Grip
Title: Grip
Character(s): Donghae
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 549
Warnings: Is masturbation even considered a warning?
Summary: There's something about this particular day that makes everything seem different.
Author's note: I blame this on xsilentserenity. I can't believe I promised you PORN this. First time writing this so I might suck. BADLY.
065. Grip, Donghae/Donghae
Watching him move, taut muscles flexing as they perform on-stage, sweat glistening down flawless flashes of bare skin has always triggered hot tingles up Donghae's spine, left his pants feeling a little tighter everytime.
It always takes so much for him to hold back, to not slam the other against the nearest solid surface and fuck him senseless. Even as they dance, with millions of fans watching, it only serves to make him feel hotter that he wonders why no one has realised the prominent bulge during their performances, how it hasn't made the headlines of a dirty scandal. The benefits of tight pants, he supposes.
But there's something about this particular day that makes everything seem different. Maybe it's the weather, or the lack of clothes that should probably be illegal, or maybe it was simply just the smokey look in the other's eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn't helping his control, not one bit.
So, with the brief lingering touch of skin against his own and a period of 15 minutes before the next performance that he had quickly rushed to the toilet, Donghae hurriedly unzips the zipper of his pants as he lightly palms the evident bulge, groaning slightly. He'll have to be quick, he knows, so he conjures up one of his many dreams of the other man, dreams that had always left him waking up drenched in sweat and a hand beneath the edge of his boxers.
The room is dark, moonlight filtering through slits of heavy blinds. And there he is, right in front of him, bare from head to toe. Neither of them speak, even as the other slowly steps forwards and glides languid fingers up against his thighs.
He's slowly slipping off the cotton boxers, fingers scorching against his now bare skin. He takes a few deep breaths before firmly gripping his erection, closing his eyes again as he imagines the next scene.
His thumb makes slight strokes down, almost as if taunting Donghae as he bucks up and demands for more. It isn't until Donghae has threatened bloody murder does the other finally relent and remove his hand, almost groaning in displeasure until a wet warmth envelops him, tongue pressing against a prominent vein as he hits the back of the other's throat and lets out a strangled cry of pleasure.
His breathing is erratic now, as he gives precise pumps up and down his length. It almost feels real, his own hand the other's. What he would give for it to actually be his, he thinks, as he unconsciously bucks his hips, the pressure building. He's so close now, right at the edge of completion. He wants it so badly, that extra push-
"Hae?"
Donghae thinks he's dreaming too deeply now, the voice sounding all too real in this made-up fantasy.
"Hae?"
That voice. He doesn't care anymore if he's dreaming. It's pulling him in, helping him as he finally tips, spilling all over his stomach and the sheets beneath him, name leaving his lips as he slowly recovers from his high.
"Donghae."
He's about to tell the voice in his head to stop messing with him until he's suddenly scrambling to cover himself, looking straight into the eyes of the person he had been fantasizing about only seconds ago.
Character(s): Donghae
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 549
Warnings: Is masturbation even considered a warning?
Summary: There's something about this particular day that makes everything seem different.
Author's note: I blame this on xsilentserenity. I can't believe I promised you PORN this. First time writing this so I might suck. BADLY.
065. Grip, Donghae/Donghae
Watching him move, taut muscles flexing as they perform on-stage, sweat glistening down flawless flashes of bare skin has always triggered hot tingles up Donghae's spine, left his pants feeling a little tighter everytime.
It always takes so much for him to hold back, to not slam the other against the nearest solid surface and fuck him senseless. Even as they dance, with millions of fans watching, it only serves to make him feel hotter that he wonders why no one has realised the prominent bulge during their performances, how it hasn't made the headlines of a dirty scandal. The benefits of tight pants, he supposes.
But there's something about this particular day that makes everything seem different. Maybe it's the weather, or the lack of clothes that should probably be illegal, or maybe it was simply just the smokey look in the other's eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn't helping his control, not one bit.
So, with the brief lingering touch of skin against his own and a period of 15 minutes before the next performance that he had quickly rushed to the toilet, Donghae hurriedly unzips the zipper of his pants as he lightly palms the evident bulge, groaning slightly. He'll have to be quick, he knows, so he conjures up one of his many dreams of the other man, dreams that had always left him waking up drenched in sweat and a hand beneath the edge of his boxers.
The room is dark, moonlight filtering through slits of heavy blinds. And there he is, right in front of him, bare from head to toe. Neither of them speak, even as the other slowly steps forwards and glides languid fingers up against his thighs.
He's slowly slipping off the cotton boxers, fingers scorching against his now bare skin. He takes a few deep breaths before firmly gripping his erection, closing his eyes again as he imagines the next scene.
His thumb makes slight strokes down, almost as if taunting Donghae as he bucks up and demands for more. It isn't until Donghae has threatened bloody murder does the other finally relent and remove his hand, almost groaning in displeasure until a wet warmth envelops him, tongue pressing against a prominent vein as he hits the back of the other's throat and lets out a strangled cry of pleasure.
His breathing is erratic now, as he gives precise pumps up and down his length. It almost feels real, his own hand the other's. What he would give for it to actually be his, he thinks, as he unconsciously bucks his hips, the pressure building. He's so close now, right at the edge of completion. He wants it so badly, that extra push-
"Hae?"
Donghae thinks he's dreaming too deeply now, the voice sounding all too real in this made-up fantasy.
"Hae?"
That voice. He doesn't care anymore if he's dreaming. It's pulling him in, helping him as he finally tips, spilling all over his stomach and the sheets beneath him, name leaving his lips as he slowly recovers from his high.
"Donghae."
He's about to tell the voice in his head to stop messing with him until he's suddenly scrambling to cover himself, looking straight into the eyes of the person he had been fantasizing about only seconds ago.