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He missed this. Beomgyu missed this.
“What does my baby want?” Yeonjun asks softly, one hand entangled in Beomgyu’s hair and the other on his cheek, fingers gently pressing into his flesh to make Beomgyu look at him. “I’ll give you everything, just tell me what you want.”
His words make Beomgyu burn from the inside out. He knows Yeonjun will make good on his promise, but Beomgyu’s brain has turned into mush. All he knows is that he wants everything Yeonjun is willing to give him. “I just want you,” he says, simply. Truthfully.
“I know, baby,” Yeonjun tells him with all the patience in the world. The smile on his boyfriend’s face is not a new look to Beomgyu, but it still affects him like the first time. Yeonjun’s eyes are relaxed, lips quirked up in a tiny smile—in the privacy of his own head, Beomgyu likes to claim that smile as his. Yeonjun only ever smiles like this for him, and him alone. “You have me.”
“Then why aren’t you inside me yet?” Beomgyu whines, shaking off the hand on his cheek and burying his face into the crook of his neck. He tightens his hold on Yeonjun’s shirt, crumpling the starch-stiff material with his fingers. Yeah, he hasn’t seen Yeonjun in quite a while, but he still feels too fucking needy, and it’s embarrassing.
The deep sound of Yeonjun’s laugh, coupled with the vibrations he could feel from where their chests are pressed together, and the fact that Yeonjun’s hands have moved to his lower back and are pulling him closer—they’re all mixing into a dangerous, lovely concoction that’s doing something to Beomgyu’s insides and making his brain feel like it’s filled with cotton. He holds back a moan that’s begging to slip out, choosing instead to mouth wetly at Yeonjun’s neck and inhale his scent. Yeonjun always smells so good, and whenever he comes home after trips like this, Beomgyu makes sure to revel in it.
He loves being held like this, loves to sit on Yeonjun’s lap like it's his throne, and Yeonjun knows it.
“My baby’s so needy, huh,” his boyfriend teases, pressing the tips of his fingers into Beomgyu’s back and traveling up and down the knobs of his spine. He does it slowly, deliberately, causing goosebumps to erupt all over Beomgyu’s flesh. “You missed me?”
Beomgyu nods, and Yeonjun brings him back from his hiding spot by the nape of his neck to look him in the eye. After years of being together like this, Beomgyu shouldn’t be getting flustered at Yeonjun’s eyes on him, but he still flushes at the feeling, and he’s sure it shows.
“Tell hyung what you need, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun reiterates, his right hand coming up to stroke Beomgyu’s cheek with his thumb. The contact grounds him, reminds him that Yeonjun is here and he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. “I’ll give it to you if you tell me what you need.”
Yeonjun will. Yeonjun always does. That’s what gives Beomgyu the strength to quietly admit, “I want you inside me. Your fingers, tongue, cock, anything, hyung. Please.”
“How many do you want?”
Here, Beomgyu hesitates. He’s impatient, and he wants release now, but he also wants to make this last. Quietly, he says, “Two, please.”
“Good boy.” The smile on his boyfriend’s face is radiant. “That’s all you had to say, baby.”
Yeonjun rewards him with a kiss, but it’s too chaste to be anything other than Yeonjun just wanting to have his lips on his. Still, his eyes flutter shut; Beomgyu lives for this—touching just to touch, holding just to hold. “Lie down for hyung,” he says once they part, thumb coming up to swipe at the spit on Beomgyu’s bottom lip.
He raises himself up from Yeonjun’s lap to crawl to the top of the bed, settling between the pillows. At the foot of the bed, he watches Yeonjun watch him.
“What?” Beomgyu asks, feeling self-conscious. There’s nothing he loves more than Yeonjun’s full attention on him, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t too much to bear at times.
“I love you,” Yeonjun tells him simply, after a few seconds of thought on his side, and anticipation on Beomgyu’s. He says it adoringly like he always does.
Beomgyu doesn’t even have the time to blush at his declaration before Yeonjun is crawling nearer to cup his cheeks between his palms, dropping kiss after kiss on his lips, cheeks, eyelids, forehead—all the parts he could reach. “Love you, love you, love you.”
Beomgyu can’t help but giggle at the sudden (but not unwelcome) mood switch, wrapping Yeonjun’s wrists with his fingers as he basks in his freely-given affection. God, this is the life. He doesn’t need anything else. “Hyung!”
Once the flurry of kisses and giggles is over, Yeonjun gently bumps Beomgyu’s forehead with his, rubbing their noses together. Beomgyu closes his eyes and allows Yeonjun to nuzzle him, rubbing gently at Yeonjun’s pulse points with his thumbs. “God, I love you.”
“I know,” Beomgyu says, and he’s about to launch into his usual spiel of everyone’s in love with me, who isn’t, but before he could say anything more, Yeonjun captures his lips in another kiss. This one is nothing like the sweet pecks from before; now, Yeonjun is kissing Beomgyu like he wants to devour him. Like he wants to fuse them together by the mouth.
Beomgyu lets him. This is his Yeonjun—how could he not?
Before he knows it, Yeonjun’s got all of his clothes scattered on the floor, while he himself remains put-together. But at this point, Beomgyu is too fucking desperate to feel any hint of shyness. And there’s something to be said about how hot it is that Yeonjun has driven him this insane with need while he still looks like a god in his once-crisp button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows (that is now thoroughly wrinkled from Beomgyu’s hands, he notes proudly), sleek tie, and those slacks that make Beomgyu want to worship his thighs. Why does Yeonjun have to look good even in office clothes, he despairs, moaning as Yeonjun inserts another finger in him.
“Tell me if it hurts, alright?” Yeonjun reminds him from where he’s settled between the v of Beomgyu’s legs, slowly inching his ring finger deeper. His free hand is rubbing comforting circles in the divot of Beomgyu’s hip.
“Yeah,” he sighs out, trying to get used to the third finger. The intrusion starts to edge into discomfort, but not at all painful. Yeonjun likes to prep thoroughly, though, so this is nothing new to them both. And his hyung knows him and his body like the back of his hand, so it doesn’t surprise Beomgyu that he clocks in on the discomfort straight away.
The warmth of Yeonjun’s mouth on Beomgyu’s cock is no surprise either, but he still gasps like it is.
Yeonjun starts off slow. He likes to lick at Beomgyu’s cock like it’s a lollipop, free hand firm at the base, and it’s what he’s doing now as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of Beomgyu’s hole. Slowly, ever so slowly, he licks from root to tip, finishing it off with a swirl around the head. He does this routine twice, thrice, before taking Beomgyu into his throat like it’s nothing.
It’s no secret that Yeonjun wants to be good at everything, and the list includes fucking deepthroating. God, Beomgyu loves his perfectionist boyfriend so much.
The feeling of Yeonjun’s throat as he swallows around him helps reduce the discomfort Beomgyu feels. Yeonjun’s fingertips nudging at his prostate, though—that’s just overkill. He gasps, eyes closing from the intensity of it all and fingers tightening their grasp on Yeonjun’s hair. His body doesn’t know what to do with all the sensation and his hips instinctively try to buck away, but Yeonjun holds his hip down, silently telling Beomgyu to take what he’s giving. And Beomgyu wants this; he asked for this.
If Beomgyu’s knees didn’t already feel like jelly from the constant stimulation on his cock and his prostate, then Yeonjun’s voice as he pulls off to roughly say eyes on me, baby would do the job. His throat is wrecked, and the command comes out raspy, but Beomgyu’s eyes fly open anyway.
He wants to whine in annoyance because Yeonjun’s offers always come with unspoken caveats—he’ll give him everything, but only after Yeonjun has his fun, and that includes making Beomgyu look at him as he wraps his lips around Beomgyu’s cock and takes him down his throat once more, fingers pumping in again and eyes fixated on Beomgyu to make sure that he’s looking. As if he could even look away.
(He ignores the tiny little teasing voice in his brain that sounds very much like Yeonjun saying that he loves it too, anyway. He loves it when Yeonjun has his way.)
“I love doing this for you,” Yeonjun tells him quietly, earnestly, pulling off and kissing the weeping head of Beomgyu’s cock, precome staining his bottom lip. The visual of those plush lips around him is too much, and Beomgyu feels ready to burst out of his skin.
“I love making you feel good,” Yeonjun whispers into the sensitive skin of Beomgyu’s inner thigh, driving his fingers in deeper and faster as his hole loosens up, forcing Beomgyu’s moans out of him and making him see fucking stars.
”I’m all yours, Gyu,” Yeonjun says like a prayer, gripping at Beomgyu’s hip like he wants to imprint his fingerprints into his skin.
His words push Beomgyu closer to the edge faster than usual. The devotion dripping from Yeonjun’s lips stokes the already burning flame in his lower belly. Instead of answering, though, he brings him in for a fierce kiss that steals even his own breath away. He grasps Yeonjun’s hair tightly and fucks down even deeper onto his fingers.
“Close,” Beomgyu whimpers into his lips, heels digging into the skin of Yeonjun’s clothed back from where he placed his legs on his shoulders. “Yeonjun hyung, ‘m so close, don’t stop, please, please—“
Yeonjun goes back down to continue his previous ministrations, lapping at his dick, bobbing his head up and down while his fingers continue to hit Beomgyu’s prostate with every thrust in silent permission for him to let go. The constant stimulation on his cock and in his ass is too much ( just right), and Beomgyu grabs at Yeonjun’s hair as he comes and lets wave after wave of pleasure consume him. Yeonjun doesn’t let up, swallowing down his release and fingers still rapidly moving as he milks Beomgyu’s orgasm to the point of overstimulation and until Beomgyu’s toes are curling from all the sensation. He pulls Yeonjun’s head away from his cock by pushing him on the forehead and bats his fingers out of his hole.
“Jesus, hyung, come here,” Beomgyu pants, taking in oxygen by the lungful. His thighs are fucking shaking, and he thinks his big toe is cramping from how hard he tensed. “I think you put my legs out of commission.”
“Why are you talking like that’s a bad thing?” Yeonjun asks coyly, peering up through his lashes from where he’s still trapped between his thighs, tracing patterns with those wet fingers on the surface of Beomgyu’s lower stomach.
Beomgyu tries not to shiver at the sensation and rolls his eyes at him, gently kneeing him away from his lower body. Yeonjun follows easily, and he drags himself up and crawls over to Beomgyu’s side. Instinctively, Beomgyu settles into him, head and hand on his chest with one of Yeonjun’s arms wrapped around him. “Of course it isn’t. But you won’t be able to fuck me yet. I need to recover from that, hyung.”
He sees Yeonjun wince. “That… won’t be a problem,” and he flicks his gaze to Yeonjun’s lower half, only to find that he isn’t hard anymore. The head of his cock is wet with come, too, staining the material of his unbuttoned slacks.
“Did you come? From blowing me?” He asks incredulously, looking up at Yeonjun who is studiously avoiding his gaze, choosing instead to look anywhere but at him.
“You sounded hot, okay! And I was extremely horny! Sue me for having a gorgeous boyfriend,” he defends, pulling Beomgyu closer to him and forcefully smushing his face into his chest. All the while, Beomgyu is giggling, still high off of coming into his boyfriend’s mouth.
While recovering from their first orgasms, Yeonjun wipes him down with a damp towel and fetches glasses of water for them both, and Beomgyu eagerly chugs them down. Yeonjun gets rid of his remaining clothing, and they resume their previous position. His boyfriend talks about his week-long business trip to Osaka, simultaneously gushing about all the good food he had and complaining about the heat while running his (now-clean) fingers through the strands of Beomgyu’s hair. Beomgyu listens to him intently, head on his firm, bare chest and feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. As they catch up on everything they missed about each other in the past week, Yeonjun’s hands never stray from Beomgyu. He keeps caressing all over his skin, fingers tracing and trailing all over his neck, back, his ass, sometimes dipping his pinky finger into his loose and lubed-up hole. If Yeonjun indulges Beomgyu by giving him whatever he asks for, then this is how his hyung indulges himself—hands all over him like he cannot stand even a millimeter of space in between his palm and Beomgyu's skin.
Time passes, and slowly but surely, with Yeonjun’s deep voice and warm touch, Beomgyu feels his cock stir back to life, and when Yeonjun slips his entire middle finger into his hole, Beomgyu is fully hard again, surging up to capture Yeonjun’s lips in a searing kiss.
“How do you want me, baby?” Yeonjun asks after he’s got Beomgyu flat on his back, ever so thoughtful even with his cock prodding at Beomgyu’s entrance. But Beomgyu only wants one thing.
“Just like this,” he tells Yeonjun, gripping his cock and sliding it into him. Yeonjun really did prep him very well because with just one stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside of Beomgyu. Sucking a deep breath in from the fullness, he continues, “I want to see your face when you come.”
“God,” Yeonjun chokes out, both from the feeling of his cock suddenly being engulfed in all-encompassing heat and Beomgyu’s unfiltered words. His hands come down beside Beomgyu’s head, fingers fisting into the pillow he’s resting his head on. “You’re going to be the death of me, Choi Beomgyu.”
Beomgyu says nothing, just pulls Yeonjun even closer with his heels on his hyung’s lower back. The silent command has Yeonjun thrusting even deeper, and they both let out moans at the feeling. Starting with slow, measured rolls, his hips steadily increase in speed until the bed is creaking from the force of his thrusts, and Beomgyu’s moans are getting punched out of his lungs.
“Faster, hyung,” he pleads, crossing his ankles behind Yeonjun and pulling him in by his nape. He wants him closeclose close, no space in between their hips stomachs lips. All the contact locks something into place in Beomgyu’s chest. This is how they should always be.
“You feel so good, princess,” Yeonjun gasps into his mouth, “like you were made for me.” And Beomgyu knows Yeonjun is close because that nickname only comes out when he wants to drive Beomgyu crazy or when he’s on the verge of losing control. Beomgyu loves it. And he feels good, too, like his insides are being molded into the shape of Yeonjun’s cock with every thrust.
Maybe he is made for Yeonjun. Or maybe Yeonjun is made for him.
Beomgyu fucking loves the thought. He tells Yeonjun this, and his hyung groans from deep in his chest, speeding up his thrusts even more and hitting Beomgyu’s prostate with every single one. His hand comes up to rest between Beomgyu’s collarbones, thumb and pointer finger pressing lightly into the sides of his neck. He won’t actually choke him—tonight’s not that kind of night—but just the weight of Yeonjun’s hand and the promise of it, the potential, makes him feel lightheaded.
“I’m g’na come, hyung,” he whimpers weakly, hand flying up to grasp at Yeonjun’s wrist. “Oh god —ah!”
His orgasm crashes into him like a wave, blurring his vision and muffling his hearing. He thinks he hears Yeonjun talk him through it, calling him his pretty boy, his good boy, and everything’s too fucking much, but Yeonjun’s got him pinned down how he knows Beomgyu likes, and he’s got nowhere to be but right here, right under Yeonjun, taking him like he was made for it.
As he comes down from his peak, his soul coming back to his body, Yeonjun slows his thrusts down as he tries not to overwhelm him. The gesture makes him want to melt into a puddle of goo because he knows his hyung is so close to release, but he’s still putting Beomgyu first.
He feels Yeonjun about to pull out, probably intending to finish himself with his hand, but Beomgyu stops him from doing so with his crossed ankles. He looks him in the eyes and says, “Keep going. Don’t pull out. I want to feel your come inside me.”
His hyung doesn’t even respond, and all he hears is a gasp before Yeonjun resumes slamming his hips into the flesh of Beomgyu’s ass. His movements are getting sloppier by the second, focused purely on chasing his high, but his cock still manages to hit Beomgyu’s prostate every few thrusts. It should feel like it’s too much, and maybe it is because he knows his ass is going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow, but if Yeonjun is willing to give him everything, Beomgyu is willing to take it. With his last bit of strength, he whispers right into Yeonjun’s ear, giving his lobe a little nibble, “Come for me, hyung. Give me everything you promised.”
With that, Yeonjun lets go.
Warmth fills Beomgyu’s insides, and Yeonjun pants into his neck as he rides out his orgasm with a couple of slow, lazy strokes, and his fingers clutching at Beomgyu’s sides. With the hand not on Yeonjun’s nape, he sweeps his fingers up and down Yeonjun’s back, soothing him with repetitions of “that’s it, hyung. I love this. I love you.”
When Yeonjun’s hips come to a stop, Beomgyu lifts Yeonjun’s face with both hands on his jaw and gives him a deep kiss, trying to pour out all his love for Yeonjun into it. His boyfriend is visibly physically tired, but he kisses back just as intensely, tongues entangling with one another like a well-known dance. Before they part, Beomgyu drops one last, firm peck on his lips.
At the gesture, Yeonjun shyly peers up at him through his eyelashes. “Did I give you what you want, Gyu?”
God, his hyung is the cutest like this. He just railed Beomgyu into the mattress and gave him two mind-numbing orgasms, and still, he finds the need to ask if he gave Beomgyu exactly what he asked for. As if the evidence isn’t getting smeared all over their stomachs. But Yeonjun is not the only one who knows what his boyfriend needs.
“You did so well for me, hyung,” he coos, brushing back strands of Yeonjun’s hair from his forehead and kissing all over his face like he did for Beomgyu earlier. “My Yeonjun hyung did so well.”
With that, Yeonjun smiles—the sweet one where his cheeks bunch up and his eyes crinkle—and hides his face into Beomgyu’s neck again, dropping a small kiss in the divot between his collarbones. He’s just the cutest. Bashful, like they haven’t done this a hundred times before.
Still, he’s more than willing to reassure Yeonjun of how well he takes care of Beomgyu and his needs. He’s so fucking in love with Yeonjun that he’ll do anything for him. If he needs a little bit of extra love and care after fucking Beomgyu within an inch of his life, then that’s the easiest thing in the world.
After a few minutes of just basking in each other’s presence, the discomfort gets to be a bit too much, and Beomgyu reluctantly asks Yeonjun to get up and get another damp towel to clean up. Yeonjun apologizes profusely for crushing him, but Beomgyu forgives him as soon as he turns around because that ass is pretty cute and would make the toughest man crumble, and Beomgyu is not a tough man with two orgasms under his belt.
Yeonjun grabs fresh sets of clothes for the both of them on his way back to bed, and as soon as they’re all wiped down and cleaned up, he crashes into his pillow and pulls Beomgyu in by the waist.
“Have I told you I loved you yet?” He murmurs after a few minutes, eyes closed. They’re turned towards each other, only a few inches left between their faces, and limbs all tangled up.
Beomgyu hums, pretending to think it over. “Maybe once or twice.”
With his eyes still closed, he asks, “What about if I missed you?”
“Well…”
“I missed you,” Yeonjun cuts in, voice still soft and sleepy. “I thought about you every day.”
Beomgyu cannot love this man any more than he already does, but he is going to damn well try. “I know, hyung,” he says softly, bringing up a hand to stroke Yeonjun’s cheek. “Sleep now, hm? We’ll talk more in the morning.”
Yeonjun barely nods before he’s falling asleep, arm still draped over Beomgyu’s waist.
Before Beomgyu closes his eyes, he has just one thought: this is the life. He doesn’t need anything else.