exonym | you do this, you do

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you do this, you do

ROOK

i.
[ most of the time, Rook is aware of where he is going and what random surface he is deciding to nap on. he has his favourite spots, out side of his hoard of pillows and blankets, and they are usually in presence of other demons, the few vampires he has decided he likes, or the bar in downtown Seoul that caters to those with magic in their blood.

this couch is in none of those places.

it smells like earth and dampness and moss first off.

second, there is way less magic in the air here and it's weird. well there is magic, a kind that Rook hasn't felt in a long while, and nothing like the static feeling of too many magical creatures in one area brings to his skin. this is... calmer. more unified.

still, he has no fucking clue where he is. not that it seems to bother him. the demon hums and sits up on the couch hair a mess and eyes half lidded, standing out if only because he is clad in just loose black pants and a whole lotta gold body jewellery.

what there are standards for demons of lust okay? sometimes he cares enough to hold himself to them. kinda.

his voice is rough when he speaks.]

Mm, where 'm I?

ii.
[ Rook doesn't need to stay. he can leave as easily as he came (but with more intention), can slide between the worlds and slink back to hell where he has whatever he needs to make eternity terrible for others. but--

and isn't there always a 'but'

he kinda likes it here. this place is weird, with the people and the place. the magic that is so different in them all but also strangely similar. how all these beings are under one roof in the swamp and have found things that so many spend their whole existences searching for.

how there is more love than lust here and well fuck, isn't that something.

so yeah, Rook could leave. Rook should leave. there isn't much for him to do here with his Cardinal. there are only so many strings for him to pull on (and yeah yeah yeah, a good demon would seduce and destroy, would ruin relationships and cause hurt but-- if you ask Rook he doesn't do that because he is lazy, not because he if soft). but he doesn't. he stays.

stays and starts bringing little pieces that he likes into the home. a pillow. a blanket. a set of dishes where none of them match but they are inlaid with precious stones so who cares. today's present is a bookshelf. complete with books. mostly in dead languages but hey, it's the thought that counts right?

Rook is in the middle of the living room (or what he thinks is the living room) hands on his hips and head cocked as he tries to figure out where the shelf would look best.

feel free to help him out.]

Ros

i.
[ the early morning, Ros has found, is the best time for him to practice much of anything in this place. sure he still goes to the underworld, still has his haunts and the shadows but--

he likes this place. these people. so he has taken to sticking around whenever he doesn't have a job that needs to be done. not because he thinks that they need protecting (they totally need protecting, almost more from themselves than from outsiders) but because he likes it here.

so early morning, when the sun is just thinking about getting up and most everyone is asleep, if not quiet, Ros can be found on the grounds outside with more than a few short blades in his hands and a concentrated look on his face.

ever since the war, ever science the adaptation of science and magic and everything, Ros has found that he cannot rely on his hound form as much, cannot rely on what he is, so he needs to adjust. needs to learn. and learn quickly (which considering he is a weapon isn't very hard at all). still, practice is necessary and, since he does not need much sleep, it is a nice way to just-- exist for a while. ]

ii.
[ if you happen to pass by the kitchen, you might notice one (1) rather confused looking hellhound who is staring at what appears to be a rather fancy looking espresso machine. the machine in question is sitting on the counter, in the middle of a hastily cleared spot, with a bag of actual coffee beans next to it while Ros leans against the table and just stares at it.

you see, he learned very early on that everyone here is quite fond of coffee (well, not all but--) so, being the being he is, Ros set out to find the best of the best. apparently this machine was supposed to be one of the best so long as you had the right beans (which he did make sure to grab) and followed the instructions (which he did not have at all). which is why he is looking confused.

because how the hell were you supposed to turn those beans into liquid coffee? the hound has no idea.]

Sage

i.
[ to say that Sage feels like shit would be a bit of an understatement. he isn't sure what is worse, death maybe? but he is certainly there. ever since the night where he made the fucking brilliant choice to let Minsu into his room (and subsequently kicked him out) the witch has been no where to be found within the confines of the house.

or even the immediate swamp.

Sage has, despite knowing better, been in the darkest parts of the swamp where the sun barely reaches and humans haven't been in fucking centuries (okay, maybe they have, but shhh) with no real point to it all but to just get out. be alone. away.

maybe to punish himself a little bit but, that is neither here nor there.

the magic in this part of the swamp is thicker, is heavier and seeps into his bones and makes it easy for him to forget about fucking humans and their brilliant smiles, or their soft mouths or--

(such a soft and fragile thing, the human heart is witchling. careful.)

Sage doesn't really forget anything, but he does manage to push more magic into the wards and finds a small patch of fungus that he can most certainly use in potions so not a total loss. still, when he trudges back into the house, covered in swamp and a little paler than usual, he isn't so sure that is a good win.

the witch leaves the ingredients he found on the kitchen table (along with a note stating not to eat them because he really doesn't want to deal with that, thanks Ten) then makes his way to the washroom to clean himself off and then to his room to get dressed. and if he comes out wearing sweatpants that belong to Ros for how huge the are and Minsu's shirt, well--- shut up.

he is then making his way back to the kitchen for coffee. because jesus fuck he needs that. ]

ii.
[ inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale-- you can do this!

Sage isn't usually a nervous person. not even a little. but-- standing outside Minsu's door with a basket full of fresh berries (that cost him more than he would like to admit but worth it) and a new frying pan, the witch is nearly shaking with nerves.

what if Minsu left? what if he hates him? what if he tries to smack him upside the head with the frying pan and just--

Sage knocks before his mind talks him out of this.]

... Minsu? You there?

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[ oh. oh that-- fuck. Sage curls his fingers around the mug as Myung hands it back, heart in his throat as the other leans in so easily and shitshitshit he is such a fucking asshole sometimes. doesn't deserve this kind of kindness, this softness from all these people.

when he speaks his voice is thick, but he tries to ignore it.]

Bruce-- Bruce Lee, huh? I hope he's there too. [ breathe, Sage, breathe, in and out. it's easy. you can do it.

there is a rattling breath as the witch closes his eyes, tries to forget about the horrified look on Minsu's face as he threw words at him, tries to focus on the taste of the coffee bitter and hot on his tongue, the warmth of Myung next to him and--

fuck, he really doesn't want to fight. fuck. fuck.

with a shaky exhale, Sage closes his eyes and leans heavily on the counter. ]

Shit. Fuck. I don't-- fuck. I fucked up, Myung.

[ Loo, he's going to be soft at you because he can't be at everyone that easily. It's simple, with Sage, because it's inconsequential. Because they're friends. ]

Yeah. An asshole, for sure. Racist, at that.

[ He's got a little smile on his face as he leans against the counter next to the coffee machine, and he's looking straight at Sage, his smile falling when he sees how Sage's face changes, going through a whole array of expressions before he slumps forward. Myung is immediately there, a hand on Sage's back, his voice low and soft when he speaks. ]

What happened? I mean, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. But you seem like you want to.

[ usually Sage would reject this softness but-- when it comes from Myung it doesn't feel smothering or condescending. he feels like Myung knows probably better than most what is needed and what isn't and, well, he trusts the other. well, he trusts everyone here but-- whatever.

Sage wants to fight if only to feel something, it is so much easier to focus on physical pain than it is to focus on the almost what-if, oh shit that is churning in his gut right now. like he knows that he fucked up but doesn't know why or how or if he can fix it--]

I want to sink into the swamp, but she won't let me. [ ignore the implications there, thank you. ] I don't even fucking know, honestly.

[ which isn't a lie. he doesn't know why this means so much. why it matters. why Minsu caring about him is so terrifying, except it is because--]

Fuck, does he realize how fucking easy it would be to kill him? Like, even accidentally! I-- fuck.

[ there is a vibration beneath Sage's skin, the churning of vines that appear like shadows beneath his pale skin. ]

[ Okay. There are pieces of the puzzle that Myung is missing, here, but he can attempt to put it together, to understand what's going on. Maybe because the same kind of thoughts rush through him on the regular, and it's exactly why he disappears at dusk and comes back with bruised ribs, black eyes, and throbbing knuckles.

He keeps his hand where it is, one point of contact on Sage's back, but willing to move back in a second if required. ]

Well I, for one, am pretty glad the swamp isn't letting you, either.

[ He isn't who Sage is talking about. He has an inkling, but he'd never assume - so he doesn't name names. Instead, he moves a fraction closer, a frown of worry on his face as he asks, softly. ]

Tell me what you need. Aside from sinking in the swamp. What can help clear your head?

[ a part of Sage hates how easily he can spill these troubles to someone else, how easily Minsu has crawled under his skin, how easily Myung has earned his trust. he doesn't know what to do with this, all these emotional ties that have crept out of the woodwork and wrapped up around him. sunk into the cracks in his bones and the spaces in his chest. how much he wants them here but doesn't know how to deal with it at the same time.

he really does wish he could just sink into the swamp. fuck, he has tried though. not recently, but he has. and the swamp will not let him, he brings her too much, feeds her too well. so he is still here, and cracked all the more even if he can't figure it out.

there is a muttered 'I don't know' as he closes his eyes and sets the coffee down.

then he is leaning in, curling bruised and calloused hands around the collar of Myung's shirt to pull him closer and kiss him. he tastes like toothpaste and coffee, flickers of magic on his skin as it continues to work on healing the cuts and bruises (and the probably cracked rib) he is sporting but-- Sage doesn't care about that. just wants to feel and he trusts Myung. knows he gets it. so he kisses hard and pulls the other towards him until his back is pressed against the counter and Myung is against him.]

[ Myung, for one, is pretty sure that this? This isn't what Sage needs. It's the epitome of a bad idea, the kind he'd have all the time back in college. Bad grade? Fuck it out of his system, drunk out of his mind. Bad song? Crash a frat party to find a rando to suck off in a shitty bathroom. Bad mood? Flirt outrageously over coffee until he gets a phone number he never calls.

This feels like this kind of bad idea. But Myung is not one to judge, and if it is how Sage wants to cope, then he leans in, lets himself be pulled closer, kissing back, a little softer than Sage, slowing him down as he frame Sage's face with his hands.

They're in the kitchen. It feels like even more of a bad idea. But there's also the fact that Sage is like a livewire, and Myung is endlessly attracted to him, and he wants to help. So he doesn't pull back, either. Not quite yet. ]

[ it might not be the best idea, the best thing for Sage right now, but it is what he knows. only this is different, maybe better because he trusts and knows Myung. loves him in his own way, in a way that isn't terrifying and overwhelming and disastrous. Sage whines, low and displeased as Myung slows the kiss, but doesn't fight the change. lets the other kiss him as he leans back against the counter and tries to pull him closer still.

they shouldn't be doing this, there is a quiet voice telling him that in the back of his head, but Sage isnt really listening right now. right now he is winding his fingers into Myung's hair, remembering how good the other looked with his face flushed and eyes wide the last time Sage tugged on his hair, and shifts until he can bracket one of Myung's thighs with his own.

then there are teeth against Myung's bottom lip and Sage is moving his hips fluidly, teasing and tempting and wanting.]

[ Myung has to gasp against Sage's lips, if only because he is so ridiculously good at this, but he knows - he knows that, right now, he needs to keep a semblance of control, because he isn't sure Sage has it. It's up to Myung, and it's hard, no pun intended.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he's breathing hard, eyes barely open, his hands still on Sage's face. ]

If we're - gonna do this, let's not. Not here.

[ Myung might be discovering himself some voyeuristic tendencies, but he's not an exhibitionist. If he's to get Sage off, he'd rather do it in private. And sure, sure it's a bad idea, it's a terrible fucking idea, because Sage is hurting, but Myung is not going to begrudge his coping mechanisms. He slides his lips along Sage's cheek, to his ear, whispering - ]

What about I suck you off against the piano?

[ At least it's in a room that locks. ]

[ Sage is nearly vibrating in his skin when the kiss breaks, lips bruised and eyes wide. he needs this-- no wants it, and knows that Myung is probably the only person he would trust in a state like this. the witch huffs, a quiet noise as he winds his fingers a little tighter, tries to shift higher up Myung's thigh to find friction.

needy.]

F-fuck. How about you fuck me over the piano bench instead?

[ or hell, he would let Myung do that right here against the counter with the coffee machines, and maybe that should be the sign that he is a little off kilter, but Sage doesn't care. shivers as he thinks about Myung pressing into him, against the bench or fuck, the wall, a door--]

[ Myung can't actually do much else than press closer, a hand slipping towards Sage's ass as he lifts his leg to press it against Sage's crotch tighter. His elbow almost catches the coffee mug when he does, though, and he curses, swallowing.

He curses again at Sage's words, forcing himself to pull back. ]

Fuck, anything.

[ He grabs Sage's hand, pulling him from the kitchen and across the living room to his room at the front of the house, where the piano sits in the middle, barely any other furniture aside from a bed and a couch, Myung's duffel bag of clothes shoved in a corner. He closes the door behind them, sliding the lock into place.

He really isn't that good at keeping control. ]

Half the time when I'm done playing something, I have a semi, [ Myung admits as he looks at the piano, thinks of Ros gifting it to him, thinks of Dae listening with a smile on his pretty face. ] it's going to happen a lot more if we actually do this.

[ anything, Sage likes the sounds of that. likes the ideas that it conjures up for him. so he kisses Myung harder, whine when the other pulls away and leads them out of the kitchen. as soon as they are in the other room, door shut and lock in place, Sage is pulling Myung back in, all teeth and lips as he seeks out skin beneath clothes.]

We are actually doing this, fuck, want you to have me screaming your name. Want to fuck me until I can't think of anything but how good you feel.

[ because if anyone can do that, it is Myung. if anyone can get him out of his head and into the physical, it is Myung. he already knows how good Myung is, how willing he is to go all out, knows how good Myung feels inside him, but this time he won't control the pace. will let Myung control it.

Sage groans and sinks his teeth into the curve of neck and shoulder, scrambles to pull off his shirt and then, right after, Myungs.]

[ In the back of Myung's mind, a tiny voice tells him he should stop this. Sit Sage down, allow him to breathe, maybe play him something soothing. He's been told a few times, after all, that the part of him that's the most magic is his music. But -

But. Myung snuffs the voice out the second Sage's hands are back on him, the second he pushes these filthy words against Myung's ear. After that, it's too late; he still has a semblance of control, but it's tenuous at best as he reaches down for Sage's jeans, popping open the button as he starts pushing him back towards the piano. He wants this so bad he's aching already, and they're barely started, and sure, in a way, he feels like he's betraying Minsu, but in another, Sage is also his friend, and he's going out of his mind and he needs something. Something that Myung can give him.

Myung pulls away from Sage just enough to reach over to the side of the piano bench, to the tiny, hidden compartment there, in which rest a bunch of piano strings - even though he will never need them - alongside lube and condoms. Because of moments exactly like this. He's quick to step right back into Sage's space once he's pocketed both, and he leans close enough to kiss, but talks instead. ]

I'm guessing you don't want me to go gentle, do you?

[ Sage has always been the kind of person to depend on the phyical to get him out of his own head. whether it was throwing himself into spellcasting or throwing himself into the bar scene and the willing bodies that were there, this was what he knew to make everything stop. to calm everything down.

all the witch knows is that he wound too tight, that his thoughts won't give him peace, and he trusts Myung to take care of him. a thought that is reinforced when he asks that, easy and whisper quiet against his mouth.

there is a need in his bones, white hot, and the thought of Myung pressing him over the bench, tangling those fingers in his hair and just fucking him is exactly what he needs. the thought alone makes him whine, nips at lips that are close enough and arches up into the heat of his body.]

No, no I don't. Fuck, want you to fuck me hard enough that I feel it for days, until I shake apart from the force of you.

[ stop me from thinking. ]

[ Sage's words go straight down to Myung's dick, no passing go, and he surges forward, one hand wrapped tight around the back of Sage's neck, the other popping open his jeans, sliding in without preamble and wrapping around Sage, index running down the rungs of his piercing, and back up. The kiss is biting, demanding, Myung only teasing for a moment before he pulls his hand out and shoves Sage's jeans down, leaving them just under his ass. They're tight enough that he can guess the denim will bite into Sage's skin, but he doubts he'll mind.

When he breaks the kiss, he bites at Sage's earlobe. ]

Turn around. One knee on the bench. Lean over. Brace yourself on the piano if you need. Just. Ass out.

[ Myung does, most definitely, have the vague shape of a plan in mind, to be sure to drive Sage right out of his mind. And hopefully he'll hear it in more ways than one - the fall board of the piano being open, if Sage lets a hand slip anywhere near the keyboard, well.

They'll be making some music together. ]

[ as soon as Myung's hands are on him, Sage is groaning into the kiss, body trembling from the touch as he arches forward wanting more. there is the electric current feeling of his spells kicking in as fingers barely touch his piercings and Sage damn well near whines into the kiss. he doesn't want teasing right now, he wants something harder. something that will keep him from thinking and just let him feel.

and Myung gives him that in the next moment. the witch gasps as the kiss breaks, when he feels pinpricks of sharper pain against his earlobe and-- fuck, Myung tell him what do do with that edge to his voice is exactly what he wanted. so he turns around without any sass, without arguing or teasing, just turns and shifts enough that he can bend over the bench and get one knee on it. it isn't the most comfortable, mostly thanks to his jeans but-- fuck it, he doesn't care. he is running so fucking high right now he just needs this. now.

fingers curling into the decorative wood of the piano, Sage lets his head hang down between his shoulders and lets his spine dip without a care. when he speaks, his voice is darker, rougher.] Like this? This how you want me?

Hmmm.

[ It's more of a growl than anything else, as Myung reaches for Sage's hips, brushing piercings again as he moves forward, rubbing against Sage for a moment, letting him feel his erection through his sweats, thrusting up in a show of what he plans to do later. ]

Yeah, this will do.

[ And then, he drops to his knees, pushing Sage's jeans down a little more as he leans in and up, immediately sucking at his balls for a moment, before moving up to his ass, nothing soft or gentle with the way he licks inside Sage, his fingers digging hard into his hips. It's sloppy, too wet, full of heavy breaths, and Myung has to force himself to stay anchored in the moment and not completely lose himself, wanting that for Sage, a lot more than he needs it for himself. ]

[ finally, finally, he is so close but still so far. Sage lets a low gasp escape him when Myung rocks against him shallowly and teasingly. his fingers tighten against the piano and he shakes, hissing out a curse as he steels himself and doesn't rut back against Myung, demanding more now.

though he can't stop the way his hips jerk and a rough moan spills out of his mouth when he feels Myung's mouth on him. fuck. fuck that was not what he was expecting and he wasn't ready for it but also gods yes. he loves how he can feel fingers digging into his hips, bruises for later, while Myung licks him open just right.

Sage doesn't even try to keep the whine back this time.]

Fuck, shitshit-- fuck Myung!

[ That's it, Myung thinks, humming to himself against Sage as he keeps licking at him, fucking him with his tongue for a bit, shallow and messy and getting exactly the reactions he was hoping for. He doesn't let up at Sage's exclamations, wanting more and wanting them louder.

But he also doesn't give him the time to get too used to it, soon reaching for the lube and spreading some on his fingers as he moves back down to suck at Sage's balls, mouth replaced by one, then quickly a second finger. Sage doesn't want gentle, right now. He doesn't want to be loved, he wants to be used, and while that makes something twist in Myung's chest, not entirely pleasantly, he's also way too weak to refuse him.

The fact that he's ridiculous hard himself is only one proof of it. He gets it, is the thing, he gets wanting to lose yourself in sex, and at least, Myung is safe.

Not that he's doing this selflessly, either, sex is sex, and sex with Sage is always bound to make Myung's brain implode a little.

He pulls back for a second, breathing hard before he talks, his voice rough. ] How many fingers d'you want?

[ it is almost embarrassing how quickly Myung manages to make Sage lose his usual composure this time around, how he fumbles for words and just gives up, instead moans Myung's name as he shakes from the pleasure. it's so good, just rough enough that Sage can feel it, get lost in it. and when Myung adds a finger, Sage nearly shots a curse, whole body shaking as he jerks back, trying to get more.

this is why he sought out Myung, why he trusts him so fucking much (it is a little terrifying he thinks, but the point right now is to not think so-- no), because he knows what Sage needs and doesn't try to talk him out of it. makes it better just by being here and being enough for Sage to leg go with. let Sage be Sage.

when the second finger pushes in, Sage flat out keens as his head drops forward.]

Fuck that-- gods you really have amazing fingers, shit. [ a ragged laugh.] That's good, fuck Myung, I'm good. Please, need to feel you.

Hmm. Did you doubt it?

[ He's teasing, a little amused, and presses a series of kisses to the back of Sage's thigh after speaking, distracting him.

Because Myung doubts that it's been enough, and he's the one in charge right now, albeit barely. So he uses the shred of self-control he has left to fuck Sage with his fingers for a little while longer, adding a third, crooking them on the way out, just to hear these sounds from Sage again.

He doesn't keep at it for too long. Sage begging for him is not something he expects to hear every day and he's not here to disappoint, so he finally pulls his fingers away, biting none to gently at Sage's ass cheek before he stands again, pushing his sweatpants down around his thighs and gets the condom on, breathing hard and shaky as he does.

He doesn't ask. He doesn't say anything else as he lines himself up and pushes inside Sage, groaning to himself as he digs his fingers in Sage's hips, hard enough to bruise. ]

[ there is breathless laughter to that, though the witch doesn't manage to actually say anything because then Myung is pressing kisses against his skin and a third finger in and fuckfuckfuck it's so good and just shy of not enough. his whole body is shaking, wound tight with emotions and pleasure as he let's everything just wash over him, hips starting to jerk back against Myung until he is panting and keening and--]

Fuck, Myung, please, just--- fuck!

[ when Myung pushes in, finally, Sage loses his grip on the piano and the air is filled with the discordant noise of this arms scrambling to find purchase against the keys. it at least kind of muffles the other noises that he makes, wanting and shaken and rough.

but it's good, so fucking good. this is exactly what he wanted, exactly why he sought out Myung. because he isn't being too soft or careful, but there is still something caring about it all.

it's exactly what he needs.]

Fuck yes, gods you feel so fucking good Myung. Fuck I just-- [ a low moan as he arches, rolls his hips back as best he can and shakes at how much he feels.]

[ Hearing Sage like this is all the encouragement Myung could ever need. Not that Sage doesn't swear usually, but it's somehow more, right now, more desperate and needy, rushing through Myung's whole body, in the same way that applause after a good performance used to do, back in the day.

The discordant piano chords resonate through the room as Myung bottoms out, groaning himself, finding it hard to have any words right now. He doesn't move for a little while, but he does bend down to bite at Sage's shoulder blade, not exactly gentle with it, sucking a bruise into his skin as his fingers keep Sage exactly where he is, not letting him move just yet.

Then, once there's a dark mark on Sage's skin, Myung straightens out, and pulls almost all the way out, before slamming back in in a deep, hard thrust, hands holding Sage and preventing him from going headfirst into the piano. He doesn't want to hurt Sage. It's not about that, it's about a lot more than that, as he starts up a slow rhythm, focusing on going as deep as he can.

At the same time, he moves one hand, from Sage's hip to take hold of his cock, fingers playing along the ladder, down and up and back down again, as he bends over Sage's back again, resting his forehead on the other's spine, breathing hard with every thrust. ]

[ Sage can feel Myung working a mark into his skin, shakes with how he keeps him still and stops him from rolling his hips and taking the pleasure that he wants so badly. there is tension in Sage's muscles still, this desire to move and take and demand, but-- the longer Myung holds him like that (seconds, minutes, he has no idea), the more that tension seeps out of him, leaving Sage with his head hanging low and quiet keens falling from his lips.

and then Myung moves.

there are times when Sage is a quiet lover, just gasps and pants and soft noises, but then there are times like this where he can't seem to keep his mouth shut. where every roll of Myung's hips, every slide of his cock inside him, brings out another noise from Sage. the witch is moaning Myung's name between gasps, the occasional jarring noise of a piano key being hit only adding to it all. Myung is everywhere and it is exactly what Sage needs.]

Myung, Myung! Fuck, that's-- so good.

[ the words are breathless, strained and it raises in pitch, becomes almost a whine, when he feels his hand on his cock. but he doesn't kick into it, doesn't demand more, just-- takes what Myung is giving him and sinks into it.]

[ Myung's rarely able to keep such a hold of himself. Every time he moves, there are muffled sounds escaping him, but he keeps his lips shut, keeps his hand tight on Sage's hip, keeps his thrusts hard and deep, angling up with the goal of hitting Sage's prostate. He's very tense, shivers rushing under his skin when he moves, so sure and steady, even if, inside, he feels nothing but.

Because Sage feels incredible, all-encompassing, and Myung wants to lose himself in him, in these sensations, in everything they're doing right now. But it's dangerous, it'd be a mistake, and he knows it. This is happening because Sage is upset and needs to be driven out of his mind. Because he trusts Myung with doing this, and that's more important - trust - than Myung's stupid feelings. So he keeps himself in check and fucks Sage the way he wants to be fucked, hard and slow and deep.

His hand wraps around Sage's cock fully, fingers slotting between the piercings, thumb drawing circles around the head. ]

That what you wanted? [ He asks, breathless, raw, betraying himself a little. ]

[ this is exactly what he needed. to be completely torn apart with pleasure and fucked until he couldn't think, couldn't worry beyond his physical self. was caught up in the bruises that would bloom on his hips and the marks that would rise on his back. this was fucking perfect. and it is clear he is enjoying it because he can't stop the noises form spilling out of his mouth.

quiet moans and sharp 'ah's that are punctuated with Myung's name as he shakes beneath the onslaught of pleasure. he can feel his legs shaking, burning as he tries to hold himself up despite the orgasm that he can feel snaking through his veins. leaning down, he presses his face against the cool, smooth surface of the piano.]

Yes, fuck yes Myung. This is-- just wanted you. All you. I just-- I can't--- [ the words are thin, gasped as he trembles and all but goes limp in his hold, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to fuck back on his cock or into his fingers so he just-- lets Myung decide. focuses on not falling off the bench as he gasps and pants. pleads with every movement for whatever Myung will give him.]

you do this, you do

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