tired and uninspired ; 1/1
Title: Tired And Uninspired
Pairing: Woohyun/Myungsoo
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut, porn with plot. Sort of.
W/C: ~2550
Summary: Woohyun needs some inspiration. Myungsoo tries to be just that.
A/N: Written for prompt number 51, barista, of the 100 infinite fic challenge.
It’s a shame, really, that pages can’t write themselves, Woohyun thinks as he takes a sip of his coffee. He’s only been writing for an hour or two, but he can already tell that this scene just doesn’t want to be written. The words don’t want to come, and Woohyun is too tired and fed up with this novel to try and coax the words out of hiding. For the umpteenth time, he vaguely considers giving up on it, just trashing the entire novel. It’d be so easy; it takes just one click of the mouse. Staring at the screen, he shakes his head. This book might seem like a load of garbage to him right now, but it’s still a load of garbage that he’s spent the last four months slaving over. Four months of waking up at ten o’clock on the dot, rolling out of bed, and dragging himself to this cozy little coffee shop and almost always staying here until closing.
With his eyes firmly shut, he rubs at his temples in a vain attempt to rid himself of the pressure headache he has. What he really needs to rid himself of the headache, though, is an aspirin or two or three. He’s got a headache the size of Texas, and it’s not helping him write. It’s all the stress, he figures. He needs to get this written. His editor is going to be calling tonight, and all Woohyun hears when he talks is deadline, deadline, deadline.
He’s been slacking lately, hasn’t been meeting his quotas, and he knows he won’t hear the end of it from Sunggyu. This book deal seemed so exciting - it was a dream come true - but now, now he’s sick of it. Well, maybe he’s not sick of it, just fatigued and frustrated with writing at the moment. He pushes his laptop away from him and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh.
The cafe is rather empty today, he notices. There are a few people here and there, but for the most part, the place is dead. He catches the eyes of the usual barista, Myungsoo. He pauses in wiping out a mug to smile sympathetically at Woohyun, who smiles back and sends him a halfway enthusiastic wave.
Myungsoo finishes drying the glass he’s working on and walks over to Woohyun’s little table. Pulling a chair over to the table, he sits opposite of him and says, “You look tired.”
Woohyun snorts a little. “Tired is an understatement.”
Chuckling, Myungsoo asks, “Is there anything I can do for you? Every time I look over here, you look like a kicked puppy. It’s kind of distracting.”
“Want to write the next five thousand words of this novel for me?” he asks, and he’s so frustrated with this bout of writer’s block that he’s only half joking. He’d kill to have the words magically appear on the page.
Myungsoo shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “No way, man. I can barely churn out my term papers. Seriously though,” he says, the smile falling from his face. “You need anything? How ‘bout another coffee? It’s on the house.”
“Nah,” Woohyun shakes his head. “I think my body will start rebelling if I have anymore caffeine.” The last thing he needs right now is a caffeine headache, on top of the one he already has. His head is pounding, and Myungsoo is tapping some rhythm on the table, which really isn’t helping. Just as the barista is about to hit the table again, Woohyun reaches out and lays his hand over top his. Myungsoo looks up, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Sorry,” he says, quickly removing his hand from the barista’s and placing it awkwardly in his lap. “Headache,” he offers as an explanation.
Myungsoo mumbles something about being right back and disappears into the backroom of the coffee house. When he comes back, he has a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other. He hands them to Woohyun, who gratefully accepts and mutters something along the lines of ‘you’re an angel’ or ‘my saviour’. Myungsoo smirks a little as he sits back down, his arms crossed over the table. “I think you need to take a break for a bit. You’re stressing yourself out.”
“Can’t,” he replies after putting two pills into his mouth and tossing his head back to swallow them. If his eyes weren’t on the ceiling because his head is tipped back, he wouldn’t have missed the way Myungsoo stares almost hungrily at the curves of his neck when he swallows. “My editor is calling tonight. He’ll be pissed if I don’t get this written.” He takes a sip of the water. “God, he’s such a tight ass sometimes.”
“So ‘miss’ his call. Ignore him,” Myungsoo suggests. He has this ‘duh’ expression on his face, and Woohyun can’t decide if it makes him look stupid or cute. Stupid, he decides, it makes Myungsoo look stupid. He looks dumb like that, but he still looks good, if that makes sense, which Woohyun doesn’t think it does.
“But he’ll know I’m ignoring him and-”
“Tell him you were busy. With a friend.” His tone is hinting at something, but exactly what that something is, Woohyun doesn’t know. He has a vague idea, though, because he’s not dumb. He’s a writer; his job is to study human behaviour, study the things people do and why they do them so that he can better portray real life in his books.
He considers this for a moment, his hand still on the glass of water. He tips it left, then right, watching as the clear liquid sways back and forth. “I guess I can do that,” he says slowly, looking up from his glass to meet Myungsoo’s eyes.
“Good,” is Myungsoo’s response. He pulls Woohyun’s laptop closer to him and flips it around, so that he can see the screen.
Woohyun watches curiously. “What are you doing?”
“Typing up the next five thousand words of your book?” the other male jokes. His fingers move across the keyboard in one quick motion, and when he finishes, he stands up. There’s a new customer waiting to be served at the counter, so Myungsoo makes his way over to her, calling out, “See you later,” over his shoulder.
When Woohyun turns the computer around, a faint blush creeps up his neck. At the bottom of the page, it reads:
010-455-7890
My shift ends at eight.
Myungsoo
♥
Eight-fifteen on the dot, that’s when Myungsoo shows up at Woohyun’s. They end up in the living room, two beers on the coffee table and a movie playing on the television. To be honest, it’s a little awkward, even though Woohyun knows it shouldn’t be. They’ve been friends for awhile - Woohyun has always frequented the coffee house, just not as much as he has been for these past few months - but they’ve never really hung out.
“Your apartment is kind of different from what I expected,” Myungsoo says, breaking the silence. “I always pictured it to be really organized, you know, with everything where it’s supposed to be.” He looks around the room, and Woohyun is suddenly aware of how messy his stack of DVDs is and how his shoes are haphazardly piled on top of each other near the door. “But this is nice, homey.”
“Yeah, well,” Woohyun chuckles, taking a swig of his beer. “I’m not a forty year old house wife who spends her days cleaning.”
“Wait, you’re not?” The other man jokes, feigning surprise. He grabs his own drink off the table and continues, “Damn, and here I was hoping for some MILF action tonight.”
“Hey!” Woohyun nearly chokes on his beer, and that’s it. Myungsoo is unable to keep a straight face and bursts into laughter over the look on the older man’s face. They quiet down and fall back into silence, but it’s not as awkward as before, Woohyun thinks.
They’re only a quarter of the way through the movie - which Woohyun isn’t really paying much attention too, because he’s still think about that hinting tone Myungsoo had today - when the barista speaks up again. “One of my co-workers and I, we started this game where we kept a tally of how many attractive costumers came in each day. It was stupid, kind of high school like, but it kept us entertained.”
Woohyun takes another gulp of his beer, his eyes focused on Myungsoo. He doesn’t know what the point of this story is, but he likes the way Myungsoo’s adam’s apple moves up and down when he speaks, so he’ll keep listening.
The younger boy puts his empty beer bottle on the table. “I stopped counting when you started coming regularly.”
“Why?” Woohyun asks.
“‘Dunno.” Myungsoo shrugs, leaning back into the couch. “I guess getting to know you was more interesting than counting faces I’d never see again.” He sighs a little, then turns to face Woohyun. “C’mere,” he says, gesturing with his finger for the older man to come closer.
Woohyun places his beer back onto the table so quickly that it almost falls over, and he’s glad that there’s nothing in it to spill. He scoots across the couch so that he’s right next to Myungsoo, so close that their thighs touch, but apparently it’s not close enough for the younger because he grabs the front of Woohyun’s shirt and pulls him even closer. And then he can feel Myungsoo’s breath on his face, the oddest combination of beer, mint, and coffee, and oh, Myungsoo’s lips are on his, and the combination doesn’t taste as weird as he thought because those are Myungsoo’s lips moving against his own and oh, that is Myungsoo’s tongue in his mouth, and oh, he definitely knows how to use it.
Woohyun threads his hand in the hair at the nape of Myungsoo’s neck, his thumb ghosting over the soft skin. Myungsoo’s grip on his shirt tightens, and Woohyun vaguely wonders if Myungsoo knows any other ways to use his tongue when Myungsoo pulls his mouth away. He almost protests at the loss of contact, but then Myungsoo is kissing up his neck, lips soft and tongue hot.
He’s forgotten all about his book and deadlines and his editor calling until his phone rings. They both freeze for a minute; Woohyun stays still while Myungsoo pulls away. What the hell, Woohyun figures, reaching for Myungsoo again. If it’s so important, Sunggyu can leave a voicemail, can’t he?
But Myungsoo has other plans, because he reaches into his front pocket and pulls out his cell phone. Before Woohyun can tell him not to pick up, he’s already answered. “Hello? You’re Woohyun’s editor, right? Sorry, but he can’t come to the phone right now.” Woohyun makes to grab for the phone, but Myungsoo just shakes his head and puts a hand on his chest, pushing him back into the couch. “He’s a little busy, but don’t worry, I assure you that he’s getting inspired.”
Woohyun can actually hear Sunggyu yelling as Myungsoo pulls the phone away from his ear and closes it. He throws it backward, and Woohyun hears it land safely on the couch somewhere. “What the hell?” he complains, but Myungsoo puts a hand over his mouth.
“Shut up,” he says, crawling into the elder’s lap. “Now you don’t have to worry about him for the rest of the night.”
He’s straddling him, one knee on either side of Woohyun’s thighs. His mouth is back on his neck, right where he left off. Running his hands up and down the boys sides, Woohyun finally settles his hands on his hips. His grip on the boy tightens when the hand on his chest travels downward, scratching and teasing, before stopping at the semi-hard bulge in his jeans. Myungsoo is such a damn tease, he thinks, as he palms at him through the thick fabric of his pants, his mouth still assaulting his neck.
Slowly, Myungsoo unfastens one of the buttons on his jeans, then another, and pulls down the zipper. He lifts his mouth from Woohyuns neck, places one last kiss on his lips, before sliding down to his knees and pulling Woohyun’s pants to the ground with him. Myungsoo strokes him through the fabric of his boxers, and damn, Woohyun can’t help but arch into the touch. He really wishes his boxers were out of the way, because the normally thin fabric seems too thick, and oh, Myungsoo sneaks one hand down the front of his briefs, and his other hand pulls them down completely.
Myungsoo wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and fuck, Woohyun can’t stop the deep moan from escaping his mouth. He’s fully clothed, but damn, he looks so sexy like that, on his knees with red, swollen lips and a devious smirk plastered on his face. He’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about this before, because Myungsoo has a damn pretty face, but this is so much better than he could ever dream of and holy hell that is Myungsoo’s mouth around his cock.
Woohyun thrusts upwards, another groan escaping him. He licks along the underside of his cock, playful and teasing. Woohyun sort of recalls Myungsoo telling Sunggyu that he’s getting inspired, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. This isn’t helping him find words; in fact, there isn’t a single coherent thought in his head right now. Myungsoo licking and sucking and stroking has taken every word away from him, except for the boy’s name and a handful of four letter words.
Myungsoo has a nice rhythm going, his hand stroking what his mouth can’t take, and it’s driving Woohyun crazy. “Shit.” The hand on his cock disappears for a moment and reappears on his hip. Myungsoo is pinning him to the couch and - “Fuck.” Myungsoo swallows the entirety of his length. A parade of moans fall from Woohyun’s lips. He bucks upwards involuntarily, but the other male’s hands stop him.
Myungsoo pulls his mouth off Woohyun’s length for a split second - Woohyun tries to cover his mouth, but an embarassing whine escapes him - before diving back in, this time only paying attention to the head. It’s almost pathetic how much he’s moaning, but the heat of Myungsoo’s mouth just feels so damn good. He fucks upwards again, and Myungsoo makes a noise that Woohyun thinks is him laughing at his enthusiasm, but it doesn’t really matter what the sound was, because the vibrations send him over the edge and comes with a loud, throaty moan.
There’s some come at the corner of Myungsoo’s mouth that he wasn’t able to swallow, so the boy darts his tongue out to lick it up, and Woohyun decides to add that to his lift of things that make Kim Myungsoo so damn hot. “You know,” he says between breaths, “that wasn’t really inspiring.”
“No?” Myungsoo says, quirking his eyebrow. “But it did help you relieve some stress, right?”
Woohyun nods, biting his lip. He grabs Myungsoo’s hand, threading their fingers together, and pulls him up into his lap. “Let me return the favor.”
a/n: This is only my second time writing smut, so please, feel free to rip this apart and tell me where I need to improve. ♥
Pairing: Woohyun/Myungsoo
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut, porn with plot. Sort of.
W/C: ~2550
Summary: Woohyun needs some inspiration. Myungsoo tries to be just that.
A/N: Written for prompt number 51, barista, of the 100 infinite fic challenge.
It’s a shame, really, that pages can’t write themselves, Woohyun thinks as he takes a sip of his coffee. He’s only been writing for an hour or two, but he can already tell that this scene just doesn’t want to be written. The words don’t want to come, and Woohyun is too tired and fed up with this novel to try and coax the words out of hiding. For the umpteenth time, he vaguely considers giving up on it, just trashing the entire novel. It’d be so easy; it takes just one click of the mouse. Staring at the screen, he shakes his head. This book might seem like a load of garbage to him right now, but it’s still a load of garbage that he’s spent the last four months slaving over. Four months of waking up at ten o’clock on the dot, rolling out of bed, and dragging himself to this cozy little coffee shop and almost always staying here until closing.
With his eyes firmly shut, he rubs at his temples in a vain attempt to rid himself of the pressure headache he has. What he really needs to rid himself of the headache, though, is an aspirin or two or three. He’s got a headache the size of Texas, and it’s not helping him write. It’s all the stress, he figures. He needs to get this written. His editor is going to be calling tonight, and all Woohyun hears when he talks is deadline, deadline, deadline.
He’s been slacking lately, hasn’t been meeting his quotas, and he knows he won’t hear the end of it from Sunggyu. This book deal seemed so exciting - it was a dream come true - but now, now he’s sick of it. Well, maybe he’s not sick of it, just fatigued and frustrated with writing at the moment. He pushes his laptop away from him and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh.
The cafe is rather empty today, he notices. There are a few people here and there, but for the most part, the place is dead. He catches the eyes of the usual barista, Myungsoo. He pauses in wiping out a mug to smile sympathetically at Woohyun, who smiles back and sends him a halfway enthusiastic wave.
Myungsoo finishes drying the glass he’s working on and walks over to Woohyun’s little table. Pulling a chair over to the table, he sits opposite of him and says, “You look tired.”
Woohyun snorts a little. “Tired is an understatement.”
Chuckling, Myungsoo asks, “Is there anything I can do for you? Every time I look over here, you look like a kicked puppy. It’s kind of distracting.”
“Want to write the next five thousand words of this novel for me?” he asks, and he’s so frustrated with this bout of writer’s block that he’s only half joking. He’d kill to have the words magically appear on the page.
Myungsoo shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “No way, man. I can barely churn out my term papers. Seriously though,” he says, the smile falling from his face. “You need anything? How ‘bout another coffee? It’s on the house.”
“Nah,” Woohyun shakes his head. “I think my body will start rebelling if I have anymore caffeine.” The last thing he needs right now is a caffeine headache, on top of the one he already has. His head is pounding, and Myungsoo is tapping some rhythm on the table, which really isn’t helping. Just as the barista is about to hit the table again, Woohyun reaches out and lays his hand over top his. Myungsoo looks up, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Sorry,” he says, quickly removing his hand from the barista’s and placing it awkwardly in his lap. “Headache,” he offers as an explanation.
Myungsoo mumbles something about being right back and disappears into the backroom of the coffee house. When he comes back, he has a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other. He hands them to Woohyun, who gratefully accepts and mutters something along the lines of ‘you’re an angel’ or ‘my saviour’. Myungsoo smirks a little as he sits back down, his arms crossed over the table. “I think you need to take a break for a bit. You’re stressing yourself out.”
“Can’t,” he replies after putting two pills into his mouth and tossing his head back to swallow them. If his eyes weren’t on the ceiling because his head is tipped back, he wouldn’t have missed the way Myungsoo stares almost hungrily at the curves of his neck when he swallows. “My editor is calling tonight. He’ll be pissed if I don’t get this written.” He takes a sip of the water. “God, he’s such a tight ass sometimes.”
“So ‘miss’ his call. Ignore him,” Myungsoo suggests. He has this ‘duh’ expression on his face, and Woohyun can’t decide if it makes him look stupid or cute. Stupid, he decides, it makes Myungsoo look stupid. He looks dumb like that, but he still looks good, if that makes sense, which Woohyun doesn’t think it does.
“But he’ll know I’m ignoring him and-”
“Tell him you were busy. With a friend.” His tone is hinting at something, but exactly what that something is, Woohyun doesn’t know. He has a vague idea, though, because he’s not dumb. He’s a writer; his job is to study human behaviour, study the things people do and why they do them so that he can better portray real life in his books.
He considers this for a moment, his hand still on the glass of water. He tips it left, then right, watching as the clear liquid sways back and forth. “I guess I can do that,” he says slowly, looking up from his glass to meet Myungsoo’s eyes.
“Good,” is Myungsoo’s response. He pulls Woohyun’s laptop closer to him and flips it around, so that he can see the screen.
Woohyun watches curiously. “What are you doing?”
“Typing up the next five thousand words of your book?” the other male jokes. His fingers move across the keyboard in one quick motion, and when he finishes, he stands up. There’s a new customer waiting to be served at the counter, so Myungsoo makes his way over to her, calling out, “See you later,” over his shoulder.
When Woohyun turns the computer around, a faint blush creeps up his neck. At the bottom of the page, it reads:
010-455-7890
My shift ends at eight.
Myungsoo
♥
Eight-fifteen on the dot, that’s when Myungsoo shows up at Woohyun’s. They end up in the living room, two beers on the coffee table and a movie playing on the television. To be honest, it’s a little awkward, even though Woohyun knows it shouldn’t be. They’ve been friends for awhile - Woohyun has always frequented the coffee house, just not as much as he has been for these past few months - but they’ve never really hung out.
“Your apartment is kind of different from what I expected,” Myungsoo says, breaking the silence. “I always pictured it to be really organized, you know, with everything where it’s supposed to be.” He looks around the room, and Woohyun is suddenly aware of how messy his stack of DVDs is and how his shoes are haphazardly piled on top of each other near the door. “But this is nice, homey.”
“Yeah, well,” Woohyun chuckles, taking a swig of his beer. “I’m not a forty year old house wife who spends her days cleaning.”
“Wait, you’re not?” The other man jokes, feigning surprise. He grabs his own drink off the table and continues, “Damn, and here I was hoping for some MILF action tonight.”
“Hey!” Woohyun nearly chokes on his beer, and that’s it. Myungsoo is unable to keep a straight face and bursts into laughter over the look on the older man’s face. They quiet down and fall back into silence, but it’s not as awkward as before, Woohyun thinks.
They’re only a quarter of the way through the movie - which Woohyun isn’t really paying much attention too, because he’s still think about that hinting tone Myungsoo had today - when the barista speaks up again. “One of my co-workers and I, we started this game where we kept a tally of how many attractive costumers came in each day. It was stupid, kind of high school like, but it kept us entertained.”
Woohyun takes another gulp of his beer, his eyes focused on Myungsoo. He doesn’t know what the point of this story is, but he likes the way Myungsoo’s adam’s apple moves up and down when he speaks, so he’ll keep listening.
The younger boy puts his empty beer bottle on the table. “I stopped counting when you started coming regularly.”
“Why?” Woohyun asks.
“‘Dunno.” Myungsoo shrugs, leaning back into the couch. “I guess getting to know you was more interesting than counting faces I’d never see again.” He sighs a little, then turns to face Woohyun. “C’mere,” he says, gesturing with his finger for the older man to come closer.
Woohyun places his beer back onto the table so quickly that it almost falls over, and he’s glad that there’s nothing in it to spill. He scoots across the couch so that he’s right next to Myungsoo, so close that their thighs touch, but apparently it’s not close enough for the younger because he grabs the front of Woohyun’s shirt and pulls him even closer. And then he can feel Myungsoo’s breath on his face, the oddest combination of beer, mint, and coffee, and oh, Myungsoo’s lips are on his, and the combination doesn’t taste as weird as he thought because those are Myungsoo’s lips moving against his own and oh, that is Myungsoo’s tongue in his mouth, and oh, he definitely knows how to use it.
Woohyun threads his hand in the hair at the nape of Myungsoo’s neck, his thumb ghosting over the soft skin. Myungsoo’s grip on his shirt tightens, and Woohyun vaguely wonders if Myungsoo knows any other ways to use his tongue when Myungsoo pulls his mouth away. He almost protests at the loss of contact, but then Myungsoo is kissing up his neck, lips soft and tongue hot.
He’s forgotten all about his book and deadlines and his editor calling until his phone rings. They both freeze for a minute; Woohyun stays still while Myungsoo pulls away. What the hell, Woohyun figures, reaching for Myungsoo again. If it’s so important, Sunggyu can leave a voicemail, can’t he?
But Myungsoo has other plans, because he reaches into his front pocket and pulls out his cell phone. Before Woohyun can tell him not to pick up, he’s already answered. “Hello? You’re Woohyun’s editor, right? Sorry, but he can’t come to the phone right now.” Woohyun makes to grab for the phone, but Myungsoo just shakes his head and puts a hand on his chest, pushing him back into the couch. “He’s a little busy, but don’t worry, I assure you that he’s getting inspired.”
Woohyun can actually hear Sunggyu yelling as Myungsoo pulls the phone away from his ear and closes it. He throws it backward, and Woohyun hears it land safely on the couch somewhere. “What the hell?” he complains, but Myungsoo puts a hand over his mouth.
“Shut up,” he says, crawling into the elder’s lap. “Now you don’t have to worry about him for the rest of the night.”
He’s straddling him, one knee on either side of Woohyun’s thighs. His mouth is back on his neck, right where he left off. Running his hands up and down the boys sides, Woohyun finally settles his hands on his hips. His grip on the boy tightens when the hand on his chest travels downward, scratching and teasing, before stopping at the semi-hard bulge in his jeans. Myungsoo is such a damn tease, he thinks, as he palms at him through the thick fabric of his pants, his mouth still assaulting his neck.
Slowly, Myungsoo unfastens one of the buttons on his jeans, then another, and pulls down the zipper. He lifts his mouth from Woohyuns neck, places one last kiss on his lips, before sliding down to his knees and pulling Woohyun’s pants to the ground with him. Myungsoo strokes him through the fabric of his boxers, and damn, Woohyun can’t help but arch into the touch. He really wishes his boxers were out of the way, because the normally thin fabric seems too thick, and oh, Myungsoo sneaks one hand down the front of his briefs, and his other hand pulls them down completely.
Myungsoo wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and fuck, Woohyun can’t stop the deep moan from escaping his mouth. He’s fully clothed, but damn, he looks so sexy like that, on his knees with red, swollen lips and a devious smirk plastered on his face. He’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about this before, because Myungsoo has a damn pretty face, but this is so much better than he could ever dream of and holy hell that is Myungsoo’s mouth around his cock.
Woohyun thrusts upwards, another groan escaping him. He licks along the underside of his cock, playful and teasing. Woohyun sort of recalls Myungsoo telling Sunggyu that he’s getting inspired, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. This isn’t helping him find words; in fact, there isn’t a single coherent thought in his head right now. Myungsoo licking and sucking and stroking has taken every word away from him, except for the boy’s name and a handful of four letter words.
Myungsoo has a nice rhythm going, his hand stroking what his mouth can’t take, and it’s driving Woohyun crazy. “Shit.” The hand on his cock disappears for a moment and reappears on his hip. Myungsoo is pinning him to the couch and - “Fuck.” Myungsoo swallows the entirety of his length. A parade of moans fall from Woohyun’s lips. He bucks upwards involuntarily, but the other male’s hands stop him.
Myungsoo pulls his mouth off Woohyun’s length for a split second - Woohyun tries to cover his mouth, but an embarassing whine escapes him - before diving back in, this time only paying attention to the head. It’s almost pathetic how much he’s moaning, but the heat of Myungsoo’s mouth just feels so damn good. He fucks upwards again, and Myungsoo makes a noise that Woohyun thinks is him laughing at his enthusiasm, but it doesn’t really matter what the sound was, because the vibrations send him over the edge and comes with a loud, throaty moan.
There’s some come at the corner of Myungsoo’s mouth that he wasn’t able to swallow, so the boy darts his tongue out to lick it up, and Woohyun decides to add that to his lift of things that make Kim Myungsoo so damn hot. “You know,” he says between breaths, “that wasn’t really inspiring.”
“No?” Myungsoo says, quirking his eyebrow. “But it did help you relieve some stress, right?”
Woohyun nods, biting his lip. He grabs Myungsoo’s hand, threading their fingers together, and pulls him up into his lap. “Let me return the favor.”
a/n: This is only my second time writing smut, so please, feel free to rip this apart and tell me where I need to improve. ♥