[ it doesn't matter how he looks, because his touches, his tongue, they're making junsu melt into the bed. like this he can forget the rest. just think about myung, and the way he feels, the jumps of pleasure at each swipe of his tongue and each turn of his wrist.
his fingers rub at his scalp, buried deep in myung's hair. his eyes close, hips hitching against his hand, silently encouraging him. maybe not so silently — he makes a loud little noise when myung's hand and mouth both do just the right thing at the same time. he whispers myung's name, parting his legs a little more, planting his feet so he can better thrust into his hand. ]
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his fingers rub at his scalp, buried deep in myung's hair. his eyes close, hips hitching against his hand, silently encouraging him. maybe not so silently — he makes a loud little noise when myung's hand and mouth both do just the right thing at the same time. he whispers myung's name, parting his legs a little more, planting his feet so he can better thrust into his hand. ]