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Yin’s back pressed against the sheets, War on top of him, lips slamming into his with a force that stole his breath. Tongues clashed and tangled, hot and demanding, each kiss a claim, a warning, a release all at once. War’s hands gripped his hips and shoulders, pulling him impossibly close, pressing him into the mattress as if he could merge them into one.
The memory of the club, of that other man’s laugh and touch, still burned behind War’s eyes, feeding the fire between them.
War’s chest had tightened the moment he saw him.
The club was loud, lights flashing, bass thumping, but all War could notice was the way some guy leaned close to Yin, laughing a little too easily, brushing a hand against his arm. It wasn’t even about what was said—it was the way the man dared to touch him, the way Yin had laughed at something so small, completely unaware of the heat igniting in War’s chest.
A growl had risen in his throat before he could stop it. Fists clenched at his sides, and suddenly all he could feel was need. The need to claim, to pull Yin away, to remind anyone who looked that Yin belonged to him. Every step toward him was heavy with tension, every movement driven by the jealousy coiling inside like fire.
He remembered the surge of adrenaline as he threaded through the crowd, his hands finding Yin’s, pulling him toward the exit. Yin had laughed, confused, breathless, but War barely heard him—couldn’t. The sight, the touch, the thought that someone else could flirt with his Yin had already made his blood boil.
Now, back in the bedroom, Every motion, every bite of the lips, every desperate drag of teeth over sensitive skin was charged with that unspoken possessiveness. Yin responded without thinking, arching into him, tangling his fingers in War’s hair, pulling him deeper, harder, tasting every heated moment.
War’s kisses weren’t gentle. They were feral, scorching, mouths claiming and devouring, tongues dancing with a mix of hunger and frustration. Yin’s hands roamed over broad shoulders, down his back, pressing and tugging, needing, matching the intensity, keeping pace with the storm that raged between them.
The room felt impossibly small, air thick with heat and the sound of ragged breaths, the clash of lips, the low growls War couldn’t hold back. Every kiss burned a little more, every press of tongue against tongue set fire to nerves and blood alike. Yin shivered, quivering under the relentless weight, his body screaming and responding, pulled into War’s rhythm, into the raw, scorching desire that had started with jealousy and now consumed them entirely.
War shifted his weight, pressing himself harder against Yin. The friction was immediate, electric, each movement igniting nerve endings as if fire ran under their skin. Yin’s back arched instinctively, hips rolling to match him, a low moan escaping his lips, rough and needy.
“War- fuck.” Yin moaned against his mouth. “Slow down, baby.”
But War didn’t listen.
Tongues still tangled, lips clashing in scorching kisses, but now their bodies moved as one, grinding together. The sound of ragged breaths and soft, desperate moans filled the room, mixing with the thrum of their bodies. War’s hands roamed freely, gripping hips, shoulders, the curve of Yin’s back, pulling him impossibly close, deepening every press, every roll until their hard, aching cocks were rubbing against one another through the fabric of their pants.
Yin’s fingers tightened on War’s shoulders, slipping into his hair as soft, broken sounds left his lips, each one sharper than the last. Every movement between them pulled another reaction from him, his body giving in completely to the heat building under War’s touch.
War’s low sounds rumbled against him, deep and rough, sending a shiver through Yin’s chest as their bodies stayed pressed close, barely any space left between them.
He moved against him again—slow at first, then harder—pulling Yin with him. The friction built quickly, hot and insistent, making them both tremble. Yin’s breath caught, then broke into quiet, uncontrolled moans, while War answered with those same low, guttural sounds, the two of them falling into the same desperate rhythm.
“Can you feel how hard you make me?”
Yin arched, pulling War deeper, rocking against him with need that had nothing to do with patience. “Ah… War…” His voice cracked, breathless, desperate. “Please…”
War’s teeth grazed his jaw, lips slamming against his own in a frenzied, tongue-tangled kiss. His hands gripped Yin’s hips, pulling him impossibly close with every thrust, every press of their hips rocking frantically against each other.
Yin gasped, hips moving faster, pressing, grinding, chasing the relentless friction that was setting them on fire. “I… I need you…” he whimpered, fingers clutching at War’s back, pulling him closer, causing his back to press against the mattress.
”I know baby…”
War responded with a growl that rumbled deep in his chest, crashing his mouth to Yin’s again like he couldn’t stand not even one second without claiming his lips.
Their tongues tangled, sharp, scorching, desperate almost matching every movement, every roll of their hips, every bite and brush of lips made Yin whine, loud and shaky against War’s swollen mouth, “War… harder… please…”
War’s hands slid down, gripping the waistband of Yin’s pants. With a rough, deliberate motion, he pressed fingers to the button, pushing it open, dragging the zipper down just enough to free him. Yin gasped, hips jerking instinctively, heat spiking as War’s fingers brushed over his cock through the fabric of his underwear - a soft moan escaping him as soon as he felt it twitch under his palm.
”Fuck, baby.” War’s voice sounded wrecked, brushing his finger over a wet, circular spot on Yin’s boxers, “You are already dripping for me.”
“Ah… War…” Yin moaned, arching into him, every nerve alive. His hands tangled in War’s hair, pulling him closer as the friction between them grew even more urgent.
Yin shivered, hips pressing instinctively into War’s hand stroking his cock through his damp underwear, letting out ragged moans that vibrated through the room.
Then, bold and need-driven, Yin’s hands moved down, fumbling at the button of War’s pants. War growled, sharp and low, but didn’t stop; he let Yin slip the fabric free, pulling the zipper just enough to ease the tension between them. Yin’s fingers brushed against his hard on, eliciting a shiver and a deep groan from War, his lips clashing with Yin’s again in a frantic, scorching kiss.
Their vision blurred, hands claiming each other with desperate urgency. War’s grinding pressed Yin into the mattress with insistent, desperate friction, while Yin’s own movements and touches teased and coaxed him, matching every hard press, every roll of hips, every frenzied kiss with the same intensity.
”ahhh… Yes. God. Just like that.”
Yin arched one last time, pressing into War with everything he had, whimpering into the kisses, desperate and trembling. War’s hands tightened on his hips, pulling him impossibly close, grinding with one final, scorching thrust.
“Ahhh.” War cried out, his eyes squeezing shut in the haze of the climax. “Yin.”
Their moans collided, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the room, carrying the heat, the tension, the claiming that had started with jealousy and now consumed them entirely like never before.
They clung together, shivering, panting, every nerve alive, skin slick, the room heavy with heat, need, and the aftershocks of everything that had burned between them.
War didn’t pull away.
Not really.
His grip stayed firm, hands still anchored on Yin’s body like he needed the contact, like letting go—even now—wasn’t an option. His breath was still uneven, chest rising and falling hard against Yin’s, but the intensity hadn’t fully left his eyes.
Yin felt it.
That same edge.
That same possessiveness, quieter now—but not gone.
His fingers tightened slightly where they rested on War, a slow, lingering response, like he wasn’t pushing it away either.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t calm—it was thick, charged, still humming with everything that had just passed between them.
And even as their breathing began to steady, neither of them moved to break it.
As if stepping back would mean letting it go.
As if, for just a moment longer, they both needed to stay exactly like this—caught in it.