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Mingyu tossed his now-empty beer bottle and pushed through the crowd. He was bored, this wasn’t exactly the party of the century. Just an excuse to get wasted, throw on a costume, and humiliate someone for fun.
“Wonwoo hyung’s not coming?” he asked Seungcheol right after he and Jeonghan finished a completely unnecessary make-out session. Like, seriously? In front of everyone?
He rolled his eyes and flopped down next to them.
“He’s probably at home rethinking all his life choices after that stupid dare,” Jeonghan laughed, dropping into Seungcheol’s lap. “But I think he’s on his way.”
Mingyu sighed, grabbed a pillow and tossed it on his lap, staring at the stairs.
His throat went dry the second he saw what was coming down.
He’d expected Wonwoo to be in a dress. Like, one of those long-ass ones, floor-length, something his mom might wear to church or whatever. But nah. Dude was wearing a skirt.
A short skirt.
Super short. Barely halfway down his thighs. White, with bright purple accents and some black embroidery.
Mingyu just… froze.
The only thing that snapped him out of it was the loud cheering from the guys, who were clearly way too hyped about it.
But it was the usual kind of hype, the kind where your friend is totally screwed but it’s funny, not tragic. That’s the kind of shit they loved.
“Such a princess!” Jeonghan yelled, laughing when Wonwoo flipped him off. The guys started throwing sarcastic compliments his way while Wonwoo stomped across the room, all pouty but occasionally cracking a smile if someone said something totally ridiculous.
“I’d fall in love with you every damn day,” Soonyoung said, dropping to one knee like he was about to propose. Wonwoo just told him to fuck off.
“There! Happy now? Is this what y’all wanted? Strip me of my dignity?” Wonwoo snapped, arms spread wide. Mingyu couldn’t take his eyes off him. It was… weird.
Weirdly cute.
And okay, Wonwoo had really nice legs.
“Stop staring,” Wonwoo muttered, shoving Mingyu’s shoulder as he sat down next to him. But Mingyu caught the little laugh he tried to hide.
“You embarrassed?” Mingyu asked, taking off his jacket and tossing it over Wonwoo’s legs.
“HEY! Don’t cover him up! It’s all night, remember?” Seokmin laughed while Wonwoo rolled his eyes again.
“I dunno… I think you guys went a little too hard on him,” Mingyu said, putting the jacket back where it was. The others just laughed.
Then he felt it, a light squeeze on his shoulder.
“Hey. I’m okay.” He turned to look at Wonwoo, and yeah, he was smiling. Smiling. With those pretty eyes and those… wow. Those legs. Mingyu looked down, trying to shake the thought.
“They’ve never done dares like this.”
“It’s just ‘cause they say I’ve got anime legs. Dumbasses.” Wonwoo rolled his eyes again, Mingyu was starting to lose count.
He didn’t know what he was feeling, exactly. But it wasn’t normal. Or maybe it was… he just hadn’t felt it like *this* before.
Especially not for Wonwoo.
Mingyu lightly tapped his foot to the beat coming from the next room, trying not to look. Trying not to stare again.
But it was hard.
I mean, how was he supposed to ignore those legs right there next to him? Crossed. Stretched out. Then crossed again. Like Wonwoo was doing it on purpose.
Maybe he was.
“You’re super quiet,” Wonwoo said, still with that little smile, voice low enough just for Mingyu to hear. “Not gonna make fun of me like the rest?”
“Aren’t you cold in that outfit?” Mingyu asked, forcing his voice to sound casual. Like he was just checking on a friend. Like his hands weren’t lowkey shaking.
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, still watching the others in the room. “You already gave me your jacket once, Mingyu. Do it again and they’ll think you’re guarding me from a blizzard.”
“I’m just… worried, okay?” he said, laughing nervously. “It’s a pretty… tiny skirt.”
Wonwoo turned to him slowly, that half-smile on his face, the one Mingyu either hated or loved. He hadn’t figured it out yet. “Worried? Or distracted?”
Mingyu held his gaze a second too long. The world around them felt muffled, like the music and laughter were way in the background. He cleared his throat, looked down at the pillow on his lap.
“You can tell me if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. I can… do something. Make ‘em stop. Steal the spotlight. You know they love teasing me too.”
Wonwoo sighed, but it wasn’t annoyed. It was soft. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Come at me with your whole ‘concerned friend’ thing. But deep down, you just want me to say I need you.”
Mingyu froze. He felt the heat crawl up his neck, into his ears. Felt just as exposed as Wonwoo’s bare legs.
“That’s not true,” he said, weakly. Even he didn’t believe it.
“It is.” Wonwoo leaned closer till their shoulders touched. He was smiling. Looking at him. “You wait for me to ask. You want me to say you matter.”
“I just want you to be okay,” Mingyu whispered, like that explained everything.
“I *am* okay,” Wonwoo said, still looking at him. “And I… kinda like it, sometimes. But you gotta stop pretending ‘concern’ is enough.”
The silence between them broke when something crashed in the kitchen. More drunk laughter. But Mingyu didn’t move. He couldn’t look away from Wonwoo.
“You have really nice legs,” he blurted out. “Shit, I mean—fuck, that was dumb. Forget it.”
Wonwoo laughed. Soft. Just for him. “It wasn’t.”
Mingyu took a deep breath.
He wanted to touch, but didn’t know how. Didn’t want to cross a line. But also didn’t want to keep running.
So he reached out slowly, fixing the hem of the skirt where it had ridden up when Wonwoo sat down.
Just that. A small gesture.
But his fingers brushed Wonwoo’s thigh, warm, firm.
And Wonwoo didn’t pull away.
“Best friend being all caring, huh?” he teased.
“Best friend who's confused,” Mingyu muttered, staring at his hand still resting lightly on Wonwoo’s leg. “But still your friend.”
Wonwoo was quiet for a moment. Then whispered:
“You got an extra pair of pants?” He smiled, standing up. Of course Mingyu had some, he was the host.
Mingyu followed him up the stairs, one step behind, hands in his pockets, trying so hard not to look at the legs swaying right in front of him.
He cursed himself. It was just a skirt. Just a joke.
Just Wonwoo.
But it wasn’t just anything.
At the hallway, Wonwoo stopped by Mingyu’s door and leaned on the frame, glancing back with a smirk.
“Alright,” he said. “Now that we’re away from those idiots and their anime-leg jokes…”
Mingyu raised a brow.
Wonwoo turned to face him fully, arms crossed. The skirt rode up a bit more, he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he grabbed Mingyu’s bicep to pull him closer. “Tell me the truth.”
“About what?”
“What’d you really think of the skirt?”
Mingyu hesitated. Just for a second. But in that second, everything inside him screamed. The image. The heat. That weird good ache in his chest.
He scratched the back of his neck. “I… don’t think I should answer that.”
Wonwoo tilted his head, looking more confident now. Mingyu crossed his arms, trying to stay cool. “You *really* wanna know?”
“I do.” A sly smile crept onto his face. “Because so far you’ve been super sweet. All ‘hyung, you good?’, ‘want my jacket?’, ‘I’ll walk you upstairs’…”
Mingyu scoffed, trying to deflect. “You looked uncomfortable, someone had to—”
“You looked at my legs like you were dying of thirst and I was a damn oasis, Mingyu.”
Silence.
“I saw it. The moment I walked in.”
Mingyu licked his lips, eyes flicking away before locking back onto his. He looked frustrated, but Wonwoo could tell, it was the kind of frustration that came with wanting too much.
And not knowing what to do with it.
“I thought you looked… good.”
Wonwoo raised his brows. “Good?”
“Like… too good,” Mingyu said, softer. “I thought I was gonna laugh. Thought you’d look ridiculous and I’d roast you with the others. But you didn’t. You looked… you look really hot.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Warm. Too warm, maybe.
“You really think I’ve got anime legs?” Wonwoo grinned, like it was all a game, and Mingyu was half-relieved he took it that way.
“Not really. It’s just… the way you sit. It’s cute. You bend your legs a little, like it’s more comfy or something.” Mingyu spoke quickly, almost tripping over his words.
Wonwoo uncrossed his arms slowly, his smile softening. Different now. “Kinda glad to know I don’t walk around like an anime girl.”
He stepped into the room first. It was dim, only the glow from the window lighting things up. Wonwoo lay down on the bed, legs dangling off the side, super casual, like he was at home.
Which was even weirder considering the tiny skirt.
He didn’t say anything. Just stared at the ceiling for a moment.
Then turned to Mingyu.
“You’re still staring.”
Mingyu looked away—too fast. “Just waiting for you to change.”
“You want me to change?”
He frowned. “Didn’t you say you wanted to?”
“I did. But now I’m not so sure.” Wonwoo propped himself up on his elbows, voice lower. “You liked it. And well… we’re alone now. I dunno if I still wanna take it off.”
Wonwoo stood slowly, walking over to him. The height difference felt even more intense now, as he had to tilt his head just a bit to meet Mingyu’s eyes.
“You’re still looking,” he whispered, now barely an inch away.
Mingyu tried to play it cool, but his voice came out rough.
“It’s just… you look good, okay?”
“Just good?” he teased.
Mingyu swallowed. “You want me to say you’ve got the most insanely perfect legs I’ve ever seen?”
Wonwoo arched a brow.
“That works.” He stepped closer. Mingyu’s breath hitched. “You always take care of me like this, or is it just when I’m in a skirt?”
Mingyu laughed nervously, rubbing his neck. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”
“And you suck at lying.”
For a moment, neither moved.
Mingyu could feel Wonwoo’s warmth, the soft scent of his cologne mixed with something sweeter. Maybe the fabric of the skirt. Maybe just him.
Then Wonwoo poked Mingyu’s chest and murmured, “Wanna get a closer look?”
Mingyu stared for way too long.
Then dropped his eyes to the skirt, and the legs.
He didn’t say anything.
But he didn’t move away either.
With a small smirk, Wonwoo tugged him toward the bed and sat him down, then leaned in close.
One knee on the mattress, right beside Mingyu’s thigh, pinning him in place. His heart was pounding.
“It’s like… a VIP pass. Wanna touch?” Wonwoo whispered, dragging his fingers slowly over one leg. The skirt barely covered anything.
Mingyu swallowed hard, the closeness and the way Wonwoo was looking at him making it harder to keep it together. He hesitated for a second, but then his hands started moving, gliding over the soft skin of Wonwoo’s thigh, slow and careful, almost shy.
Wonwoo shut his eyes, letting out a soft breath, feeling Mingyu’s touch, nervous, but eager.
“You think it’s worth it?” Wonwoo asked, his voice low and raspy, eyes glinting as he opened them and locked onto Mingyu.
“Yeah,” Mingyu said, voice deep and steady, his hands growing bolder with every second.
His breathing was heavy, the heat of Wonwoo’s body pressed against his making time feel warped, like everything had slowed down. Wonwoo tilted his head, lips brushing against Mingyu’s neck, sending chills down both their spines.
Mingyu felt everything in him light up, that burning urge building, the need to be closer, to feel more, taste more. He slid one hand along the curve of Wonwoo’s leg, dragging it up slow, soaking in the heat and texture of his skin.
“Hyung…” The word came out shaky, thick with want and doubt.
Wonwoo cupped Mingyu’s face, fingers firm but soft, pulling him into a kiss. His lips worked over Mingyu’s with growing hunger, and Mingyu kissed back, his hands roaming down to Wonwoo’s waist, pulling him in.
Then Wonwoo pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, his smile part tease, part promise.
“You want more?” he asked, voice rough, eyes burning.
Mingyu didn’t even flinch. “Yeah.”
Wonwoo’s hand slid up, tracing over Mingyu’s shoulder to the back of his neck, holding him tight as their bodies fit against each other. Their breaths tangled again as they went right back to kissing.
Mingyu felt Wonwoo’s skirt slide up just a bit, showing more of that smooth thigh. The sight made his head spin, but he didn’t pull away, nah, he leaned in even closer, like he needed to soak in every little detail, every damn feeling.
With a shaky breath, Mingyu slid his hands under the hem of the skirt, feeling the heat of Wonwoo’s skin, the shape of his legs. Wonwoo didn’t flinch, he gave in to the touch like he’d been waiting for it.
Mingyu’s breathing was still all over the place, coming in short, uneven bursts. His eyes were locked on Wonwoo, giving away every dirty thought he was trying to hide.
And Wonwoo? He caught on. He saw everything.
Then, without a word, Wonwoo sat down in his lap, slow, almost teasing. The skirt rode up even more as he did, damn near showing off his whole thigh.
Mingyu held his breath, eyes dropping instantly before flicking back up to Wonwoo’s face like he was trying to apologize for looking. But the other just let out a low chuckle.
“Now you’ve got a better view,” he murmured, lips brushing close to Mingyu’s ear.
A shiver shot down Mingyu’s spine like a jolt of electricity.
He tried to keep his hands respectful, just resting on Wonwoo’s hips, but his fingers were already gripping tighter, like they wanted to burn the moment into his memory.
“You’re doing this on purpose…” he muttered, voice way rougher than he meant it to be.
“Doing what?” Wonwoo smirked, playing all innocent while shifting in his lap, his hips grinding just a little, soft, but enough to mess with Mingyu’s head.
Mingyu squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus. “You know damn well what.”
He let out a long breath, and finally, his hand slid up Wonwoo’s thigh, slow, almost reverent, tracing the warm skin like it was sacred.
“You have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he whispered, forehead resting against Wonwoo’s, eyes shut tight, holding back everything he wanted to say.
Wonwoo shifted a little more, sparking another wave of heat between them.
“Maybe,” he said, voice low, “but I wanna hear it from you.”
“I’m trying…” Mingyu muttered, lips now pressed against Wonwoo’s in a hot, desperate kiss. “…but you’re driving me insane.”
“You still got that stiff-ass look on your face…” Wonwoo whispered, dragging his fingers down Mingyu’s chest until he gripped his shoulders. “You really think you’re gonna take care of me like that? All tense like a damn robot?”
Mingyu couldn’t answer. No words came out. Just his eyes, stuck on Wonwoo’s lips, then sliding down to his legs, which were now half exposed as the skirt kept riding up with every move.
He tried to look away, out of shame, respect, something. But he couldn’t.
Wonwoo caught it.
“You’re dying to stare for real, huh?” he teased with a crooked smile, raising a brow. “So go on. Look.”
The skirt slid all the way up, showing off almost his entire thighs. Mingyu lost his breath.
“Wonwoo—” his voice came out weak, strained.
“You said my legs were pretty. Prove you weren’t just saying it to make me feel good.”
Mingyu grabbed his waist on instinct, like he wanted to hold him there, or maybe stop him from going too far. But it was already too late.
Wonwoo was slowly settling into his lap, pressing down harder, and Mingyu could feel everything.
The weight.
The heat.
The tension between their hips.
The way every tiny move messed up his breathing.
Wonwoo planted his hands on Mingyu’s shoulders and leaned in, lips brushing close to his ear.
“This what you wanted to see, huh?” he whispered, voice low and raspy.
Mingyu squeezed his eyes shut, trying to grab onto whatever control he had left. One hand slid up Wonwoo’s thigh slow, tracing that perfect curve with his fingers. He looked up, face flushed, eyes dark, lips parted.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, hyung…” he muttered, voice tight in his throat.
“Oh, I do,” Wonwoo chuckled, breathy. “I can see it.”
Then he started to move, slow, grinding down into Mingyu’s lap with just enough roll of his hips to drive him insane. Mingyu gasped, hands tightening around Wonwoo’s waist, fingers digging in like he was trying to stop himself from losing it.
“You said you wanted to take care of me…” Wonwoo whispered. “So touch me right, Min.”
That was it.
Mingyu gave in, let his hands wander freely, thighs, waist, back, fingers slipping under Wonwoo’s shirt, feeling warm skin, feeling him breathe harder too.
Their mouths crashed together again, this time hungry, bodies pressed close, rhythm between them picking up, no shame.
Mingyu didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore. He just knew he wanted.
Wonwoo’s body, hot and teasing on top of his, was all he needed.
The contact was raw. And burning.
Mingyu gripped his waist like he’d fall apart if he let go.
“You wanted a better view, didn’t you?” Wonwoo whispered against his ear, hips moving slow, testing. The skirt rode up higher. “Then take a good look.”
Mingyu let out a muffled sound, half sigh, half groan. His hands squeezed Wonwoo’s hips tighter, trying to control something that was already slipping away.
The friction, clothes on clothes, body on body, was torture.
Wonwoo moved again, hips grinding with that slow, wicked rhythm, lips brushing Mingyu’s jaw.
“You want this, don’t you? Even with the clothes still on… even with all this fabric in the way.”
Mingyu shut his eyes, breath ragged, forehead pressed to Wonwoo’s shoulder.
He didn’t know how to answer without giving himself away.
Maybe he didn’t have to.
His body was already saying it for him.
Wonwoo wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer, mouths crashing again, hot, messy, urgent. Mingyu moaned low against his lips, hips moving on their own, chasing more of that cruel, perfect friction.
“Hyung…” Mingyu whispered between kisses, voice breaking. “If you keep going…I won’t be able to stop.”
Wonwoo bit his bottom lip gently, smiling into the kiss. “Then don’t.”
And Mingyu didn’t even know if time had stopped,
or just stopped mattering.
All Mingyu could feel was the weight of Wonwoo in his lap, the heat of his body pressed up against his own, and the torturous friction of that short-ass skirt rubbing over his rough jeans. Every tiny movement made the whole damn world spin.
Wonwoo rolled his hips with cruel precision, not rushed, but firm, dragging out every inch of friction between them. Mingyu’s hands were locked onto his waist like he was trying to hold him back, but truth was, he was just barely stopping himself from pulling him in even harder.
“You’re this turned on just from me sittin’ on you?” Wonwoo teased, voice low and slow, dripping with that barely-held-together kind of pleasure, like he was clinging to control himself.
“Don’t talk to me like that…” Mingyu shot back, breathless, his head buried in the curve of Wonwoo’s neck, trying to hang onto whatever sanity he had left.
“Why not?” he smirked, grinding down again, slower this time. “Hard to think when I do this, huh?”
A soft groan left Mingyu, muffled against Wonwoo’s skin, and his hand slipped down to his bare thigh, fingers tracing the hot side, feeling the muscle twitch underneath.
The feel of skin against his fingertips, even through the edge of that thin skirt, was straight-up maddening.
Wonwoo arched just a bit, letting out a moan right against Mingyu’s ear, and that was it. That was the damn breaking point. Mingyu dropped back against the bedframe, panting, while Wonwoo kept rolling his hips in those slow, torturous grinds, moving with that same deadly precision.
They were still fully clothed, but none of that mattered. The layers weren’t barriers anymore, they were making everything worse. The scratch of denim, the heat of skin against the inner lining of the skirt, the soft sounds of their bodies rubbing, it was raw. Intense. Too damn good.
“Hyung…” Mingyu whispered again, voice wrecked, eyes shut tight. “You’re driving me fucking insane.”
Wonwoo ran his fingers through Mingyu’s hair, tugging just enough to make him look up. His eyes were half-lidded, cheeks flushed, lips parted, too pretty, too far gone.
“I can’t stop staring at you.”
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, playful. “It’s the skirt, isn’t it?”
Mingyu gave a crooked little grin, but his gaze stayed locked, dark and serious. “It’s all you. But the skirt… is a real fucking problem.”
“A problem, huh?”
His hips slowed down, deeper, more deliberate. More intimate.
Wonwoo moved with a kind of practiced elegance on top of Mingyu’s lap, hips rolling in this slow, hypnotic rhythm. The skirt swayed with every grind, riding up and down so lightly, hiding just enough, making the rest unbearably hotter.
Mingyu was sunk into the mattress, legs spread, mouth parted, hands gripping the sides of the skirt like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. His eyes dragged slowly up, from Wonwoo’s thighs to that slim waist, tense shoulders, that delicate neck.
It wasn’t just the heat or the pleasure. It was the way Wonwoo moved, so in control, so confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing to him. And liked it.
Mingyu’s hands slid up slowly, from his stomach to his chest, eyes glazed over. “You look so fucking good like this…”
Wonwoo let out a soft laugh, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Like what?”
“Your legs… that skirt… the way you’re sittin’ on me.” Mingyu’s voice was a low, husky whisper, almost a prayer. “You look like a fucking princess. And I’m just the idiot who’d do anything to serve you.”
Wonwoo gave a short chuckle, not mocking, just a little surprised by the raw honesty.
“Then serve me, Mingyu,” he murmured, his hands slipping into Mingyu’s hair. “Do what a princess deserves.”
Their rhythm picked up, hotter, rougher, skin on skin now. Desperate. Filthy.
Mingyu had both hands on Wonwoo’s waist, holding on like his life depended on it, but he was falling apart inside.
It felt like he was melting under it all, the way Wonwoo was grinding down on him, the skirt still hanging over bare thighs, hiding just enough to drive him insane.
Wonwoo grabbed his chin, tilting his face up with a firm grip.
“Look at me,” he ordered, eyes glowing, lips parted.
Mingyu obeyed instantly, breathless, his dark eyes begging, pleading for more, for everything.
“You’re so fucking desperate for me, Min. Like a well-trained puppy,” Wonwoo said with a teasing little smirk, hips rolling slow, rubbing his hot, wet cock against him. “That’s what you like, huh? Being down here, worshipping me?”
Mingyu let out a deep, embarrassed moan, but he couldn’t deny it. He squeezed his hips tightly, every word hitting like a physical touch.
“You want it so bad… it’s pathetic,” Wonwoo kept going, voice low, fingers sliding through Mingyu’s hair, giving it a little tug. “But that’s okay. I like you like this.”
That voice, that confidence, that body above him, it all made Mingyu burn. It was humiliating. And it was perfect.
“Hyung…” he moaned, eyes glossy with pleasure and frustration. “You’re so… fucking beautiful. You mess me up. I’d do anything…”
Wonwoo laughed softly, smug, dragging his hands down his own body, over his waist, his bare thighs under the skirt.
“Of course you would. Look at me, Mingyu.” He dropped his hips again, grinding right against Mingyu’s cock. “I’m a princess. You should be on your knees for me.”
Mingyu moaned louder now, hips bucking uncontrollably. “You are. You’re everything. I don’t even deserve to touch you…”
Wonwoo leaned in, brushing his nose against Mingyu’s jaw, teasing with the edge of his lips. “And yet I let you. ’Cause you’re my favorite toy when you’re like this… melting for me.”
Those words shattered the last bit of pride he had left. Mingyu was exposed, undone, eyes shut tight as his whole body trembled. He gripped Wonwoo’s waist hard, muscles taut, his moans louder, messier, completely lost in him.
The skirt was already all out of place, pushed up from the way Wonwoo was riding Mingyu with steady, grinding moves. The fabric swayed, fell down against his skin, then rode up again every time his hips rolled, rubbing, teasing, devouring.
Mingyu was wrecked.
His head was resting on Wonwoo’s shoulder, fingers digging into those bare thighs, breathing like he was about to fucking explode. His eyes were shut tight, face flushed red, and the moans slipping out were low, choppy, like he was trying to hold them in and failing, hard.
Wonwoo leaned back a little, bracing his hands on Mingyu’s shoulders as he moved his hips with more purpose. The friction was sharp. Delicious. Almost too much.
“Don’t stop lookin’ at me,” he said, voice low and firm.
Mingyu looked up, barely able to hold his gaze, and what he saw broke him.
Wonwoo above him, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted…and that goddamn skirt climbing up his skinny thighs like it was mocking Mingyu’s last shred of sanity.
“You like seeing me like this, don’t you?” Wonwoo teased, grinding down again. “Wearing this dumb little skirt… being your filthy little princess for the night?”
Mingyu let out a rough moan, too far gone to deny it, because it was true.
He wanted that moment more than anything. He wanted it to last.
He wanted to beg.
“You’re already hard just from looking at me… I didn’t even have to strip all the way,” Wonwoo went on, leaning in close until his lips brushed Mingyu’s ear “You’re so fucking weak for me, huh?”
Mingyu nodded, breath all over the place. “I am… I’m so weak for you, hyung.”
Wonwoo smiled against his skin, then nipped at his jaw. “You’re begging with your eyes. So pathetic… and cute.”
He started moving faster, and Mingyu damn near lost his mind. His hands were shaking, moans caught between gritted teeth. He was sweating, desperate, totally undone.
His voice came out raw between heavy breaths, still trying to speak through it.
“You’re so… so fucking beautiful. You’re everything.”
Wonwoo grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulled his face up, and pressed their foreheads together.
“Then show me. Come like this. Just from this, my voice, my skirt, my ass riding your dick.”
The pressure. The sound of his voice. The heat of skin on skin.
It all hit Mingyu at once.
He moaned loud, hips twitching, whole body clenching under Wonwoo’s weight and stare.
He came hard, gasping like the air couldn’t keep up with how much he felt, hands still clutching Wonwoo’s waist like it was the only thing holding him together.
Wonwoo didn’t stop moving until he felt Mingyu’s body start trembling from exhaustion. Then he finally slowed down, laid his chest against Mingyu’s shoulder, and let out a soft laugh against his sweaty skin.
“You’re so easy,” he whispered. “So sensitive.”
Mingyu couldn’t even answer at first. He just wrapped his arms around Wonwoo’s waist and held him tight, face hidden in his neck.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he finally said, voice all hoarse. “And I’m so fucking screwed when it comes to you.”
Wonwoo chuckled again, fingers running gently through the back of his hair.
“Yeah,” he replied. “You really are.”