[infinite] o15. plaid shirts; myungsoo/sungyeol; nc-17
Title: Plaid Shirts
Pairing: Myungsoo/Sungyeol
Rating: NC-17; Warning: light bondage, creative use of an iceblock
Summary: In which Sungyeol the future designer helps Myungsoo move apartments and discovers the fashion tragedy known as a box of plaid shirts and decides to punish him accordingly. Kind of not really sequel to Myopia. o15. of the 100 infinite fic challenge.
Word count: ~2,200
plaid shirts (n)
1. things that kim myungsoo should not be allowed to own
“I can’t believe I’m helping you move on the last day of summer break,” Sungyeol mutters as he heaves a tattered cardboard box up a flight of stairs, and promptly drops it at the door. “It’s way too hot to be doing physical labour of any kind.”
Myungsoo wipes the sweat off his forehead and shoots a look at the boy, who’s slumped against the wall of the entrance to the new apartment block with a towel draped over his head. The weather is much hotter than he anticipated, but he kind of also needs all his belongings inside lest they be stolen by some random opportunist. Not that he has anything of actual value to steal, save his camera.
“Well, at least now we won’t have to go to your place all the time,” Myungsoo retorts. “You have too many pencils and random pieces of paper all over the place. It’s not fun when you’re in the mood and you find a graphite 9B sticking into your ass, okay.”
“It’s all in the name of design!” Sungyeol says in defense, but Myungsoo can see a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth as he remembers that particular incident.
“Just shut up and help me get this up,” Myungsoo says, pointing to the last box sitting on the road, and Sungyeol rolls his eyes.
All the boxes are inside before noon. Myungsoo thinks that’s quite an achievement, considering how much Sungyeol complained about his back and the heat and him having better things to do than lug boxes up stairs.
Myungsoo’s lying on the floor, fanning himself while Sungyeol’s sprawled across the couch, which still has a sheet of plastic covering it. It’s probably dirty, but he doesn’t really seem to care at the moment.
‘I’m hungry,” Sungyeol whines, and eyes Myungsoo’s empty refrigerator mournfully. “I want ice-cream. Buy me ice-cream.”
Myungsoo sighs and rolls over. There’s a convenience store right around the block, and he thinks it’s the least he could do for a morning’s worth of physical labour.
“What flavour?”
“Coffee!” Sungyeol responds happily, and Myungsoo hides a smile.
Myungsoo returns with the promised bag of ice-cream -- or iceblocks, rather, the shop didn’t stock coffee ice-cream -- to see Sungyeol in his bedroom, going through his boxes.
“Oh my god Myungsoo,” Sungyeol says as he sees Myungsoo walking through the door. ”You’re dating a designer-to-be and you still can’t throw out these plaid shirts?”
Myungsoo shrugs, embarrassed. “They might be useful someday. I might want to wear them again.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t,” Sungyeol remarks darkly, and rummages around in the box some more. “This is ridiculous, how many different shades of the same design do you have?” he asks in horror, pulling out shirt after shirt from the box.
“It was a dark period of my life, alright?” Myungsoo responds, shoving the bag in Sungyeol’s face. “Now stop going through my clothes and eat this before it melts.”
Something glints in Sungyeol’s eyes as he takes the bag and opens the packet to find four sticks of coffee-flavoured iceblocks. He looks up at Myungsoo, smirking, and Myungsoo feels dread creeping up on him.
“I’m gonna have to punish you for such horrible taste in clothing,” Sungyeol says, dropping the ice blocks on the floor and standing up to grab Myungsoo’s t-shirt by the neck. Before Myungsoo can respond, he’s thrown onto his bed, and Sungyeol’s straddling him, one of his old red plaid shirts in his left hand.
“Sungyeol, what are you--"
Sungyeol’s right hand travels to the hem of Myungsoo’s t-shirt and a hand snakes up his sweaty chest. He clutches the brown fabric in his hands and hauls it up to expose an expanse of skin, leaning down to kiss it before he tries to wrestle the fabric up over Myungsoo’s head. He grunts in frustration when the t-shirt gets caught on Myungsoo’s arms, and Myungsoo decides to just take the t-shirt off himself.
“Put your hands up,” Sungyeol demands, nibbling on Myungsoo’s ear, and Myungsoo raises his eyebrows in confusion, slowly lifting his hands. Sungyeol grabs his wrists, and twists Myungsoo’s red shirt around them tightly.
“Ow, Sungyeol, what the hell are you--"
“This is the only thing your shirts are useful for, okay,” he gets in response, Sungyeol knotting the ends of the shirt, and Myungsoo finds that he can’t move his hands out of the restraints at all. Sungyeol grabs a blue plaid shirt and runs them between Myungsoo’s linked wrists, fastening them tight to the slats of the headboard on Myungsoo’s bed.
Myungsoo curses, trying to break free, but Sungyeol’s tied him down much too tightly, and the moistness of his lips on his neck, on his chest, tongue swirling around his nipple, was really not helping. Sungyeol’s hands move to the belt of Myungsoo’s jeans, and he bucks up involuntarily as Sungyeol palms him through the thick fabric.
“Fuck,” he breathes, as Sungyeol undoes his belt and reaches a hand past the elastic of Myungsoo’s underwear, brushing over his hardening erection. “Fuck, Sungyeol, this is so not fair.”
“Who said life was fair,” Sungyeol mutters back, tugging off Myungsoo’s jeans in one fluid motion and throwing them on top of the pile of plaid shirts that littered the room. His hands press against Myungsoo’s hipbones as he grabs the elastic of Myungsoo’s underwear between his teeth, and slowly teases the fabric down over Myungsoo’s cock.
“Oh my god,” Myungsoo chokes out, as he feels the wet hotness of Sungyeol’s mouth capture him, tongue drawing lines up and down his length. He tries to buck up into Sungyeol’s mouth, but Sungyeol pushes him forcefully by the hips down into the bed, and slowly works his tongue over the tip of Myungsoo’s cock, lapping up the pre-come.
Myungsoo strains against the red fabric tying up his hands, wanting to grab Sungyeol by the ears and thrust into his mouth, pull out his hair, run his hands down Sungyeol’s back, but the fabric chafes at his wrists uncomfortably, imprisoning his hands to the headboard.
“Fuck you, Sungyeol,” he mutters, and Sungyeol smirks, popping Myungsoo out of his mouth and drawing spirals over Myungsoo’s lower abdomen teasingly with his finger.
“You’d like to, wouldn’t you,” Sungyeol responds, chuckling, and sits on Myungsoo’s thighs. His hands travel to the first button of his shirt, and he undoes it slowly, showing his collarbones. Myungsoo wriggles impatiently as Sungyeol undoes button by button, finally pulling off his shirt.
“Take off your pants,” Myungsoo demands, but he’s cut off by Sungyeol’s hand on his cock, delicate fingers wrapped around his breadth, and his breath hitches in his throat.
“You’re not exactly in a position to make demands,” Sungyeol mutters, jerking him off brusquely. Any pretense of coherence disappears, and he’s thrusting into Sungyeol’s hand violently. He’s teetering, almost reaching his orgasm, when the hand disappears and Myungsoo finds himself thrusting into air.
“Fuck, Sungyeol, why did you have to do that,” he grumbles, and Sungyeol unstraddles him to stand up.
“Because this is your punishment,” Sungyeol grunts, fiddling with his own belt and discarding his pants.
There’s a wet patch on his grey underwear where precome has leaked, and he tugs it off too. He walks up to Myungsoo’s face, pressing a kiss to his lips before thrusting his cock in front of Myungsoo’s mouth.
“Suck me.”
Myungsoo looks at Sungyeol’s cock, flushed and half-hard, then pokes out his tongue and swirls at the head. Sungyeol groans, forcing his cock into Myungsoo’s mouth without warning, and Myungsoo chokes a little as the tip of Sungyeol’s cock hits the back of his throat. He instinctively tries to move his hands down to hold Sungyeol by the hips, but a painful tug at his wrists reminds him that he’s fastened down and helpless.
Sungyeol fucks his mouth, slowly, and Myungsoo grunts every time he thrusts, knowing that the vibrations would travel straight up Sungyeol's cock. Sungyeol pulls out just before he’s going to come, pinching at the area around his balls to stop himself from spurting all over Myungsoo’s face. Myungsoo’s still uncomfortably hard, and now his throat is raw and, fuck, he just wants Sungyeol to let him come.
A sheen of sweat covers both their bodies, half from the heat, and Myungsoo exhales heavily as he feels a finger poking at his entrance.
“Sungyeol, fuck, I don’t have any lube,” Myungsoo splutters, but it’s no use. Sungyeol’s finger pushes uncomfortably into his hole, stretching it, and Myungsoo cries out in pain. The finger pulls out, and Myungsoo hears rustling. He looks down and sees Sungyeol holding a half melted coffee ice block in his hands, lapping up the melting liquid.
“No,” Myungsoo says, eyes wide in horror, but Sungyeol holds the iceblock over Myungsoo’s chest and lets the icy liquid drip onto his chest. Myungsoo hisses as the drips hit his bare skin, cold and stinging, and mutters a string of curses as Sungyeol presses the ice block to his skin and runs it over his nipples, down his torso. His muscles tense, and Sungyeol licks at his abdomen, revelling in the musky taste of sweat and coffee.
He sucks on the ice block, tongue running over it in ways that Myungsoo thinks should be illegal, and Myungsoo feels a pool of tension gathering below his navel again.
“Fuck,” he cries, as Sungyeol takes his cock in his mouth, still cold from the iceblock. Pinpricks of white dot Myungsoo’s vision as the icy tongue on his cock licks strips up and down, and he arches up, toes curling. Sungyeol presses the melting ice block to Myungsoo’s cock, and Myungsoo tries to jerk away, but Sungyeol’s holding him down and trailing the iceblock down his inner thighs and he’s really hard. Sungyeol sucks the iceblock again, and then presses his tongue to Myungsoo’s entrance.
“Oh my god Sungyeol, if you stick that thing up my ass I will disown you,” Myungsoo mutters, still shivering from the iciness on his cock, and Sungyeol grins evilly, swirling the iceblock around Myungsoo’s hole. A finger, covered in melting liquid, slicks in, and Myungsoo jerks upwards at the coldness inside him. The finger probes around, brushing over something inside and Myungsoo’s vision goes white.
“Again,” he breathes, and Sungyeol puts another finger in, brushing over the spot again and again and Myungsoo’s coherence is completely out the window as he bucks wildly into Sungyeol’s hands. He feels an icy burn as Sungyeol shoves the iceblock into his ass, and he curses, but he’s past making weightless threats about disowning people and just arches upwards as he feels the icy coldness enter him.
And then the iceblock is gone, and Sungyeol’s inside him, hot and burning, and Myungsoo groans as he wraps his legs around Sungyeol’s waist, angling himself so Sungyeol's deep inside him. It fucking hurts, but it’s Sungyeol and everything is alright.
Sungyeol thrusts, slowly at first, and Myungsoo can feel his lips pressing delicate kisses in trails down his arms, in the conch of his ear, and teeth fastening around his nipple, before Sungyeol’s hands are pressed into the mattress beside Myungsoo’s chest and sweat is trickling down in drips down his forehead and perfect nose and he’s going faster and deeper and Myungsoo can feel the tip of his cock hitting his prostate and Sungyeol takes one hand down and touches him and--
He comes, sticky and hot between them, come spreading over his torso and chest, and he jerks upwards. Sungyeol thrusts two more times and comes inside him with a groan, and Myungsoo can feel the hot liquid filling him, before Sungyeol pulls out and leaves a white trail coming out of his ass.
Sungyeol lies on top of him, head buried in the pillow, spent. The rise and fall of their chests are in harmony, and their heartbeats calming down.
Myungsoo clears his throat.
“Um, could you untie me now?” he asks, and Sungyeol straddles him, amused, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He deftly unties the plaid shirts from the headboard, and Myungsoo winces in pain as the blood rushes back into his hands.
“Tastes like coffee,” Sungyeol remarks, licking at the cooling come on Myungsoo’s chest, and Myungsoo blushes, pulling Sungyeol in towards him and flinging the twisted shirts onto the floor.
“I don’t want to see a plaid shirt ever again,” he murmurs, rubbing at his bruised wrists gingerly.
“You've learned your lesson,” Sungyeol laughs, and snuggles into Myungsoo, content.
Myungsoo decides to take a shower after a short nap. He can’t stand the stickiness on his chest and between his legs anymore, or the stifling heat, and quietly pads out, leaving Sungyeol alone on the bed.
He’s just about to enter the shower when he hears the bathroom door open and close behind him.
“Mind if I join?” a naked Sungyeol asks, and Myungsoo can’t say that he does.
a/n: hiii I promised kantamu there would be some myungyeol pwp in the last fic buuut that didn't happen. so. here it is. completely and utterly unbetaed and written in two hours while watching jiu so this is crap sorry /runs away
Pairing: Myungsoo/Sungyeol
Rating: NC-17; Warning: light bondage, creative use of an iceblock
Summary: In which Sungyeol the future designer helps Myungsoo move apartments and discovers the fashion tragedy known as a box of plaid shirts and decides to punish him accordingly. Kind of not really sequel to Myopia. o15. of the 100 infinite fic challenge.
Word count: ~2,200
plaid shirts (n)
1. things that kim myungsoo should not be allowed to own
“I can’t believe I’m helping you move on the last day of summer break,” Sungyeol mutters as he heaves a tattered cardboard box up a flight of stairs, and promptly drops it at the door. “It’s way too hot to be doing physical labour of any kind.”
Myungsoo wipes the sweat off his forehead and shoots a look at the boy, who’s slumped against the wall of the entrance to the new apartment block with a towel draped over his head. The weather is much hotter than he anticipated, but he kind of also needs all his belongings inside lest they be stolen by some random opportunist. Not that he has anything of actual value to steal, save his camera.
“Well, at least now we won’t have to go to your place all the time,” Myungsoo retorts. “You have too many pencils and random pieces of paper all over the place. It’s not fun when you’re in the mood and you find a graphite 9B sticking into your ass, okay.”
“It’s all in the name of design!” Sungyeol says in defense, but Myungsoo can see a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth as he remembers that particular incident.
“Just shut up and help me get this up,” Myungsoo says, pointing to the last box sitting on the road, and Sungyeol rolls his eyes.
All the boxes are inside before noon. Myungsoo thinks that’s quite an achievement, considering how much Sungyeol complained about his back and the heat and him having better things to do than lug boxes up stairs.
Myungsoo’s lying on the floor, fanning himself while Sungyeol’s sprawled across the couch, which still has a sheet of plastic covering it. It’s probably dirty, but he doesn’t really seem to care at the moment.
‘I’m hungry,” Sungyeol whines, and eyes Myungsoo’s empty refrigerator mournfully. “I want ice-cream. Buy me ice-cream.”
Myungsoo sighs and rolls over. There’s a convenience store right around the block, and he thinks it’s the least he could do for a morning’s worth of physical labour.
“What flavour?”
“Coffee!” Sungyeol responds happily, and Myungsoo hides a smile.
Myungsoo returns with the promised bag of ice-cream -- or iceblocks, rather, the shop didn’t stock coffee ice-cream -- to see Sungyeol in his bedroom, going through his boxes.
“Oh my god Myungsoo,” Sungyeol says as he sees Myungsoo walking through the door. ”You’re dating a designer-to-be and you still can’t throw out these plaid shirts?”
Myungsoo shrugs, embarrassed. “They might be useful someday. I might want to wear them again.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t,” Sungyeol remarks darkly, and rummages around in the box some more. “This is ridiculous, how many different shades of the same design do you have?” he asks in horror, pulling out shirt after shirt from the box.
“It was a dark period of my life, alright?” Myungsoo responds, shoving the bag in Sungyeol’s face. “Now stop going through my clothes and eat this before it melts.”
Something glints in Sungyeol’s eyes as he takes the bag and opens the packet to find four sticks of coffee-flavoured iceblocks. He looks up at Myungsoo, smirking, and Myungsoo feels dread creeping up on him.
“I’m gonna have to punish you for such horrible taste in clothing,” Sungyeol says, dropping the ice blocks on the floor and standing up to grab Myungsoo’s t-shirt by the neck. Before Myungsoo can respond, he’s thrown onto his bed, and Sungyeol’s straddling him, one of his old red plaid shirts in his left hand.
“Sungyeol, what are you--"
Sungyeol’s right hand travels to the hem of Myungsoo’s t-shirt and a hand snakes up his sweaty chest. He clutches the brown fabric in his hands and hauls it up to expose an expanse of skin, leaning down to kiss it before he tries to wrestle the fabric up over Myungsoo’s head. He grunts in frustration when the t-shirt gets caught on Myungsoo’s arms, and Myungsoo decides to just take the t-shirt off himself.
“Put your hands up,” Sungyeol demands, nibbling on Myungsoo’s ear, and Myungsoo raises his eyebrows in confusion, slowly lifting his hands. Sungyeol grabs his wrists, and twists Myungsoo’s red shirt around them tightly.
“Ow, Sungyeol, what the hell are you--"
“This is the only thing your shirts are useful for, okay,” he gets in response, Sungyeol knotting the ends of the shirt, and Myungsoo finds that he can’t move his hands out of the restraints at all. Sungyeol grabs a blue plaid shirt and runs them between Myungsoo’s linked wrists, fastening them tight to the slats of the headboard on Myungsoo’s bed.
Myungsoo curses, trying to break free, but Sungyeol’s tied him down much too tightly, and the moistness of his lips on his neck, on his chest, tongue swirling around his nipple, was really not helping. Sungyeol’s hands move to the belt of Myungsoo’s jeans, and he bucks up involuntarily as Sungyeol palms him through the thick fabric.
“Fuck,” he breathes, as Sungyeol undoes his belt and reaches a hand past the elastic of Myungsoo’s underwear, brushing over his hardening erection. “Fuck, Sungyeol, this is so not fair.”
“Who said life was fair,” Sungyeol mutters back, tugging off Myungsoo’s jeans in one fluid motion and throwing them on top of the pile of plaid shirts that littered the room. His hands press against Myungsoo’s hipbones as he grabs the elastic of Myungsoo’s underwear between his teeth, and slowly teases the fabric down over Myungsoo’s cock.
“Oh my god,” Myungsoo chokes out, as he feels the wet hotness of Sungyeol’s mouth capture him, tongue drawing lines up and down his length. He tries to buck up into Sungyeol’s mouth, but Sungyeol pushes him forcefully by the hips down into the bed, and slowly works his tongue over the tip of Myungsoo’s cock, lapping up the pre-come.
Myungsoo strains against the red fabric tying up his hands, wanting to grab Sungyeol by the ears and thrust into his mouth, pull out his hair, run his hands down Sungyeol’s back, but the fabric chafes at his wrists uncomfortably, imprisoning his hands to the headboard.
“Fuck you, Sungyeol,” he mutters, and Sungyeol smirks, popping Myungsoo out of his mouth and drawing spirals over Myungsoo’s lower abdomen teasingly with his finger.
“You’d like to, wouldn’t you,” Sungyeol responds, chuckling, and sits on Myungsoo’s thighs. His hands travel to the first button of his shirt, and he undoes it slowly, showing his collarbones. Myungsoo wriggles impatiently as Sungyeol undoes button by button, finally pulling off his shirt.
“Take off your pants,” Myungsoo demands, but he’s cut off by Sungyeol’s hand on his cock, delicate fingers wrapped around his breadth, and his breath hitches in his throat.
“You’re not exactly in a position to make demands,” Sungyeol mutters, jerking him off brusquely. Any pretense of coherence disappears, and he’s thrusting into Sungyeol’s hand violently. He’s teetering, almost reaching his orgasm, when the hand disappears and Myungsoo finds himself thrusting into air.
“Fuck, Sungyeol, why did you have to do that,” he grumbles, and Sungyeol unstraddles him to stand up.
“Because this is your punishment,” Sungyeol grunts, fiddling with his own belt and discarding his pants.
There’s a wet patch on his grey underwear where precome has leaked, and he tugs it off too. He walks up to Myungsoo’s face, pressing a kiss to his lips before thrusting his cock in front of Myungsoo’s mouth.
“Suck me.”
Myungsoo looks at Sungyeol’s cock, flushed and half-hard, then pokes out his tongue and swirls at the head. Sungyeol groans, forcing his cock into Myungsoo’s mouth without warning, and Myungsoo chokes a little as the tip of Sungyeol’s cock hits the back of his throat. He instinctively tries to move his hands down to hold Sungyeol by the hips, but a painful tug at his wrists reminds him that he’s fastened down and helpless.
Sungyeol fucks his mouth, slowly, and Myungsoo grunts every time he thrusts, knowing that the vibrations would travel straight up Sungyeol's cock. Sungyeol pulls out just before he’s going to come, pinching at the area around his balls to stop himself from spurting all over Myungsoo’s face. Myungsoo’s still uncomfortably hard, and now his throat is raw and, fuck, he just wants Sungyeol to let him come.
A sheen of sweat covers both their bodies, half from the heat, and Myungsoo exhales heavily as he feels a finger poking at his entrance.
“Sungyeol, fuck, I don’t have any lube,” Myungsoo splutters, but it’s no use. Sungyeol’s finger pushes uncomfortably into his hole, stretching it, and Myungsoo cries out in pain. The finger pulls out, and Myungsoo hears rustling. He looks down and sees Sungyeol holding a half melted coffee ice block in his hands, lapping up the melting liquid.
“No,” Myungsoo says, eyes wide in horror, but Sungyeol holds the iceblock over Myungsoo’s chest and lets the icy liquid drip onto his chest. Myungsoo hisses as the drips hit his bare skin, cold and stinging, and mutters a string of curses as Sungyeol presses the ice block to his skin and runs it over his nipples, down his torso. His muscles tense, and Sungyeol licks at his abdomen, revelling in the musky taste of sweat and coffee.
He sucks on the ice block, tongue running over it in ways that Myungsoo thinks should be illegal, and Myungsoo feels a pool of tension gathering below his navel again.
“Fuck,” he cries, as Sungyeol takes his cock in his mouth, still cold from the iceblock. Pinpricks of white dot Myungsoo’s vision as the icy tongue on his cock licks strips up and down, and he arches up, toes curling. Sungyeol presses the melting ice block to Myungsoo’s cock, and Myungsoo tries to jerk away, but Sungyeol’s holding him down and trailing the iceblock down his inner thighs and he’s really hard. Sungyeol sucks the iceblock again, and then presses his tongue to Myungsoo’s entrance.
“Oh my god Sungyeol, if you stick that thing up my ass I will disown you,” Myungsoo mutters, still shivering from the iciness on his cock, and Sungyeol grins evilly, swirling the iceblock around Myungsoo’s hole. A finger, covered in melting liquid, slicks in, and Myungsoo jerks upwards at the coldness inside him. The finger probes around, brushing over something inside and Myungsoo’s vision goes white.
“Again,” he breathes, and Sungyeol puts another finger in, brushing over the spot again and again and Myungsoo’s coherence is completely out the window as he bucks wildly into Sungyeol’s hands. He feels an icy burn as Sungyeol shoves the iceblock into his ass, and he curses, but he’s past making weightless threats about disowning people and just arches upwards as he feels the icy coldness enter him.
And then the iceblock is gone, and Sungyeol’s inside him, hot and burning, and Myungsoo groans as he wraps his legs around Sungyeol’s waist, angling himself so Sungyeol's deep inside him. It fucking hurts, but it’s Sungyeol and everything is alright.
Sungyeol thrusts, slowly at first, and Myungsoo can feel his lips pressing delicate kisses in trails down his arms, in the conch of his ear, and teeth fastening around his nipple, before Sungyeol’s hands are pressed into the mattress beside Myungsoo’s chest and sweat is trickling down in drips down his forehead and perfect nose and he’s going faster and deeper and Myungsoo can feel the tip of his cock hitting his prostate and Sungyeol takes one hand down and touches him and--
He comes, sticky and hot between them, come spreading over his torso and chest, and he jerks upwards. Sungyeol thrusts two more times and comes inside him with a groan, and Myungsoo can feel the hot liquid filling him, before Sungyeol pulls out and leaves a white trail coming out of his ass.
Sungyeol lies on top of him, head buried in the pillow, spent. The rise and fall of their chests are in harmony, and their heartbeats calming down.
Myungsoo clears his throat.
“Um, could you untie me now?” he asks, and Sungyeol straddles him, amused, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He deftly unties the plaid shirts from the headboard, and Myungsoo winces in pain as the blood rushes back into his hands.
“Tastes like coffee,” Sungyeol remarks, licking at the cooling come on Myungsoo’s chest, and Myungsoo blushes, pulling Sungyeol in towards him and flinging the twisted shirts onto the floor.
“I don’t want to see a plaid shirt ever again,” he murmurs, rubbing at his bruised wrists gingerly.
“You've learned your lesson,” Sungyeol laughs, and snuggles into Myungsoo, content.
Myungsoo decides to take a shower after a short nap. He can’t stand the stickiness on his chest and between his legs anymore, or the stifling heat, and quietly pads out, leaving Sungyeol alone on the bed.
He’s just about to enter the shower when he hears the bathroom door open and close behind him.
“Mind if I join?” a naked Sungyeol asks, and Myungsoo can’t say that he does.
a/n: hiii I promised kantamu there would be some myungyeol pwp in the last fic buuut that didn't happen. so. here it is. completely and utterly unbetaed and written in two hours while watching jiu so this is crap sorry /runs away