Jungsu hummed and nodded. Jiseok didn’t hit his prostate each time, which Jungsu liked, because otherwise he feared how pathetic he’d sound. The times Jiseok did, though, were almost too much. People did this regularly? Sometimes more than once in a night? Jungsu couldn’t imagine how they survived.
“Jungsu, baby boy,” Jiseok started, “shh. You’re okay. Just let yourself feel it.”
“I—I’m older than—than…”
Jiseok chuckled. Jungsu didn’t have the brainpower to retort back. He didn’t have much power to do anything at all besides feel it like Jiseok told him to. He relaxed into the bed, letting himself feel so, so full, accepting Jiseok into him, forgetting himself and moaning with each thrust, his mind going fuzzy like TV static.