The hot swipe of his tongue over my hole registers. Flat and firm, dragging slow.
I keen, a sharp, broken sound that rips out of me unfiltered, my back bowing off the couch like I've been shocked. His tongue circles my rim, hot and insistent, pressure building until he sucks—fuck—lips sealing around the puckered muscle, pulling a wet slurp that echoes in my ears.
Then he moans. The vibration hums straight through me, and I lose it, thighs quaking as his tongue parts me, thick tip breaching the ring of muscle. It pushes in, fills the throbbing ache just enough to tease, lapping at my inner walls with flat, dragging strokes. My toes curl hard into the cushions, spine twisting, cock jerking untouched to spit a fat bead of precum onto my abs. It cools instantly, sticky trail burning against fever-hot skin.
"Oh god," I moan, hips snapping up, chasing the wet heat. He doesn't let up—just keeps fucking me open with his tongue like he's starving for it, thick muscle plunging deep before dragging back out in slow, filthy strokes. His nose presses hard against my taint with every thrust, sending sparks up my spine. The mingled scents hit me like a punch to the gut: his crisp winter air pheromones drowning in my own rut-thick musk, turning the air between us into something humid and suffocating.
Saliva drips down my crack, pooling on the leather beneath me with every obscene slurp of his mouth. I'm shameless now, hips jerking up to meet each thrust, fingers twisted tight in his hair tokeep him right where I want him. "Fuck," I groan, voice wrecked, thighs trembling around his head. The wet sounds alone should embarrass me, but all I can think about is how fucking empty I'll feel when he stops.
"Enough," I whine, hole clenching around nothing as he pulls back a fraction. My cock throbs, heavy and leaking, ass spasming empty. "Just—fuck, put it in. Please."
He growls right against my hole, the sound rumbling low, lips brushing sensitive skin. "I'm trying to make it comfortable for you. You bitched last time it hurt too much."
I gasp, rut-fever frying my brain, every nerve screaming. "I don't give a fuck if it hurts. Just put your fucking cock in already!"
His eyes flash up at me—dark, amused, feral—and then he's rising, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A string of spit and slick clings to his lower lip for a second before snapping. He looks wrecked already, pupils blown, chest heaving. My vision goes fuzzy trying to focus on him.
He grabs my hips, yanking them down flat to the cushions with a grip that bruises. I hiss at the sudden drag of leather on my back, but it's nothing compared to the way he fists his cock—thick fingers wrapping that flushed monster, stroking once, rough, smearing his own precum down the shaft.
"Fine," he grits out, grinning down at me like he won the lottery. "If that's what you want."
He adjusts his grip on my hips and shifts forward—that thick, flushed cockhead nudging insistently against my stretched rim, still wet from his spit. No teasing, no hesitation. Just pure, brutal determination as he leans his weight into it, pressing forward in one relentless push that burns through my nerves.
The stretch is immediate, unforgiving, his cock spreading me wide with zero warning. I gasp, back arching off the couch, fingers clawing at his shoulders as he sinks deeper—slow butrelentless, like he's daring me to stop him. Fat chance. Every inch drags a ragged groan from my throat, pleasure sparking sharp and bright behind my eyelids.
"Fuck—" I choke out, thighs trembling where they bracket his hips. "Just like that—don't stop—"
He doesn't.
I groan, the sound ripping raw from my chest, hands flying up to fist his black hair—tugging hard enough to yank strands free. My hips buck up on instinct, chasing the stretch, impaling myself deeper as that fat cockhead pops past the ring. "Fuck—yes—"
His pheromones explode then, flooding the room like a winter storm crashing through a window. Cold bite of ink and ginseng slams into me, sharpening every nerve, spiking the heat in my veins until my skin prickles electric. Pleasure detonates behind my eyes, my toes curling into the couch arm as he sinks deeper—inch by burning inch—splitting me wide.
"Shit, you're tight," he mutters, jaw clenched, forehead beading sweat. But he doesn't stop. Bottoms out with a wet slap of skin, balls heavy against my ass.
I arch up, spine bowing off the cushions, legs locked around his waist to pull him flush. Our mouths crash—messy, teeth clashing, me biting his lower lip hard enough to taste copper. "Harder," I growl into his mouth, nails scraping his scalp, dragging him down until his full weight pins me. "More—fuck, give me more."
He snarls back, hips snapping—pulling out halfway before slamming home. The couch rocks under us, springs creaking like they're gonna snap, frame thudding against the wall in a rhythm that drowns out my gasps. I fuck myself back onto him, meeting every brutal thrust, abs clenching as his cock drags over that spot inside, lighting me up.
Sweat slicks our skin where we grind together—his chest rasping my nipples, muscles flexing under my palms as I claw down his back. "Like that, hyung?" he pants against my throat, breath hot, teeth grazing without biting. "Begging for it now?"
"Fuck you," I gasp, but it comes out wrecked, hips rolling desperate as the pressure builds—coiling tight in my gut, balls drawing up. The room reeks of us, rut-musk and winter bite, couch leather sticking to my back with every rock. He pounds harder.
"Fuck, it feels good," I cry out, the words ripping free before I can bite them back, my voice cracking high on the end. Every brutal snap of his hips knocks the air from my lungs, his cock dragging sparks up my spine, wrecking me from the inside out. "More—give me more, you bastard."
I grip his shoulders hard, nails digging half-moons into his skin. The feel of him hits like gasoline on my rut, screamingminein a way that scrambles my brain. My legs lock tighter around his waist, heels digging into his ass to yank him deeper. "Knot me," I demand, the plea turning into a growl against his jaw. "Do it."
He pumps harder, hips slamming forward with a wet smack that echoes off the walls, but he growls low, frustrated, breath hot on my collarbone. "Doesn't work on command, hyung. Fuck—wish it did."
I twist my head, teeth grazing his earlobe, nipping sharp enough to draw a hiss. "Need it," I rasp right into his ear, voice wrecked and desperate, hips rolling up to meet him. "Now. Knot me. Fill me up."
He curses—sharp, bitten-off Korean that vibrates through his chest—and snakes a hand between us. Cool fingers wrap my cock, thick and sure, pumping rough from root to tip. The twist of his wrist on the upstroke whites out my vision.
I moan loud, back arching off the couch, every muscle seizing as the pressure coils tight in my gut. My head fuzzes to static,world narrowing to his fist stripping me fast, his cock spearing deep, muscles flexing under my nails. I come with a shout, spilling hot over his knuckles, clenching down hard around him as ropes hit my abs, my chest, marking us both.
"Fucking hell," he curses—low, filthy, right against my throat—as my ass clamps down on him like a vice. His fist keeps stripping me through the aftershocks, milking every last spurt until I'm twitching, oversensitive and spent. But he doesn't stop thrusting. If anything, he goes harder, hips snapping with a wet slap that echoes off the walls.
"Fuck—fuck," he growls, breath ragged, free hand digging bruises into my hip. Hot in a way that pisses me off even now.
