post #7

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FILL: Chen/Kris, NC-17 (2/3)

[anonymous]

But this is new. Jongdae is pulling down his boxers and pulling out a small tube of lube and Kris is staring like an idiot, he knows, but all he can think is hands wrists fingers right up until the point when Jongdae throws the lube at Kris' face and spreads his legs.

"Open," Jongdae says again, and Kris reels: "What?" But then his mind snaps straight and he obeys, of course Kris obeys.

His fingers are shaking slightly when he wets them with the lube and broaches that first touch to Jongdae's hole; when Jongdae shifts, it's Kris who inhales sharply like he's been shocked. Jongdae laughs, amused and slightly mocking, and it gives Kris the courage to push in. It's tight. Way too tight. Jongdae whimpers and grabs Kris' free hand to use it as a muffler. Kris pushes in farther, and god, Jongdae is so small, Kris can only get two knuckles deep before Kris' palm isn't enough to stifle Jongdae's whines.

"Shhh," Kris says, "sshh," and he sees Jongdae bite his tongue (teeth).

The second finger goes in more easily but it takes a while, and by the time Kris is three fingers in, Jongdae is practically thrashing on the bed, hips pistoning to every curl of Kris' fingers, and Kris' left hand is now clamped on Jongdae's waist, covering three-quarters of the distance, holding Jongdae down so Kris doesn't lose his spot. He's afraid he'll break Jongdae if he goes too far, but Jongdae isn't telling him stop. Jongdae is panting, eyes blinking fast at nothing, the edges of his gasping mouth lifted in triumph. God, and he's like fire inside, soft heat gripping Kris fingers like he was made for them, and every stroke of Jongdae's prostate sends a matching shiver down Kris' arm to pool into the electric reservoir churning in Kris' gut.

"Enough, that's enough," moans Jongdae, yanking at Kris' shoulders, so Kris slides out his fingers as slowly as he can bear, tears off the towel around his waist, and wraps his Jongdae-soaked hand around his own leaking cock. He strokes it once to get it slick, then just holds it for a long moment, trying to gather himself.

He's thinking of words like fuck and ruin as he stares at Jongdae's heaving chest, the trail of hair leading down to his red cock, down to his dark hole, stretched and dripping and waiting for Kris, bordered by Jongdae's fairy-wisp legs like pillars to a temple. Jongdae's thighs are trembling so Kris runs his palms up and down them, calming, smooth, ducking his head to kiss Jongdae's pointy knees, until Jongdae kicks Kris in the bicep and hooks his ankles over Kris' shoulders.

"You're-" Kris says, and can't go further, because Jongdae's too many things that Kris can't let himself say.

"I know," Jongdae says in Mandarin, lips curling. He reaches out to cup Kris' neck.

Jongdae is small enough that Kris can physically make him to do anything he wants, but it's Jongdae calling all the shots here: Kris follows the pull of Jongdae's hands and lines himself up with that open hole-purses his lips-trusts inside-