He looks so sweet. Always.

For as long as Taeyang has known Jongseob, he's never looked anything short of an angel.

Jongseob fell asleep on the couch after several hours of straight gaming. Jiung bid his goodbyes after helping Taeyang clean up the clutter of take out boxes littered across the floor of the living room and shuffled back to his dorm for the evening.

And now, Taeyang stays planted, hands scratching at his thighs over his basketball shorts, staring at the soft rise and fall of Jongseob's chest, the soft parting of his lips open, lashes fanned over his plump cheeks. An angel.

Jongseob hates it whenever anyone calls him cute—he'd never say it out loud, but Taeyang's seen the extra effort he's put in to grow up, to grow into himself. It makes his stomach hurt.

Taeyang leans over, strokes his hand up Jongseob's arm, skin soft, warm, bare. Jongseob doesn't stir, just buries the side of his cheek into the cushion further. Taeyang positions him onto his side, lays him out on his side onto the couch in a position that must be better on his neck. It takes some effort, Jongseob's limbs deadweight in his slumber, but Taeyang manages.

He still looks so sweet, even with the little bit of drool slipping out of the corner of his mouth. He must be so tired.

Taeyang can't resist, his mind seemingly drifting away to the far corner of the room, as his fingers slip over the edge of Jongseob's waistband. He pulls at the elastic, inching the fabric down over Jongseob's ass, letting it free to cinch around the tops of the back of his thighs. The front of the elastic band pulls just above his cock, and Taeyang doesn't bother to maneuver it—that's not for him to worry about right now.

Taeyang maneuvers him again, keeping his legs pinned together to curl him into a ball, and it allows just enough room for Taeyang to see Jongseob's taint, the faint dusting of hair from the back of his balls leading a path between his cheeks. Taeyang puts three of his fingers in his mouth, lets his spit coat them, then traces his forefinger from his taint and up, up to his hole. A drying trail of spit shines in the faint light as Taeyang uses his other hand to lift one cheek, giving him a better look at his fingertip tracing around the hole.

He can feel him tense up a little, and Taeyang wonders if it tickles in his sleep, if it's cold—

Taeyang spits onto this fingers, spits another string directly on Jongseob's ass, watches hit slide down to his hole. This time, his finger gives so easily, like Jongseob was waiting for it. It makes Taeyang's heart hammer faster, wondering just how far he can take this before he wakes up—

He's not exactly gentle about it, but Taeyang keeps fingering him, long strokes and fascination watching it sink allt the way in and out, and with enough spit, he gets a second one in there.

And that's when Jongseob lets out a small sigh, having Taeyang's stomach leap out of his throat with the pads of his fingers rubbing faint circles near his prostate. Jongseob's eyebrows furrow every so slightly, a sharp inhale catching in his throat.

Taeyang brings his his mouth down to meet his fingers, tongue tracing his entrance, greedy for all of it. He puts his free hand on the front of Jongseob's shorts, feels the outline of Jongseob's cock twitch against his palm.

Taeyang wastes no time, slips his fingers out from Jongseob's fluttering hole, admires the slight, relaxed stretch. He shucks down his own pants and underwear, just enough to free his cock that slaps against his shirt. It aches, can't believe he grew this hard without touching himself. He uses the spit that gathered down his hand to stroke himself, and even if it's a little dry—

He watches Jongseob's closed eyes flutter as he pushes the head past the rim. He looks so precious, the apples of his cheeks flushed hot pink, and Taeyang bites his lip to hold back the sounds of his pleasure to sink deeper.

Jongseob's mouth parts wider, and this time, a moan slips out, his eyes finally squinting open. He looks a little disoriented, hole clenching around Taeyang as he bottoms out.

Jongseob turns to look Taeyang dead in the eyes, half awake, wiping the small trail of drool with the back of his hand. Taeyang doesn't stop looking at him, inches out ever so slightly to fuck back into him slowly, doing everything in his power to resist blowing his load this soon. He can feel his pounding heart in his ears, all other noise static in his head.

Jongseob cups his hand against Taeyang's face, eyes slipping closed again and pulls Taeyang closer, their labored breaths mingling together, inches apart.

"Don't stop," Jongseob whispers.