53*

All the violent tendencies, the roughness, the animalistic urge within Zion—none of it was unknown to Suga.

Their sex was always rough—raw and heated.

He could feel it. Through his choked breaths, in the way Zion's hands would unconsciously grip his body too tightly, only to jolt and try to soften—only for his uncontainable desire to take over again, fingers digging in deep, leaving behind sensations that lingered on Suga's skin.

That brief hesitation always shattered the moment he heard Suga moan—knowing that Suga welcomed his touch only drove him further, igniting something deeper, something more desperate.

Suga knew this.

And yet.

He didn't hate it.

Suga held onto him, arms wrapped around Zion's neck as the man lifted him with ease, pinning his back against the wall. Their kiss was nothing tender—nothing romantic. It was a battle, a collision of hunger and heat, as if they were devouring each other.

"Ngh—"