Jesus and that's why I told you your descriptions are so unbelieveable amazing. I bet you would make me horny about a toilet brush fAAAAWWN
When you find him, his tanned expanses of skin shimmer with a layer of sweat, travelling in a river down the trail of his spine through the white muscle singlet that clings to the outline of his ribs with the moisture. He is dripping in hard work, house work, coated in elbow grease from polishing counters and dusting shelves, from vacuuming vicious carpets and tackling the nasty fridge that the both of you are still surprised has not killed you with its mould and salmonella. Now, he is bent over the loo, toilet brush in hand as he vigorously cleans the porcelain circumference of the bowl with a determination of somebody who just wants it to be goddamn over already. You can hear his low, agitated grumbling, yet you are delighting in the lascivious performance of the corded muscles tensing, then relaxing in his shoulders and biceps, unexpectedly feeling very parched.
“Working hard, or hardly working, Jeongguk?”
He stills his motions and you are almost disappointed, wishing you had not disturbed the show, the rippling waves beneath his skin coming to a halt as he cranes his chin back to see you leaning against the wall with a smirk. Wordlessly, he gets to his feet, dropping the toilet brush he was wielding into the bowl with a clatter before striding slowly towards you, gaze heavy with a dark allure, eyeing your flimsy gym attire that suddenly seems so, so vulnerable to his eager fingertips.
Jeongguk pushes his hair back from his forehead, eyebrows drawn together, tongue swiping between his lips as his eyes roam from your ankles to your mouth in an endearing adventure that has your skin prickling with desire.
“Hard,” He mutters, taking another step forward so that you can smell the sweat that sparkles on his collarbones, almost taste the salt of it on the back of your throat. “Very hard.”
You would laugh at the cheesiness of the response if he was not immediately dipping his mouth down, pressing his – as he stated it – very hard crotch to your abdomen, fingers digging into the small of your back while his lips ravage at your own. It is quite fascinating, really, the way that his arousal comes and goes as easy as a flick of the switch, ready to bend you over the nearest surface and feel himself slide within you at any given notice. The denim of his hips roll into you now, pushing you up against the plaster and eliciting a gasp from your lungs, his mouth eagerly nipping at your own, tongue dancing an alluring streak across the back of your teeth while his hands move to fumble at the waistband of your leggings, groping your rear with moans of pure ecstasy in the process.
“J-Jeongguk,” You huff, pulling back from him with already swollen lips that he continues to peck at, humming in response before you continue to speak. “You should probably wash your hands.”
He groans, taking your lower lip for the kill between his teeth, giving an especially firm squeeze to your ass that lifts you onto your toes. “Why–”
“Y-You just had your hands in the toilet.”
“You also had your hands in our fridge.”
Jeongguk stops at that, leaning away, a frustrated expression pulling at his features and you are not surprised that he is genuinely annoyed by his libidinous ministrations being disturbed. Then, he bites once at your neck, teeth digging nicely into the flesh before he quite literally sprints off down the hallway to the soap and water in the bathroom, shouting good fucking point because you deal with enough mould in your fridge as it is, and you want it absolutely nowhere else.