b1a4; coming home
gongchan/girl!cnu. r. 277 words. chanshik and woori grew up next-door to each other, and then meet again as adults.
They meet again when he’s 23, four years after he last had his hands on her body, four years after he went to college and their home visits stopped coinciding and they completely fell out of touch. She’s in town to visit a friend and calls him up for coffee and within two hours they’re naked in his bed, him flat on his back and her riding him all the way back to nineteen.
It’s like a frenzy, wordless and rushed, hands gripping over bodies like it’s something essential that’s been deprived them, like a beast smelling blood after years of darkness, and Chanshik wonders how he didn’t miss this, how he didn’t think about this, thinks of all the people he has fucked over the past four years and realizes that none of them turns him on like she does, none of them makes him feel like this. Everything comes back so easily, hands remembering where to touch and how to move like ingrained in the muscles. They already know each other in and out, but those extra four years of experience transforms pubescent fumbling under sports bras and down shorts into something slick and well-oiled and relentless and adult.
When she’s sweating and falls down next to him, he rolls over on her and she whimpers and props her ass up, and he equally pathetically whimpers into her shoulder - chest on her back to feel her, as much as possible, their fingers laced hard together under her chest - hitching into her until he can’t take it anymore.
By the time of round five, the birds are waking and the sun is coming up.
They meet again when he’s 23, four years after he last had his hands on her body, four years after he went to college and their home visits stopped coinciding and they completely fell out of touch. She’s in town to visit a friend and calls him up for coffee and within two hours they’re naked in his bed, him flat on his back and her riding him all the way back to nineteen.
It’s like a frenzy, wordless and rushed, hands gripping over bodies like it’s something essential that’s been deprived them, like a beast smelling blood after years of darkness, and Chanshik wonders how he didn’t miss this, how he didn’t think about this, thinks of all the people he has fucked over the past four years and realizes that none of them turns him on like she does, none of them makes him feel like this. Everything comes back so easily, hands remembering where to touch and how to move like ingrained in the muscles. They already know each other in and out, but those extra four years of experience transforms pubescent fumbling under sports bras and down shorts into something slick and well-oiled and relentless and adult.
When she’s sweating and falls down next to him, he rolls over on her and she whimpers and props her ass up, and he equally pathetically whimpers into her shoulder - chest on her back to feel her, as much as possible, their fingers laced hard together under her chest - hitching into her until he can’t take it anymore.
By the time of round five, the birds are waking and the sun is coming up.