15. Chapter Fifteen #2
Seyeon makes a soft sound, rousing. My chest squeezes as he stirs beneath the blanket, his shoulders shifting, his face turning on the pillow. He picks his head up and I have to bite the inside of my cheek.
His face. God, his face. Brow scrunched, eyes slitted, that plush bottom lip jutting out as he blinks at the room.
He looks dazed and confused and so unbearably pretty that the urge to lunge forward and kiss him the rest of the way awake grips me so strongly I feel like I’m going to explode.
I want to catch that lip between my teeth, want to feel it give under the pressure, want to taste the sleepy warmth of his mouth.
My hands curl against my thighs, holding myself in place through sheer force of will.
Seyeon squints up at the window where gray rain light filters through. Mumbles, “What time is it?”
“Don’t know,” I reply hoarsely. I nod toward the floor where his phone is still glowing. “Your mom’s been calling.”
He groans, drops his face back into the pillow for a second, then reaches out blindly, patting at the floor until his fingers close around the phone. I watch the side of his face as he swipes at the screen, the light spilling across his cheekbone.
“Forgot to tell her I wasn’t coming home last night,” he mutters, thumbs moving over the keyboard. “She’s probably worried.”
He sends the text and lets the phone drop with a clatter. Hugs the pillow to his chest and lies there, one arm wrapped around it possessively, his bare back rising and falling. Then one eye opens, peering at me through the tangle of brown hair falling across his face.
“How long have you been awake?” His voice is scratchy with sleep, lower and gravelly, and my cock twitches against my thigh so forcefully I have to shift my weight. Fuck. Just his voice.
I shrug one shoulder. “Usually up pretty early. Habit.”
Years of morning shifts trained that into me. My body doesn’t know how to sleep past five anymore, no matter how late the night before went or how thoroughly I was emptied out. Seyeon makes a quiet hmph noise at that and starts to roll over.
He gets halfway and stops, groaning sharply as his hand flies to his lower back.
He freezes mid-motion, eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared in a grimace, one palm pressing into the base of his spine.
My body jerks forward instinctively before I catch myself, holding back, just watching as he grits his teeth through it and pushes himself upright.
He sits up, the blanket pooled around his waist, his hair a disaster, then looks down at himself.
“Shit.”
I follow his gaze. My cum is leaking out of him, the change from lying down pushing what was still inside free, white and slick sliding down the inside of his thigh and pooling on the mat beneath him.
The sight is like a fist to the gut, a pulse of possessive heat I don’t have any business feeling. I lift a brow.
“That’s what you get for making me put it in without a condom.”
Seyeon cringes, his hand moving from his back to press gingerly against his lower abdomen, rubbing in small circles. “Ugh. My stomach hurts.”
I roll my eyes. “Come on.” I shift forward on my knees, hooking my arm around his waist from behind, pulling him against my side as I start to stand. “Let’s go shower so we can get it all out.”
He groans as I haul him upright but doesn’t fight me on it, his weight settling against my side, one arm slung loosely over my shoulder for balance.
We make it into the hallway where Yuro scrambles backward from his sleeping spot just outside the door, startled, his tail wagging cautiously as he takes in the sight of the two of us stumbling past him like survivors of a catastrophe.
I steer Seyeon through the kitchen with my arm still cinched around his waist, half carrying him as he winces with each step.
Out the back door the rain pours down on us, warm from the season but still a shock against bare skin.
The bathroom is only a few steps across the covered part of the courtyard so we duck through it fast, our feet slapping wet tile as we get inside.
I lower Seyeon onto one of the plastic benches.
He slumps, knees together, arms folded across his chest against the chill.
I turn the shower on and hold my hand under the stream, waiting for the water to heat.
The pipes in this building are ancient and take their time.
When the temperature finally shifts from cold to tolerable I reach back, grip Seyeon’s arm and pull him in with me.
The spray cascades over my shoulders first and I duck my head under it, letting the warmth run down the back of my neck, loosening some of the stiffness in my muscles.
I step aside, giving Seyeon room. He moves under the water and tips his face up, eyes closing, and for a second I just watch the way the spray sheets down his chest, the water carving paths over his collarbones, between the faint ridges of muscle on his stomach.
The pink marks I left on his skin bloom brighter under the heat.
I can count them. The one on his neck. Two on his chest. One just above his hip that’s shaped unmistakably like my mouth.
I look away. Turn to grab the soap.
When I look back over my shoulder Seyeon’s turned around, one arm bent behind him at an awkward angle, his fingers trying to reach between his own legs. His face twists with the effort and the discomfort and I watch him struggle with it for three seconds before I close the gap between us.
“Here.” I put my hands on his hips and pull him back against me. The gruffness of my voice is beyond my control. “Let me do it.”
I steer him to face the wall, press gently at the center of his back until he gets the idea and puts both palms flat against the wet tile.
His head drops between his arms. His shoulders are tight with tension, the muscles along his spine pulled tight.
I place one hand on the curve of his hip to hold him steady and reach down with the other, using my thumb and fingers to spread him open.
Seyeon makes a small, clipped sound as I find his hole.
Even under the running water I can feel the swelling, the slight give of skin that’s been used too hard.
I angle the shower head so the spray runs between his cheeks, rinsing, warm water washing away the mess.
He holds still for me, his breathing getting shorter.
When I push two fingers inside to scoop out what’s collected deeper, his whole body jerks and he sucks air through his teeth.
I can feel him shaking beneath my hand. Fine tremors running through the muscles of his thighs, up through his hips where I’m gripping him.
His knuckles are white against the tile.
I try to concentrate. Try to focus on what I’m doing and not the feeling of his body hot and clenching around my fingers.
Not the sounds he’s trying to muffle. My cock is so painfully stiff between my legs it’s hard to think, bobbing against my thigh every time Seyeon’s body tightens. Priorities, I think, grinding my teeth.
“That’s enough,” Seyeon says quietly, his voice tight. He reaches back and tries to pull my wrist away. I catch his hand, guide it back to the wall.
“Shh.” I press him closer to the tile, steady him as I crouch down behind him, lifting one of his legs by the knee to prop his foot on the low ledge of the shower.
He lets me, though I hear his breath hitch.
“Need to make sure it’s all properly cleaned out or you’re going to be uncomfortable later. ”
Seyeon looks back at me over his shoulder. My heart slams into my ribs.
His eyes are half lidded, pupils blown in the steam. His cheeks are flushed. His teeth are sunk into his bottom lip, pressing a crease into the soft skin. The look on his face is devastating. The blood roars in my ears and my cock pulses against my thigh hard.
I make myself focus. I use my thumbs to spread him open again, leaning close so that I can see clearly.
His rim is puffy and swollen, flushed a deep pink, tender from the abuse.
I hold him open and check inside, the tissue hot and flushed but no tearing that I can see, just overworked soreness from three rounds without enough lube because we were too busy trying to consume each other to think. I let go carefully and stand.
Seyeon lets out a long breath as his leg comes down, his posture loosening by fractions. His forehead rests against the tile between his braced arms. The water runs over both of us, fogging the tiny bathroom in steam.
I can’t help it.
I lean forward and press my lips to the back of his neck, right at the top of his spine where his hair is plastered down in dark wet strands. His skin is hot from the water and impossibly soft. I let my mouth linger there for a beat too long, breathing him in.
Seyeon turns his head. His hand lifts from the wall and reaches back, fingers finding the side of my face, my jaw, pulling gently.
I let him turn me and then his mouth is on mine, unhurried this time, nothing like the ferocity of last night.
His lips are warm and slick from the water, parting, and his tongue slides over mine slow and searching, and I feel it unravel something in my chest that I’ve kept knotted for years.
My hand comes up to cup the back of his head, holding him in place, tilting into it as his tongue curls against mine and the taste of him floods my mouth and I want to drown in this, want to stay here in this shitty little bathroom with the bad pipes and the cracked tile and kiss him until the rain stops and the world outside forgets we exist.
I make myself pull away.
It takes a massive amount of self control. Peeling my mouth from his feels like tearing tape off skin. I lean back, put a few inches of steam-filled air between us, and watch his eyes open, glassy and flushed, giving me a look that makes my stomach drop.