“It’s me,” Seungmin announces once he’s walked through the doorway. His nose immediately wrinkles as he sets his keys on a side table, flopping ears suddenly twitching. Finally able to get a good whiff of their apartment, he cries out, “Hyung, are you pissing on stuff again?” He squats to untie his shoes and then steps out of them, neatly setting them by the door. “I told you to get that checked out.”

There’s something else there, though. A particular scent he’s never smelled in their apartment. Not heavy, but musky, still. Maybe a note of sweetness. Faint but enough for Seungmin’s nose to easily pick up on it. It gets caught in the back of his throat, and he clears it before swallowing. It skates across him, almost warm, and his tail twitches, like the smell is something to be interested in.

“Oh, shut up,” Minho calls from their hall bathroom. “I sprayed on dirty laundry for a week one time.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin calls back, now making his way down the hall to his room. “My dirty laundry.” The scent gets fuller, heavier, as Seungmin gets closer, skin rippling with gooseflesh, tail still twitching. What is Minho doing in there? It’s not skin care—the smell lacks the chemical undertone. It’s not food smell—

“That’s what you get for leaving clothes on the bathroom floor.”

He only realizes his tail is swishing—gently back-and-forth, back-and-forth—when it hits lightly against the wall. Seungmin leans against it, across from the bathroom door. It’s ajar, and Seungmin can see the shadows flit around as Minho moves.

Seungmin crosses his arms across his chest. “Shut up. You’re like an unruly house cat.”

Minho peeks his head out from the door, ears flattening against his brown hair mischievously. The collar of a faded orange, oversized t-shirt practically falls from his tan shoulder, and the pretty curve of his neck has Seungmin’s eyes momentarily lost. “I am an unruly house cat.” He ducks back into the bathroom.

Cute, Seungmin thinks.

“But, yes, I did. Again. Sorry.” The toilet lid clatters to the seat, and he hears Minho plop down on it.

His curiosity gets the best of him. What is that smell? “What are you doing in there?”

“T shot,” Minho says. Seungmin hears Minho breathe in—one, two, three—then out—one, two, three—as he jabs himself.

“Oh.” But that’s not it, either, Seungmin thinks. He knows that smell. Apropos of nothing, Seungmin asks, “How was work?”

“Fine.” Minho’s bare thighs unstick from the porcelain lid; the sharps container clicks; the cabinet door is closed; and then he’s standing in the doorway, leaning lazily against the trim, as if his body would melt into it if he stayed there much longer. The cotton shirt dripping from his frame, the gentle curve of his neck that swoops to his shoulder—all of it feels obscene, Seungmin thinks. Minho looking like a kittenish skank up to no fucking good—like luring sailors to tragic waterlogged deaths, turning honest men into obsessive adulterers, turning good puppies into bad dogs—

The scent is thicker now, and Seungmin notices the oversized shirt falling from his roommate’s shoulders is his own. He has to physically hold himself back from letting his tail thump against the drywall. What the fuck is going on.

“Got sent home early though—”

Seungmin rears his head back with playful shock. “Really?”

“Heat started. Set off a guy in Finance.”

“Is that why you look like a whore right now?” Seungmin smiles.

Minho rolls his eyes and flips him off.

Seungmin knew it was going to happen: Sooner or later, his roommate Minho, freshly single, was going to enter his heat—a days long period of “insatiably horny”—with no partner to fuck him through it; and Seungmin would have to suffer the consequences of an incredibly fucking annoying cat man prowling and yowling around their 800 square foot apartment.

A couple years being friends and several months being roommates doesn’t really mean anything in regards to Seungmin’s experience with Minho’s heat. There is no experience with them. They were easily taken care of, and Minho’s then gentle heat-scent was usually overtaken by his partner’s scent before dissipating—because he was being “taken care of.”

The notes of this new scent are different, and they’re undiluted—fragrant, thick, airy, trying to infiltrate any innocent bystander’s nose and dig unrelentingly at their hormones. This smell is new; this smell is uncontrolled.

This smell is purposefully trying to ensnare.

“Shut up,” Minho says, pushing himself away from the door frame. “So be kind to me the next few days.” His lips stretch into a grin and he pats Seungmin’s cheek. The pads of his fingers make Seungmin’s skin tingle. “Dogboys are well behaved, aren’t they? Surely you can tolerate it for the next little bit.”

Seungmin narrows his eyes. “No fucking spraying.”

Minho throws his hands up, eyes closed. “No spraying.”

They opt on dining in this evening, ordering a spread of take out that’ll hold over as leftovers for the next couple days to keep them from needing to go out. A comfortable, acceptable radius of friendly and polite distance is usually had when they’re both in the kitchen, whether they’re doing chores, eating at the counter, rummaging through the fridge, cooking. Tonight, though, there’s no such thing.

Minho has taken it upon himself to close the unspoken gap, letting his arms graze Seungmin’s, resting his chin on Seungmin’s shoulder, swatting his tail around Seungmin’s legs and bum, as Seungmin opens up containers of food.

“Hyung, seriously,” Seungmin scolds as he spoons rice onto a plate. He bats his own tail against Minho’s, to which Minho snickers at. To Seungmin, it sounds like a purr. “You’re being annoying.”

Minho’s ears twitch. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Whatever.” Seungmin hands the plate off to Minho. “Go sit down, away from me.”

Dinner is eaten in silence, as it usually is, but Minho won’t stop pinching Seungmin’s calf with his toes. When Seungmin gets to his room that night, there’s a stupid, little red mark marred on his skin from the pinching.

He just looks at it, defeated.

Unfortunately for Seungmin, his work schedule has him off for the next two consecutive days. Something that otherwise would have been a blessing is a nightmare. He’s stuck in the apartment with his heat-brained roommate, both of them nowhere to go, no plans to be had. No money to go out, no energy to sit in crowded public places for hours at a time. Their friends are on dates, they’re with their parents, they’re out of town, whatever — Seungmin thinks they’re making excuses, though the Instagram posts and stories clearly prove otherwise.

But everything was okay at first—tolerable, even. The first few hours of the day with them in the apartment felt relatively normal, save for the added quirk of Minho pacing restlessly from room to room, sighing loudly as if annoyed every few minutes. It was easily tuned out, so long as Seungmin streamed something on his laptop in his bedroom while looking at his phone at the same time.

Exasperated sighing turned into yelling. Real fucking deal yelling. A patter of bare feet down the hallway, the sound of Minho barreling past his bedroom door, and grunting out Yah! in his room. Then the bathroom. The kitchen. The living room. The hallway. Cabinets opening and slamming shut, sticky clicks of the fridge door opening, the television turning on and off. Drinking glasses hitting against counters. Hands running across the vertical blinds of their sliding patio door like fingers across piano keys.

Seungminnie
Hyung
Are you busy tmrw? I need to get out of the house.
😭

Seo Changbin
What’s up?

Seungminnie
Minho hyung’s heat started
I’m going to commit atrocities

Seo Changbin
Busy
Work then a date with a guy from the bar

Seungminnie
Dammit

Seo Changbin
Sorryyyyyy

Theres a quick knock on his bedroom door eventually. “Seungminnie,” Minho whines, “come out of your room already.”

“I’m busy,” Seungmin replies, closing out of his texts with Changbin and opening Instagram to mindlessly scroll his feed.

“You’re lying.”

“How would you know.”

“I just got a notification you liked my post from the other day.”

“Don’t you have work.”

“It’s the weekend.”

“Ugh,” Seungmin groans. Fuck Monday through Friday 9 to 5s. “Fine.” He throws his legs over the bed and opens the door. He’s immediately hit in the face with the deep aroma that wafts from Minho’s glands, and Seungmin’s tail and ears instinctively perk up.

Minho is in a crisp white t shirt today—one that fits him well—and black track pants that swish when he walks and stretch attractively over his thighs when he sits with his legs crossed. Minho’s soft looking brown ears flick impatiently, tail twitching behind him and curling into a playful loop.

“What do you want?”

“Company.”

Attention, Seungmin almost corrects.

“Okay.” Seungmin nods, stepping out of the doorway. “Sure, whatever.”

They congregate in the living room. At the coffee table, Seungmin sits on the floor, cushion under him, with a drinking glass in front of him as he does his dailies for one of the few mobile games installed on his phone. On the opposite side, Minho is laying on his back with his arms outstretched above him, playing Potion Permit on their shared Switch that Felix gifted them last Christmas.

“So close to romancing Rue,” Minho speaks up.

Without looking up from his phone, Seungmin asks, “Why Rue? She’s so boring.”

“She’s pure. It activates the corruption kink. And she’s cute, like a little puppy.” Minho rolls onto his stomach, elbows planted into the rug as he pushes his thumb against the joystick. “You look just like her.”

“You’re a freak.”

“You literally romanced Leano after telling me she reminds you of me.”

Seungmin instantly looks up and puts his phone on the table. “You looked at my file?” Not that… not that it’s illegal or unethical to look at someone’s god damned Rated E for Everyone Switch game saves, but—

“It was an accident.”

“No it wasn’t.”

Minho places the Switch on the floor in front of him and crouches, back bowed and ass up, as he supports his weight on his forearms and toes. His tail flicks to the right before bending and laying against his hip. That thick aroma hits Seungmin’s face again with the playful flick of Minho’s tail.

“C’mon, Seungminnie,” he says, voice honeyed and dripping. It makes Seungmin swallow and flit his eyes back to his phone, scrambling to pick it up from the table top. “Don’t be mean. Didn’t you say you’d be nice?”

“Didn’t say that,” Seungmin replies, randomly clicking through different icons of the game, not even paying attention to their features.

“Wanna romance me, Seungmeongie?”

If only Minho had a velvet chaise lounge to collapse dramatically onto, Seungmin thinks.

“Hyung, you’re crazy.”

Rolling onto his back, Minho stretches, shirt riding up and exposing tan, toned stomach, and splays his knees apart. It must be the scent, it must be—with the way Seungmin imagines himself crawling on top of his roommate and rutting his clothed, knotted cock against Minho’s mound through his track pants. The thought disappears as soon as it’s had.

Without another word, Minho prowls on all fours to the coffee table, something flirtatious and mischievous in his dark, feline eyes, ears pricked forward and tail curled.

“What, hyung,” Seungmin says curtly.

Minho smiles and says, “Hi,” before swiping Seungmin’s glass of water onto the floor and rolling away. The water pools on the table and drips onto their carpet, glass having rolled to one of the feet of the table. It clinks dully when it makes contact.

Eyes closing, Seungmin sighs. “You want to die.”

The day goes on much like this, with Minho gruffing long sighs, touching Seungmin’s things, draping himself against Seungmin’s side and clinging to him. It shouldn’t be an issue, really (other than it being annoying); but it is an issue, because the poking and prodding and the intoxicating smell of Minho’s heat scent are all infiltrating Seungmin’s brain and burrowing under his skin.

The redolence of Minho’s heat scent turns increasingly pungent, like Seungmin can taste him at the back of his throat. It’s so heavy that it begins to perfume their sofa, their carpet, Seungmin’s own clothes. A dangerous fragrance that lingers in the air, threatening to trap and engulf. The scent flutters against his skin, petal soft and unbelievably balmy, sending interest straight to Seungmin’s cock, something uncoiling there.

Minho is attractive; Seungmin doesn’t lie to himself. He just didn’t expect to think about him like this. Fuzzy, dream like thoughts of his hyung nude beneath him, back bowed and stomach out, slick slit gushing onto the red tip of Seungmin’s cock.

“Hyung,” Seungmin says, laying in Minho’s bed with Minho stuck at his side as if their clothes were stitched together. Minho gives a cat like stretch and utters a small mmn before he turns on his side, pelvis against Seungmin’s hip. He throws a lazy leg across Seungmin’s knees, and Seungmin can feel the heat radiating from Minho’s cunt, the smell stronger yet. It goes straight to Seungmin’s knot. Fuck.

“I think I need to get ready for bed,” Seungmin half-lies.

Minho coos, “But, Seungminnie…” Minho scoots himself fully seated onto of Seungmin’s abdomen, weight pressing down into his stomach and thankfully not against his dick. If Seungmin bent his knees only a little canted his hips up, his cock could easily brush against the seat of Minho’s track pants. The heat flooding from Minho’s cunt bleeds through their clothes. Seungmin briefly wonders, because of Minho’s heat, is he wet? Is he sitting on Seungmin’s stomach, slit leaking— Is he hard? If he were to grind down, would Seungmin be able to feel Minho’s swollen, little cock dig into his belly?

“Hyung,” Seungmin says again, this time sternly. “We’re not playing. It’s time for bed.”

Rolling his eyes, Minho says, “Fine,” before tumbling off of Seungmin, his side hitting against the bed with a gentle bounce.

Seungmin says goodnight a little too quickly, legs already thrown over the bed and carrying him out of Minho’s bedroom as fast as they can.

Night time rituals complete, Seungmin finally lay in his bed, covers pulled up to his waist and lights off. A white streetlight casts shapeless shadows on his ceiling and the walls through the gap between his dark curtain panels. He tries to focus on them, attempting to make shadows have form, to make them into something else. After a while, his eyes start to unfocus.

The smell is still there. The warmth filling out his cock is still there. The thoughts of Minho sliding his hole, languid and wet, across Seungmin’s shaft are still there.

Unable to take any of it any longer, he yanks his phone from his bedside table.

Seungminnie oppa
Can I ask you a personal question?
About your relationship

Ryujinnie 🔪
Oh god
But yeah that’s fine
Oppa what’s up

Seungminnie oppa
When your girlfriend goes into heat, does it affect you?
Like physically

Ryujinnie 🔪
Wdym physically?

Seungminnie oppa
Does your body react to it

Ryujinnie 🔪
Ohhhh
Like does it make me horny 😏

Seungminnie oppa
Bye Ryujin
Thanks for the help

Ryujinnie 🔪
Oppaaaa 😭😭😭

🕒 catboy in heat

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Slutty catboy in heat gets fucked by horny dogboy

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Videos tagged « catboy in heat

🕒 my roommate is in heat

Reddit
https://reddit.com > badroommates > comments
My [27F] housemate [29M] won’t stop turning the heat up

🕒 cats in heat
🕒 ailuranthrope heat
🕒 can ailuran heats affect cynothropes

Seungmin doesn’t even continue reading; all the answer he needed was an unfortunate “yes.”

🕒 can you stop an ailuran from being in heat

Seungmin clicks out of the article and then closes his Internet browser.

The sigh that forces its way from his throat and nose releases some of the tension in his chest, but of course relieves little else, especially not the the dull flame licking its way up Seungmin’s cock. He mashes the heel of his palm into his eye, dragging against the delicate skin before he’s squeezing both of them shut, other hand skirting to his steadily hardening cock in his boxers.

This is an issue, he thinks. Somehow, this is an issue.

Both hands fall away, and Seungmin blinks at the ceiling again.

Before any thought can be had, a sound, low and drawn out, seeps through the shared wall of Seungmin’s and Minho’s bedrooms. Eardrums pulsing, one of Seungmin’s ears flicks up instinctively. He hones in on the sound, heart beating faster, as his cock reacts before even his brain.

There’s a throaty fuck that thumps through the drywall, rattling in Seungmin’s ears, pinging around his skull. Another sound—a moan, only followed by that same, throaty fuck. There’s a stilt to it, like Minho’s trying to hold back, trying to keep quiet, until it’s no longer stilted. Like it’s full in Minho’s mouth, falling out so easily, like he can’t keep it in.

Seungmin’s cock gradually fills out to hazy, dark images of Minho in his bed, thighs splayed as his plunges his fingers into his wet cunt, digging himself out, riding them, thumb flicking over his swollen clit. With his eyes fluttering shut, mostly in defeat instead of satisfaction, Seungmin pushes his fingers past the waistband of his boxers, brushing them through the trimmed curls to grip at the base of his shaft.

He shouldn’t do this.

He squeezes at the base, thumb and pointer a ring around his cock, before scrubbing his middle and ring fingers over his sac.

It’s dry and uncomfortable when he tugs his fist up his half-hard dick, gentle at his knot, but Seungmin deserves it doesn’t he? The discomfort. For masturbating to his roommate, who’s clearly getting off in the room next to him. That’s crossing a line, isn’t it?

He releases his cock from his grasp and it bobs awkwardly to the left, hitting against his hip, before he scoots across the sheets, trying to get closer to the bedside drawer. Twisting his arm awkwardly, the position almost painful and surely going to cause a cramp in his shoulder if he’s like this much longer, he yanks open his bedside drawer to fish out the tube of lubricant that lives there. His fingers swipe past it, and he grips the tube between them, wrist and then fingers dumbly getting boxed between the drawer and face frame of the table.

He yanks it out clumsily and rucks his shirt up his abdomen, bunching it under his armpits, and flicks the cap up. When it drizzles out onto his tip and shaft, just enough for a sufficient glide, he inhales a hiss and tosses the tube somewhere on the nightstand.

The upward stroke on his now slicked up cock has a raspy sound pushing past his teeth, stomach swooping. He can still hear Minho every so often, airy half-gasps and half-moans that wash against Seungmin’s ears and have him tugging languidly at his cock. The thoughts return—of Minho’s dripping, pink cunt, folds glistening with slick, of his fingers curling inside, his thick and swollen clit. Would Seungmin’s knot fit in Minho’s hole, even though Minho wasn’t made for it? Could he take it? Another low groan filters through his bedroom wall, and Seungmin squeezes at his knot until he’s rutting hard and fast into his fist, breathing labored.

He comes at the same time Minho keens, spilling sticky, thick seed from the slit into his enclosed fist around the tip of his dick.

A web of come decorates his hand when he draws it back, the fluid making viscous strings that connect and then break between his fingers. He sits up and reclines on an elbow, leaning back over to the table to pluck tissues from a box. After wiping himself clean, he tosses them into the bedside bin and tugs his boxers back up.

Head cradled against the pillow, Seungmin stares at the ceiling for the third time, listening to Minho shuffle around in his own bedroom—open the door—go to the kitchen—go to the bathroom—and then shut the door behind him again.

Am I sick for that?

After last night’s awkward situation, Seungmin wants nothing more than to ignore Minho completely, but that would only make it worse. Minho would be incessant, would beg for attention in the only way he knows how: by suffocating Seungmin with more touching, more yelling, more poking and prodding, more petulant pouts and complaints. Seungmin doesn’t think he can fucking handle it. He doesn’t.

So he puts on a brave face and gives in to what Minho seemingly wants: another body in the room he can do all of the aforementioned things to, but at least not to the intensity it would be if Seungmin refused eye contact.

But Seungmin could never be so lucky.

“Let me have a bite,” Minho says from their kitchen counter, exercise shorts showing off pillowy-thick thighs. Seungmin desperately tries to not think about his cock between them—Minho’s skin blushed red and covered in slick and precome—and quickly turns around. The microwave beep rings in his ears.

“This is mine, hyung,” is all Seungmin says with his back to Minho, removing his plate from the microwave and setting it on one of the stove’s burners.

“Please, puppy, just one bite.”

Seungmin swallows and opens their utensil drawer.

“Your ears twitched at ‘puppy.’”

“Fuck off, hyung, seriously,” Seungmin quips, cheeks flushing to a rosy pink.

Minho stretches his leg out and knocks his foot against Seungmin’s tail repeatedly. “C’mon, puppy, you’re being cold. Hyung has a condition.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes and turns to lean against the stove. “Being horny isn’t a condition.” Minho’s leg drops, and his thighs splay apart, just enough for Seungmin to see his tight shorts cut into his cunt. His eyelids stutter before he focuses on Minho’s face.

Minho’s lips curl, and he lolls his head to the side. “Am I bothering you? Is hyung making you mad?”

“Well, since you asked—yes,” Seungmin deadpans.

Reclining back with his palms on the counter, Minho says, “Just give me what I want and I’ll stop.”

“You can heat up your own food.”

Minho laughs, airy and impish, tongue flitting between his teeth to run over his bottom lip. “You’re so cute, Seungminnie.”

“Seriously—”

“Your knot, puppy.”

Seungmin is silent, gears turning, heart whirring. Another hazy image of Seungmin’s cock pushing into Minho’s cunt, sucking him up until his knot is snug inside. His cock kicks at the thought, and he swallows.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Hyung,” Seungmin finally says, voice not sounding nearly as confident as he wanted it to, “stop fucking around.”

Minho slides off the counter, feet gracefully hitting the kitchen floor. His shirt falls down and covers the shorts, for which Seungmin is thankful.

“I’m sorry that you think I’m kidding,” Minho says, voice sultry, taking Seungmin’s chin between his fingers. “Hyung should’ve made it more obvious.”

Seungmin’s cock pulses, warning him. “I really— We really—” shouldn’t. They’re friends. They live together. It’s not that easy. It really isn’t—

“It’s okay, puppy,” he says, like Seungmin is pitiable, gently tapping Seungmin’s cheek. “You’re just a dumb dog. I get it.”

“Fucking— Hyung, I’m so sick of you!” Seungmin lashes out. He doesn’t know how many more days of this he can take, really. He misses the peace and quiet. He misses the alone time. He misses not being covered in bite marks and pinch bruises. He misses his clothes and hair and bedding and sofa not smelling like sex. He misses his thoughts being free of Minho’s dripping slit swallowing up his aching cock.

Minho smiles, like he’s won, and backs up against the counter as Seungmin steps closer. Minho’s hands grip against the counter behind him, elbows bent, as Seungmin cages against him.

“Will taking my knot shut you up?”

With his strength, Minho pushes himself onto the counter, knees at Seungmin’s waist, and wraps his legs around his backside to pull Seungmin forward. When Seungmin’s pelvis hits against the edge of the counter, he notices he’s already half-hard.

“Yeah,” Minho says, hands coming up to Seungmin’s face. “So shut me up.”

Minho reclines back on his palms again and shifts until his ass at the edge of the counter.

“And we won’t talk about it,” Seungmin says, digging his fingers into the waistband of Minho’s shorts, noticing immediately Minho has shamelessly forgone underwear.

“Mhm, we won’t talk about it.” He lifts one asscheek from the counter as Seungmin tugs the shorts, then the other. They fall from Seungmin’s hand unceremoniously, and he pushes Minho’s t-shirt up his toned stomach.

And, fuck, there it is. Minho’s rosy pink cunt already sopping wet, dripping slick to his puckered asshole in glistening trails. His little cock at the hood, hard and flushed at the manicured curls of his mound. With Minho’s legs up and knees bent, it spreads him divinely, and Seungmin drinks up the image of Minho’s pretty pussy, fighting the urge to get on his knees and grind his face into him and eat him, nose pressed into Minho’s cock, tongue digging into him.

“Fuck, hyung,” Seungmin says, bringing up his fingers to swipe up Minho’s slit, nudging a finger at his swollen clit, shining it with slick. Minho lets out a delicious sound and leans his head back against the cabinet with a thud. Seungmin’s cock pulses in his underwear, knot beginning to swell up.

“Make hyung feel good. Fix me all up,” Minho says, eyes falling shut.

“Don’t be so bossy.”

But, still, he can’t resist—he plunges his middle finger into Minho’s hole, warm and wet and squeezing around the digit, and watches as the watery slick glosses his skin. With just a few drags, he pushes his pointer finger right alongside, knuckles grazing his folds.

“Mmf,” Minho lets out, voice tight, “my cock, too, Seungminnie. Touch me there, too, c’mon.”

“Such a slut on your heat, hyung.” But Seungmin obeys, left fingers coming up to flick at Minho’s swollen clit, pinching it delicately between his fingers. “Or are you always like this?” Minho’s pelvis twitches, a slutty groan falling out of his mouth, pussy gushing as Seungmin fucks long fingers into his hole and squeezes at his cock. Already painfully hard in his underwear, Seungmin’s tip spits precome against his thigh, cotton sticking uncomfortably to the head of his cock.

Minho flicks his hips, grinding on Seungmin’s fingers. “Your knot, baby, that’s what hyung wants more.”

“You think you can take it?” Seungmin asks, plunging his fingers deep into Minho’s cunt, slick splashing when the heel of Seungmin’s palm makes contact with the thick folds. He crooks his fingers and runs the pad of his thumb at Minho’s cock, feeling Minho clench. “This little pussy.” Seungmin removes his wet fingers, and watches as Minho’s slit quivers at being empty and leaks even onto the edge of the counter.

“Talking like I’ve never fucked a knot before—hurry up.”

“Right, right,” Seungmin replies sarcastically.

Seungmin wipes the slick from his fingers against Minho’s inner thigh, smearing it across pretty, stretch-marked flesh, and pushes the hem of his sweats and boxers past his cock, tucking it right under his sack. When Minho sees Seungmin’s thick cock bob, his neck twitches with a swallow, tongue wetting his bottom lip.

“Fuck, you’re bigger than I thought you’d be.”

“I’m… flattered?” Seungmin grips his cock, right above his sensitive knot, and decides Minho deserves just a little bit of torture. He drags his weeping cockhead up Minho’s warm cunt, Minho’s eyes falling shut and lips parting, feeling the way Minho digs his heels into Seungmin’s back, trying to pull him forward. He nudges the tip against Minho’s cock, precome spills out of the slit of Seungmin’s tip, coating the bud. Minho shakes his hips, abdomen spasming.

“Seungmin-ah,” Minho tries to say with some authority, but it gets watered down with the way his breath stutters out. “You’re teasing.”

“‘M not teasing,” Seungmin says, rubbing his wet cock over Minho’s, watching him squirm, feeling his legs tighten around him. The tip of his cock smears against Minho’s soft belly, and a delicate string of precome breaks when he rears back.

“Kim Seungmin, if you don’t fuck me—”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Yes, hyung.” He guides the swollen flared tip of his cock to Minho’s hole and pushes slowly, slowly through, feeling Minho open up around him, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, until he’s encased to the curve of his knot, Minho velvety and slick around his cock.

“Fuck, Seungminnie,” Minho grunts, followed by a sigh that has his chest rising.

“Can I”—Seungmin breathes out, words stilted—“move?”

“Please.”

“Fuck—yeah, okay, I’m—” Seungmin drags his cock out with a languid stroke, feeling Minho’s cunt twitch and clench around his shaft, slicking him up. “Shit, hyung,” he grunts out, leaning forward to reach his arms past Minho’s sides to place his sweating palms into the counter, tail right between his legs and ears flat against his hair. “So wet I can’t fucking think straight.”

“Just—come on.”

The slide is so fucking easy, Minho’s cunt open wide and sloppy and devouring Seungmin’s thick cock as he surges forward, sac hitting against Minho’s ass, grazing the edge of the counter. He watches his cock get swallowed up, Minho’s cunt fluttering, dragging the shaft out until the tip of his cock is kissing Minho’s stretched hole. He pushes back inside, too hard and too fast, and Minho cries out, legs getting tighter around Seungmin’s backside.

His knot is beginning to ache, begging to plug up a hole, and it goes straight to Seungmin’s brain, instinctive and primal. He lifts Minho’s ass off the counter, Minho supporting his weight on his hands, and pulls him onto his cock, punching it so deep he swears he hits Minho’s cervix. Slick leaks from Minho’s slit down his cock, to his sac, staining the hem of his sweats that threaten to fall to his knees. He fucks him like this, stroke after stroke after stroke, skin slapping against skin, hands gripping hard into Minho’s hips.

“Fuck, Seungmin, can’t,” Minho lets out, pushing his pelvis down to chase Seungmin’s dick. “Arms—can’t.”

“Sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry,” Seungmin cries out pathetically, thrusts erratic and sloppy and he tries to set Minho back onto the counter top.

Gaining some composure, Seungmin sets an even pace again, one hand pressing into the counter, the other pressing into Minho’s stomach. He leans forward, mindlessly, and bites into Minho’s neck as he fucks inside, holding back a bestial, high pitched whine that’s stuck in his throat.

“Hyung,” Seungmin grunts. He opens his mouth against Minho’s jugular and grazes his parted lips over it. “Fuck, you feel so good. Can I—faster?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah, please.”

So Seungmin does—he smashes into Minho with a brutality he didn’t think he had, Minho’s silky cunt finally opening up for Seungmin to force his painfully hard knot through. Over and over and over he impales him on his knot, until Minho is sobbing out, “So, so good, Seungmin, fuck, so good. Fuck, come on.” With shaking, unfocused hands, Seungmin runs his fingers over Minho’s clit, so fast it makes his wrist ache, while Minho cries, “Make me come, make me come.”

It happens so suddenly—Minho’s pussy constricting around his cock as if to keep him in place, his back arching and head knocking against the cabinet, warm slick bursting onto Seungmin’s throbbing cock. It triggers something animalistic in him.

“Wanna come inside, hyung, please,” Seungmin finds himself whining, like his knot is talking for him. Begging for him.

“Wanna have puppycats with me, Seungmin?” Minho demeans, but his voice is ragged, temples wet with sweat. “Trying to breed me? Tie my hole up with your fat knot”—he clenches around Seungmin’s cock—“and fuck me pregnant?”

“Hyung,” Seungmin breathes out, cock pulsing, “fuck, fuck. Please.”

“Such a good boy,” Minho praises. “Come inside, puppy. Fill hyung up.”

Pressing his forehead into Minho’s shoulder, Seungmin lets out carnal sound past his teeth as Minho praises him over and over, coaxing the white-hot coil in his stomach to unfurl humiliatingly fast, balls tightening. He comes hard and thick against Minho’s cervix, fucking his hips trying to chase his orgasm, filling Minho up to the brim

“So good, Seungmin. You did so well. Made me feel so good.”

“Fuck, hyung,” Seungmin cries out, thrusting pathetically, trying to stop himself from locking his knot inside, come slinging onto Minho’s folds, onto Seungmin’s sac, his sweats, the counter.

“Need you to pull out, baby,” Minho says gently. “My ass is asleep.”

When his cock falls from Minho’s puffy cunt, he can’t help but tug at the lips, Minho’s hips and thighs twitching, and watches his come, thick and warm, drool from his gaping hole down his asshole, until it runs over the counter’s edge and slides down the cabinet. Fuck. Holy fuck.

“A paper towel, or something, please.”

Seungmin blinks, eyelids fluttering, and he turns his head before tugging his filthy sweats over his sensitive cock. “Right, yeah, right, hold on.” He bends over to swoop Minho’s shorts from the floor, and immediately reaches into a kitchen drawer of linen towels.

He turns on the tap to wet the rag with warm water, and hands it off to Minho, who smiles when he takes it. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“That was supposed to shut you up, remember?”

“Hmm,” Minho lilts.

And they’re not going to talk about it.

Felix 😇
I heard Minho’s heat is giving you a tough time
You wanna come over?
I’m home now!

Ddeungminnie 🥰
Everything’s fine now
Thanks though