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“Kim Dokja.”
“Hm?”
Kim Dokja sighs pleasantly as Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips vibrate against the sensitive skin of his neck, shivering as calloused hands run slowly up and down his sides.
“Can I put it in today?”
Kim Dokja freezes.
He doesn’t have to say the usual ‘maybe next time’, because Yoo Joonghyuk feels his answer through their touching skin. He can’t see Yoo Joonghyuk’s face like this, but he feels the mood shift.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice is quiet. “Did I do something wrong?”
Kim Dokja sits up, pushing Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulders back to look him in the eye. “What? No, of course not.”
“But it’s because of me, isn’t it?”
“What?” He cups Yoo Joonghyuk’s cheeks, bewildered. “What on Earth’s making you think that?”
“Han Sooyoung told me so,” he mumbles.
Kim Dokja chokes. There she fucking goes again, butting into their little (little!) relationship upsets and twisting his late-night drunken rants into something else entirely. He may have let something or another slip about their rocky sex lives but just because he told her that doesn’t mean she should listen.
“That’s not—that’s not at all what I said to her, that’s such a gross oversimplification of—” He gestures vaguely, frantically.
“So it’s true,” Yoo Joonghyuk counters. “There is an issue.”
“There’s no…” Kim Dokja trails off. “Okay, it’s not like I’m gonna lie to you and say there isn’t one, but still—”
“Why won’t you tell me?” Yoo Joonghyuk says softly.
God fucking dammit, there’s no way Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t know the effect that his pouting has on Kim Dokja.
But there’s just. No way of bringing up such a thing? He’s been through that hypothetical conversation countless times and still he feels his mouth going dry at the thought of actually having it. Still, isn’t this the perfect opportunity? It’s Yoo Joonghyuk who brought it up, not him, so there’s always that excuse to fall back on if it starts going south—
“…Kim Dokja—”
“Have you seen your dick?!” Kim Dokja bursts.
Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him.
“Yes,” he says.
“And—and it’s—” Kim Dokja presses his hands together, his cheeks flaming red. “It’s—”
“It’s?”
“It’swaytoobigtobehumanhowthehellisitgonnafitinme.”
“…?”
“It’s so fucking big,” Kim Dokja says hysterically. “I’ve never even seen any pornstars with a dick as big as that. How are you a real person, Yoo Joonghyuk? What if it rips me in half? What if it breaks my ass?”
“…Is this what—”
“Do you think my ass bones are far enough apart for it to fit? That’s an actual question because I don’t know a thing about anatomy. Do you think it’ll go into my stomach? Will you feel, like, everything in there? More importantly what will that feel like for me? What if I’m never able to take a shit normally again and—”
“Kim Dokja.”
Kim Dokja freezes.
Yoo Joonghyuk pauses too, like he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just—I understand your issue now. And just. Please never say those words in that combination ever again.”
“Okay,” says Kim Dokja, a little breathlessly.
“And,” Yoo Joonghyuk starts, going a little pink. He speaks like he’s been practicing to say these exact words many times over. “I know it’s. Big. Bigger than what people call ‘big’. Big in the unsexy way, but I still…because it’s you, Kim Dokja, I’d really like to.”
Kim Dokja feels himself going pink, too.
“I’ve never gone all the way before, so I’ve—”
“Wait,” Kim Dokja blurts. “You’re a virgin?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him. “Yes? I thought you knew this?”
“What about your insanely hot ex from high school, there’s no way you didn’t have sex??”
“Insanely hot? Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“No? Yes? I mean it’d be nice if you were but no, what do you mean you’re a virgin???”
Yoo Joonghyuk grimaces. “Like I said, we didn’t go all the way. I…don’t think either of us were prepared enough at the time, and I ended up hurting her.” He rubs his temple. “As in, she was screaming when I tried putting it in. Not…in the good way. We broke up before we had the chance to try again.”
“…Was it because of your massive—”
“It was because we fell out of love,” Yoo Joonghyuk deadpans. “We’ve been over this.”
Kim Dokja nods dumbly.
“So.” Yoo Joonghyuk shifts closer, placing a reassuring hand over Kim Dokja’s. “I’ve done a lot of research, a lot of it, I’ve done everything I can to make sure I never hurt you, but I know it’s possible and so do you. So that’s why if Kim Dokja doesn’t want to then I don’t want to,” he declares, raising his voice slightly.
Kim Dokja can read him well enough to detect the faint bitterness to his tone, something that tells him Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t quite as happy with his fated virginity as he’d like to seem.
“It’s not that,” Kim Dokja huffs, looking away slightly in his embarrassment. “It’s not…it’s not like I don’t want to, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt about getting railed to oblivion by Yoo Joonghyuk. I’ll uh—I’ll— fuck I still think having that dick in me is gonna—”
“…Don’t say any more, Kim Dokja.”
“I’m trying to say I want to have sex with you,” Kim Dokja blurts.
Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him. His eyes sparkle.
“Oh,” he says. “Okay.”
“Okay,” says Kim Dokja. He feels oddly light. “But not right now, right? I feel like our talk’s kinda killed the vibes.” He stands up, waving his hand vaguely. “The next time you’re pent up, I really promise. Since it doesn’t take much to get me the same way.” He presses a kiss to Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw, smiling into his skin.
He leaves Yoo Joonghyuk sitting there, oblivious to his raging hard-on.
“Kim Dokja.”
“Hm?”
“I’m hard.”
Kim Dokja chokes on his salad.
“I—hggkh—let me finish my food.”
“Kim Dokja.”
“If you don’t let me shower then I’m gonna be smelly during sex and that’s the exact opposite if what we need for our mutual first time.”
“That’s not it.”
“Hm?”
Yoo Joonghyuk looks him in the eye, very seriously. “Don’t stretch yourself out when you clean yourself. I wanna do it.”
Kim Dokja goes red.
“Ah,” he ekes out. “Okay.”
Yoo Joonghyuk smiles stupidly as Kim Dokja flees into the bathroom.
“St—stop looking at it.”
Kim Dokja wiggles his hips a little, ass raised high. He feels his hole twitching against cold air as Yoo Joonghyuk spreads it apart with his thumbs.
“Don’t want to,” says Yoo Joonghyuk stubbornly.
Kim Dokja buries a slight yelp into the pillow he’s squeezing as he feels a lube-slicked finger circling his entrance.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs.
“Stop asking or I might change my mind.” The slight tremble to his voice is disguised by the muffling of the pillow. He pushes his hips back slightly. “Just—just hurry up and put it—”
He jolts when Yoo Joonghyuk obliges, sheathing his finger in to the second knuckle.
“You bastard,” Kim Dokja grits out. “I hate you.”
“Hm.” Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t sound apologetic at all. Kim Dokja would give anything to see the grin he can hear in his hum, but he’s far too embarrassed to face him right now. He feels the appendage press further in, splitting him around that calloused skin, until the backs of Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers are flush against his perineum.
“Hh—even your fingers are big, what the fuck,” Kim Dokja whimpers, slightly slurred. His spine tingles.
“How many fingers did you use,” Yoo Joonghyuk rumbles against the shell of his ear.
“Huh? Why would you ask something like that,” he says breathily, distracted by the drag inside his hypersensitive body. “It’s embarrassi—ng!”
Kim Dokja chokes on his words as Yoo Joonghyuk pulls the pad of his finger down in a way that drives him mad.
“Two,” he gasps out, walls spasming. “Just t-two. Am I—I’m not loose, am I?”
“The opposite,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, somehow sounding pleased with himself. He taps a second finger against his rim. Kim Dokja’s breath hitches, but he arches slightly in silent encouragement.
He shudders, breathing thinly against the pillow as he feels himself parting, carving further into his body than his own fingers could reach. Kim Dokja bites into the pillow to keep the sounds from flooding out, his eyes watering.
“Does it hurt?” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs, concern plain in his voice. Kim Dokja can’t trust himself to speak, so he doesn’t. “Do you want me to stop?” he rumbles over Kim Dokja’s silence, fingers pressing in deep and staying there.
He can tell that Yoo Joongyuk hardly means a word of that, with the quiet excitement reverberating in his baritone query. The bastard just happens to thrive off his humiliation and wants him to say it aloud, of that he’s certain.
With his thoughts all slow and fuzzy, Kim Dokja kicks his feet childishly and whines. “Just keep, keep going.” It’s a desperate sound that makes him flush with shame, but Yoo Joonghyuk is practically vibrating with delight.
It burns when Yoo Joonghyuk adds the third, the kind of burn that makes his back arch and his toes curl.
“Does it hurt?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks again, his hand still rocking.
“Mn,” Kim Dokja whimpers in affirmation. “Tiny bit, but it’s—good, it’s good so don’t stop—”
Yoo Joonghyuk crooks his fingers, rubbing along his walls like he’s scanning, searching—and they dig hard into something tender inside him that makes his whole body jolt violently like a rubber band snapping.
“Wh—ah, hahh what the f—hck!” Kim Dokja sobs at the punishing rhythm Yoo Joonghyuk unhesitatingly sets. His hips jerk and his thighs twitch uncontrollably, threatening to give out. Yoo Joonghyuk places a steadying hand there, holding him in place as he continues to dig in.
“Found you,” Yoo Joonghyuk whispers triumphantly, drowned out by Kim Dokja’s wails.
“Ah wait, wait wait hh holy shit—” Kim Dokja scrabbles at the sheets, his flushed cock weeping onto it. “I ca—Joonghyu—khhwait!”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t wait.
“God,” he breathes instead, dragging from Kim Dokja these humiliating little sounds with each pump of his fingers. Watching him fall apart under his own hands. “You’re so…”
Kim Dokja, unhearing, moans wetly into the pillow, his head muddy with delirium. He feels it climbing everywhere, his whole body thrumming with something fiercely sweet and it’s driving him mad. It’s nothing like jerking off, what the hell, it’s so much and it’s everywhere and he’s gonna go insane.
He loses track of time like this, with his face in the pillow and his ass arched up, letting his hips be held up entirely by Yoo Joonghyuk’s firm hold and probing fingers. He feels himself slipping, his vulnerable sounds growing harder and harder to bite back.
“Hahn, ah I’m gonna…” he whimpers, barely conscious of the way his hips are shaking shamelessly, rutting back against the invading ministrations like he wants to swallow his lover’s hand whole.
“Already gonna come?” Yoo Joonghyuk purrs lowly.
“Nnyeah c-close, close I’m so close please—”
He shudders at the rumble of Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips against the nape of his neck, ministrations slowing to a sensual kneading against his prostate, leaving Kim Dokja shaking all over. “I’ll let you come if you can tell me how many I have inside you, hm?”
He doesn’t question it. “Three,” Kim Dokja cries. “It’s three let me come let me—!”
“It’s four.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand slips out.
Kim Dokja crashes so hard it physically hurts. He lets out a furious groan that sounds something like a dying frog. He feels so empty too abruptly, clenching around nothing when he’d just been stuffed so satisfyingly full, a visceral feeling like he needs Yoo Joonghyuk inside him or he just might die.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s grip on his quivering thighs is bruising, refusing to budge an inch as Kim Dokja shoves his ass back desperately.
“You bastard,” he whines with a pitiful attempt to kick him in the side. “Dammit, I was right there, why’d you stop I was just about to—”
“It’s unfair if you get to feel all the pleasure,” he feels Yoo Joonghyuk pout against his back.
Impossibly, Kim Dokja flushes redder.
“Oh yeah,” he squeaks, his voice cracking.
“You forgot?” Yoo Joonghyuk says incredulously, his lips curling teasingly.
“It felt good,” Kim Dokja mumbles, his voice muffled into the pillow. He knows the bastard knows exactly what he’s doing and he hates it.
Yoo Joonghyuk goes quiet.
“…Turn around.”
Kim Dokja jumps when he feels Yoo Joonghyuk drawing his shoulder back, blindly batting him away. “It’s—embarrassing, isn’t this enough?” Kim Dokja feels his ears burning.
Yoo Joonghyuk noses the nape of Kim Dokja’s neck. “I need to make sure you’re not hurting.”
Kim Dokja thinks he might cry at how sincere he sounds. But he’s an ugly crier, just as much as he is an ugly moaner, so all he does is shake his head and sink his face further into the pillow as if he could hide himself in it.
“Please?” Yoo Joonghyuk lowers himself to curl almost protectively over his smaller frame. Kim Dokja jolts when he feels the swollen cock’s underside pressing against his bare thigh, his breath hitching at the weight of it. “I want to see you when I put it in.”
The teasing words Kim Dokja prepares himself to say get stuck in his throat, falling silent for a moment to let himself sink into the achingly soft embrace of Yoo Joonghyuk. He ends up nodding timidly, his heart thrumming with something warm.
Yoo Joonghyuk flips him over, gentle and eager all the same. Kim Dokja hides his face behind the backs of his hands. Yoo Joonghyuk pries his wrists apart.
And Yoo Joonghyuk—he has to pause, staring down at his boyfriend with parted lips.
If only he could see himself right now, thinks Yoo Joonghyuk, through his own starstruck eyes—see himself laid bare, with his pale skin’s canvas painted a pretty pink and his lips a glistening, bitten mess, long lashes glittering with unshed tears—all messy and undone, leaving Yoo Joonghyuk to fall in love all over again.
“What’re you staring at,” Kim Dokja says breathlessly, blinking blearily up at him.
Yoo Joonghyuk licks his lips, eyes tracing all over Kim Dokja. Wordlessly, he takes the backs of his knees and pushes them back, folding Kim Dokja in half. Instinctively, Kim Dokja’s hands curl up to hold himself open obediently.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice comes out low and guttural. “You’re still sure?”
Kim Dokja’s gaze flits down to the monster of a cock looming above his own. That’s going in me, he thinks hazily, clenching down repeatedly on aching emptiness.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs. “Last chance.” He presses the tip against Kim Dokja’s twitching hole, teasing it open the slightest bit and it makes him ache for more more more. It hits him, not for the first time, that Yoo Joonghyuk’s a toxic bastard who knows exactly what he’s doing.
His toxic bastard.
Kim Dokja shudders with a sick little thrill.
“Like I said—” Kim Dokja’s voice is hoarse with anticipation. “Stop asking before I change my mind.”
The look Yoo Joonghyuk gives him is both terrifying and utterly exhilarating. He presses in.
Kim Dokja lets out a small “oh” at how unexpectedly easily he feels himself opening up, splitting him wide with the head of Joonghyuk’s cock. It pops through his rim with a sudden burst of heady pleasure, leaving his hands scrabbling at the sheets beside his head.
“Oh shhhit,” he wheezes out. “Wait wait wait don’t move—”
Hazily, he sees Yoo Joonghyuk squeezing his eyes shut. He reaches up with weak hands to cup his face. “Are you o-okay?”
“I should be asking you that,” Yoo Joonghyuk grits out. “Are you okay?”
Kim Dokja has to take another moment to collect himself.
It’s so fucking big, no amount of mental preparation could’ve ever prepared him for how monstrously big Joonghyuk is. For a second he’s so certain this isn’t going to work, that no man’s asshole could possibly fit such a thick thing, up until Yoo Joonghyuk slots their fingers together and takes his lips, slow and languid.
“Relax,” Yoo Joonghyuk whispers between kisses, his voice slightly strained. “Relax.”
Kim Dokja lets out an incoherent sound, high and breathy. With words failing to form, all he can do is nod frantically and bury his face into Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder.
Yoo Joonghyuk takes that as a sign to keep going—spearing him open, the slide slick with excess lube but blindingly tight, stretching his spasming walls taut around its engorged circumference. He twitches at the stutter of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips, before pressing in as insistently as before.
Abruptly, he convulses violently with a sharp wail.
Yoo Joonghyuk freezes. “What? What is it?”
Kim Dokja can’t choke out a sound, his lips parted wide with wheezing gasps and eyes rolled back in the numbing pleasure of Yoo Joonghyuk’s tip pressed hard against his prostate, squeezing it of all its worth, his untouched cock jerking and weeping pitifully between them.
He hazily feels Yoo Joonghyuk backing out, and his shaking legs instinctively kick out to wrap tight around Joonghyuk’s waist, locking him inside. “Noonono god ple— ease—” He can’t formulate the right words, mind fuzzy and far too disoriented with white noise, but Yoo Joonghyuk easily gets the message.
“I’m gonna,” Yoo Joonghyuk pants, “keep going.”
Kim Dokja is distantly aware of the humiliating sounds falling from his lips, but he’s too far gone to feel any shame. It’s agonizingly slow, he feels it so much, every inch of it that’s disappearing inside him.
“Relax. Relax,” Yoo Joonghyuk grits out after a moment. “Feels like you’re about to—snap my dick off.”
“Can’t,” he gasps, eyes squeezed shut.
“Just another half to go.”
“Half?!” Kim Dokja chokes out. Half?? He already feels stuffed so full, like there’s no room left for him to breathe.
I’m gonna die, thinks Kim Dokja. I’m gonna die impaled on my beautiful boyfriend’s beautiful cock and he’s gonna be tried for manslaughter and a lawyer’s gonna have to defend him killing me via sex.
Yoo Joonghyuk brushes strands of hair from his teary eyes, eyebrows knit with concern. “Should we stop?”
Kim Dokja shakes his head quickly, kicking the small of Joonghyuk’s back like a hammer to a nail. “I can take it, I can take it,” he says breathlessly, even if he doesn’t know if he can take it. “Just…slowly.”
“Slowly,” Yoo Joonghyuk promises.
Slowly, slowly, Yoo Joonghyuk splits him in two, coring him out until he’ll surely be gaping afterwards. It’s too much, it’s not enough, Kim Dokja feels himself crying and shaking all over but desperately wants something more, something violent and visceral to break him into pieces. He hasn’t the shamelessness to say so, so all he can manage is to cling to Joonghyuk’s shoulders and cant his hips up.
The drag of it, it’s driving him insane, pushing the air from him and molding his insides with his lover’s shape. He hopes Yoo Joonghyuk understands, without him saying out loud, that such a thought is nothing short of ecstasy for Kim Dokja.
Slowly (too slow, too little too much) Yoo Joonghyuk presses in until Kim Dokja feels sturdy hips pressing flush against his ass.
Maybe it’s the shock of it, maybe it’s the perfect curve of his cock, the bulging length sliding up too perfectly against his prostate—his whole body shakes, mouth agape in a silent scream, and his cock spurts over his quivering stomach.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks down.
“…I just put it in.”
“Shut—shut up,” Kim Dokja hisses weakly. “Don’t say another—”
His voice hitches when he feels Yoo Joonghyuk twitch inside him, pressing him so impossibly wide that he feels every little thing to the point of being unnervingly sensitive. Kim Dokja prepares himself to hurl a half-hearted expletive when Yoo Joonghyuk breathes out a quiet, awed “Kim Dokja.”
And then he sees what has his boyfriend all pink and giddy, his normally flat stomach bulging taut with the outline of the Yoo Joonghyuk cock—like he’s being reshaped, both inside and outside, carving his body into something fit for Yoo Joonghyuk and no one else.
Gingerly, Kim Dokja touches his swollen stomach, shivering with hysteria and mindless bliss. “Ah…”
Yoo Joonghyuk lets out a short, gasping laugh in disbelief. “Kim Dokja.”
He lets his head fall back, eyes half-lidded. Still trembling all over with aftershocks.
“You look pregnant.”
Kim Dokja chokes on his own spit. He makes an embarrassed little sound, squeezing his thighs reprimandingly around Joonghyuk’s waist, not yet trusting himself to speak.
Yoo Joonghyuk seems to flinch at this, and sucks in a sharp breath. “Are you doing this on purpose?”
“Ah? Huh?” He jumps as he feels a finger slipping between the two of them, tracing up the line of his perineum.
“Stop. Moving,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls, pressing his forehead against Kim Dokja’s collarbone. “I swear I’m gonna lose it.”
“Wha’? You’re the one moving,” he says dumbly, sluggishly winding himself around Yoo Joonghyuk, fisting his hands in inky hair. His feet instinctively kick out at another twitch of Yoo Joonghyuk. “Hn—actually can you move just—just a bit, pull out a little but not too much, this position is a bit…” His coherent thoughts end there, his mind entirely fried by the the incessant press against his prostate.
“I’m—” Yoo Joonghyuk’s grip on his waist is bruising. “Gonna fuck you.”
“Huh? Huh? Wait s’not what I said waitwaitwait—”
His protests peter off into a breathy keen when Joonghyuk starts pulling back, pulling his walls inside out.
“Look at you,” Yoo Joonghyuk breathes, lifting his hips to give them both a good view. Kim Dokja nearly loses his mind seeing his own hole stretched taut around the thickest part of that monstrous length. He makes a pitiful sound that Yoo Joonghyuk kisses away.
Kim Dokja feels himself coiling tight at the cavity left aching inside him, writhing uncontrollably as the head drags over his most sensitive spot once again, until his hole is left clinging greedily to the reddened tip. His panting comes out as breathless whines.
Wordlessly, Yoo Joonghyuk presses back in, plugging him whole again with his precious missing piece. And oh, Kim Dokja had been stuffed full with four of Joonghyuk’s long fingers and gagged on them like that but it’s like that was nothing compared to this, blunt and smooth and stretching him into utter euphoria in ways that no amount of fingers ever could.
At the halfway mark, Yoo Joonghyuk grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck,” he whispers tightly. “Sorry for this.”
“Hn—?”
Hands clamping tight around Kim Dokja’s waist, Yoo Joonghyuk slams himself the rest of the way in.
It punches everything from him, all his breath and thoughts and reservations, plunging all the way up into his guts and crushing his prostate entirely. Kim Dokja screams, hands flying up to claw wildly at Joonghyuk’s back. His back arches into his second orgasm, almost painful so soon after his first, tears flowing freely down fever-red cheeks.
Yoo Joonghyuk holds him tight with thin panting, pressing their bodies flush against each other’s as Kim Dokja trembles violently with overstimulation.
“I hhhate you, I hate you,” Kim Dokja wheezes out, head thrown back. His shining eyes widen when he feels Yoo Joonghyuk drawing out again. “Ah—hah, ah wait, wait…!”
Yoo Joonghyuk slams home. Kim Dokja’s eyes shake and roll back.
They set up a rhythm like this, Yoo Joonghyuk sliding out just enough to see Kim Dokja clinging whorishly around the head of his cock, then spearing him open with a force that makes him scream his throat raw, again and again and again. Yoo Joonghyuk just keeps fucking him open with this blind frenzy, eyes dark and hooded and teeth bared, holding Kim Dokja so tight that he couldn’t dream of crawling away. Trapping him, using him, filling him with both his heavy cock and pure, all-consuming ecstasy.
Dimly, it hits him that it doesn’t hurt the slightest bit, and it’s a bit terrifying that it doesn’t hurt—and it makes him feel hot all over, inside and out, being shaped and reshaped by Yoo Joonghyuk, being cored out so completely that nothing, nothing else could fill him as perfectly as Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Enough,” he hears himself wail through heaving cries, even if it’s not even close to enough. “I. Hh—ahh, ah I ca—an’t I ca…!”
It’s like Yoo Joonghyuk can’t see him, or sees too much of him, but he speeds up. Their passion reverberates everywhere, their hips slapping together with these filthy sounds that drowns out all hesitation, shooting sparks up Kim Dokja’s spine that escape through his throat as wanton moans.
With an animalistic sound, Yoo Joonghyuk yanks a spasming leg high by the ankle, twisting Kim Dokja onto his side. Like this it somehow reaches somehow deeper, and Kim Dokja screams when he feels the head slamming against the bend of his colon, coring him from the inside out.
Kim Dokja sobs openly, mouthing wetly at the pillow. His cock spurts clear liquid, untouched between them, coating his stomach that molds with Yoo Joonghyuk’s oscillating shape.
With hungry eyes, Yoo Joonghyuk splays an open hand on his stomach where his cock distends the pale skin, and presses. Kim Dokja’s mouth gapes with a silent wail, drool sliding from the corner. His eyes roll back, fall shut, pushing thick droplets down his cheeks.
Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja cries, even if he’s too far gone to form the words. Yoo Joonghyuk, Yoo Joonghyuk. He feels Yoo Joonghyuk everywhere, too much of him everywhere all at once, and he thinks that if he were to die right here, speared open on his lover’s cock like the whore he is, he could probably die happy.
The sound he makes is inhuman when he finally, finally feels warmth flooding into him, filling his insides so completely that he feels like he’s choking on it. It’s an electrifying heat that spreads all the way to the tips of his fingers, enveloping him whole, leaving him drunk on the ecstasy of it.
Kim Dokja cries freely, high and debauched, as the warmth flows so deep it that it tips him over his own edge, toppling him from his high one last time. Kim Dokja feels like he’s falling and falling, but he lets himself fall, because Yoo Joonghyuk is there to catch him.
Distantly, he feels his lover holding him tenderly, whispering breathless nothings of “so pretty” and “so good” and “just for me”.
Yoo Joonghyuk touches their foreheads together. Their heavy breaths coalesce, slowly growing softer with the lull of exhaustion. Kim Dokja closes his eyes in blissful sleep.
Yoo Joonghyuk has always dreamed waking up, ass naked, under the afterglow of making love to his most precious person. The room would still smell of sex because they’d been too exhausted to leave each other’s arms. And Yoo Joonghyuk would smile stupidly into his pillow with the memory of the night before.
For a long time, Yoo Joonghyuk resented his size for this reason, because it meant hurting his most precious person, and this dream remained simply as a shameful wish for many years.
Today, Yoo Joonghyuk jolts awake to a sharp yelp of pain, followed by the sound of a dull thud.
He sluggishly props himself up, bed sheets sliding from his shoulders. His bleary gaze falls on a naked Kim Dokja, crumpled on the floor. His eyes drawn to the other’s puffy, still slightly gaping hole dribbling cum onto the floorboards.
Kim Dokja looks over his shoulder at an openly gawking Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Take responsibility,” Kim Dokja mutters sourly.
Yoo Joonghyuk scrambles to his feet.