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"Moon-jo," He heard the voice say from the living room.
The dentist was combing his freshly bathed hair in front of the mirror when Jong-woo called his name. It was nothing more than that, a simple calling of his name, but it was enough to affect his breathing. Not exactly in the expected manner the lovely sound from Jong-woo's voice made his whole system falter daily, but rather in a new kind of astonishment from how he was called.
There was no accompanying sentence following his name, no demand to do something or instruction to follow, just a simple calling of his name. And if that wasn't enough for his heart to skip a beat, the tone in which it was voiced marked that something was different. There had been no apparent irrigation, no mockery present or even a drop of annoyance intervening in the voicing.
Not hesitating to walk out of the room, Moon-jo crossed the steps to find Jong-woo sitting on the couch in front of the TV with his elbow resting on the armrest, holding his arm high enough for his cheek to lay down on his palm.
His face was angled to the side as he turned off the screen. Moon-jo approached from behind in silence, his face calm as usual, not showing any sign of the twisting anticipation forming inside of him. Maybe Jong-woo just wanted his company.
He rounded the couch to appear before Jong-woo, whose bored expression seemed to brighten up at his arrival. His big, dark eyes surveyed him from head to toe in interest, making it hard for Moonjo to stay unaware of his half nudity.
"What do you need, darling?" He asked, anxious to hear whatever the boy would reply.
Jong-woo smirked, straightening up in his seat. "I'm bored," He sighed, letting his open hands fall to his thighs.
Moon-jo was intrigued. When Jong-woo felt bored he would just inform him he was going out or would give him instructions as to what to do to keep him entertained. Never really just voicing his boredom.
Incapable of coming up with an addition to the single declaration, Moon-jo chose not to respond.
Jong-woo watched his silence and snorted, patting his lap while smiling with what Moonjo could resemble as fondness. "Come here," he whispered.
Moon-jo froze for a second, delighted at the request coming with kindness and not with a nasty shout.
Jong-woo cocked his head to the side, moving his hands from his lap to set them aside. His brows lifted slightly, awaiting, with his eyes opened wide.
Realizing he was slow to comply, Moon-jo finally reacted, incapable to resist such a hypnotic look and settled himself atop Jong-woo's thighs as gracefully as he could, still managing to keep the towel around his waist in place and careful not to lay all his weight on the younger man. Now closer to Jong-woo, it was easy to notice how his pressed lips shifted slightly to a half-smirk.
The second he was seated, something inside him ignited subtly but instantly, warning the beginning of an uncontrollable fervor from within. Moon-jo tried not to think about it, forcing himself to stay in control and not ruin the moment, as it could end just as fast. But Jong-woo allowed his eyes to travel unashamed over his body again, apparently interested in analyzing every inch of him before lending anything more on.
Moon-jo took a deep breath and asked, "What do you want me to do?"
Jong-woo's persistent smiling lips opened in amusement at his question. "Forever ready to make my wish your command," he declared with confidence.
Moon-jo could only nod as warm hands began to roam up his exposed thighs in a teasing caress.
"Always so open to please me…" Jongwoo murmured looking at his lips then, in a tone so velvety the hair on his skin stood upon hearing.
"Anything," Moon-jo vowed. His heart was beating in an uncontrolled rhythm.
"Anything…" Jong-woo repeated, not separating his predatory eyes from the red lips, promising and every time closer. He chuckled darkly, applying more pressure to the hand arriving at Moon-jo's hip before finally, sharing his breath with him.
Their lips met for the first time in what felt like a lifetime and Moon-jo felt the instant detachment from time and space. There was nothing more but him and the man he tore the world apart for meeting in an embrace so marvelously graceful and flawless it battled for holiness.
He felt his lower lip being bitten sharply, violently yanking a moan from his chest. The hand free from squeezing his hip focused on mimicking previous caressing movements to his right thigh, just deviating to angle for his groin. The grunt that surprised them both couldn't have sounded more vicious.
"Just a touch of my lips and you're already this hard?" Jong-woo mocked against his lips, not stopping his hand after the first touch.
Moonjo dropped his head to admire the lower view, moaning when he caught a glimpse of the calloused hand slowly going up and down on him. But the show ended shortly after, having a finger raising his chin back up.
"Go get the lube," Jong-woo ordered. The authority in his voice was back, only that this time, he diluted the usual harsh solution with a seductive purr of arousal.
On weak knees Moon-jo stood up. The cold air hit his body with every motion he performed to get away from Jong-woo.
He walked with hidden difficulty back to their room, opening the shelf from the nightstand to grab the tube in a hurry. When he got back to the coach, Jong-woo's shirt had loosen up and his jeans were open, exposing the length that unleashed frenzy inside Moon-joo's belly secured in one hand.
"What are you waiting for?" Jong-woo asked him once he stood in front of him again, not pausing the sharp strokes he was administering to bring himself to full hardness.
Moon-jo began to clumsily release the knot of his towel alone, but then Jong-woo's swift hand grabbed the garment and motioned him until he bumped with his legs. Two of his fingers pulled from the towel and his cock sprung free.
"Isn't this better, baby?"
Moon-jo gasped. A quiver assaulted his body from the sudden action and the words the writer struck him with. Jong-woo was not a man to use endearment terms, so every single loving vocalization of the kind to escape the puckered lips was to cherish.
"Jagiya…"
Jong-woo hummed, ordering him to reposition himself atop again with one finger. Moon-jo happily obliged, feeling a lethal rise of temperature burn his veins, making his blood bubble and flow at an incredibly rapid pace, performing a brisk expansion through him whole. The tingling from his groin to the dizziness from his head nearly tumbled him down. His willpower formed solely around the promise of having Jong-woo.
When he took seat again, the raw contact of flesh to flesh nearly undid him. With a violent excitement ravishing his every sense, he didn't notice Jongwoo had taken the lube away from him to open the lid and squeeze sufficient on his palm to smear on himself first.
Moon-jo watched mesmerized as Jong-woo rolled his head back in pleasure the moment the cold product connected with his cock. When he was content with the covering, he took Moon-jo's hand in his and positioned it with the palm up and open, squeezing a good portion on it.
"Prepare yourself," He said, looking him straight in the eyes, confident his demand would be met.
Moon-jo swallowed, millions of thoughts making their way through his mind as he saw the lust in Jong-woo's eyes. The playfulness in the dark depths slowly wrecking him. So, as he could only do, he nodded, proceeding to put his hand on his rim.
With his cheeks being spread with Jong-woo's help, he circled his hole with his index finger before introducing it with a silent gasp, spoiling his attempt to maintain some posture.
"That's right, you're doing so good," Jong-woo praised him, knowing every move the skilled hand made by the effect it displayed on the dentist's face.
Moon-jo whined meekly, unable to control the shudder traveling his spine from the words.
"Add another one, come on."
Moon-jo did, stretching himself further while trying not to fall on his back.
A few moments more passed until he began panting like a runner as three of his fingers stretched him. His eyes were unable to focus and his mouth agape from the feeling.
When he began to seek more friction against Jong-woo, the young decided he was sufficiently prepared.
"That's enough," He said, grabbing his wrist and removing it from his ass. "Now come over here." He gripped him from his hips to bring him closer again. "Put me inside you," Jong-woo said, helping him raise.
"What?" Moon-jo asked, thinking he had misheard.
Jong-woo smiled, "Guide my cock inside by yourself. You can do that, can't you?" He almost dared.
Moon-jo could feel the tremble from his hand, but he couldn't embarrass himself. Couldn't let Jong-woo down.
"Uh-hu," He replied, trying not to sound hesitant, lifting some more to grasp the warm shaft and guide it between his parted ass cheeks Jong-woo held open, clutching hard enough to surely leave a red mark.
Fitting the tip in, he heard Jongwoo hiss and himself gasp, not totally accustomed to the beautiful connection yet.
When he felt Jong-woo's cock was secured to follow without guidance, he withdrew his hands to grab at Jong-woo's shoulder and, slowly, start going down.
The fierce intrusion was painful at first, making his legs twitch and his nostrils flare, but as he moved down the length, overwhelming tides of delight traveled up his torso, rolling through his arms to reach and extend through his mind.
He rolled his head back when he hit the hilt, exhaling as his dick stiffened more.
When Moon-jo felt completely drowned in sensual bliss, Jong-woo closed the distance between their lips again to offer a filthy kiss, savoring from his mouth to his jaw, wetly nibbling before whispering: "Now stay there," The words tickled softly at his neck. "And don't fucking move."
Dazed, Moon-jo furrowed his brows. Jong-woo's hands fell with abandon at the back of his knees.
"Wh- What?" He asked weakly, struggling to focus his eyes on the writer.
"I said," Jong-woo inhaled sharply, parting his lips from Moon-jo's skin to straighten on his seat, "stay still. And don't you dare to move."
"I can't- I can't move?" Moonjo asked stupidly.
Jong-woo chuckled darkly, "I guess having my dick inside really makes you stupid," He sneered, pinching lightly his right hough. Then clicked his tongue, "Didn't you hear? You're not allowed to move. Understood?" He threatened.
Moon-jo swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He wanted to ask what would happen if he moved, but decided against it.
He was so hard and needy already, it definitely was not possible to stay still. He wanted to complain and disobey so badly but he had vowed to obey Jong-woo until the end, to always please him and never fail him. He had to keep with his now totally submissive performance, for just a bit more. He couldn't fuck this up. He wouldn't.
Determined, he nodded his head eagerly, trying his best not to wiggle the rest of his body.
"That's my boy." Jong-woo caressed his cheek, then turned to take the TV remote casually, like he didn't have a man naked on top of him sheltering his dick.
As Jong-woo began to change channels in seek of something to watch, Moon-jo took a deep breath, tension beginning to creep on him.
"Can I-" He wanted to ask if he could make himself more comfortable but was cut mid-question by Jong-woo's annoyed look.
"I rather you do not speak, either," Jong-woo said with indifference, turning back to look at the screen.
Thinking he had managed to irritate Jong-woo impaled misery on him, but even so, an unexpected shudder collided with his back, making him grasp Jong-woo's resting hand on the coach. The young man was quick to remove it.
"And if you could please not touch me," Jong-woo said, sounding disgusted.
Moon-jo felt his heart wrenching. He was ruining it, ruining it all.
Determined not to make any more mistakes, he nodded again, obedient and understanding. Then took another deep breath, preparing himself to act seriously and complete the task. Maybe if he stayed really still, Jong-woo would make this end soon and finally allow him to feel some pleasure. But after what felt like hours, Moon-jo realized how wrong he was.
He was biting the inside of his cheek, so hard the metallic taste of blood had already covered his whole tongue. His arms felt tired from clenching above the coach's flat furr in seek of something to hold onto. But the worst agony, he decided, was on his lower part, with his legs threatening to jerk cruelly before succumbing completely to numbness, and his neglected cock pathetically hard and heavy against his belly, leaking precum in dire await.
He was trying his damn best not to move an inch when he wished nothing more but to wiggle, even if it was just the bare minimum. He fought to maintain control, delaying the tears to fall from his eyes, but more time passed and he felt himself losing the battle. Bit by bit he sensed composure escaping his hold, drifting through his fingers like fleeing sand.
His eyes began to itch, making his vision blurry. So he blinked a couple of times, chastising himself and choosing to focus on something to ameliorate the discomfort. He found solace in watching Jong-woo's face, drawing some stability back inside as he contemplated his young but wise features illuminated by flickering lights coming from the screen.
Moon-jo wondered, how could he maintain his eyes unmoving and his whole body relaxed as if nothing else was happening. As if he just didn't care.
He got so immersed in his marvelous distraction he forgot about restraining himself, drawn away by a pair of elegantly high cheekbones that made his control languish.
Moon-jo wiggled his hips. It was a fractional movement, nearly nonexistent. But it was marked enough for Jong-woo to notice.
"Love, I'm sor-" Moon-jo began to apologize but couldn't finish as he fell to the floor, landing on his side after crudely hitting his arm with the coffee table.
He groaned, sensing the pain from the impact expanding to his shoulder.
"I thought I was clear when I told you to stay still." Jong-woo hissed.
Moon-jo winced, trying to stand up gripping his pulsing shoulder. "I'm sorry, babe, I was-"
"Don't call me that," Jong-woo interrupted angrily, then sighed, "Get on your knees."
Moon-jo couldn't see Jong-woo's expression clearly as he spoke because his long bangs were ragged and half-covering his eyes, but he tried turning onto his back.
"What?" He asked, not wincing at a new sharp sensation on his limb.
"You just fucking ruined it," Jong-woo spat with bitterness.
Moon-jo shook his head to move his bangs and saw him standing up from the coach.
"Now get on your knees and turn around."
"My shoulder-"
"I don't care." Jong-woo interrupted again, walking to where he was on the floor. "Turn around." He kicked his high slightly.
Moon-jo held his breath, getting to his knees and giving his back to Jong-woo. A chill crept up his arms when he felt warmth approaching his back.
"I thought you said you could do anything for me…" Jong-woo suddenly whispered in his ear. A chill produced by the hot breath rendered delicately treated his skin to a fixed vulnerability.
With forged steady stance, he said: "I can, it's just-"
"Shut up," Jong-woo silenced him harshly, giving a shove to his lower back, startling him before his reflexes acted up using his hands to support the fall. "Do you think it's correct to fail me like that and not be punished?"
There was actual resentment in Jong-woo's voice, but above his actual anger a seductive coating of mischievousness imposed its way to outstand, giving to his tone a pour of appetite that led Moon-jo to shiver in anticipation of what could be next. But he remained quiet, biting down on his lip, not wanting to unnerve the man any more and spoil what he deserved.
Jong-woo snorted, "Now you keep your mouth shut," he noted sarcastically. "I don't want you to be silent anymore," Jong-woo gripped his thighs and pulled them apart, "I want to hear you… Loud and clear."
Moon-jo opened his palms wider, pressing them flat against the artificial fur of the rug.
He tried to turn his head and observe what was happening with the jostling of clothes he heard, but could only glance a peek of Jong-woo shirtless before the boy's hand turned his head away, not consenting him to watch as he undressed to align his cock.
Moon-jo felt the hefty tip teasing to intrude again, but instead of sudden savage thrusts, Jong-woo faintly trailed the muscles on his back with a finger, painting a trail of vivid goosebumps on the path the tips followed.
"You're muscles are so strong… So tough and deadly… Yet I can defeat them, with just one finger…"
Moon-jo held his breath at the boy’s softly spoken truth.
They both knew Moon-jo could kill without a second thought; destroy a life within seconds without remorse and make the world fall apart next without a single feeling involved. But every evil could be lessened, just like every demon could be brought down for a moment.
"Only you can break me down like this," He whispered back, daring to look at Jong-woo.The boy didn't stop him that time, only smirked, meeting his gaze with observing dark eyes that shone in loud response.
There was nothing in there but gloat, sharing a sight of what rejoicing in triumph felt like. Moon-joo could not feel anything other than elation at it. Accomplishment.
It would take more time for Jong-woo to fully welcome his transition and finally, finally embrace his metamorphosis into what he was made to be. What Moon-jo faced him with. Because as the good artist he was, he had carved in his human sculpture until he freed the creature waiting inside, helping him to surface though the thick veil of falsity that had covered him for so long he almost gave up resistance.
So he would give in to any game Jong-woo decided before they both could become what they were meant to be all along. After all, if Moon-joo was actually some kind of demon, he would be exorcized when the time came, but not before he did his designed deed first.
He had time.
“Are you going to let me break you now?” The younger one asked, as if he were to act depending on the reply.
Enduring a striking chill, Moon-joo repeated his initial vow, “I said anything. I would never lie to you.”
Jong-woo evoked a deep vibration resembling a chuckle, forcefully turning Moon-joo’s head to look back at the rug.
“I hope you don’t break your word this time,” With his sentence, Jong-woo took his hip in a bruising hold and positioned the fat head of his cock before his entrance. "A disobedient slut like you deserves to be fucked on the floor, don't you think?"
Moon-jo swallowed, “As long as you fuck me, I don’t care where I am.”
He missed the wide smirk that accompanied the words: “I know.”
Even with his hole still loose from their previous action, Moon-joo hissed at the invading feeling, sensing how he stretched farther apart each passing moment in a bittersweet form.
Once completely inside, Jong-woo grabbed his ass cheeks and squeezed each with such hardness sitting the next day would surely be a problem.
“I’m not giving you time to adjust tonight,” Jong-woo declared, “I think I’ve been tolerant enough with you.”
Moon-joo moaned before the first thruts hit him. Before he could enjoy the pain from it another one came sliding easier and harder, forcing louder moans out of him before he could perceive them.
In his high state he could still obligate awareness to allow him to hear Jong-woo groaning behind him, begrudgingly allowing small whimpers to escape his mouth.
He was angry at them, at this, Moon-joo knew, not wanting to enjoy it- enjoy him- as much as he did. But real crave was inevitable, and his hunger had to win over sometime.
Satisfaction elevated inside Moon-joo. Gratification so keen it trespassed any boundary placed on his expectations, alerting immediately a boost to his body to act on it.
Meeting back the feral thrusts as rhythmically as he could, he clenched and unclenched around the sweetest feast he ever gained for himself, ripping moans from Jong-woo at the feeling. As response, Jong-woo moved one of his hands to angrily grip at his long, black hair.
“Enjoying yourself too much?,” Jong-woo asked, finding the right angle to hit, drawing a raw sob from him.
“Fuck, Jong-woo…”
Giggling, the younger pushedhim farther with his hips to make his knees grind forcibly against the rough rug and awkwardly reposition him on his fours.
He pulled from his hair while the previous shove still resounded and yanked until Moon-joo’s jaw opened slack with his continued accurate graze against his prostate, making the tingling cuts from the scrapes on his knees intensified from repetitive back and forth motions.
The pain along with pleasure Moon-joo’s body began to undergo made him whimper in delirium, intoxicated with the experience of an intrusive expansion of euphoria all over him that crushed his head with heaviness.
His limbs felt sore from old bruises, his belly contracted cruelly and his cock dangled and bounced forgotten in the air, but stayed interested, leaking while Jong-woo slapped his cheeks, gripped his shoulders and bruised his waist.
Even when the carpet under him felt unbearably astringent, he welcomed it to touch him bloodily with palms open, panting uncontrollably and singing in tone to the incredible fulfilment he felt.
Jong-woo freed his hold from his harmed shoulder to permit his hand wander on his broad back and press his nails to tear at his skin in luscious punishment, sealing deep marks of his lust and hate. Then, the younger pulled harder from his hair to bring him standing solely on his knees, still fucking him while imposing his sweaty back as support.
"You know," Jong-woo whispered hoarsely at his ear, "if you keep being such a good fuck, maybe one day I'll love you."
He shoved his head down again and let go of his strands, sending a dizzy shock to Moon-joo’s head.
The room spun around before his vision blackened and his eyes closed in marvel just an inch before his forehead collapsed with the floor.
His mouth opened shamelessly, allowing a deafening moan to outbreak from his vocal chords, leaving them strained and wounded. His ears shut down at any background noise, limited to accepting a single sound to reign within their capability; the ringing of the hushed sentence that brought him undone.
The fire inside of him finally reached the end of the wick, granting a blaze so high it burned down his walls until there was nothing more than dark ashes intended to shape him again.
When he opened his eyes, he heard Jong-woo laughing, almost like he was hundreds of miles away, but the unrelenting thrusts were still destroying him from close, so he settled himself back on reality.
He let his body be manhandled and used, relenting his upper half to succumb to the wet floor, bringing his ass higher.
“Up,” Jong-woo commanded, yanking the nearest wrist to bring him to lift himself on his forearms again.
He obliged, feeling warm drops tickle his abdomen before abandoning the trail on him to fall back on the rug.
Spent but conscious enough, he sensed Jong-woo's thrusts falter in their determination, getting impossibly faster but sloppier than earlier before a feral grunt echoed through the house and a burning fluid exploded inside of him.
He moaned gaily as the liquid flowed in and out of him since Jong-woo didn't quit thrusting until his cock stopped twitching.
Feeling Jong-woo’s come sliding down his thigh he hissed, drooling to taste it on his lips.
Later, he thought.
Even as he expected the following shove that tumbled him down on his back again, he didn’t resist it, allowing Jong-woo to move him as he liked.
Only for him.
Sighing, he accommodated to face the roof, uncaring of the vulgar dampness that glued to him from the rug. He did not moved his eyes until the younger one decided to lay down next to him.
He rested on his right side, observing his face with drenched strands sticking adoringly to his forehead. His eyes were glassy and dilated, but the wariness situated was only noticeable for Moon-joo, who wouldn't comment unless Jong-woo deliberately expressed his tiredness himself.
They looked at each other for a long time, catching their breaths and waiting for the slightest change in posture to decipher another signal from each other; find another truth to rip invasively while working on their own mingled thoughts at the same time.
Jong-woo was the one to break their tainted calmness.
“You really are what I want you to be, aren’t you?”
Moon-joo blinked, a small tug at the corner of his lips the only stir breaking his calmness.
“I am anything you wanna see, and I’ll be anything you want me to be…” Moon-joo let his sentence trail off in the heavenly air between their breaths, knowing Jong-woo didn’t need to hear the rest to know what he meant. The truth. Because that was all they had, all Moon-joo ever wanted to offer Jong-woo, and all they already knew.
Jong-woo’s face didn’t change, nor did his eyes waver. Only a small shift in the brown eyes glowed slightly, not openly performing but happening, nonetheless.
Moon-joo wondered the reason.
"Clean this up, " The younger ordered and calmly stood up, leaving him naked on the floor.
Unmoving, Moon-joo took a moment to take in the temperature of the room, focusing on each sensation his body was just then acknowledging.
He became aware of an intense throbbing on his shoulder. His legs were just battling the last trembles with bloody scrapes on his knees and his back stung from nail scratches and obscene moisture drying uncomfortably down to his thighs. His whole body felt used; his mind was at peace.
He smiled.