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“Welcome home,” Beomgyu greets, holding up the bottle of wine. “I hope you’re thirsty.”
“For you? Always,” Yeonjun jokes. Half-jokes. Deep down, he’s mostly serious. “What’s the special occasion?” he asks, throwing his bag by his door and climbing into bed alongside Beomgyu.
Beomgyu smiles at him, a pretty, coy thing that tells Yeonjun that whatever Beomgyu’s planned, it’s nothing good. “Late birthday celebration?”
“Are you asking or telling?”
The laugh Beomgyu gives is warm and bright. His good mood is contagious, and all of Yeonjun’s stress from his long day of schedules eases off his shoulders. Nothing is more soothing than seeing Beomgyu’s shoulders shake with joy.
“Telling,” he says. “I just thought we could spend the night together, since… you know, we didn’t really have the chance the other day.” He plucks a wine glass off Yeonjun’s bedside table and passes it to him.
“This is how I know you love me,” Yeonjun says, watching as Beomgyu carefully unscrews the cap on the wine bottle. “Letting me drink in bed when the danger of spillage is always present?”
“Fuck yeah I do,” Beomgyu huffs, and Yeonjun laughs so hard he nearly proves his own point by tipping over his glass. “I’m trusting you not to spill it. You can do it. I believe in you.”
“I’m not the clumsy one here,” Yeonjun teases, and Beomgyu dramatically rolls his eyes.
Yeonjun can tell Beomgyu must have been preparing this all evening while Yeonjun was out; his laptop sits perched on a desk at the end of the bed, one he must’ve dragged in from his own room, to make a sort of makeshift TV. A night light that isn’t Yeonjun’s sits below it, casting the room in a low orange glow. And Beomgyu himself is cosied up in the sweater Yeonjun bought for him earlier in the summer, the one that falls off his shoulder whenever he shifts around.
Yeah, it’s definitely Yeonjun’s birthday. He smiles into the rim of his glass and takes a long sip of wine. Red, with a lingering taste of cherries. Yeonjun is no alcohol expert but he enjoys the taste, and it means a lot to him that Beomgyu would forgo his usual beer and chips in order to cater to Yeonjun’s less childish palate.
“I was thinking we could watch something and then take it from there,” Beomgyu says, once he’s poured his own glass. “Is that okay?”
“Perfect,” Yeonjun tells him, brushing his fingers along Beomgyu’s cheek and tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Beomgyu’s profile is so pretty, and it becomes even prettier when he giggles, tickled by Yeonjun’s touch.
He was disappointed that they couldn’t celebrate his birthday in private like this on the day of, but quite frankly, the time and place doesn’t matter to him in the long run. He just likes spending time with Beomgyu, and he’s pretty sure Beomgyu likes spending time with him. That’s what truly matters.
They settle on watching a new drama Soobin recommended, legs tangled underneath two blankets, their shoulders touching against the headboard. Beomgyu rests his cheek on Yeonjun’s shoulder, the side of his head tickling Yeonjun’s jaw. Yeonjun savours every peaceful moment of cuddling he can get with Beomgyu, even if they’re not that rare anymore.
“Thank you,” Yeonjun says, pressing a kiss to the crown of Beomgyu’s head.
Beomgyu glances up at him without moving, eyes full of adoration, and blows a kiss back. “Of course, baby.”
Yeonjun chuckles.
The drama is fine, all things considered, but Yeonjun is more entertained by Beomgyu’s commentary and his extreme reactions to every scene. Once he finishes his own glass of wine, he shifts to clutching onto Yeonjun’s arm, smacking him whenever something big happens as if Yeonjun can’t see the screen himself.
There are so many little things about Beomgyu that Yeonjun has grown to appreciate in the months they’ve been dating; from how Beomgyu loves to lean against him to how he hates letting go of Yeonjun’s arm. This is the first time they’re celebrating his birthday as a couple, and he can’t help reminiscing about how back when they first met and Yeonjun didn’t understand him, he used to find all these quirks irritating. It’s funny how much has changed.
He’s glad he’s getting to grow up with Beomgyu. He must’ve done something really good in his past life to deserve all this, from his job to his cuddly, chatty boyfriend.
In the end, drinking wine and watching mediocre TV is the best birthday he’s ever had—and it’s not even his actual birthday.
They finish up two episodes of the drama before Beomgyu presses pause on the auto play. “Are you liking it?”
“Mm.” Yeonjun cards his fingers through Beomgyu’s hair, playing with the coarse ends. “It’s funny.” Mostly because of Beomgyu, but he doesn’t want Beomgyu to get self-conscious about how much he talks, so he bites his tongue on the clarification.
Beomgyu’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “I’m glad,” he says, pressing his forehead to Yeonjun’s shoulder, effectively obscuring his face from view. “I have another gift, too.”
“Oh?”
“It’s…” Yeonjun pauses brushing Beomgyu’s hair, giving him room to think over his words. “It might be a bit presumptuous of me to think you still want it, so… if you don’t, you can tell me. I won’t be offended.”
Yeonjun snorts. “Beomgyu, unless you’re about to give me something objectively horrible, I can’t think of a single thing I wouldn’t appreciate from you.”
“You better hold yourself to that,” Beomgyu grumbles. He sits up, slapping a hand over Yeonjun’s eyes. “Keep your eyes closed. It’s a surprise.”
“Alright, alright.” Yeonjun obediently keeps his eyes shut as Beomgyu removes his hand. With his vision blocked, he’s more aware of the creaking of the mattress frame as Beomgyu leans over to grab something. From underneath the bed, probably. He really has no idea what it is, especially if it’s something Beomgyu is worried he’ll dislike. Clothing? Food? What are some other basic but easily misunderstandable gifts? “Can I open them yet?”
“Wait, wait,” Beomgyu says. A moment later, a weight settles onto Yeonjun’s lap, Beomgyu’s thighs bracketing his own. “Okay. You can open them.”
Yeonjun does so, and he has to blink a few times to readjust his eyes to the dim light in the room. When he sees what Beomgyu is dangling in front of him, his eyes go wide.
Beomgyu’s cheeks instantly pinken, and he says all in one breath, “I kept it this whole time, since… I don’t know if you remember, but the night after our live earlier this year, I said I was going to keep it and maybe we could use it, and you seemed to like that idea, so I thought maybe we could try tonight, but I know it’s kind of out of the blue and we’ve never done anything like this so if you don’t want to then—”
“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun interjects, before Beomgyu can talk himself into a panic over nothing. He plucks the collar from Beomgyu’s hand and runs his thumb over the outside ridges. It’s the exact same one he wore during the fanlive, the one that drove Yeonjun absolutely fucking insane. Yeah, he remembers it. He remembers it very well. “Of course I do. Oh my god. I can’t believe you kept it.”
Beomgyu’s cheeks cave in as he struggles not to smile. “Of course I did,” he says, veering on petulant. “I told you I would.”
“You did, didn’t you?” Yeonjun snickers, testing the stretch on it. It’s fake leather, so it’s not much. It’ll be tight. “Were you thinking of wearing this yourself, or…?”
“I… I was more imagining you would wear it,” Beomgyu says, quietly. “Again, I could be totally off-base here, but I got the impression that you—”
No need for him to finish that sentence. “Let’s do it,” Yeonjun says, holding up the collar for Beomgyu to take back.
“Okay,” Beomgyu breathes. He pauses, like he wasn’t prepared for Yeonjun to say yes. His eyes flicker to Yeonjun’s throat, exposed by his low cut t-shirt, and he nods. “Okay. I guess I’ll put it on, then.”
Yeonjun tilts his head back, giving Beomgyu easier access, and Beomgyu wordlessly wraps the collar around his neck. It’s the slightest bit too tight—it was made for Beomgyu’s neck after all, not his own—but just the right amount. Just enough to take the breath out of his lungs.
Beomgyu fastens it and then runs his fingers along the circumference of Yeonjun’s throat in awe. Yeonjun preens under the attention.
“Good?” he asks.
Beomgyu bites his lower lip. “Yeah,” he says. “It suits you.”
“Probably not as much as you, though.”
“Shut up, hyung,” Beomgyu says, pouting on reflex. He drops his hands to his lap. “There’s… there’s one more thing.” Against all biological odds, Beomgyu’s face somehow grows even redder. “I kind of bought something extra for it.”
“Extra?”
Beomgyu leans over the edge of the bed and, after a brief scramble to catch his balance, fishes out something from the same place he pulled the collar from.
Something long, and thin, and sturdy.
“Oh my god, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun laughs. His heart is pounding like crazy, but it’s more out of adrenaline than anything. He’s either dreaming or gone to Heaven. There’s no way Beomgyu bought a fucking leash for Yeonjun’s birthday. No way. And yet—”I can’t believe you. How did you even get this?”
“Online, obviously,” Beomgyu answers. He delicately clips the leash onto the collar. “There. All done.”
He looks and sounds embarrassed by his own life choices, but the gentle tug he gives of the leash is anything but. It pulls Yeonjun forward just the slightest bit, and he almost chokes. Partially because of the pressure on his throat and partially because of how fucking hot Beomgyu looks with the leash wound around his fingers.
If he survives this night, he’s going to be a new man by the end of it.
Beomgyu takes a deep breath. He’s clearly nervous, having put himself out there for Yeonjun’s sake, and Yeonjun presses a light kiss to his lips to reassure him.
The absolute last thing Beomgyu should be worried about is if Yeonjun wants this. Fuck, his cock is already growing hard in his sweatpants and they haven’t even properly kissed yet. That says it all.
“Do you want to know what I want right now?” Yeonjun murmurs, a hair’s length away from Beomgyu’s mouth. The collar scratches his skin as he speaks, and the sheer awareness of it makes his body grow hotter.
“What?” Beomgyu says in return.
“I want you to do whatever the fuck you want,” Yeonjun answers. Beomgyu huffs out a laugh like he thinks Yeonjun is joking, but he’s not. Not in the slightest. If they’re going to go all out for Yeonjun’s birthday, they might as well go all out. “You put me in a collar and leash, baby. I hope you aren’t expecting me to take charge.”
“Is this your way of asking me to ruin you?”
Yeonjun shrugs, acting flippant. “If that’s what you want.”
Beomgyu scoffs at his dismissal, but he doesn’t object. Why would he, when it’s what they both want? “Fine,” he says. He sits back on his heels, and when their eyes meet again, Yeonjun’s blood runs cold from how intense his gaze is. It’s not often Beomgyu loses his apprehension. “You asked for it.”
“Yeah, I did,” Yeonjun says cheekily. “So get on with it already. I’m growing older by the minute.”
Before he can blink, Beomgyu is shoving him onto his back, tightening his grip on the leash and pulling so that all the air is knocked out of him. He’s too dizzy to do anything more than fall onto the bed, and by the time he remembers to breathe again, Beomgyu is straddling his chest.
“If you can’t breathe, tell me,” Beomgyu says. He looks much bigger from this angle, much broader in places Yeonjun normally thinks of him as small. It’s a little intimidating and extremely hot.
“I can never breathe around you. You take my breath away every time I see you,” Yeonjun quips.
Beomgyu glares at him, unamused, and Yeonjun feels nothing but smugness as Beomgyu begins to loosen the drawstring in his pants. Hook, line, sinker. Not that Beomgyu was trying to resist. They’ve both put all their cards on the table now.
There’s something about Beomgyu pulling out his cock before he even touches Yeonjun that gets Yeonjun wound up. The same Beomgyu who shies away from initiating and defaults to Yeonjun’s lead, stroking himself with one hand and holding onto a fucking leash in the other. Beomgyu doesn’t need to touch him; the sight alone has Yeonjun straining in his boxers.
“It’s been a while since I fucked your mouth,” Beomgyu says. He already sounds winded, deep voice even deeper from hoarseness, and Yeonjun shivers. He doesn’t resist as Beomgyu digs his thumb into Yeonjun’s lower lip and pries his mouth open so he can slip two fingers in. “Which is a shame, since you have the most fuckable lips I’ve ever seen.”
“I hope you haven’t been thinking about any other guys’ lips,” Yeonjun says, slurred through Beomgyu’s fingers between his lips.
“And what if I have?” Beomgyu returns, as snarky as ever. He lifts his chin, and god, Yeonjun could die happy in this position. Even outside of a sexual standpoint, it always works him up whenever Beomgyu gets petulant. Except this time, he intends to encourage Beomgyu’s brattiness, not smother it.
“I’d cry,” Yeonjun says plainly. Beomgyu laughs at him and pulls his fingers out, wet with Yeonjun’s spit. “You shouldn’t think about fucking anybody else’s mouth when you have mine right here, Beomgyu-yah,” he chides.
Beomgyu wets his cock with Yeonjun’s spit, his fingers curling around his shaft. He’s fully hard now, the tip of his cock blushing red just a few centimetres away from Yeonjun’s mouth. “I do,” he murmurs, and inches forward. Yeonjun parts his lips in anticipation and Beomgyu giggles. “You’re so eager, hyung.”
“You’re the one who promised me a good time,” Yeonjun says. He bats his lashes at Beomgyu, who only raises a brow back. “If you’re not going to do anything, we might as well swap positions and—mmf!”
Beomgyu gives him no warning before he shoves his cock into Yeonjun’s mouth, choking him and effectively cutting his words off. Nothing Beomgyu’s done tonight has surprised him as much as this, and his breathing picks up as he adjusts to the sudden unexpected stretch of his jaw.
Honestly, he didn’t know Beomgyu had it in him. But he should’ve—Beomgyu can do anything he sets his mind to. Especially if that thing is Yeonjun.
“Fuck, hyung,” Beomgyu groans. He tugs on the leash and Yeonjun has no choice but to take more of Beomgyu’s cock down his throat. He feels even bigger than he looks from this angle, and like Beomgyu said, Yeonjun isn’t exactly used to getting his face fucked. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this.”
Yeonjun closes his eyes and focuses on the weight of Beomgyu on his tongue, the vein running down the side and the plush head making its way to the back of his throat. It’s a tight fit and the pressure on his neck from the collar isn’t helping, but Yeonjun isn’t a fucking quitter, and he does his best to breathe through his nose and ignore the wetness under his lids.
Beomgyu runs his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair, as gently as Yeonjun was doing to him earlier, and coaxes him until his cock is all the way inside, his hips flush to Yeonjun’s chin.
“Fuck,” he says again, strained. “I’m gonna move, hyung. Can I move?”
Yeonjun answers by hollowing his cheeks and dragging his tongue along the side of Beomgyu’s length. Beomgyu shudders, hips bucking, and then he sets an absolutely brutal pace.
Each snap of his hips stings, and while Yeonjun wants to be cute and suck on Beomgyu’s cock, he really can’t do much other than take it with how hard Beomgyu is slamming into his mouth. The power trip must be getting to him because he’s moaning louder than usual, long, airy gasps that go straight to Yeonjun’s own painfully hard cock. When Yeonjun opens his eyes, he finds Beomgyu’s head thrown back and his lips parted, and he almost comes on the spot.
He grabs Beomgyu’s ass for leverage, which pulls another low moan from deep in Beomgyu’s chest. Yeonjun relishes in every bit of control Beomgyu loses, from the way his thrusts grow more erratic to how his grip on Yeonjun’s hair steadily tightens.
He really can’t think of a single better gift in the world than to know he has this kind of effect on Beomgyu.
“You… ah, fuck,” Beomgyu hisses, losing whatever train of thought he had as Yeonjun pushes his tongue along the side of Beomgyu’s cock. It’s messy, the squelch of Beomgyu’s cock pressing past his lips and the spit running down his chin. “Your fucking mouth, hyung—”
He pulls out in one smooth motion and Yeonjun coughs violently, even though he tries to hold it back. Beomgyu’s cock hangs right in front of his face, glistening with Yeonjun’s spit, a droplet of pre-cum pooling at the head. Yeonjun’s mouth waters while his vision swims with black spots from lack of air.
“There’s so many things I want to do to you,” Beomgyu bemoans. He curls his fingers around the tip of his cock and digs his nail into the slit, whining, as he watches Yeonjun. “I don’t think I could come enough times to do everything I want.”
He sounds legitimately upset, and Yeonjun laughs. Beomgyu doesn’t have a lot of stamina, and he’s incapable of overstimulating himself. He can only do it if Yeonjun holds him down and does it to him.
We always have tomorrow, he wants to say, but he doesn’t think he’s capable of speaking right now.
“I don’t want to come like this, but.” Beomgyu shifts forward and Yeonjun’s mouth falls open without him thinking. “Just a bit, ah… just a bit more, hyung…”
“Mm,” Yeonjun hums appraisingly, and allows Beomgyu to ease his cock back in.
He’s more purposeful this time with his movements, each motion hitting the back of Yeonjun’s throat before he pulls back out, again and again. Yeonjun strokes the back of Beomgyu’s thighs, groping the tense muscle underneath his palms, feeling the way Beomgyu shudders every so often.
If he could reach around Beomgyu’s body to touch himself he would, but he can’t reach that far with Beomgyu’s weight pinning him down. Instead he ruts into the air, the friction of his boxers giving him more frustration than relief. He only manages to do it for a few moments until Beomgyu catches on and stops him by reaching out and digging his fingers underneath the collar, against the delicate skin of Yeonjun’s throat.
“Don’t,” Beomgyu orders, breathless. “Not yet. You’re coming in me.”
Yeonjun’s hands fall to his sides and he moans around Beomgyu’s cock. If that’s what Beomgyu wants, they’re going to have to speed things up, because he might really come in his pants at this rate.
Despite his words, he takes what feels like forever to stop grinding into him, the salty taste of pre-cum lining the inside of Yeonjun’s mouth. His whole head feels like cotton, everything trimmed down to the pressure of Beomgyu in his mouth and on his chest and around his neck. Just Beomgyu, everywhere, exactly like Yeonjun wanted.
Yeonjun puts all his energy into lapping at Beomgyu, sucking noisily, and Beomgyu tugs himself out with the filthiest, weakest moan Yeonjun has ever heard from him. “Hyung—”
“I need to fuck you,” Yeonjun pants, and holy shit, he sounds wrecked. His throat burns with every word he speaks, but he powers on out of sheer need, “I need to fuck you, Beomgyu, oh my god. I’m about to fucking burst, please—”
“Desperate much?” Beomgyu giggles, but he’s already climbing off of Yeonjun’s body to grab what they need to continue. He’s shaking as he moves and Yeonjun helps steady him by holding onto his waist, massaging his skin from over his shirt.
“Yeah, I am,” Yeonjun tells him, with not even a hint of shame. Why the fuck would he have any? It’s Beomgyu—dazed, flushed, giddy from having just destroyed Yeonjun’s throat. Who the hell wouldn’t want to get their hands on him? “Beomie, please…”
Beomgyu drops the lube by Yeonjun’s head then turns around, ass right in Yeonjun’s face. Yeah, he definitely did something like save a kingdom in his past life, because there’s no other explanation for what he did to deserve this.
“Hurry,” Beomgyu says. He blessedly begins to peel off Yeonjun’s pants, then his boxers, while Yeonjun fumbles with lubing his fingers up. “Or I’ll do it myself.”
Yeonjun barks out a laugh. “You aren’t as scary when your cock isn’t down my throat,” he rasps.
Beomgyu looks over his shoulder at him, casting him a withering glare, and wraps his fingers around Yeonjun’s cock with no warning.
“Fuck,” Yeonjun says, and it’s Beomgyu’s turn to smile.
Yeonjun does his best to prepare Beomgyu, but his movement is restricted, his muscles are exhausted, and he’s too busy trying not to come all over Beomgyu’s hand to do a very good job. He gets lube all over himself, and by the time he’s three fingers deep, he’s practically delirious. Beomgyu isn’t much better, clumsily fisting Yeonjun’s cock, staving off whenever Yeonjun tenses in fear of his orgasm approaching.
“Almost there,” Beomgyu mumbles. He lets go of Yeonjun’s cock and lifts his ass, giving Yeonjun better access to part his cheeks and drive his fingers in deeper. “Hyung, Yeonjun hyung—”
“Almost there,” Yeonjun repeats, mostly to himself. He flicks his wrist, something he wasn’t able to do while pinned down, and Beomgyu gasps, back arching. “Almost there, Beomie.” He rubs Beomgyu’s perineum, thumb catching on the edge of his hole, and Beomgyu cries out.
“Pull out,” Beomgyu says, squirming away. Yeonjun does so hastily, watching in rapt fascination as Beomgyu’s body shakes through his ruined orgasm. “Oh my god,” he moans, ducking his head.
“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun says, already moving to grasp Beomgyu’s shoulders. “I’m turning you around.”
Neither of them are going to last, and he wants to come inside Beomgyu just as much as Beomgyu wants the same thing. Beomgyu rolls onto his back, spreading his legs for Yeonjun to wrestle his way in between. Beomgyu blinks at him from beneath his long bangs, eyes misty, and Yeonjun bends him in half so that he can kiss him deeply.
“I fucking love you,” he says, too far gone to care about how sloppy he’s being as he runs his tongue along Beomgyu’s lips. Beomgyu moans, gripping Yeonjun’s collar for no reason other than to seemingly make him lightheaded. It works. “Condom?”
“No,” Beomgyu says, whining. “Just go already.”
Yeonjun should really live up to his title as the responsible hyung and object, but he’s never been able to say no to Beomgyu. Especially not when his head is all floaty like this and he just wants to get inside Beomgyu already. He nods, gripping himself, holding Beomgyu’s legs apart by his thigh.
“Okay?” Yeonjun asks, to be sure.
“Get in me, hyung,” Beomgyu says. His cock rubs across Yeonjun’s stomach as Yeonjun lines himself up, his lips pressed to Beomgyu’s jaw. Beomgyu’s skin tastes like sweat and his fruity soap, and Yeonjun bites down as he pushes himself inside.
Beomgyu clenches around him, hissing into his ear, and Yeonjun’s eyes roll back into his head. It’s only been a few days since they last fucked, but shit, did he miss this.
“So fucking good,” Yeonjun whispers, peppering kisses all over Beomgyu’s jaw, the corners of his mouth, anywhere he can reach.
“Go, go,” Beomgyu urges. He tips his head back, using the leash to bring Yeonjun with him. Yeonjun moans, forced to sink deeper into Beomgyu, and rests his forehead on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “I’m so close, hyung.”
Yeonjun is closer than close. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, and he completely forgets about all notions of rhythm as he fucks into Beomgyu wildly. He feels like an animal, desperate for release, soaking in every low groan and high whimper Beomgyu gives as Yeonjun’s cock slams in. Over and over, until his vision is full of black spots and his whole world is centered on Beomgyu tight and warm and wet around him.
He wraps his hand around Beomgyu’s cock, squeezing tightly and rubbing his fingers haphazardly to his erratic thrusts. Beomgyu doesn’t appear to care about the lack of rhythm, only brings Yeonjun in for a kiss in response. They pant into each other’s mouths, doing more moaning than kissing, but Yeonjun fucking loves it. Beomgyu’s body pressed against his, the pricks of pain from the collar tightening around his throat, Beomgyu’s pre-cum making his fingers all slippery—he loves it all.
He just loves Beomgyu.
His orgasm hits him like a fucking train before he can think about it, let alone give Beomgyu any warning. The heat crests all throughout his body, and he bites Beomgyu’s shoulder as he keeps thrusting.
“Sorry,” Yeonjun says, shivering through the seemingly endless aftershocks of his orgasm. His whole body ripples with pleasure, and his toes curl into the mattress as he bucks into Beomgyu, sinking his cock deep within him. “Sorry, fuck, Beomgyu—” He didn’t want to come before Beomgyu, not with how long Beomgyu’s been holding back, but it was a lost cause the moment he sunk into him and felt him clench around his cock.
“Don’t, ah… don’t…” Beomgyu tries to say, but he cuts himself off with a broken noise, his lips slamming shut to muffle himself. His nails drag down Yeonjun’s back for purchase, leaving sharp lines of pain that’ll probably redden for days, his hips rolling back to sink onto Yeonjun’s cock as he’s filled with cum. “Hyung, ah…”
Yeonjun is climbing down the bed before his cock even grows soft, so that he can bring Beomgyu’s cock back into his mouth. Yeonjun’s cum drips out of him as Yeonjun hooks his legs onto his shoulders, making it easier for him to bring Beomgyu all the way down his throat. Beomgyu twists, bracketing Yeonjun’s head with his thighs, and spills into his mouth right as he uses the leash to hold Yeonjun in place.
Yeonjun’s pretty sure he sees the gates to Heaven in that moment.
He comes back to himself when Beomgyu undoes the collar, throwing it onto the floor in an uncharacteristic display of messiness. Beomgyu’s cock slips out and Yeonjun swallows, the bitter taste warming his throat. Beomgyu helps Yeonjun sit back up, then climbs onto his lap so he can kiss him square on the mouth.
“God, hyung, I love you,” Beomgyu says. Both their cum mixes onto the sheets and their bodies, and Yeonjun sighs as Beomgyu’s thumbs rest over the front of his throat, massaging the sore skin. Neither of them are going to be able to talk tomorrow. Thank god they don’t have any schedules or training. “Good birthday present?”
Yeonjun wraps an arm around Beomgyu’s shoulder and hugs him close. “Best fucking birthday ever,” he answers, and they both laugh as they throw the dirty blankets off the bed and curl up together.