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Already drenched in sweat, already trembling from exhaustion, yet Seonghyeon still arches back against him, voice wrecked and pleading, “Fuck—Martin, deeper, please.”
And of course, Martin gives him everything. He always does. He buries his face into the curve of Seonghyeon’s shoulder blades, lips dragging open and messy against hot skin as he drives in deeper, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the room.
It’s been all day—fucking, pausing just enough to drink water or catch their breath before Seonghyeon drags him back in. Even going to the kitchen for a snack had ended with Martin bending him over the counter, cocking him open until Seonghyeon’s thighs shook. They never made it to the shower either, not when Seonghyeon clung to him with tearful eyes and begged for more, too gone to care about being sticky with sweat.
“Gonna cum,” Martin grits out, slowing his thrusts as his vision blurs, his chest burning with restraint.
“Inside, please—Martin, fill me,” Seonghyeon moans, shoving his hips back desperately, his hands gripping at the sheets. He’s insatiable, hungrier than usual, and Martin’s dizzy on the need of it.
He groans low from his chest and lets himself collapse forward, pressing Seonghyeon into the bed. His body’s shaking, exhausted, but he won’t stop—not until he’s given Seonghyeon exactly what he’s begging for.
Martin pulls him onto his side, curling close, wrapping an arm beneath Seonghyeon’s frame until their bodies fit together, chest to back, breath against breath.
“Fuck—” he gasps against his skin, and Seonghyeon only tilts his head back with a wrecked little smirk, eyes glassy. It makes Martin snap, dragging a large palm over Seonghyeon’s outer thigh and pulling him wider, greedy for more of him.
“Martin,” Seonghyeon moans, voice pitched high, hand flailing blindly until it finds his. Every nerve between them is frayed raw, every touch over-sensitive. Martin slips free when Seonghyeon rolls his hips too hard, and the loss has them both moaning like it’s torture.
“Mar—” Seonghyeon whines impatiently.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” Martin mutters into his neck, fumbling himself back inside.
Seonghyeon’s body welcomes him with obscene ease, stretched out and dripping, still begging. Martin hisses, the sensitivity brutal.
“You’re ruined, Seonghyeon,” he growls through his teeth as he sinks in, every inch sliding home, and Seonghyeon just laughs breathlessly, trembling with delight at the filthy praise.
“All for you,” he pants, dragging Martin’s hand down onto his belly. “Only for you.”
Martin thrusts deep, filling him to the hilt, every push dragging a strangled moan from Seonghyeon. His hand tightens over Martin’s fingers, guiding them across his damp stomach, pressing down until Martin can feel it—his cock, pressing from the inside, making Seonghyeon sob.
“That’s you, Martin. That’s you inside me.” His voice is wrecked, cracking, and it sounds like he might cry.
Martin almost loses it right there. He can feel himself, pushing through Seonghyeon’s body with every slow thrust, and it’s so obscene, so intimate, he feels like he’s unraveling.
“So full of you,” Seonghyeon babbles, eyes shut tight, tears streaking hot down his cheeks. “Feels so fucking good.”
Martin’s control snaps. He pounds into him shallow and fast, hand pressed hard against Seonghyeon’s stomach just to feel the stretch of his cock inside him. Each whine Seonghyeon spills, every broken sob, only drives him deeper into madness.
“You’re so big,” Seonghyeon gasps, his words a constant stream of worship. He always praises Martin, always tells him how much he loves his hands, his face, his mind—but right now, every breath is about his cock, about how much he needs it. “Say you feel it.”
“I feel it,” Martin rasps into his ear, biting down on the lobe before kissing it wetly.
The words make Seonghyeon sob outright, clenching down on him, body trembling as if he can’t take any more. His hands claw at Martin’s until his nails dig bloody crescents into his skin, desperate for something to ground him.
Martin can’t stop looking at him—his flushed face, his glistening lashes, his parted lips gasping for air like he’s drowning. He’s beautiful, and Martin tells him so, whispering against his skin.
“So beautiful.”
The words push Seonghyeon over the edge. His body locks up, his orgasm hitting violently, tearing a broken cry from his throat as his nails rake Martin’s hand red. His release wrecks him, and Martin’s not far behind.
With one last brutal thrust, he spills inside him, cock twitching deep in Seonghyeon’s body. The sensation has Seonghyeon clawing at his stomach again, delirious. “Did you feel it?” he gasps, near laughing through the tears.
Martin’s mind is empty, blanked by the force of it, but he feels his heart hammering, his chest heavy with something softer than lust.
Seonghyeon presses his lips to Martin’s arm, mouthing lazily at any skin he can reach, too worn out for anything more. Martin laces their fingers together, squeezing gently.
“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes falling shut as he lets himself sink into Seonghyeon’s warmth. “I felt it.”
And maybe what he felt wasn’t just his own body—maybe it was the way love hit him all at once, raw and filthy and tender, sealed in the sound of Seonghyeon’s laughter against his skin.