"don’t be gentle.”
prompt #106, in which saeran, in zen’s words, unleashes his beast. nsfw. + my masterlist.
One thing’s for sure, you think to yourself when Saeran backs you against the kitchen wall, his pupils dilated, his breath bated. Something about him is different tonight.
He touches you firmly, one hand white-knuckled around your waist and the other gently wrapped around the base of your throat as he guides your face towards his. The last things you see are his teal irises, riddled with hunger and arousal, before he lowers his mouth onto yours.
You’ve always been very conscious in moments like these with Saeran, not just because you're both testing new waters but also because you want to savor every detail. But something is undoubtedly different tonight. You're physically unable to keep track of every second because you keep losing yourself in the dizzying weight of his lips on your own. Because you’re completely and utterly enticed by his tongue laving over the seam of your lips, his fingers pushing under your top.
Because, maybe for the first time, he's making it crystal clear how much he wants you.
In hindsight, the night remains a mysterious blur of complete and total euphoria. You only remember flashes, tiny details. Your hands working furiously at the buttons of his shirt, his pulling needily at your pajama shorts. Wet kisses down your throat, across your collarbones, your swollen breasts, over your trembling thighs. Your legs hooked over his shoulders; hands tightly knotted in his hair; broken, high whines of his name. Teeth fastened around a pillow as he pounds into you from behind; the bed creaking with the force of his thrusts; the filthy words that drip past his lips and into your ears like polluted honey. His hands, holding you against him with so much force that you're nearly hovering above the bed. Your sweaty, feverish bodies melded together for what feels like hours of euphoria, hours that will deprive you of your ability to walk properly for days to come.
More clearly than anything else, however, you recall one thing.
“Saeran?” Your sigh of his name had been breathless and desperate, and he'd paused putting on a condom to look at you. “Don’t be gentle.”
He'd obliged, needless to say.