With his mouth, with his hips, with the way he arched when Seungho finally slid a hand between his thighs and cupped him, warm and full through the thin hospital-issue pants.
Haneul cried out—“ahhn—!”—and jolted.
Seungho moaned back, low and rough.
“You’re already hard, Snowdrop”
Shut up. I—just—”
“You want me to taste you?”
“Yes. No. I—fuck, I—”
Seungho nuzzled his lower belly, nipped just above the waistband.
“Say it.”
“I—I want—”
Seungho tugged the pants down in one slow movement, baring him inch by inch.
Haneul was leaking. Already. Cock flushed pink, tip glistening, thighs twitching. Seungho kissed the inside of his knee.
Then higher.
Thigh. Hip. Groin.
Then—finally—his mouth found the base of Haneul’s cock.
And he worshipped.
Tongue first, broad and slow, licking up the length like he was tasting divinity. Haneul’s hands flew to the sheets, twisted them into knots, head falling back with a high, choked cry—“ahh—hhhn—Seungho—!”
He didn’t stop.
Haneul’s head thrashed. His eyes were wide, wet, panicked.
He licked again. And again. Swirled his tongue over the head, kissed it soft, then sucked.
And Haneul broke.
Body bucking. Eyes glassy. Hands clawing the air.
“Nnh—Seungho—stop, I— too much—!”
But his cock throbbed like it meant the opposite.
Seungho sucked deeper. Hollowed his cheeks. Let the head hit the back of his throat.
Haneul screamed.
Not loud—raw. Like somethinginside him cracked open. Like he wasn’t ready for love to feel like this.
Seungho pulled off with a pop. Looked up.
“You’re crying.”
“I know, you absolute fire demon—What—what—Seungho—”
