fourcoldpaws (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fourcoldpaws) wrote2013-08-11 04:46 pm
fourcoldpaws) wrote2013-08-11 04:46 pm
b1a4; under the weather
baro/cnu. r. 1023 words. dongwoo's wearing short shorts and what's sunwoo to do but to thigh-fuck him on the sofa.
Thunder’s been raging all day. It’s the late summer kind of thunder that hangs heavy and pressing in the thick air and gives Sunwoo gnawing all-day headaches. It’s starting to ease up now, and he comes up like from beneath a surface, but the equally pressing, clammy urban heat stays tight even as afternoon glides into early evening, and leaves everybody sprawled and sticky on floors and furniture.
Somehow Dongwoo has obtained a pair of yellow running shorts, that kind that were in in the nineties and are so short and wide and flimsy that they really don’t do the job of clothing at all, especially not when he’s stretched out on the couch with one leg thrown over the edge and the other bent, resting against the backrest and they’re like really far apart and Sunwoo can see his black undies through the pant legs.
Dongwoo smiles a lazy smile when Sunwoo drags himself up on the couch and in between Dongwoo’s legs, keeps smiling also when Sunwoo drags his fingers up the inside of his folded thigh (it’s meant to be smooth and feather-light but the moist sort of glues them together and he more than anything hitches up the leg), and it’s not quite the effect Sunwoo was looking for but okay.
He leans down and presses his lips to the thin skin near the bright yellow hem, one of the few areas on Dongwoo’s body that is pinchable (he doesn’t pinch it, though) and a little loose. The top of the thigh, and the outside (Sunwoo slides his hand in between it and the couch cushion, for science) is lean and firm, and Sunwoo likes that too, but it’s not quite as warm, quite as soft. He finds some dark strands of hair under Dongwoo’s groin, like there to lead the way, and picks at them until Dongwoo swats at him.
“Are you finding anything of interest?” Dongwoo asks. His eyes are squintier than usual, and parts of his bangs are sticking straight up, stiff with dried sweat. He isn’t particularly sexy like this, but Sunwoo supposes there comes a point of liking someone so much that you get turned on no matter what.
“Yes,” Sunwoo says, looking at him, and then knows what he wants to do. It’s not the day or the time of the day for this but he can’t be bothered feeling ashamed. “Can I…?” He strokes over Dongwoo’s inner thigh.
“What?”
“Um.” Sunwoo bites his lips together. Maybe he managed to feel a little ashamed after all.
Dongwoo grins. “Okay.”
With mysteriously appearing energy Sunwoo darts to fetch a towel and the small transparent bottle in the backmost left corner of his sock drawer, and then he’s back in the living-room.
“Lift,” he says, and Dongwoo digs his heels into the cushion and lifts his hips up to let Sunwoo spread the towel underneath.
“Is this gonna get freaky,” Dongwoo wonders airily and Sunwoo laughs, a little too unstably so for his liking. He suddenly feels a bit reluctant to get naked which is ridiculous because it’s not like Dongwoo hasn’t seen him naked before, like a lot of times. He fumbles his basketball shorts down his hips, just enough and not more. Dongwoo watches his dick with polite interest.
“Hold your legs together.”
Dongwoo clenches his legs up, lying stiffly straight with his arms along his sides. Sunwoo’s cheeks burn with the entire everything of this situation. “Not like that.”
“Then how?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. But grins when Dongwoo does, and climbs on top of him anyway. It gets better when he fits his slicked-up cock between Dongwoo’s thighs and leans over him, supported at arm’s length. Dongwoo puts his hands back over the armrest and gives a small thrust up towards Sunwoo’s hips with the worst of grins on his face.
“Shut up,” Sunwoo mumbles down to the yellow shorts, snorting unwanted laughter through his nose. He pushes himself up a bit, then slides back down again, and doesn’t actually dare to look at Dongwoo but can’t help himself. Dongwoo studies him with eyes half-lidded but wide-awake. His nostrils are flaring a little and in another situation Sunwoo might have found this funny but right now it tells him things he wants to hear, things he doesn’t take for granted.
Suddenly Dongwoo does look kind of sexy after all.
Another day he would want to lean down and kiss Dongwoo’s cheekbone, Dongwoo’s adam’s apple and Dongwoo’s upper lip, but his arms are starting to shake and he doesn’t trust them. He realizes that his torso is actually quite heavy, and that this is not quite the indolent afternoon activity he sort of pictured it to be. A fat drop of sweat runs down his neck and then over his chest, and he falls down on one elbow to huff into Dongwoo’s neck and rock against him. Something is squeaking beneath them, sweat is dripping down on Dongwoo’s collarbone and there is a small slick noise that takes Sunwoo way too long to figure out the source of. There is something very pubertal about humping someone on a couch, and Sunwoo increasingly feels all but fourteen with his shaking, wheezing and artless thrusts.
Then he feels hands on his waist, on his naked hips, warm and clammy. He can hear Dongwoo’s deep breaths by his ear, can even hear him swallowing as he puts his cheek to Sunwoo’s temple. Feels Dongwoo moving, faintly, pushing up to meet him. In one way this helps with the fourteen-year-old thing, but in another not at all because it makes him come embarrassingly fast and with an unfortunate hurl-like whine against Dongwoo’s shoulder.
Dongwoo smiles a lazy smile when Sunwoo wipes his legs off with a clean corner of the towel, sort of looks satisfied with himself. There’s a perky little tent in the yellow shorts, rising the flimsy leg hems in the air. He keeps smiling also when Sunwoo slips his hand in under one of them, fingering up along a familiar shape, and it’s not quite the effect Sunwoo was looking for but okay.
Thunder’s been raging all day. It’s the late summer kind of thunder that hangs heavy and pressing in the thick air and gives Sunwoo gnawing all-day headaches. It’s starting to ease up now, and he comes up like from beneath a surface, but the equally pressing, clammy urban heat stays tight even as afternoon glides into early evening, and leaves everybody sprawled and sticky on floors and furniture.
Somehow Dongwoo has obtained a pair of yellow running shorts, that kind that were in in the nineties and are so short and wide and flimsy that they really don’t do the job of clothing at all, especially not when he’s stretched out on the couch with one leg thrown over the edge and the other bent, resting against the backrest and they’re like really far apart and Sunwoo can see his black undies through the pant legs.
Dongwoo smiles a lazy smile when Sunwoo drags himself up on the couch and in between Dongwoo’s legs, keeps smiling also when Sunwoo drags his fingers up the inside of his folded thigh (it’s meant to be smooth and feather-light but the moist sort of glues them together and he more than anything hitches up the leg), and it’s not quite the effect Sunwoo was looking for but okay.
He leans down and presses his lips to the thin skin near the bright yellow hem, one of the few areas on Dongwoo’s body that is pinchable (he doesn’t pinch it, though) and a little loose. The top of the thigh, and the outside (Sunwoo slides his hand in between it and the couch cushion, for science) is lean and firm, and Sunwoo likes that too, but it’s not quite as warm, quite as soft. He finds some dark strands of hair under Dongwoo’s groin, like there to lead the way, and picks at them until Dongwoo swats at him.
“Are you finding anything of interest?” Dongwoo asks. His eyes are squintier than usual, and parts of his bangs are sticking straight up, stiff with dried sweat. He isn’t particularly sexy like this, but Sunwoo supposes there comes a point of liking someone so much that you get turned on no matter what.
“Yes,” Sunwoo says, looking at him, and then knows what he wants to do. It’s not the day or the time of the day for this but he can’t be bothered feeling ashamed. “Can I…?” He strokes over Dongwoo’s inner thigh.
“What?”
“Um.” Sunwoo bites his lips together. Maybe he managed to feel a little ashamed after all.
Dongwoo grins. “Okay.”
With mysteriously appearing energy Sunwoo darts to fetch a towel and the small transparent bottle in the backmost left corner of his sock drawer, and then he’s back in the living-room.
“Lift,” he says, and Dongwoo digs his heels into the cushion and lifts his hips up to let Sunwoo spread the towel underneath.
“Is this gonna get freaky,” Dongwoo wonders airily and Sunwoo laughs, a little too unstably so for his liking. He suddenly feels a bit reluctant to get naked which is ridiculous because it’s not like Dongwoo hasn’t seen him naked before, like a lot of times. He fumbles his basketball shorts down his hips, just enough and not more. Dongwoo watches his dick with polite interest.
“Hold your legs together.”
Dongwoo clenches his legs up, lying stiffly straight with his arms along his sides. Sunwoo’s cheeks burn with the entire everything of this situation. “Not like that.”
“Then how?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. But grins when Dongwoo does, and climbs on top of him anyway. It gets better when he fits his slicked-up cock between Dongwoo’s thighs and leans over him, supported at arm’s length. Dongwoo puts his hands back over the armrest and gives a small thrust up towards Sunwoo’s hips with the worst of grins on his face.
“Shut up,” Sunwoo mumbles down to the yellow shorts, snorting unwanted laughter through his nose. He pushes himself up a bit, then slides back down again, and doesn’t actually dare to look at Dongwoo but can’t help himself. Dongwoo studies him with eyes half-lidded but wide-awake. His nostrils are flaring a little and in another situation Sunwoo might have found this funny but right now it tells him things he wants to hear, things he doesn’t take for granted.
Suddenly Dongwoo does look kind of sexy after all.
Another day he would want to lean down and kiss Dongwoo’s cheekbone, Dongwoo’s adam’s apple and Dongwoo’s upper lip, but his arms are starting to shake and he doesn’t trust them. He realizes that his torso is actually quite heavy, and that this is not quite the indolent afternoon activity he sort of pictured it to be. A fat drop of sweat runs down his neck and then over his chest, and he falls down on one elbow to huff into Dongwoo’s neck and rock against him. Something is squeaking beneath them, sweat is dripping down on Dongwoo’s collarbone and there is a small slick noise that takes Sunwoo way too long to figure out the source of. There is something very pubertal about humping someone on a couch, and Sunwoo increasingly feels all but fourteen with his shaking, wheezing and artless thrusts.
Then he feels hands on his waist, on his naked hips, warm and clammy. He can hear Dongwoo’s deep breaths by his ear, can even hear him swallowing as he puts his cheek to Sunwoo’s temple. Feels Dongwoo moving, faintly, pushing up to meet him. In one way this helps with the fourteen-year-old thing, but in another not at all because it makes him come embarrassingly fast and with an unfortunate hurl-like whine against Dongwoo’s shoulder.
Dongwoo smiles a lazy smile when Sunwoo wipes his legs off with a clean corner of the towel, sort of looks satisfied with himself. There’s a perky little tent in the yellow shorts, rising the flimsy leg hems in the air. He keeps smiling also when Sunwoo slips his hand in under one of them, fingering up along a familiar shape, and it’s not quite the effect Sunwoo was looking for but okay.