Make It Last
|Debut: 2003, SM Entertainment
Fan club: Cassiopeia
|Name||Real name||Birth date||Role|
|U-Know||Jung Yunho||February 6, 1986||leader, dancer, rapper|
|Max/Choikang||Shim Changmin||February 18, 1988||vocal|
The sex was so good between them, why complain? He got it all of the time from the one person in the world he trusted the most. Changmin was handsome and had a great body and was strong and flexible and asked for it several times a week. It would be greedy to expect anything else.
His kiss skidded across Changmin’s cheek as Changmin moved away, and then he was pushing Changmin back across the bed, or Changmin was lying back and pulling him in, both of them pulling off their clothes, tossing everything aside until it was just the two of them and their need and their skin.
It would be nice if they could mess around a little before they started, though. The lead-in and the build-up and the teasing and anticipation were some of the best parts of sex. He didn’t need any of that to get hard, since he loved fucking Changmin and any time they were alone in the dorm or a hotel room together and Changmin asked, “Hyung, you want…?” with that raised eyebrow, his cock stood right up like a trained dog. But even though he didn’t need foreplay to get in the mood, it still would have been nice to spend some more time enjoying the moment. He didn’t really get much of a chance to linger over Changmin’s body. Changmin was so much older now, so strong and muscular, that Yunho wanted to spend more time enjoying him, exploring him, stroking the long lines of his body, caressing his taut, satiny skin, kissing those slim, sexy legs that seemed to go on forever.
Under Yunho, Changmin twisted away, long muscles stretching as he reached for the lube in the bag beside the bed. Loving the sight of so much of Changmin’s flesh, the rippling of his abs, the lithe turn of his slim hips, Yunho caressed him, running slow, fascinated fingers over the supple firmness of Changmin’s side. Uncoiling, relaxing again beneath him, Changmin nudged a thigh against his cock and handed him the lube with an expectant expression.
He’d never get tired of loving Changmin’s mouth. He wished that they kissed more. Sometimes they kissed when they were getting into position, when they were getting started. Quick, breathless, do-it-now kisses. Long, wet, fighting kisses like they were too impatient to wait for their bodies to catch up and were just going to fuck with their tongues. Changmin’s plush, red lips were soft and mobile and made for kissing, and Yunho couldn’t get enough of the sweet heat of his mouth. But whenever they kissed, Changmin would break it off, turn his head, push Yunho’s attention in another direction.
Ungh, yes, Yunho had been itching for this all day. Covering Changmin’s body with his own, he brushed his lips over Changmin’s mouth. So soft, so pliant, kissing Changmin always felt so right. Moaning, he sucked lightly at Changmin’s lower lip, feeling his back arch with pleasure as Changmin’s fingers combed through his hair. Slipping his tongue between Changmin’s lush lips, he groaned at the answering stroke of Changmin’s sleek, bold tongue. For long, sensual moments they kissed, the rhythm of their mouths echoing the rhythm of their hips as their bodies shifted and ground against each other. Changmin’s kisses were deep and assertive, a challenge and perfect complement to the thrust and dance of Yunho’s kiss. One moment trying to take command, the next tempted to submit, he kissed Changmin hungrily, loving the generous pleasures of Changmin’s mouth, his skin tingling with appreciation for the way Changmin’s hands were running over his arms and down his back. Then, with a soft, “mnh,” Changmin broke their kiss and said, “Hyung, now.”
He wanted to spend more up-close time with Changmin all over. Everything about Changmin’s long, perfect neck needed to be kissed, but every time Yunho got started, he barely had a chance to rub his lips over that soft, warm skin before Changmin moved. He could have spent half an hour alone on Changmin’s ears - - he could drive himself wild, staring at them, wanting to lick them - - but Changmin always pushed him away too soon. There were a hundred places he wanted to settle in and lick until his tongue was an expert on every detail - - Changmin’s navel, Changmin’s dark little nipples, the small of Changmin’s back - - but Changmin didn’t like that kind of sex. So Yunho was left with the kind of sex Changmin did like: quick, hot, intense, and as impersonal as being inside of someone else could be.
He slid his hand down Changmin’s body, between Changmin’s legs, curling his hand around the rigid hardness of Changmin’s cock. As he pumped Changmin’s smooth, jutting shaft, enjoying the length of it and the way Changmin was making soft, happy, panting noises into his mouth, Yunho sighed with pleasure. His blood was running hot, his cock pulsing in time with the slide of his fist over Changmin’s erection.
There were spots on Changmin’s body that he touched during the normal course of the day or during choreography or simply because they were constantly navigating around each other in small spaces. And then there were parts of Changmin that he only touched when they were alone, when they were aroused and panting and on top of each other, when Changmin was naked and moaning and writhing against him. He loved looking at Changmin’s cock, so tall and firm and proud, but even more than that he loved touching it, feeling it stiffen in his hand, feeling the warm satiny skin, caressing the smooth, blunt head while Changmin groaned and twitched and cursed in pleasure. He loved stroking between Changmin’s legs and fondling Changmin’s balls and running his fingers along the cleft of Changmin’s taut, pert ass and knowing Changmin’s body in erotic, intimate ways. He loved hearing Changmin groan with rich, lusting elation as the muscles of Changmin’s ass contracted around his fingers and he gently stretched Changmin open. Watching Changmin’s whole body humming with joy, Changmin’s thighs spread, hips rising and falling in rhythm with the steady movement of his fingers, face suffused with ecstasy, made Yunho feel good in a way he hadn’t imagined he could feel from someone else’s pleasure. Changmin would be the one being fingered, the one going through it, the one about to get off, but Yunho would be rock-hard and moaning and caught up in Changmin’s passion as if something inextricably bound them, as if Changmin’s happiness were his happiness, too. He’d do anything for Changmin, he’d do anything to make his dongsaeng happy, even this. Especially this. Always this.
When his lube-wet fingers nudged inside the tight ring of Changmin’s ass, Yunho moaned, “Ah, Changminnie,” and felt an electric jolt of pleasure zing from the balls of his feet to the top of his head. Unh, this was the prelude to ecstasy. Yunho often fantasized about this, just this, easing Changmin’s body open for his pleasure while Changmin squirmed under him and scratched at his arm and panted, “Hurry, hyung, come on.” Groaning, feeling an almost primal need to do what Changmin wanted, Yunho popped his fingers out. As he leaned forward, Changmin’s hips rolled, fluid and inviting and stunning, and Changmin’s leg rose over his shoulder like it belonged there. Changmin slid a hand down to the back of his thigh, gripping him, pulling on him, and he thrust in hard, desperate for it, plunging as deep as he could while the wild high of pleasure tore a rough, ecstatic growl from his throat and Changmin shuddered beneath him with a low, resonant wail of gleeful satisfaction.
Being inside of Changmin was the only real intimacy Yunho could have, so he always tried to make the most of it. He tried to make it last, so that he could treasure the incredible grip of Changmin’s lube-slick ass on his cock, the gorgeous arch and splay of Changmin’s long, sweaty body underneath him, the sweat beading and sliding down Changmin’s why-won’t-you-kiss-me neck, the throaty
“Oh, oh, hyung.” Yunho lifted his legs higher, pushing deeper.
“Nnh, anh, ah, ah…” Yunho ground against him on every slow thrust, letting him feel the full length of every inch.
“Unh, unh, unh, hyung…” Yunho thrust into him from behind faster and faster, faster.
“Aa-ah-h-ahh-h, aah-h, h-h-h-hyung, aahhh…” Changmin bucked and rolled, sitting atop him as Yunho thrust from beneath, lifting them both from the bed.
“Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, yes, now, now, n-n-n-ooowww…” Yunho pinned him to the bed again, spreading his thighs wide, pumping furiously.
ecstatic sounds rising and reverberating, spilling from Changmin’s throat and echoing in the air around them, and those mounting cries of hunger and ecstasy were all that Yunho had ever wanted to hear. The pleasure and passion of Changmin’s pleading moans were the best proof he had that sex was good between them, that this was important, that they were doing more than carelessly getting off together. He wished that he wasn’t just stimulating the right spot on Changmin’s body to provoke climax, that he was doing something to Changmin, something real, something special, something Changmin responded to. He wanted sex between them to be more than just another thing they did together; he wanted it to be something unique, something shared.
His hips rolling and snapping, driving deep into Changmin to the clamoring rhythm of Changmin’s cries, Yunho slid a hand down to the lengthy rise of Changmin’s cock. As soon as he had his hand on it, palm sliding along the shaft, thumb circling the head, Changmin wailed, undulating under him like the needy, sensual beast living inside Changmin wanted to get out. Thrusting in harder, caught up in his body’s enthusiasm and Changmin’s demands, he tightened his grip. The satiny-smooth feel of Changmin’s skin, the slippery glide of Changmin’s pre-cum, and the swollen hardness filling his palm turned him on so much he heard himself groaning and growling as he fisted Changmin’s cock. He was leaning in, pressing in closer, his cock surging deeper and deeper into Changmin as everything in him strove toward climax. Wild and fleet, pleasure was mounting toward ecstasy, and Yunho couldn’t hold on anymore, and Changmin’s phenomenal, desperate cries of passion were soaring into an untamed scream.
Changmin always screamed when he came, and since they didn’t want to announce to the world that they were fucking each other, Yunho had to clamp a hand over Changmin’s mouth to muffle the sound before it got onstage loud, trademark loud. Sex the way Changmin wanted it was like choreography gone too far - - the two of them grinding senselessly to the same beat until they got tired and needed a break - - and the way Changmin moaned like he couldn’t help himself made Yunho crave the intimacy and passion that Changmin withheld.
Digging hard, demanding fingers into Yunho’s thigh, yanking him forward, Changmin was about to come. His head was thrown back, his spine a long arch, sweat glistening across his collarbone, his mouth open in a vibrating wail. Seeing Changmin like this brought Yunho right to the edge, set Yunho on fire with the need to fuck, the need to come, the need to give Changmin the kind of ecstasy his own body was screaming for. Slamming his hips forward, he thrust hard enough to jolt Changmin’s body on the bed, eliciting the kind of rolling, gratified cry he wanted to hear while Changmin’s hips jerked against him. He wanted it now and Changmin had to have it now and he gave Changmin’s cock another long, tight pull. “Come on, Changmin-ah, that’s it,” he panted, and he slammed in again, and it was time, oh, god, he couldn’t hold back anymore. With one last gasp of control, Yunho reached up, clamping his pre-cum-streaked hand over Changmin’s mouth. As pleasure burst inside of him, for an instant the world blinked out of existence and he didn’t feel a thing except hot, bright rapture. Then his hips jerked forward again and he moaned, and he felt the tightness of Changmin’s ass clamped around his cock, and he heard a muffled shriek of ecstasy as Changmin’s cock spat hot, messy spurts of cum across his abs. Panting, blinking, feeling loopy with happiness as satiation started to settle into his body, Yunho smiled at the feel of hot breath against his palm. He rubbed his thumb across Changmin’s soft lips, Changmin’s eyes closed, and for a moment their bodies were still except for their labored breathing. Yunho took advantage of the moment to caress Changmin’s lips again, and when Changmin’s hand stroked lightly through his hair, he could have purred in contentment, it felt so good. His body was transitioning from hot sparks of excitement to lazy satisfaction, and Changmin’s caress was just what it needed. But then Changmin tapped at his shoulder and sighed, and he knew that was his cue. Sex was over.
There was one part of Yunho’s body that Changmin didn’t squirm away from. Changmin loved his cock. Changmin asked for his cock, invited it, reached for it, begged for it, opened up for it like it never should have left. It was one of the best feelings in the world to thrust up inside Changmin. It made Yunho feel like a king to rock deeper and deeper into Changmin’s bucking, arching body and make Changmin spasm with pleasure. It fulfilled something empty and needy inside of him every time Changmin shuddered underneath him and came.
He pressed his luck by ducking his head and kissing Changmin’s cheek, but then he climbed off of Changmin, getting up. Changmin left the bed without even looking at him, picked up a pair of shorts, and went into the bathroom. Alone, Yunho wiped up and got dressed again.
Maybe Yunho was wrong for wanting more. Maybe he was being greedy, wishing for things Changmin didn’t want to give. Maybe they were too close already, and it wouldn’t be right to ask for more intimacy between them.
Yunho was sitting on a chair by the window, checking the fancafe, when Changmin came out of the bathroom. “You want to eat?” Changmin said, pulling on a pair of jeans, brushing his bangs out of his face. Yunho nodded. Changmin went to find their manager.
But every time they finished fucking and separated from each other like there was nothing between them, almost as if they were strangers, as if they were just dancers finishing up some new choreography, so that anyone looking at them five minutes after orgasm would think that they’d never touched, it made Yunho hurt. It made him wish for things he couldn’t have.
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Copyright July 12, 2013
by Matthew Haldeman-Time