Chapter 14 ~ Bellamy #2
Then he kisses me back, his hands coming up, gripping my jersey and pulling me closer, his mouth opening under mine with a hunger matching my own. Minho’s teeth graze my lower lip, and I groan because, oh my god, this is better than jacking off to a dream of kissing him.
We stumble backwards, my hips hitting the bench, and I pull him down with me, his body settling between my legs, his weight pressing me into me. My hands slide against his warm, wet skin, drinking in how smooth he is, memorising him like it’s the only time I ever will and perhaps it is.
I want to memorise everything about him, his smell, his taste, the way he gasps when my fingers trace the curve of his spine. I need all of him, every inch he’s willing to give me, before this fades away like waking from a dream you never want to leave.
“Fuck,” he whispers against my lips, voice ragged and utterly broken. “This is such a bad idea.”
“I don’t care.”
“Bellamy—”
“Shut up, Minho.” I kiss him again, deeper this time; my tongue slides against his, and he lets out a low moan that reverberates through my chest. My hand moves lower, fingers splaying over his ass, and I feel him shiver under my touch.
But when my hand dips lower to his pucker, his hand catches my wrist.
“No.”
I pout pathetically. “Why not? I promise you’ll feel good.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m sure I would, but I am not letting you be my first—” He cuts himself off, but it's too late; I heard it, and he knows it.
I raise a brow, and when he attempts to pull away, I hold him to me, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Minho Seong-Walker,” I muse. “Has no one ever played with you?” I poke my tongue out and lick up his stomach, then his chest until I get one of his pierced nipples into my mouth and nibble.
He moans, head falling back. “Bells—”
“Are you telling me that you’ve fucked around with others—” I pause, obsessing over how much he’s liking my tongue on him.
“But you’ve never let anyone fuck you?” I graze my teeth across his chest to his other nipple, and god damn, I am obsessed with his man titties; they are so plump I could probably fuck my dick between them until I come.
Something to think about for later.
He doesn’t answer my question; his mouth clamps shut. “Answer me, baby,” I plead, tongue circling his nipple before biting down hard. My hand finds his cock and squeezes, making him squirm, before I gently stroke him and bite him again.
I definitely bruised him this time.
“Fuck!” He screams, grinding shamelessly on my now hard cock, which is straining against my jeans.
I won’t fuck him here; I’m not as evil as he would have everyone think I am, and I won’t have sex with him until he gives me his permission to go that far. Teasing and touching are one thing to aggravate him, but fucking him has to be his choice, his decision.
I take his chin into my hand and force him to look into my eyes. “Say it,” I whisper against his lips. “Tell me, and I’ll let you cum in my mouth.”
Minho bites his lower lip, eyes burning with equal hate and want. It’s annoyingly cute that he thinks he can hate me right now when he brought this on himself.
“Fine,” I start. “Don’t say anything, I’ll leave.”
I begin to rise when he presses a hand to my chest, leaning in. “I hate you.”
I smile. “Debatable.”
He glares, and I squeeze his dick harder, silently memorising the feel of the ladders of piercings on the underside of his shaft.
We are going to have so much fun, my God.
Minho whimpers and grinds into my hand, falling forward when I stroke him faster. “F-fuck fuck, fine, yes, I’m a virgin,” he stutters and yet makes no move to run away from me. “Jesus... Fuck, please let me come, please, Bells.”
“Good boy.”
Finally, Finally, Finally.
I make a move to get up, and Minho silently follows my lead until we are both on our feet before I push him against the shower tiles. I’m on him before he can draw another breath; my mouth finds his throat, tongue tracing the line of his jaw.
Funnily enough, I am addicted to the taste of him, something I have craved for so long I almost—and I mean almost beg him not to make me stop, but I don't; I say nothing and let myself drown in him for the millionth time.
“This is—” He starts to say, but I cut him off with my mouth on his, swallowing the words, and he groans, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders.
“I really don’t care,” I say against his lips.
“I don’t care how wrong this is, how much you hate me, all I can think about is this moment with you.
” My mouth trails down his neck, across his collarbone, over the curve of his chest, leaving more bite marks there, which I am sure he will hate me even more for.
Minho’s breath comes in short gasps above me, and the sound alone drives me forward. I stop at one nipple; the barbell there is cool against my lips. I trace the edge of the piercing with my tongue, and his entire body shudders as he whimpers.
My God, he’s so responsive.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, Bellamy.”
I do it again, slower this time, letting my teeth graze the metal this time while his hand finds my hair, fingers running through it, and he pulls in the short strands, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that I groan.
“Why did you get these?” I ask, my voice rough against his skin.
He laughs. “I was drunk, bored, and the idea excited me.”
“Best drunk decision you ever made.”
I move to the other nipple, giving the second piercing the same attention, feeling the way his hips press forward, searching for more friction. His cock rubs against my leg, and I want it in my mouth. I want him to use me—I want all of him.
My knees hit the solid ground, and I ignore the pain that courses through me, only focusing on what will make Minho feel good.
He looks down at me, eyes wide, lips parted, water still dripping from his hair. I take in the tattoos scattered on his legs, on the inside of his thighs; I obsess over the trail of hair below his navel, the V of muscle I want to lick and kiss.
I seriously just like having my tongue on him, sue me.
“What are you—” He stops, swallows hard, then composes himself as best he can. “Bellamy.”
“I want to.” The words come out easier than I imagined they ever would with him. There’s no game hidden in those three words, no bullshit, just honesty. “Please let me.”
For a long moment, he stares at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, hands still in my hair. And then he nods, a single jerky movement while his eyes never leave mine—that is, until I break eye contact to stare at his cock in my face.
Minho is so hard. The thought sends a jolt of heat through me, a possessive satisfaction that makes my fingers tremble knowing I got him this excited.
His cock is perfect, nearly as long as mine but definitely thicker, the tip flushed and already leaking precum.
I rub my thumb against his slit before bringing it to my mouth and moaning before my eyes find each other again.
“Tasty,” I purr.
Minho’s lips part, legs trembling slightly. “Fuck me.”
I chuckle. “Not here, baby.”
He doesn’t say anything, not even a roll of his eyes. Minho simply tilts his head to the side as if admiring the view of me on my knees for him.
“This one is my favourite,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “I wonder what it would feel like to have your cock’s piercings sliding in my ass as you fill me.”
His head falls back against the wall. “God.”
“He’s not here, princess.” I look up at him, and I mean what I say next. “But you’re so beautiful you could be my god.”
Minho looks down at me again, and something like a laugh and a sob escapes his lips, but before he can say anything remotely insulting about how mushy I sound, I lean forward and take the length of him into my mouth.
The taste of him hits me first, salty from his precum and the soap he used on his skin.
He is so warm against my tongue, heavy, and I feel the vibration of his groan course through his entire body.
Minho’s grip on my hair tightens, and I let him guide me, let him set the pace because this isn’t about me.
Well, it is, because I want to be his first. I didn’t get to be his first kiss, or his first boyfriend, nor did I get to be the first blowjob he’s gotten or given, which is fine, but I will be the first person he goes all the way with.
And I will be patient; I will wait for him to be ready if he ever lets me get that far with him.
But I hope he does.
So this is mainly about him, about showing him with my mouth everything I can’t say with words as I take him deeper, feel the row of piercings on the underside of his cock on my tongue, and I hear his breathing catch, feel his hips stutter.
“Wait.” His voice is strained. “Bells, wait... I—”
I pull back to the tip, tongue flicking the slit of his dick, lips wet as I look up at him between my long lashes. Minho’s face is flushed, eyes dark, and there is something vulnerable in the way he is looking at me, as if he forgot to mask what he’s feeling—what he wants.
It's raw, and I want to swallow all of it, so I make a popping sound when I release his cock from my mouth. “What is it?”
He swallows, his hands shaking in my hair. “I-I—” he stops, closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, there is a hesitation there along with a hidden confession in them, one I want him to say out loud, but he doesn’t and instead says, “I was close.”
The words land like a punch and not because I didn’t expect it, but rather I, for once, had hope he finally would open up to me, say what he’s so fucking scared to say—to me, while giving me this small piece of trust I know I don’t deserve so long as he still resents me.
“Is that all you wanted to say?” I ask, keeping my voice as steady as I possibly can while my heart is slamming against my ribs. “We don’t have to—”