The tug to his hair pulls a moan out of him--a proper one this time, though that likely only further ruins Eunhyuk's attempts at self-control. Eunhyuk might not be in a state to hear it, but he doesn't need to be. Not only can he surely feel it, but he probably knows very well by now that Luke loves it, the way he loves every single sign of Eunhyuk giving in to his desire. It's a complicated, frightening, overwhelming thing, he knows, and that makes it all the more special every time Eunhyuk trusts--Luke, himself, the safe present and the terrifying future--enough to let go.
He'd told Eunhyuk that he thought he was beautiful back in the arcade, and he'd meant it in every way. But it's never more true than it is now, and Luke watches him, enraptured by the curve of his back and the breathlessness of his voice, the shine of sweat on his flushed skin and the bob of his throat. He's not shameless enough to dig out his camera and start taking photos, but he wouldn't need to even if he was the sort. There's no way Luke will forget how stunning he is in this moment.
Luke does give him a break, kind of. He's nice enough to be slow about it as he pulls away, and doesn't force him through any kind of crazy overstimulation. But it's not out of kindness. He pulls back, but only to surge upward and steal Eunhyuk's breath all over again with deep, hungry kisses, as if he can taste his name on Eunhyuk's tongue. Maybe if he were a little less in love, he could keep this going for hours, toying with Eunhyuk by dragging him to the edge and then yanking him back, over and over until Eunhyuk can't hold onto any other thoughts. But as it stands, he's wholly consumed by his affection, and it's impossible not to mold his body to Eunhyuk's, enveloping him in closeness the same way love wraps around his heart.
He only lets Eunhyuk breathe when he has to, himself--and even then, he murmurs against his lips--] Love you.
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The tug to his hair pulls a moan out of him--a proper one this time, though that likely only further ruins Eunhyuk's attempts at self-control. Eunhyuk might not be in a state to hear it, but he doesn't need to be. Not only can he surely feel it, but he probably knows very well by now that Luke loves it, the way he loves every single sign of Eunhyuk giving in to his desire. It's a complicated, frightening, overwhelming thing, he knows, and that makes it all the more special every time Eunhyuk trusts--Luke, himself, the safe present and the terrifying future--enough to let go.
He'd told Eunhyuk that he thought he was beautiful back in the arcade, and he'd meant it in every way. But it's never more true than it is now, and Luke watches him, enraptured by the curve of his back and the breathlessness of his voice, the shine of sweat on his flushed skin and the bob of his throat. He's not shameless enough to dig out his camera and start taking photos, but he wouldn't need to even if he was the sort. There's no way Luke will forget how stunning he is in this moment.
Luke does give him a break, kind of. He's nice enough to be slow about it as he pulls away, and doesn't force him through any kind of crazy overstimulation. But it's not out of kindness. He pulls back, but only to surge upward and steal Eunhyuk's breath all over again with deep, hungry kisses, as if he can taste his name on Eunhyuk's tongue. Maybe if he were a little less in love, he could keep this going for hours, toying with Eunhyuk by dragging him to the edge and then yanking him back, over and over until Eunhyuk can't hold onto any other thoughts. But as it stands, he's wholly consumed by his affection, and it's impossible not to mold his body to Eunhyuk's, enveloping him in closeness the same way love wraps around his heart.
He only lets Eunhyuk breathe when he has to, himself--and even then, he murmurs against his lips--] Love you.