"Suga—" Zion's voice caressed his name, low and deliberate, as he nipped the delicate lobe of Suga's ear. "Suga," he murmured again, his breath a teasing gust of wind against sensitive skin.
God, what did this man want from him? Suga knew, deep down, but his lips refused to form the words, sealed by a mix of defiance and desire.
The slick, wet squelch of movement filled the air, raw and undeniable, as Zion's fingers paused, buried deep inside Suga. He could feel Suga's walls clenching greedily, pulsing with a hunger that betrayed every ounce of his control.
"Fuck, Suga," Zion growled, his voice dripping with lust. "The moment I saw you sitting here, I imagined stripping you bare and fucking you hard."
"...Stop," Suga whispered, his voice barely a breath, weak against the onslaught sensation.
