Pairing: Joonmyun/Zitao, briefly hinted Zitao/Sehun.
Word count: 4,9k.
Warnings: pwp, attempt at ~feelings, rimming, cursing.
Summary: Showering with Zitao is never just showering.
Notes: All errors are my own. I've been listening to GOT7's 고백송 on repeat while writing this so the title is from there. This was just supposed to be a short first-kiss drabble, but I can't ever keep things pg so. Sweetest oneforyourfire this is for you.
Reading on your phone?
They’re on their way back to the hotel after an ended schedule. EXO is split into two vans, K and M by default. K’s members are loud, noisy and so is the music. Joonmyun is tucked into the seat in the front, blissfully separated from the noisemakers in the back. He does not utilize his leadership perks often, lets other members ride shotgun while he sits down between Sehun and Baekhyun in the back.
His body is to heavy now, too warm. Exhaustion settled in his limbs long ago. Joonmyun is too tired to fight it. White noise fills his ears; a headache is building just above his brows. The constant yelling from the younger members in the back does not help. Trying to ignore them is like trying to ignore a tsunami, especially when Baekhyun and Chanyeol is egging each other on, trying to sing the loudest. Brown Eyed Girls’ Abracadabra is blasting through the speakers. The van is swaying in time with Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s eager dancing.
“Sit the fuck still or God help me,” Kyungsoo snarls then, slamming his small feet against the floor for impact. The car falls silent immediately. Baekhyun whispers something. The pained yelp that follows tells Joonmyun that Kyungsoo probably punched him. Maybe he should feel bad for feeling delighted.
Joonmyun looks over the back of the seat and meets Kyungsoo’s gaze. Kyungsoo looks as tired as Joonmyun feels; dark circles under his big eyes, eyes red.
Thank you Joonmyun mouths, smiles softly at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo nods back, smiling a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Joonmyun doesn’t blame him. They’re all running on their spare batteries.
Joonmyun drags himself out of the elevator, having stayed behind with Yifan to go through next day’s schedule with the managers. EXO are spread out over two floors in the hotel, Yifan is in charge of floor 11, Joonmyun of floor 12.
On autopilot he fits the keycard into its slot, removes it when the door blinks green. Barely inside, he starts stripping out of his clothes, leaving them by the door. He’ll clean up in the morning. The only piece of clothing he leaves on is his black boxer briefs, figuring that Jongdae’d rather not see him naked more than necessary. Granted, it’s unavoidable on some level since they’re constantly pushed into small dressing rooms meant for four people, expected to shower together in groups to save time.
Joonmyun throws himself on his bed; neatly made up by hotel staff when he was away. Jongdae is in the bathroom, Joonmyun hears the shower running. A bath would be nice, he thinks. His body throbs in agreement. It would be wonderful to sink down in a too-hot bath, soothing his sore muscles, losing himself in time for a brief moment.
1:27 am. It’s too late for a bath.
There’s a click coming from the bathroom door before it opens and steam spills out. Soft pads of feet follow, and –
This is not Jongdae, Joonmyun’s brain supplies helpfully. Too much height, shoulders too broad, skin golden, glistening with moisture. Blonde hair that’s sticking in all possible directions as if he has run his hand through it multiple times, product still fighting to keep it coiffed, perfect.
“Tao?” Joonmyun says in disbelief.
Zitao smiles at him, warm, toothy. Eyes crinkling at the corners as if he’s genuinely happy. Joonmyun’s heart swoops in his chest. He looks too good, even dressed down like this. Zitao has a bathrobe slung over his shoulders, doing little to cover up his beautiful skin. Like Joonmyun he’s only in his underwear; purple boxers that are riding too low on his hips, waistband snug under the soft-looking trail of hair under Zitao’s bellybutton.
Joonmyun startles as if burned, his gaze flying back up to meet Zitao’s.
“I asked hyung if we could switch,” Zitao says softly, shrugging his broad shoulders. Joonmyun licks his lips. He hadn’t been prepared for this at all. Time with Zitao needs to be prepared, planned. Joonmyun needs a plan at all times so he won’t act or do anything unfit.
Zitao is wonderful, gorgeous, a fucking temptation. Joonmyun finds himself unconsciously longing to be closer, longing to touch. More often than not he’s standing next to Zitao, holding his hand or patting his back. He finds it more difficult to stay away with every passing day. To himself he has passed it off as skinship; he’s just being a good performer, a good leader. Skinship, they have been taught, is necessary. Handholding, touching, hugs. Your fans will love you more if you pretend to love each other has been imprinted in his head for god knows how long.
Yet this isn’t- the way Joonmyun craves Zitao isn’t skinship, Joonmyun refuses to call it such. It’s something too precious, too pure, genuine to be something as commercialized as skinship. Being with Zitao fills him with a warmth, makes him feel.
“Minseok hyung wouldn’t shower with me,” Zitao murmurs somewhat piteously, shuffling closer to Joonmyun’s bed. Zitao fumbles, hunching over as if to make himself smaller, cuter. Teeth worrying his bottom lip. “You will hyung, right?”
Joonmyun is helplessly lost.
“Of course,” he hears himself say, eyes widening. It’s worth it; the inner storm, the pure chaos - when he sees Zitao beaming down at him. A warmth fills his chest, sweet and wonderful.
“Great!” Zitao says breathlessly. Long fingers find Joonmyun’s wrist, tugging him up from the bed and into the bathroom.
Showering with Zitao is really showering with Zitao. It’s not enough to merely clean oneself while being next to Zitao, no you got to rub his back and help him wash his hair. In return he’ll scratch your scalp, hum soft songs under his breath. Joonmyun has done this countless times; is probably the one who has showered with Zitao the most. Just thinking about it makes heat coil in his tummy.
Zitao sits on the edge of the bathtub to make it easier for Joonmyun to apply shampoo to his hair. The brand is expensive; smells like sandalwood. It’s Zitao’s favorite. Joonmyun’s fingers work the shampoo through Zitao’s hair, scraping blunt nails over his scalp. Zitao purrs like a kitten, pressing back against Joonmyun’s fingers. Joonmyun has learnt over the years that if he rubs the pad of his fingers in circles over this spot behind Zitao’s ears, he’ll let out small, breathy noises.
Joonmyun’s eyes widen when Zitao leans forward, hands finding Joonmyun’s bare hips. Slowly he pulls Joonmyun further towards him, guiding him between Zitao’s spread legs. He keeps pulling Joonmyun forwards until Zitao’s forehead bumps softly against Joonmyun’s tummy. Zitao’s forehead is pressed at the end of Joonmyun’s breast bone, just between the curves of his ribs. It’s a rather compromising position, as Zitao’s face is straight above Joonmyun’s cock that’s stirring with interest.
“Tao,” Joonmyun begins softly, heat settling in his cheeks. Is he reading too much into this? Zitao hums against his tummy, nuzzling his nose over the moist skin. Joonmyun’s diaphragm falls, a soft flutter of wings fills his lungs. Joonmyun lets out a soft gasp at the feeling of Zitao’s palms snaking further around Joonmyun’s body, bringing them closer. He hooks his arms over the small of Joonmyun’s back, just above the swell of his ass.
“Don’t stop,” Zitao murmurs into Joonmyun’s skin. His voice is trembling slightly, pitch raised. “Please, hyung.”
The room feels hotter all of a sudden with the way Zitao practically purred the honorific. The warm water is pouring steadily over Joonmyun’s body, Zitao’s legs, the dripping of it the only sound filling the room. Cautiously, Joonmyun continues running his hands through Zitao’s hair, scratching his scalp.
Zitao’s reaction comes immediately in the form of something akin to a moan, vibrating through Joonmyun’s body, settles in his very core. Joonmyun shudders bodily, chiding himself for letting Zitao affect him in this way.
The shampoo has stayed way too long in Zitao’s hair when Joonmyun tries to pull away. Zitao whines, upset, tightens his hold on Joonmyun. He nuzzles closer, mouths over Joonmyun’s abs. Sighing, Joonmyun tries once, twice more to push Zitao gently away while calling his name softly.
Zitao doesn’t listen.
Joonmyun fists Zitao’s hair none too gently and pulls him backwards, ignoring that low wail coming from Zitao.
“I’m sorry,” Joonmyun amends, smoothing down the baby hair. Zitao juts out his bottom lip. Joonmyun ignores the burning urge to bend down and suck it into his mouth. Instead settling for pulling Zitao up from the edge of the tub, pulling him back under the spray of water. Joonmyun turns his back to Zitao, deeming him capable to rinse his hair himself so he proceeds to get himself clean.
Joonmyun’s own shampoo is next to Zitao’s, brand not as expensive – a gift from one of the members for his birthday. It smells like vanilla but not overwhelmingly so. It leaves a subtle scent that Joonmyun likes. He gets through the lathering part, but when he turns to rinse, he’s held back by a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his body.
“Tao,” Joonmyun says softer than he intended. Joonmyun doesn’t fight, however, lets Zitao wrap himself around Joonmyun like an overgrown baby, nuzzle his face into Joonmyun’s neck, hold Joonmyun tight against his front. The shampoo gets rinsed out, foam trailing over Joonmyun’s face, body.
Zitao’s hands are resting low, low on Joonmyun’s hips, curled under Joonmyun’s belly button, dangerously close. Almost casually, Zitao’s palm swipes over the head of Joonmyun’s half-hard cock, making Joonmyun inhale sharply. And although Joonmyun is the one getting touched, Zitao is the one who moans. It’s loud, as if Zitao didn’t even try to contain himself.
“Zitao,” Joonmyun says warningly, the effect he hoped for vanishing because Zitao’s fingers curl around the base of his cock, cautiously flicking his wrist once, twice. A fire settles low in Joonmyun’s tummy, coiling up his spine. This is dangerous. Joonmyun curls his fingers around Zitao’s wrist, pulls him away, allows Joonmyun to turn on his heels to face Zitao.
Albeit taller, Zitao looks small, young. A pink, healthy blush in his cheeks, eyes strangely lucid as he looks down at Joonmyun. Zitao’s hands are at his own sides now, curled into fists. Joonmyun falters. He was going to tell Zitao no, was going to launch into his usual speak about the band, their fans even though Zitao has heard it a dozen times by now, knows it by heart – probably.
This is not the first time it has happened. They – Joonmyun and Zitao have been fluttering around each other for a while already. Small touches, hands on backs, lips brushed over cheeks wet from tears. Hands held in the dark, beds shared due to nightmares, tears, longing.
It has never felt like this, like today. The air around them, the tension is completely different as if charged a hundred times more than usually, sparks flying. There has been a disturbance, a recent change of events that has messed up their silent agreement and has left Joonmyun wanting, longing for more.
“Joonmyun hyung,” Zitao whispers, curling the small of his back, his spine, bringing him closer to Joonmyun’s height. Zitao does this all the time around the shorter members but especially around Joonmyun when they’re alone. Tries to make himself small so he’ll fit better, he said once. Cautiously, Joonmyun lifts his hand, cups Zitao’s cheek, splays his fingers out over Zitao’s soft skin. Zitao shudders under his fingers, eyes wide when Joonmyun moves closer. It goes slow, so low until Joonmyun feels Zitao’s sweet breath on his face. It’s only then he realizes how close their faces are.
“Hyung,” Zitao pleads, his hands coming up to rest on Joonmyun’s shoulders. The second their skin touch, Joonmyun swears he feels a spark of electricity coming from Zitao. He does however feel him shaking, bottom lip shaking as he pants, visibly affected.
“It’s okay Tao,” Joonmyun murmurs softly and gives in.
Zitao inhales sharply when their lips met, tightens his grip on Joonmyun’s shoulders. He had many thoughts, dreams about this but had never anticipated that it would feel like this. Zitao is soft, pliant, warm against Joonmyun’s lips. He kisses back almost immediately, eager. Takes everything Joonmyun gives. A soft moan spills from Zitao’s lips when Joonmyun licks over Zitao’s bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open.
As they kiss, Joonmyun backs Zitao against one of the tiled walls, presses their naked bodies together. The sensation of skin again skin making his blood sing with pleasure. Zitao’s nails sink into the skin of Joonmyun’s shoulders almost breaking through but not quite. It sends a sting of pain through Joonmyun but it can’t compare to the pleasure.
Joonmyun pulls back to breathe, lungs aching. Zitao whines, holds him in place, presses impossibly close. Joonmyun’s head spins as Zitao kisses him again, not allowing him any time to catch his breath. Zitao kisses are very similar to Zitao himself; eager, bold but sweet. He whines if Joonmyun doesn’t kiss him back quickly enough.
“More, hyung, more,” Zitao pants against Joonmyun’s lips. Zitao’s warm hands slip from Joonmyun’s shoulder to his biceps, holding on tight as he rolls his hips against Joonmyun’s. Zitao is hard, Joonmyun can easily tell from the way his cock nudges against Joonmyun’s hip.
“What do you want, Tao?” Joonmyun asks, running his thumb over Zitao’s kiss-swollen lips, completely mesmerized by the way Zitao parts his lips for Joonmyun’s thumb, brazenly sucking it into his mouth. Fuck, he looks so good, eyes closed, dark eyelashes fanned over golden skin as Zitao sucks on Joonmyun’s thumb. Joonmyun’s cock throbs against Zitao’s thigh. It’s too much, it’s not enough.
“You hyung, I want you. Touch me, please,” Zitao pleads around Joonmyun’s thumb. Arousal surges through Joonmyun’s body, fire licking up his spine. He wants too.
“Bed,” is all Joonmyun says. Zitao stumbles out of the shower, leaving Joonmyun to turn off the water. Zitao dries himself off quickly, not thorough enough but it’s summer so Joonmyun figures he’ll be safe from colds. Despite wanting nothing more than to join Zitao quickly, Joonmyun is thorough drying himself, towels his hair before slinging the towel around his waist.
Zitao is already sprawled out on the bed, nude, all golden skin that gleams with moisture from the shower. He looks absolutely divine, a gift from the powers that be. A blessing. Shamelessly, he spreads his legs for Joonmyun to crawl between.
Zitao kisses him immediately, wraps his long legs around Joonmyun’s small waist, arms looping around Joonmyun’s neck. Zitao licks into Joonmyun’s mouth, bold, dirty, moans when Joonmyun sucks on his tongue. Joonmyun supports himself by placing one elbow on each side of Zitao’s head, tangles his fingers in wet, blond locks of hair.
The air-con is whirring in the background but the room still feels scalding hot, beads of sweat forming on Joonmyun’s back. A low moan makes its way up Joonmyun’s throat when Zitao grinds against his clothed crotch, whining.
“More, hyung,” he pants into Joonmyun’s mouth, bites at Joonmyun’s lips as his hands tries, fails to remove Joonmyun’s towel. Joonmyun sits up, unwraps the towel and tosses it on the floor. He’s about to fall back into Zitao’s embrace but freezes momentarily, eyes trailing over Zitao’s body.
“You’re beautiful, my Tao,” Joonmyun praises. Zitao’s chest expands, hips fucking up against nothing as a mewl, loud, escapes Zitao’s red lips. A soft pink flush has settled on Zitao’s chest, cheeks, the tip of his ears. Joonmyun runs a dry hand down Zitao’s inner thigh, reveling in the feel of Zitao’s soft skin against his palm.
A garbled mess of words leaves Zitao’s mouth, Joonmyun, unable to understand, draws small patters into Zitao’s skin where his hip meets his thigh. Zitao’s chest heaves, mouth gasping for air when Joonmyun runs his thumb up the side of his crotch, pointedly avoiding touching Zitao’s thick cock lying on his tummy, clear liquid trickling out of the red crown.
“Hyung, please,” Zitao pants, hands fisted in the sheets. He could be touching himself, Joonmyun muses, but it seems like he doesn’t want to, wants it to be Joonmyun.
“I can’t read your mind Zitao,” Joonmyun tells him softly. With Zitao watching, Joonmyun lifts Zitao’s left leg, placing it gingerly on his shoulder, supporting with one hand. Not taking his eyes off Zitao, Joonmyun mouths on the inside of Zitao’s knee, moves down slowly.
“Please, please,” Zitao begs, voice cutting on a moan when Joonmyun pauses, sucks none too gently on the soft skin.
“Your words, Zitao. Use them, Hyung isn’t psychic,” Joonmyun drawls against Zitao’s warm skin. Zitao lets out a frustrated wail, back curving as he bucks off the sheets. Joonmyun feels the muscles in the leg he’s holding strain. Carefully he lets it back onto the matress.
“Please, touch me.” Zitao’s body is shining, covered with a thin layer of sweat already. It’s not exactly what Joonmyun wants to her, not quite in that fashion but he lets it pass. Later, maybe he tells himself. Zitao sobs gratefully when Joonmyun wraps his fingers around Zitao’s cock, warm and heavy in Joonmyun’s palm. Joonmyun uses the precome to make the slide of his palm easier, Zitao gasping as he curls his fist around the head, tightens his grip.
The room is filled with Zitao’s soft moans as well as the downright filthy sounds of Joonmyun working Zitao to completion, the slick sounds as he runs his thumb over the wet head of Zitao’s cock. He’s close, Joonmyun assumes from the way his body keeps tightening like a string.
“Hyung, I don’t –“Zitao begins, voice faltering as Joonmyun’s other hand cups his balls, thumb trailing over the seam. Zitao plants his feet in the matress, bucking up into Joonmyun’s fist, sobbing. Joonmyun’s hand trails lower, his middle finger softly tracing Zitao’s perineum before moving even lower.
Zitao makes a choked-off sound when Joonmyun circles Zitao’s rim with his index finger, applying pressure to his opening.
“Yes,” Zitao hisses, his movements choppy all of a sudden, as if he’s not sure if he should fuck Joonmyun’s fist or press against his fingers. Joonmyun applies more pressure to his finger and pushes the tip of his finger inside Zitao. It’s dry so he knows it won’t get far, and it’s not like he wants to hurt him.
Zitao keens, hisses something under his breath, pitch deep. “Please,” he manages, “please hyung.”
Joonmyun pulls out of Zitao’s ass, tightens his hand around the base of Zitao’s cock as he leans forward. Balancing on one arm, Joonmyun hovers above Zitao, leans down to press a soft yet deep kiss against Zitao’s lips. A hand settles at the back of Joonmyun’s neck, holding him in place.
Kissing Zitao fills Joonmyun with an euphoria he can’t quite describe. It sends tingles, electrical currents through his body, as if he’s drinking, tipsy borderline drunk but yet leaves him feeling rather fulfilled. Just being in Zitao’s proximity made him feel like his intestines were on fire, but kissing him, touching him makes him feel eternal, invincible.
“I want you to fuck me, hyung,” Zitao whispers when they part. Joonmyun’s movements come to a halt. Zitao’s words bounces off the walls, sticks to Joonmyun’s lips like glue. As it takes Joonmyun some time to just comprehend the request, doubt starts to settle in Zitao’s eyes. His breath comes faster, chest heaving.
Joonmyun kisses him. Just a brief, short press of lips but it seems to calm Zitao some.
“I’ll fuck you,” he tells him. Zitao’s eyes are still wide, shiny.
“You want to too, right?” Zitao asks, his Korean high pitched, body trembling. “You want this too right?”
You want me too right?
A warmth blooms in Joonmyun’s chest, spreads out to his limbs, leaves him lightheaded, warm. He feels powerful, like he can do anything as long as Zitao is by his side, with him. Joonmyun smiles, then, kisses Zitao again. Makes a shy smile grow on his lips too.
“So much, Tao,” Joonmyun says between short kisses. He peppers more of them; over his cheeks, eyelids, nose before winding back up at his lips. With one last lingering kiss, Joonmyun pulls back.
“Hyung wants you so much.”
Joonmyun didn’t bring any lube, but Zitao fishes an entire sleeve of condoms as well as two bottles of lube up from his suitcase. He tries to look shy but ends up with a shit-eating grin instead, his eyes gleaming.
“Why are you even bringing that on an overseas trip?” Joonmyun asks him half serious half amused, slapping Zitao’s butt as he settles back onto the bed. Joonmyun tears one condom off the sleeve and brings the half-full bottle of lube.
“Sometimes Sehunnie and I-“ Zitao begins offhandedly but falls silent when Joonmyun looks at him. Between his legs, his cock throbs with interest as his mind starts spewing images of the two long limbed boys in bed, wrapped around each other while they-
Joonmyun tucks that thought away for now.
“Hands and knees,” Joonmyun says instead, pausing in his steps as Zitao turns in the lewdest way imaginable, hands roaming down his long torso before he flips over to his front, spreading his long legs, curving his spine. Joonmyun’s blood boils as he watches Zitao grin as he offers his ass to Joonmyun.
Joonmyun manages to wipe that grin off Zitao’s mouth with a flick of his tongue against Zitao’s rim. Under his palms, Joonmyun can feel Zitao clench the muscles in his cheeks, legs. Joonmyun sinks his fingers further into the supple flesh of Zitao’s ass before he brings his lips back to Zitao’s rim. Carefully he eases his tongue into Zitao, moaning at the heady, musky taste of him on his tongue, the way Zitao clenches around it.
Zitao’s moans are muffled by the pillow that he’s pressing his face into.
“I will hear you, Zitao,” Joonmyun demands, pulls away briefly for his words to be audible. Zitao huffs but when Joonmyun’s mouth is back on his rim his moans are audible, clear. Zitao is incredibly responsive; makes noises at Joonmyun’s every move. Ranging from soft whispers to loud keens. They go straight to Joonmyun’s neglected cock, leaking between his legs. It doesn’t affect Joonmyun much. Of course he wants to get off but seeing Zitao like this is reward enough for him, for now, knowing how much Zitao appreciates it, knowing that it’s Joonmyun who makes him make those noises, makes Zitao feel good.
Before long, Joonmyun slips a lubed finger into Zitao, adds another one in quick succession. Zitao is a mess, uttering nonsense in Korean and rambles in Mandarin. It’s a delight to watch. Joonmyun thinks Zitao probably could come from this alone, with Joonmyun’s tongue and fingers in his ass. A part of him wants to test it out, check if it’s true but they don’t have time.
Maybe next time.
After fucking Zitao with three fingers, making sure he’s wet enough, stretched enough; Joonmyun pulls them out. Zitao whines piteously, calling for his hyung, wanting more. With two fingers, Joonmyun taps Zitao’s butt.
“On your back, Zitao,” Joonmyun murmurs. His tummy coils in delight when Zitao actually does. It’s less graceful than it had been earlier; he sort of just flops around, lands on his side before rolling onto his back. Yet, he spreads his legs shamelessly, hands coming up to grab his ankles, showing off just how flexible he is.
“Hurry hyung!” Zitao groans, sticking out his bottom lip at Joonmyun who rolls the condom on. Hands fumbles over the sheets, searching for the lube while Zitao whines again.
“Patience, baby boy, hyung is working,” Joonmyun tells him, distracted, eyebrows furrowed. There’s a shuddery breath coming from Zitao, looking at Joonmyun with wide eyes. The air in the room feels tighter, Joonmyun’s lips suddenly dry. “Baby boy.”
Zitao gasps. Interesting.
Joonmyun locates the lube next to Zitao’s ankle, lathers a good amount on his cock. He’s so sensitive now, has gone long without being touched at all. To make sure the condom sits right, Joonmyun works his fist over his cock a couple of times, enjoying the relief.
“Hyung”, Zitao keens, drawing out the vowels, reminding Joonmyun of a spoiled child. Joonmyun settles between Zitao’s legs, one hand holding one of Zitao’s legs up, the second one curled around the base of his cock as he pushes slowly into Zitao. It’s a tight fit; Zitao all warm, tight heat around him. It fees fucking amazing, wonderful and all the adjectives. Joonmyun fights against the urge to start thrusting, instead he lifts Zitao’s legs up on his shoulders before leaning over Zitao, folding him in half by doing so.
“Are you okay?” Joonmyun asks softly, hands cupping Zitao’s warm cheeks. Their eyes meet, time freezes. Zitao looks up at him with so much trust, admiration, fondness that Joonmyun’s heart clenches, lungs feeling tight, his head throbbing. In lieu of answering, Zitao nods – it’s barely a movement but it’s there, open and easy for Joonmyun to see.
So Joonmyun kisses him. Joonmyun kisses Zitao the way Zitao deserves to be kissed; warm, loving. Zitao is so wonderfully eager in his kissing too; kisses like Joonmyun’s lips are his oxygen, as if it’s the very thing keeping him alive. It’s delightful and terrifying at the same time. Joonmyun feels overwhelmed with how much love Zitao pours back into the kiss.
Even as he starts working his hips, slow, careful – Joonmyun remains close to Zitao, resting his forehead against Zitao’s, basking in the soft noises Zitao makes whenever Joonmyun thrusts back into him. It doesn’t become rushed, ever, stays just like a slow, soft burning flame. One of Zitao’s arms wrap around his neck, the other settles on Joonmyun’s cheek.
Joonmyun’s heart aches with how tender this is, how tender Zitao’s kisses are. When Zitao pulls away, it’s to tilt his head, exposing his neck. His gorgeous eyes flutter shut, mouth open in a silent moan. Joonmyun shifts the angle slightly, barely then rolls his hips against Zitao’s again. Zitao’s hand tightens in the back of Joonmyun’s hair, a long whine spills out of his mouth as the head of Joonmyun’s cock pushes against Zitao’s swollen prostate.
Zitao tightens, impossibly so around the girth of Joonmyun’s cock, coaxing a low moan out of Joonmyun as well. He’s so close; the familiar heat coiling low between his legs, muscles in his abdomen tightening. He’s not going to last long, he knows; so he aims to get Zitao off first.
Joonmyun slips his hand between Zitao’s legs, fingers wrapping around the head of Zitao’s cock immediately settling a tempo much faster than the one Joonmyun’s hips are going in. The head of Zitao’s cock is so slick, it makes it easy for Joonmyun to pull at his cock in tight yet fast flicks of his wrist.
Zitao pants Joonmyun’s name, pleads, cries. Fat tears trickle out of the corners of Zitao’s eyes, then and Joonmyun worries if he’s hurting him. Before Joonmyun manages to stop, however, Zitao manages to speak, the words making sense, for once.
“Please, hyung, I’m – call me your –“Zitao’s voice breaks on a sob that rakes through his body. He’s meeting Joonmyun’s thrusts, body bucking against Joonmyun’s. “Hyung, please.”
“My baby boy,” Joonmyun calls softly, lips pressed against Zitao’s temple as he fucks him with deep, thrusts, pulls out until the head of his cock holds Zitao open before fucking back into him. Zitao tightens his hold on Joonmyun, hand clawing at his back as he lets out small sobs of pleasure every time Joonmyun thrusts into him.
“My darling baby boy, I got you.”
Zitao comes with a sob that sounds like something akin to Joonmyun’s name, his entire body tightening before he shudders through his orgasm, spilling in Joonmyun’s fist, on Joonmyun’s tummy. Joonmyun can only watch helplessly how beautifully wrecked Zitao looks as pleasure wrecks through his system; feels rather than sees how it impacts his body.
It drives Joonmyun into his own orgasm, face buried into Zitao’s neck as pleasure wraps around him, spills into the condom while lodged inside Zitao, still.
His entire body throbs, his heart hammering in his chest as his body brings him down from his high. Joonmyun winces slightly as he pulls wetly out of Zitao. Quietly he slips off the bed, tosses the condom away in one of the garbage bins. Briefly, he contemplates taking a shower, seeing as he’s sticky from sweat and Zitao’s come.
However, he quickly changes his mind when a soft hyung comes from the bed in a tired voice. Easier than he’d like to admit, Joonmyun returns to Zitao, lets Zitao arrange them until he’s pleased. They end up facing each other, sharing the same pillow; Joonmyun’s arms Zitao’s waist. Zitao sighs softly, body completely lax. Even like this, Zitao is absolutely gorgeous, his skin glistening with sweat that makes it look like his body is covered in a fine layer of gold glitter.
Joonmyun doesn’t even try to fight the fondness that flutters in his chest and leans forward to kiss the tip of Zitao’s nose which has him giggling loud, high-pitched. The sound goes straight to Joonmyun’s heart.
And for now, Joonmyun figures that sleep is a minor thing, doesn’t care about the fact that their managers will be knocking on the door in less than four hours. Everything that matters this moment is Zitao, beautiful, kind, soft Zitao whose eyelids flutter when Joonmyun leans inn and kisses him.
First sutao! Better late than never. I'm sorry if i screwed up their personalities or dynamics.