into the crook of his neck, and Duang’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him tightly close, and one large hand came up to wiggle its way through Qin’s damp hair.
“Qin?” Duang’s voice was a low rumble against his ear.
“Mhm.”
“Duang rak ter nuengdiao kha.”
Qin pulled back just enough to look at him, his expression gentle and settled. Then slowly and so unbelievably tenderly placed a light sniff kiss against Duang’s cheek.
He settled back against him, pressing his ear to Duang’s chest and listening to the steady and slowing rhythm of his heartbeat. The same one that he always fell asleep to. His fingers traced idle patterns on Duang’s chest, patterns that meant nothing but felt like everything. And his lips curved into that soft reserved smile, not the one he gave Duang unknowingly but the one he gave to himself for feeling so strongly loved.
. . .
Despite not saying words out loud, his actions spoke more for him like they always did.
And with that Qin fell asleep, quiet and content, adorable in the same effortless way everything about him was.
And to that, Duang held him a little tighter, placed a kiss on his forehead, letting sleep finally pull him away.