“Is this okay?” Minseok asks, and his fingers skip over the solid leather band of Chanyeol’s choker, then loop beneath it, test the give.
Chanyeol swallows, blinks, shudders as he follows the movement with his entire body, moans shakily, too. He takes two beats to answer. “Yes,” he says, and his voice is already fraying.
“This, too?” Minseok asks, tugging just the slightest, slightest bit more, but enough for Chanyeol’s breath to hitch, his heart to skip, his skin to prickle with need.
Minseok tugs once more, even harder, and Chanyeol topples forward with the force of his need, forehead crashing against Minseok’s thigh. He nuzzles into the warm, solid muscle, and Minseok’s other hand pets softly through his hair, fingers ghosting along his scalp. Chanyeol shudders, parts his lips with a moan, less soft, less quiet, more fraying need, his lips catching on the creased wool of Minseok’s pants. It makes him more painfully, painfully aware of how naked he is, how dressed Minseok is, how prone and helpless and small and vulnerable he feels like this, kneeling on the floor in front of him.
“So good,” he adds, swallowing again, blinking up at him again. Haloed by the fading blue of twilight, Minseok looks like an angel.
Minseok’s fingernails prick along his throat, the nape of his neck, and his satisfied hum has arousal trickling down Chanyeol’s spine, settling in his gut.
He gasps again, buries it into Minseok’s thigh. And Minseok’s fingers loop around, tug on his earlobe, fingers cradling his jaw. Chanyeol wonders briefly how much longer it will for him to be fully hard, how much until Minseok is hard, too. How much until they both want this too much to hold back.
Minseok is so looming and strong and imposing and heartbreakingly handsome, exactly what Chanyeol most craves. His eyes are soft, but his smile is sharp.
Wanna be yours, Chanyeol had confessed to him. Want to be owned by you.
And he’s painfully, painfully aware of it now, Minseok’s control, Chanyeol’s possession.
Minseok’s fingers are still looped around the leather band, and he tugs again. Chanyeol tips forward again.
“Still okay?” he asks, and Chanyeol feels drunk with want as he nods shakily against his leg, face scraping over stiff fabric in his eagerness to convey his want.
Minseok’s other hand curls around, skims his parted, trembling lips, and Chanyeol sucks Minseok’s thumb into his mouth.
Minseok’s throat bobs with a low, low groan.
His eyelashes are so, so dark, his eyes even darker. And his teeth skim his bottom lip as his fingers tug at the band. Hot, hot, hot, headily approving.
Minseok’s presses down his tongue, his fingers skipping in the meanwhile over his jawline.
“Wanna,” Chanyeol manages around the thumb in his mouth. “Wanna—wanna suck you off. Is that okay?” he asks, echoing Minseok’s words. Then. “Please.” Then rougher. “Daddy, please.”
He loves the little tremor in Minseok’s fingers, on his face, around his collar. His mind is already hazing just the slightest around the edges, desire honey-thick and achingly hot as it flows through his veins.
hakyeonni, you're next!