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It’s been obvious to Beomgyu for a long time now that he’s always going to be a fool for Yeonjun.
A piece of him—here and there—thought that maybe, once the honeymoon stage passed, he’d be a little less obsessed and infatuated and downright stupid for his boyfriend. But then again, that's just what people always say.
Once the honeymoon stage is over, you’ll find the annoying things about them.
Once you’re comfortable with each other, you won’t get those butterflies anymore. You won’t smile just thinking about them.
You’ll argue, you won’t get along. You’ll see all their flaws.
And it’s not like Beomgyu wanted that stuff to happen. It’s not like he truly expected it—but it was an anxious thought here and there. He couldn’t help it.
Yet, he and Yeonjun have been together for nine months, and Beomgyu’s quite certain their love for each other has only grown. He’s pretty sure all the people who claim the honeymoon stage even exists have never found real, genuine love—because he and Yeonjun have been on a permanent post-wedding-like vacation; even after all this time.
Beomgyu’s so fucking in love with Yeonjun. He falls for him more and more every single day.
Maybe it’s because they already knew all the annoying things about each other before they even started dating. They already knew all their flaws and they already argued and they already had gotten butterflies so often, it was like the insects had made permanent homes in their stomachs.
They still argue and get annoyed with each other and they have their flaws, but they love every part of each other—even the less than ideal parts.
And that’s how Beomgyu knows he’s always going to be a fool for Choi Yeonjun.
Yeonjun will leave his wet, dirty towel on the bathroom floor rather than dropping it in the laundry basket a few steps away. Beomgyu wants to murder him, and rips him a new one about it—then he accepts Yeonjun’s sweet, genuine apology and kisses him softly to seal it, because he knows he’ll do his best to remember next time.
Beomgyu shuts down sometimes, closing Yeonjun out. Even after learning to let himself be known to his core, he still has moments where he wants everyone and everything to disappear, and it frustrates him to no end that Yeonjun won’t leave him alone.
It also heals him more and more every time Yeonjun is patient with him, waiting out his horrible moods, and he loves him just the same. He’s understanding when Beomgyu thinks he doesn’t deserve the kindness, and he reminds him that he’s allowed to accept help.
And any time he worries even the slightest about their future, it’s like Yeonjun can read his mind, and he’ll be extra sweet and loving and reassuring. Whenever Yeonjun seems particularly stressed, and is trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, Beomgyu is there to remind him he can share some of the burden. That he doesn’t have to do it all on his own.
They’re still themselves. They haven’t changed, but they’ve grown.
And they’re still ridiculously in love.
So, Beomgyu thinks the concept of the honeymoon phase is stupid, and he’s quite certain he’s going to be on his death bed still being a fool for Yeonjun.
It’s no surprise that his first plan of action when getting back home from traveling was to support Yeonjun with his solo album promotions. He was devastated that he had his own schedules and couldn’t be home to support him the whole time, but Yeonjun—as always—was sweet and understanding and made sure to call Beomgyu every day they were apart so they could discuss all of his thoughts and worries and excitement.
Beomgyu made sure Yeonjun received a delivery of flowers and food every day he was away.
The second he can make it to support Yeonjun in person, he’s there—standing in the hallway outside his dressing room. He jokes to the camera that’s filming behind the scenes content that he’s worried Yeonjun won’t recognize him; he’s standing with his back to where he’ll come around the corner after his rehearsal, and he’s not sure—with everything going on—if he’ll be noticed right away. He didn’t tell Yeonjun he’d be coming today, so it’s a surprise that he’s there.
It makes his heart swell when Yeonjun notices him instantly, even if he sneaks up behind him and scares the shit out of him. He has to fight every piece of his sanity to not kiss him on the mouth then and there; especially when he sees the massive smile on his face, and feels the way he is practically vibrating with excitement as they hug.
“I thought you might not recognize me,” Beomgyu confesses quietly as they sit side by side in the dressing room, monitoring the recording of Yeonjun’s rehearsal, “since I didn’t tell you I was coming.”
Pausing the video, Yeonjun looks towards him with an expression that's somehow simultaneously incredulous and fond. He shakes his head, smiling softly. “I’d recognize you blind, Beomgyu-yah,” he murmurs, eyes sparkling with so much love he doesn’t even have to say the exact words for Beomgyu to know he’s thinking it.
I love you, his eyes and his smile and the gentle touch to his forearm says.
I love you, I love you, I love you, Beomgyu wants to say in reply.
But with everyone around, he can’t. So instead, he scoots closer—pressing the two of them together from shoulder to knee, hoping he can communicate all of his love through the contact. The warm smile he gets in return tells him Yeonjun understands without words, too.
It doesn’t take long once the camera is off for Beomgyu to get tugged into the bathroom. For being inside Yeonjun’s dressing room, it’s a big space—there’s not only a toilet and a sink, but there’s a shower and a huge vanity area covered with the hair and makeup products. For all Beomgyu knows, there may be more, but that’s all he gets the chance to notice before he hears the lock click behind him, and he’s being shoved up against the wall, eager lips pressed to his.
He makes a surprised noise but giggles into the kiss. “Well, hi, baby,” he murmurs against lips, both hands going to either side of Yeonjun’s face. When he pulls back to see his expression—to find the cause of the sudden, pointed and deep kiss—he’s met with a pout.
“Missed you,” Yeonjun whines, answering the question Beomgyu never spoke aloud. He’s petulant and grumbling, already leaning forward to try to deepen the kiss by tracing his tongue against his lower lip. He lets out a discontented noise when the attempt fails and Beomgyu pulls back. “Beomie,” he gripes, protesting when a hand presses to his chest, making him unable to lean back in. He’s whiny and pouts even deeper and Beomgyu fucking adores him.
It’s impossible for him to not giggle; infatuated with Yeonjun’s persistence. “I missed you too, my love,” he coos, brushing hair off his forehead gently, “but there are a lot of people in that room who just watched us both walk in here—into the bathroom. Together. We can’t stay long… we probably shouldn’t even be in here to begin with.”
With a psh noise like it doesn’t matter, Yeonjun waves an errant hand and still tries to lean in. Beomgyu’s hand stays firmly on his chest, making him groan stubbornly. “My baby,” he whines, pressing a gentle kiss to Beomgyu’s nose. He says it in the same way a toddler would say but please, when you deny them candy before dinner; anguished and yearning. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and exactly how he’s making butterflies erupt in Beomgyu’s stomach. Even after all this time, he’s giddy and blushing. “I missed your pretty lips,” Yeonjun murmurs, close enough that their mouths brush.
And of course, Beomgyu—a fool—feels his eyes flutter closed, despite his attempts to de-escalate things, he’s putty under Yeonjun’s touch.
A hand slides around from the hold on his waist to his lower back; just low enough that it’s almost on his ass, but high enough that it saves Yeonjun from being immediately reprimanded. But Beomgyu knows him so well, and he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Jjun,” he warns, feeling the fingers on his lower back twitch. “Don’t push it—you can’t expect me to be the responsible one when you look like this,” he scolds, gesturing to the all black, leathery outfit he’s wearing. The makeup lining his eyes makes his gaze even more sharp than it normally is, and Beomgyu can’t stop looking at him.
He looks hot and sexy and cool and gorgeous and he is so fucking in love with him.
So, he’s not going to tell Yeonjun to move his hand—he’ll just warn him to not move it any further South.
His boyfriend colors under his heavy, knowing gaze. “It’s nothing special,” Yeonjun murmurs, looking down at his outfit, suddenly bashful. From the outside, most would probably think Yeonjun is just being shy—that he’s down to earth. Which is true, yet Beomgyu knows with merely a glance that there’s more underneath his unassured-ness than simply being modest. He knows Yeonjun so well, he doesn’t need words.
The shyness he sees is sweet and endearing, and it’s so like him to be humble and coy. But it’s anxiety that Beomgyu can see underneath the surface—that can’t be played off as simple bashfulness.
He can see the nerves under Yeonjun’s skin; nerves that are so well hidden, Beomgyu might be the only person in the world able to notice. He’s spent so long noticing everything about him, it’s easy for him; even when Yeonjun builds his walls high and nearly impenetrable.
Because for a long time, Yeonjun kept a big part of himself hidden; so many of his feelings were tucked far away so Beomgyu couldn’t see them. Now that it’s all well known to him, he revels in being so familiar with every single piece of him. He knows him like the back of his hand; would recognize him blind.
And he cannot have Yeonjun thinking he’s not the most talented person in the world. He absolutely will not have his strong, capable, absurdly skilled boyfriend being unsure of himself—that will never happen on Beomgyu’s watch.
So—seeing the well-hidden nerves under Yeonjun’s mask—he ducks his head down and captures his lips; soft and sweet and pressing all the reassurance he can into the touch. As expected, he feels Yeonjun relax into him, gently cradling the back of his head with so much tenderness it makes his knees weak. Beomgyu, in turn,rubs a comforting hand up and down his side before resting on his waist; a place that his palm has come to know as home.
When he pulls back, Yeonjun’s lips follow, and he lets out a whine when Beomgyu doesn’t let him continue the kiss. He grins at the pout he gets, far too fond. “You’re my biggest inspiration, you know,” he tells him, ignoring the petulance from before; because the second he speaks, Yeonjun’s eyes soften. “It’s okay to be nervous, but you don’t need to be. You always do amazing, Hyungie. You’ve worked so hard.”
The way Yeonjun’s shoulders visibly decompress makes Beomgyu’s heart soar. He still can’t quite believe that he can have this effect on him—that he can bring as much comfort and love and solace to Yeonjun that Yeonjun has always brought to him. That he can love Yeonjun so genuinely and so openly, and he returns every piece of it.
Eyes big and wet, Yeonjun smiles—gentle and fond. “I love you, my Gyu-ah,” he says in reply, leaning back in. It’s simple and says so much. Beomgyu barely gets the chance to say it back before they’re kissing again.
It’s soft and sweet and gentle and loving and then Yeonjun’s hand slides down the slightest bit and finds his ass, squeezing over it slowly—insatiable.
Beomgyu lets out a small noise against him. “Babe…” He warns against the lips on him. Unsurprisingly, he gets ignored, and instead is backed up towards the sink as the kiss turns messy.
He doesn’t even get a second to think before Yeonjun bends in one swift motion, hands wrapping around his thighs and yanking him upwards, dropping him onto the counter. There’s a loud clattering sound as at least thirteen hair and makeup products tumble into the sink and knock over behind him. “Choi Yeonjun!” Beomgyu hisses as he pulls back, scolding his boyfriend—who, at the moment, looks like he couldn’t care less if the sink straight up fell off the wall.
His eyes are wide from the noise, but in an instant they’re back to hazy, and then distracted, using his new position to sidle in between Beomgyu’s legs—which part for him easily, despite the scolding and scowling. Lips connect to his throat. “I missed you,” Yeonjun whines, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, making him have to bite down on his lip to not let out a noise. Even though he keeps scolding Yeonjun, his hands are buried in his hair, keeping him close.
Still grumbling petulantly, there’s a massive contrast between Yeonjun’s whining, and the way he kisses up his neck with purpose. “I wanted you here,” Yeonjun groans. “I missed you.”
And Beomgyu—too in love and too weak for his boyfriend—uses the grip he has in his hair to drag his head back up, bringing both hands to either side of his face, kissing him hard. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs against him, letting Yeonjun’s tongue find its way into his mouth to appease his grumbles. “I wanted to be here for you too.”
Lips trailing down Beomgyu’s jaw, Yeonjun murmurs against his skin. “You looked so good though—at the event,” he purrs, palms tracing up and down thighs. “Wish I was there with you… so fucking gorgeous.” He nips at Beomgyu’s earlobe, making him suck in a stuttered gasp. “Your hair pushed back… your outfit—with the tie… if I was there, I would’ve taken that tie and—”
And with a horrible coincidence of timing, Yeonjun’s words and the grind of his hips forward get cut off with a banging on the door. “You have ten minutes until stage,” someone calls through the wood.
Yeonjun leaps back and Beomgyu freezes like they were caught—in a way, they were. Slowly, their gazes meet, both of them wide-eyed and blushing. They stare at each other, breathing heavily, and all it takes is a twitch of Yeonjun’s lips for them to both burst out laughing.
Beomgyu aims a kick at his boyfriend from the counter that easily gets caught around the ankle. “You dick,” he grumbles, trying to keep his voice even as fingers trail up his leg, thankfully coming to rest in a much safer place than it was before; his waist, rather than his upper thigh.
Yeonjun’s head tilts, a look of fake innocence on his features. “What? I didn’t do anything,” he smiles, leaning in to press one last lingering kiss to Beomgyu’s lips, chasing after them when he pulls back, whining.
Beomgyu scowls, hopping off the counter. “Hyung. Behave,” he scolds, pushing him backwards and ignoring his obnoxiously pouted lips, wanting more kisses. He knows it was the wrong choice of words when Yeonjun’s eyes darken even more, and the grip on his waist tightens—involuntarily.
And god, does Beomgyu want to use that word to get Yeonjun to listen and to get him to do a million things that he knows they would both enjoy tremendously, but now is not the time.
“You need to clean this up,” he says instead, gesturing towards the sink. Yeonjun huffs, dropping his head onto Beomgyu’s shoulder with a mumbled whine of something that sounds like bossy, in the most fond grumble possible. Beomgyu relents, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him into a hug, letting his boyfriend melt into him.
Holding him close for a minute, Beomgyu only pulls back when he notices a bottle of hairspray in the corner of the shower, and remembers they need to clean up. He leans back, pressing kisses all over Yeonjun’s face until he’s no longer scowling about not being able to kiss, and instead grinning and giggling. “I’ll help you pick up,” Beomgyu tells him, giving him one last quick kiss. “C’mon, you big baby, we made a mess.”
They clean up the bathroom, attempting to put everything back where it was, and when Yeonjun opens the door, Beomgyu barely has time to be embarrassed before one of the makeup artists rushes in with them, inspecting Yeonjun’s face. “You need touch-ups,” she murmurs, huffing out an exasperated sigh that sounds slightly amused. She calls to the hairstylist as well, and suddenly Beomgyu is trapped in the bathroom with them as they fix Yeonjun up, all pretending to not notice how long the two of them were in there and how their time spent behind the closed door correlates to all of the needed touch ups.
They’re about to leave the room when the makeup artist turns to Beomgyu, a glint in her eyes. “You have makeup on your lips—so you know,” she murmurs, a knowing smile flashing over her face as she turns to leave.
Yeonjun openly snorts, and Beomgyu smacks him on the arm, shoving him out of the room so he can wipe the foundation off his lips before leaving. He has to splash cold water on his face in an attempt to calm his blush.
Thankfully, once they exit the bathroom the dressing room is mostly empty, spare a few staff members. Beomgyu tugs the brim of his hat downwards and pointedly stares at Yeonjun’s feet while following him out of the room. In the hallway, Yeonjun sends him a smirk, which gets him shoved into the wall, giggling. Despite Beomgyu’s seemed annoyance, he has to press his lips into a point to not smile as well.
From there, he follows his boyfriend around all day like a lost puppy, catching himself over and over with the fondest smile on his face while watching Yeonjun absolutely thrive in the spotlight. He loves seeing him perform his solo work, especially knowing how hard he’s worked to get there. Beomgyu couldn’t be more proud of him.
When Yeonjun insists he come up on stage with him at the end of the filming, it takes everything in him to not kiss him on the mouth then and there. It feels like some sort of subtle declaration; some sort of indirect affirmation of he’s mine and I’m his. The thought gives Beomgyu butterflies.
“You hold onto me like this,” Yeonjun says, deciding on their plan for Beomgyu going on stage with him. He wraps an arm around his shoulders and guides one of Beomgyu’s arms around his waist. He instantly latches on, heat washing over him with everyone’s eyes on them. Beomgyu’s blushing up a storm and Yeonjun clearly couldn’t care less about what it looks like. “And we’ll be like, bye bye,” Yeonjun plans, apparently determined to get his boyfriend on stage with him—not that Beomggu is complaining.
Still though, he has to force himself to let go of Yeonjun’s waist quickly, because he’s convinced if he holds onto his boyfriend for too long, he’ll cause a scene that makes everyone there quite uncomfortable. Especially if he makes contact with the bare skin of Yeonjun’s waist; considering his shirt easily rides up when he lifts his arms, leaving the view of soft, smooth skin that Beomgyu can’t help but consider a place where his hands belong.
He can’t resist throwing a possessive look over Yeonjun’s shoulder towards the camera, with his arm wrapped around his waist—he knows it’ll come off as a joke, but he’s embarrassed to admit just how genuine it is.
After the performance, they stop in the hallway to take pictures together, and when Beomgyu jokingly suggests Yeonjun should pick him up—bridal style—he’s absolutely not expecting his boyfriend to easily lean over, wrapping an arm around his waist and hoisting him up. The squeak he lets out is embarrassing, and Yeonjun is grumbling about take the picture, quickly, and Beomgyu knows the smile on his face is far too pleased.
Just before Yeonjun puts him down, he looks both ways down the hall, and when he sees no one else around, he plants a wet, loud kiss on his cheek.
It’s Yeonjun’s turn to squeak out a shocked noise, and Beomgyu adores that he can feel the heat flooding to his boyfriend’s cheeks under his lips. The staff member taking their photos—one who knows about their relationship—lets out an amused giggle, and out of the corner of his eye, Beomgyu can see the behind-the-scenes camera slowly lower, knowing they will not be able to use that footage.
He couldn’t care less that there will have to be some edits, because Yeonjun is groaning but his dismay is very obviously fake, with the way he’s blushing and the way he refuses to put Beomgyu down for at least another ten seconds.
“That one will be so cute,” Beomgyu grins once his feet are on the ground, leaning into Yeonjun heavily, who rolls his eyes and pushes him away, but is very poorly hiding a smile. “Lemme see,” he grabs towards the staff member, leaning towards the phone. He sends himself copies of the photos immediately, and despite Yeonjun’s fake exasperation, he reaches into Beomgyu’s pocket and pulls out his phone, easily entering the passcode and sending himself the photos.
By the end of the day, both of them are nearly dead on their feet—Beomgyu having only been able to sleep a few hours between getting home from the airport and leaving to support Yeonjun, and Yeonjun having gotten even less sleep with how early he needed to be up. Not to mention the long day being spent at recordings. Still though, Beomgyu waits patiently for his boyfriend to change, finding himself watching him fondly through everything—even while he talks and talks and talks with staff members, not at all being productive in terms of getting ready to go.
Some days, Beomgyu would whine at him to hurry up. Hyung, I’m tired, he might say. Let’s go home, please. Even today, he’s exhausted and his social battery has long run out and he really just wants to get home, but he knows Yeonjun releases the stress of the day differently than him. His extroverted self wants to talk with everyone and socialize with people he wasn’t able to socialize with earlier after his high stress day. Beomgyu can never understand it, but he loves Yeonjun, and today is about him, so he lets him be.
He opts for collecting his things for him, packing his bag and pretending to not notice the looks exchanged between staff members when he easily knows what things strewn across the room are his boyfriend’s.
Can you hand me that sock? It’s Jjun’s.
Have you seen his beanie? No—not that one, the one he always has in his bag.
Beomgyu knows him so, so well. It’s obvious, even to those who don’t know all the details.
Since their relationship is known only by the people who have a necessity to know it—like staff members closest to them—it’s not completely open for everyone to see. Especially where there are some new faces amongst the crew working on Yeonjun’s solo promo, it’s a given that everyone around doesn’t have confirmation about the two of them. He knows they aren’t the most subtle, though.
He doesn’t mind the knowing looks, even if they make him blush. He’d brag to the whole world that Yeonjun is his and he is Yeonjun’s, if he could. Some days, he aches all the way down his core—because he can’t. He wants to scream it from the rooftops and kiss Yeonjun on the mouth no matter who is in the room and he wants everyone to know that his beautiful, funny, endearing boyfriend is very taken, and the person he is taken by is very insane for him. Sometimes, it sucks not being able to share their love.
But then he sees Yeonjun’s smile, or he hears his voice, or he feels his touch, and the ache disappears—because anything is worth it for him; for them.
It’s late by the time he’s laying in Yeonjun’s bed, cozy under the covers and inhaling the scent he missed deeply while away. He had been pouting, since Yeonjun vetoed him joining in his shower, but the second he got comfy in bed, his petulance faded—he could fall asleep in an instant if he tried. And he knows Yeonjun was right; that no actual showering would get done if Beomgyu had joined him.
But the issue is, his body has been thrumming with an underlying need—a deep seeded, insatiable desire—since he first set eyes on his boyfriend that morning. That feeling running through his veins only worsened with Yeonjun picking him up onto the bathroom counter, lips unrelenting, and then worsened still when he got scooped up—so easily—for their pictures.
Then, he watched—or more like, suffered and stared at—Yeonjun putter around the dressing room at the end of the day, chatting with the staff and half-heartedly cleaning up whilst in baggy sweatpants and a plain black tank top; an outfit that made Beomgyu more than happy to try and distract himself by helping him collect his things. His boyfriend’s muscular body that he’s been working so hard on was on full display, and it was certainly easier to try and ignore it than allow himself to look; considering all he wanted was to take a bite out of Yeonjun’s biceps.
All day, he’d been cycling back and forth between a proud, infatuated fondness and a deep, profound hunger. It’s a little bit ridiculous how quickly he can go between being the most in love person on earth, and being the most horny person on earth. He figures they basically go hand in hand though—especially when you’re in love with someone as attractive and irresistible as Yeonjun.
So, Beomgyu wanted to join him in the shower—to quell that red hot feeling thrumming through his veins. He knew that once they got into bed, the chance would’ve passed; both of them would be too tired to exist, let alone satiate that need. And it’s okay, of course—it’s not like he would ever want to pressure Yeonjun into anything just because he’s a bit horny—but it’s just the timing that makes things extra difficult. His traveling, Yeonjun’s schedules, and everything else going on in their lives have left them apart for too long, and they’ve been unable to have time to do much of anything for awhile.
If he’s being honest, Beomgyu is starting to feel like he might actually start going crazy if he can’t get his hands on his very attractive, very muscular, very talented boyfriend soon.
But still, he’s not expecting it to happen after how long their day was. If he has to furiously jerk off in the shower in the morning to relieve some tension, then so be it—the potential of being late will be a problem for tomorrow's Beomgyu.
So when Yeonjun tumbles into bed with dark eye bags and just slightly damp hair, Beomgyu is pleased to let him curl into his chest, and he revels in the way he wraps every single one of his long limbs around him. A pleased little hum sounds into the dim room as Beomgyu scratches a hand over his scalp. “I’m proud of you today,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
The face in his neck shoves itself further into him, nose against his throat. Yeonjun’s rumbling voice vibrates on his skin. “It could’ve been better,” he shrugs—not sounding fully upset, but Beomgyu can hear a tinge of disappointment.
Sometimes, he thinks his boyfriend might be insane, because he can never seem to accept just how incredible he is. “You did perfect, Hyungie,” Beomgyu reassures, squeezing him tighter and scratching blunt nails over his scalp, moving his legs so all of their limbs are intertwined. “I know you always see the tiniest things and think they’re mistakes, but I think every single piece of you did perfectly.” He presses a kiss to his forehead, gentle but sure. “I wish you could see yourself how I see you… you’re so incredible. Always.”
He can feel a smile grow on the skin of his neck, and it makes his heart feel like it’s going to flutter right out of his chest. “Thank you,” Yeonjun murmurs, bashful and humble, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his throat. That piece of Beomgyu that has been thrumming with need all day comes to the forefront of his mind at the touch, and he has to take a long, deep breath in an attempt to get himself to relax. He hopes it’s not obvious.
“Thank you for coming, by the way,” Yeonjun continues. His lips feel like they’re pressing even more against his neck—not brushing now, but speaking directly against it.
Beomgyu wills himself to practice some serious self-control and not start getting hard. It’s been too long and he’s been too riled up all day.
His voice is slightly shaky when it comes out, not completely able to calm himself. “Of course, my Jjunie,” he breathes, willing his dick to behave as Yeonjun shifts on top of him, twisting his body so he’s laying on him even more—it’s not helpful to the whole trying to calm down thing. Beomgyu swallows hard, but his words are genuine. “Anything for you.”
The little breath of a laugh Yeonjun lets out on his skin, and the way his giggle rumbles against him also does nothing to help. Beomgyu can feel him smiling though, so it’s worth it. Soothing Yeonjun’s insecurities and being there for him is the most important thing.
He’s so focused on staring at the ceiling and attempting to keep his cool that he doesn’t even notice the way Yeonjun’s shifting against him still, scooting up closer and positioning his mouth just at Beomgyu’s ear, until he speaks into it. “Did I mention that I missed you when you were gone?” He murmurs, lips brushing against his earlobe, sending goosebumps over his whole body. It makes Beomgyu have to take a huge, calming breath that he hopes sounds more like a content sigh and less like a nearly strangled noise of need that is being adamantly attempted to simmer down.
It’s like Yeonjun has no idea what he does to him. “A few times, maybe,” Beomgyu breathes out, even his sarcastic chuckle sounding pained as lips press the gentlest kiss on the sensitive space just below his ear. He lets out another shaky breath—this one partially exasperated at Yeonjun’s insistence to unknowingly drive him insane, and partially just trying to keep it together.
He’s so in love with Yeonjun, but he also thinks he’s a royal pain in the ass.
Pushing himself to lean on an elbow, Yeonjun props himself up to look down at him on the pillow below—a mischievous glint in his tired eyes. “Did you miss me too, angel?” He asks, the smile tugging at his lips saying he already knows the answer. The kiss he presses to his lips is soft and teasing—Beomgyu wants more.
And sure, Yeonjun may be flirty and teasing and touchy, but he’s also very obviously exhausted and ready for bed and most likely not having the same insane thoughts Beomgyu is having.
Beomgyu—on the other hand—has to take another very deep breath. “Of course I did, Jjunie,” he smiles, despite his exasperation with what feels like some type of cruel and unusual punishment; Yeonjun’s words and voice and actions are so, so teasing, without even meaning to be. He feels like he needs to be put under some sort of un-horny spell so he can survive the night without losing it.
It’s a relief and pure torture when Yeonjun leans in—his smile content and fond—and presses their lips together once again.
Beomgyu sighs against him, and he has no clue if it’s relief or anguish. Yeonjun doesn’t pull back this time, kissing him slow and steady, lips only brushing lightly against him at first before moving with more and more purpose, spending longer and longer against him before pulling away.
It’s wonderful—kissing Yeonjun is always perfect.
But that horny demon inside of him wants more. Beomgyu tries to stifle it. Letting Yeonjun get the sleep he needs is far more important, so he does his best to ignore that demon and kisses him, purposeful and sweet and slow.
Still though, he can’t help the deep, long groan of pleasure he lets out when Yeonjun’s tongue traces over his lip—the sound is straight up pathetic, and he doesn’t give a single fuck. His mouth opens easily, tongue slowly exploring his mouth, swallowing up all the noises he can’t prevent himself from making.
And maybe that horny demon inside of him is just a little bit impatient and a little bit persuasive over his mind.
Because suddenly he’s diving forward, pushing up until he switches their positions, rolling Yeonjun on his back so he can hover over him—still having the mind to tell himself over and over to reel it in. He doesn’t need to escalate things, he just wants to give Yeonjun a really good makeout session before bed.
Not that he doesn’t want to fuck Yeonjun—because boy does he—but he figures his tired eyes and the lazy way he’s kissing Beomgyu is a pretty clear sign that all that will happen is some lazy making out before sleeping. And really, that’s totally fine; Beomgyu is happy with any part of Yeonjun, always.
His body and the horny demon in his brain are just betraying him a little.
He has to purposefully angle his hips backwards so Yeonjun can’t feel how he’s already at least half in his sweatpants. He might full on lose it if a thigh so much as brushes against him.
And it’s like Yeonjun is on some personal mission and out to get him, because just as Beomgyu tries to move himself further back, a hand comes down on his ass, grabbing and squeezing and making his hips jerk forward on their own accord, grinding himself down on Yeonjun’s hip.
The sound that leaves his throat is absolutely broken.
Yeonjun smirks against his lips.
Beomgyu grumbles. “Shut up,” he murmurs, pushing his tongue into his mouth to deepen the kiss, spurred by the throbbing in his lower half.
Yeonjun’s palm—still on his ass—leaves for a second, and Beomgyu—stupidly—thinks he’s in the clear.
Then there’s a smack on his ass.
Beomgyu keens, a high moan coming out of his throat as he breaks away from this kiss, his back arching and grinding himself down again. When his eyes open, the grin up at him is pure evil. “Shut. Up,” Beomgyu grits out, diving down to kiss over Yeonjun’s jawline so he doesn’t have to look at the knowing, mischievous look on his face.
“I didn’t say anything,” Yeonjun hums, feigning innocence as he shifts underneath him.
“You know.”
“I know what?”
A frustrated huff. “You’re fucking annoying.”
Yeonjun laughs, loud and clear. “You want me so bad, don’t you baby?”
And even though it's definitely not a question that needs answering, Beomgyu doesn’t even get to think about an answer before Yeonjun is shooting up, rolling them over so he’s on top again, slotting himself between his legs. The movement is quick but he’s gone back to kissing slow and lazy, and Beomgyu feels like he’s getting whiplash with how all of this is all going. He knows how tired Yeonjun is, and despite the teasing and the ass grabbing, he hasn’t really escalated things, so he’s not sure what to think.
What he is sure of, is that he’s already quite hard. He hopes that since Yeonjun isn’t completely on top of him, but more hovering over him, he won’t notice just how much he wants this.
That is—he hopes he doesn’t notice if he doesn’t want it to go somewhere. If he knew Yeonjun wanted things to go somewhere, he’d already have dragged a hand to the bulge in his pants, greedily wanting his touch to palm over him.
Yeonjun would oblige—as he always did. Most of the time, Beomgyu didn’t even need to ask; Yeonjun would be there before he could even think up the idea.
But they’re both tired—Yeonjun more than he—and Beomgyu has already been cut off once tonight, so he’s not going to push it.
And just when he thinks it’s going to end—when Yeonjun’s kisses have turned even slower, albeit messy and wet—it instead becomes very evident to Beomgyu that his boyfriend is out to get him. Because out of nowhere, Yeonjun, with those godforsaken hips of his, grinds himself downwards, expertly circling himself on Beomgyu’s crotch. Then, he pulls back like nothing happened.
I’m dating the devil, Beomgyu thinks, as the evil man above him swallows up the destroyed noise that comes out of his throat and continues to kiss him. Like nothing happened.
That is, until a few minutes later—or seconds, Beomgyu is too lost in it all to be sure—he does it again.
And again.
And then again.
On the fifth slow, pointed grind downwards, Beomgyu’s lips fall off Yeonjun’s with a fractured noise, unable to hold it back anymore. “If you—ah—if you keep doing that,” he pants out, as lips refuse to leave him, trailing down his jawline; all teeth and tongue, “I’m going to get hard.”
The laugh Yeonjun lets out against the curve of his throat gives Beomgyu goosebumps, and when he pulls back, sharp eyes make him shiver. “Are you aware that I can feel you?” He chuckles, grinning toothily—pleased. “You’re already hard.”
Beomgyu blushes despite himself. “Well… I’m going to get very hard,” he grumbles, breaking eye contact as he feels his face continue to heat up.
And Yeonjun—Yeonjun laughs, sweet and gentle. Beomgyu loves him. So, so much.
Then, Yeonjun grinds himself down again, circling and thrusting his hips without pulling back. “Yeah, dumbass,” he huffs out, somehow fond and exasperated and spent all at the same time, “that’s the fucking point.” He emphasizes his words with the deepest grind yet, and Beomgyu feels he’s just as hard, their covered cocks brushing directly together.
They moan in time, broken and loud, and Beomgyu can’t take it any longer. He wraps a leg around Yeonjun and rolls him onto his back once again, grinding a thigh into the bulge in his sweatpants. Hands shove under his t-shirt and trace over his stomach, Yeonjun grabbing at him greedily. He squeezes at his sides, sliding his touch upwards to brush a thumb over a nipple.
Whining, Beomgyu forces his hips to not grind on the thigh he’s straddling, sitting up on his knees. “You’re not too tired?” He asks, trying to not actually drool while looking at Yeonjun beneath him, dark grey hair splayed out on the pillows and big, needy eyes blinking up at him. He’s so fucking gorgeous.
He rolls Beomgyu’s nipple between his finger and thumb as if that’s a response. “Does it feel like I’m tired?” He questions, sliding his grip down to Beomgyu’s waist, holding it with both hands as he grinds up into him. His cock is very hard against his thigh.
The hands on his waist move upwards, taking his shirt along with it. Once it’s off, Beomgyu goes to lean down for a kiss, but a hand in the middle of his chest stops him, making him stay upright. “I wanna look at you,” Yeonjun murmurs, eyes raking over his naked torso like a starved animal.
Shy, Beomgyu reaches for the hem of Yeonjun’s shirt to stop the staring, and is rewarded with being allowed to pull it off—but the second it’s gone, he’s still being gazed at. Yeonjun’s eyes are so distracting, he can’t even properly stare back. “Stop,” he whines, curling his arms over his chest and stomach, embarrassed.
Yeonjun frowns. “Stop what? I can’t look at my gorgeous boyfriend?” He asks, gently grabbing his wrists and tugging them away from his chest. Flushing, Beomgyu lets him—even though his cheeks are bright pink. “You’re so fucking pretty, Gyu-ah,” Yeonjun murmurs, an awed look on his face as eyes trail over him—they’re filled with so much wonder; like he’s never seen him before. Like he doesn’t see him naked regularly.
With a disbelieving noise, Beomgyu swats at his chest. “I should be the one staring at you,” he murmurs, running a hand down Yeonjun’s abs, feeling the muscle under his fingers. “You have much more to look at.”
And even though he sure is looking, Yeonjun keeps frowning. Beomgyu’s just about to ask him what he’s pouting about, when he’s suddenly flipped over, once again.
Yeonjun’s fully scowling now. “Do you really think I’m ever going to think you’re not the most beautiful person to walk this planet?” He murmurs, diving down and capturing Beomgyu’s lips with his—purposeful and intent. He kisses him like it’s air, and he’ll drown without it. When he pulls back, his eyes are soft and oh so serious—full of the most tender, devoted sincerity. “Every single of piece of you is fucking perfect, my Beomgyu-yah,” he murmurs.
And Beomgyu’s heart sings. He can’t help but smile, bashful and blushing.
“You know this was all for the album,” Yeonjun continues, gesturing towards his perfected muscles. “You don’t need anything different—I love every part of you.” He starts kissing over Beomgyu’s cheeks. “I love your little moles,” he murmurs, kissing each one. “I love your nose—especially when it gets all puffy in the morning.” A kiss is placed on the tip of his nose. Beomgyu feels like his heart is going to burst straight from his chest. “Your eyebrows… maybe this is weird—but I think your eyebrows are really hot,” he laughs, making Beomgyu giggle too, especially as he places little kisses all over his brows. “I love your neck, and your Adam’s apple,” kiss and kiss, “your broad shoulders, and your pretty collarbones.”
Kisses turn into teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder, making him let out a whimper, hips jolting up. The tongue dragging across his collarbone gives him goosebumps.
Yeonjun kisses him all over with loud, exaggerated smooching sounds and it makes him let out a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a moan. “Okay—okay, I get it,” Beomgyu giggles, grabbing his face with both hands to pull him back up to his lips, kissing him soft but deep. His heart feels warm and fuzzy and he doesn’t understand how every single day, Yeonjun makes him feel even more loved than the last. “I love you, my Yeonjun-ah,” he murmurs, smiling hard as that fond smile he loves so much spreads over his boyfriend’s face.
“I love you more,” Yeonjun grins.
Beomgyu frowns in return. “Do not.”
“Do too.”
“I loved you first.”
“I loved you quicker.”
Beomgyu snorts. “I think that was just a result of you being really stupid and not realizing it for a long ass time.”
There’s a scoff, and Beomgyu gets a smack on his chest. “Well sorry I just fell head over heels in love with you,” Yeonjun gripes, rolling his eyes with no mirth. “Some of us get to the point quicker than others.”
“Well, I said it first.”
“Oh—so now we’re just lying? You’re going to sit here and lie to your husband’s face?”
Beomgyu lets out a cackle—loud and in love. “Babe—we’re not married.”
“So you hate me and want me to die?”
Beomgyu loves him, and wants to spend forever with him.
Letting out a frustrated noise that is far too fond, he hooks a leg around Yeonjun and flips them over again, smirking down at him. “What I want, is for you to let me take care of you,” he murmurs, bending down to kiss at his jaw, trailing down his neck. Soft, pretty noises fill the room. “You worked so hard, Hyungie,” he coos, pulling back to look down at him—he already looks dazed.
Gently tracing a hand over the side of his face, Beomgyu cups his cheek and rubs a thumb over his cheekbone, pressing down on his favorite little mole just under his eye. “So pretty. My pretty boy,” he breathes out, awed—as always—with Yeonjun’s beauty.
Barely getting the chance to see eyebrows knit together with desire, there’s a strangled noise, and then Beomgyu is being pulled into a crushing kiss, lips hungry against his.
And they kiss and they kiss and they kiss and Beomgyu is trying to nudge apart legs so he can make himself comfortable between them and Yeonjun—Yeonjun clearly is not as pliant as he was seeming a few minutes before.
Before Beomgyu can even realize what’s happening, there’s a strong arm around his waist, and he’s being flipped onto his back, nearly bouncing on the sheets. He lets out a squeak against his lips. “Christ, Jjun,” he squawks as their lips separate, head spinning—partially because of the sudden movement, but mostly because of the kiss. The dizziness is not helped with the look Yeonjun is giving him—dark and heavy and buzzing.
He tilts his head, pouting in an almost arrogant way; it’s stupidly attractive. “What if I wanted to take care of you, though?” Yeonjun muses, leaning down to mouth at the place where his neck meets his shoulder. “As a thanks—for coming today.”
Beomgyu’s breath stutters as teeth drag along his collarbone, but he swallows hard; this isn’t the first time they’ve argued over this, and it certainly won’t be the last. Really, it’s half the fun of it all.
He’s genuine with his words at first. “You don’t need to thank me, Yeonjun-ah,” he sighs, swallowing hard and feeling lips connect with his Adam’s apple right after the movement. He’s trying to get it together, but Yeonjun is not helping.
With eyes squeezed shut, he takes a deep breath. Yeonjun can be stubborn, but so can he.
Letting his hand travel down his spine, Beomgyu pulls it back when he gets to the bottom. “And I really want to fuck you, after seeing you in that outfit today,” he purrs, bringing his hand down to smack Yeonjun’s ass before squeezing over it, massaging where he made the impact.
Yeonjun moans loud, hips jerking forwards into him, making him groan as well. “Fuck,” he chokes, making Beomgyu smirk as he arches into his touch; still massaging his ass.
While his guard is down, Beomgyu starts to roll, and Yeonjun—unsurprisingly—gives in, letting him settle on his thighs, grabbing at the top of his sweatpants. He’s almost pulling them down when a hand wraps around his wrist. “Wait,” Yeonjun murmurs, making his motions pause instantly.
Expecting him to argue again, Beomgyu is confused when he stays silent. He’s quiet for too long, and when he looks to him, he’s shocked to see the determined look from before now gone, and it's been exchanged with something that looks almost hesitant or shy; or both.
Beomgyu feels his own eyes soften at the sight. “What’s up, Jjun?” He asks, moving his hands from the waistband of Yeonjun’s joggers to trace down his arm instead, lacing their fingers together.
He gets a head shake in reply. “Nothing,” Yeonjun very clearly lies—Beomgyu knows him so well. “Nevermind.”
Beomgyu frowns. “Baby,” he murmurs, bringing Yeonjun’s hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Yeonjun won’t meet his gaze. “I’m fine, Beomgyu-yah, seriously—”
“Are you tired? Do you wanna stop?”
“No, I—”
“Because we can just sleep, I don’t mind—”
Finally making eye contact, Yeonjun’s voice is panicked—but not in a bad way. “No! No, I don’t want to sleep,” he laments, eyes wide and finally meeting Beomgyu’s. The panicked tone—ironically—makes him relax; Yeonjun simply sounds worried that he will want to go to bed and not continue what they started. He doesn’t sound worried about something being wrong.
And now that Beomgyu can see his whole face—dark, dilated eyes and pink cheeks—he understands.
Yeonjun’s embarrassed.
He’s got a sweet pink blush over his cheeks, and he can barely make eye contact, but Beomgyu can tell his mind is going a mile a minute. He looks like he’s trying to find the right words to express whatever it is that’s making him bashful.
Patiently, Beomgyu waits, moving to slide off him in case their position is making him hesitant; but when he goes to shift, Yeonjun lets out a wounded noise and hands fly to his waist, keeping him in place. Instead, Yeonjun shifts up on his elbows and then pulls himself up completely, planting Beomgyu directly in his lap. He’s leaning against his headboard, still looking a little unsure.
Beomgyu thinks it’s the sweetest thing in the world—how even after all this time, Yeonjun still can be his nervous, sweet little self in front of him.
He always wants to put forth the most confident, assured, strong version of himself. Beomgyu loves that when it's just the two of them, Yeonjun feels safe and secure enough to show vulnerability. He loves that he can be that comfort for him.
In an attempt to calm his nerves, Beomgyu lets his arms rest on his boyfriend’s shoulders and laces a hand in his hair, using the grip he has to tilt his head back and place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. “You sure you’re okay, my Hyungie?” He coos, pressing another kiss to his cheek—right on his mole—before pulling back to search over his face.
Yeonjun gives a reassuring nod, a small, shy smile pulling at his lips with Beomgyu’s tenderness. “I just…” He trails off, giving an awkward cough, face reddening even more. He’s staring at the collarbones in front of him, not making eye contact. “I had an… idea,” he swallows, eyes only glancing up for a second.
Gently pushing hair off Yeonjun’s forehead, Beomgyu hums. “Go on…” he prompts, trailing his touch down the side of his face, cradling and rubbing his thumb across his cheek, tracing his features. When his thumb just brushes against plump, pink lips, he gets his own idea.
Slowly and gently, he moves his thumb over more—to the middle over Yeonjun’s lips, brushing over them lightly. In an instant, they pucker forward, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb, and just as Beomgyu expected, the tension in Yeonjun’s shoulders lessens.
Hooking a few fingers under his jaw, he tilts his head up with his grip, making their eyes meet and dragging Yeonjun’s lower lip down with the movement. It almost kills him to look away from big, glassy eyes, but when his gaze focuses on the plump lip under his thumb, and he lets it bounce back up from his touch, it’s worth the view. “Pretty,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. It’s the sort of thing that has come across Beomgyu thoughts for as long as he can remember, and one that before, he would keep to himself. Or at least, he’d be embarrassed it slipped out. But now, he doesn’t worry in the slightest—he can openly praise Yeonjun’s beauty as often as he’d like; which is very often.
And it only makes Yeonjun relax more under him, eyes going glossier. Beomgyu can’t help but smile—that was his goal. Yeonjun always goes soft and gooey under his praise. “Your idea, baby?” He encourages—a little bit teasing but a lot fond.
Yeonjun blinks, cheeks pink. “Oh—right,” he coughs, clearing his throat. “It’s a… compromise. I guess you could say.”
Sighing, Beomgyu’s lips fall into a pout. “Hyung, it’s late,” he whines, lower lip jutting out. “We can’t go two rounds, we have to get up early.”
Yeonjun’s eyes widen, but he looks like he’s considering it. “No! I mean—as much as I want to,” he murmurs, his grip on Beomgyu’s waist tightening briefly as he shifts a little underneath him, “that wasn’t my idea.”
Head tilted, Beomgyu looks down at him—intrigued. “Okay, so…. go on.”
Yeonjun’s somehow still going even more red. “I just thought—maybe we could… I have something that…” He stammers, and Beomgyu can’t remember the last time he saw Yeonjun nervous like this in bed. It’s sweet and endearing and lovely, but they also don’t have all the time in the world, so they should speed things up if they want to get any sleep.
Cutting off his search for words, Beomgyu leans down, capturing lips with his own and kissing him soft and languid, adding with it a slow, deep grind down onto his lap. Yeonjun groans against him, the grip automatically tightening around his waist and helping him grind down. He whines when Beomgyu pulls back.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” Beomgyu purrs, trailing kisses down his jawline, hoping that getting back into the mood will make him more comfortable sharing.
“I just—ah,” Yeonjun pants, letting out a shaky breath as Beomgyu mouths towards his ear, giving a little nibble on his earlobe before pressing soft kisses there. His hesitance is no longer due to embarrassment, but distraction—which is exactly what Beomgyu was going for. His tongue drags down the edge of his ear, and Yeonjun swallows hard. “I own something that… that could get us both what we want,” he breathes out, throaty and whined.
Now this makes Beomgyu pause, pulling back to look down at his boyfriend. “You… own something?” He parrots, eyebrows raised. His expression is probably less quizzical and more like a starved animal, but he doesn’t care.
Yeonjun’s blushing again, but he easily pulls at Beomgyu’s waist, lifting him off him to push him onto the bed, rolling out from underneath his thighs. He moves across the room with purpose, going straight to his closet and digging around in the back corner, pulling out a box.
When he stands from where he was crouched on the ground, he turns around with a very long, very pink dildo in his hand.
And despite the heat that floods through him at the sight, Beomgyu sighs. “Hyung,” he whines, eyes stuck on the toy as Yeonjun walks back over, climbing onto the bed. “I told you we don’t have time for multiple—”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Yeonjun cuts him off, setting the toy next to him as he settles back on the headboard, grabbing at Beomgyu needily so he swings a leg over him again, back in his lap.
Confused, Beomgyu stares down at him. “What?”
Yeonjun looks a little bit embarrassed again, but Beomgyu can feel how hard he is underneath him, so it must be enough to spur him on. “It doesn’t have to be multiple rounds if we… if we both…” He trails off, glancing between Beomgyu and the dildo.
And for a second, he still doesn’t understand. If they both take the time to prep and both take turns using the toy on each other, it’s still going to probably end up being multiple rounds, since they both tend to be insatiable once they start going.
But then Beomgyu looks at the toy, and the sheer size of it; the length. The way it doesn’t have any sort of base on it, leaving it available for use from either side.
He thinks about why this whole conversation is even happening, and how they can’t agree on who gets to fuck who. He sees Yeonjun’s big, wet eyes, and he thinks about his own pliable body, easily letting him move him off his lap then drag him back, obedient and agreeing.
Suddenly, it makes sense.
And, oh.
Oh.
Heat washes over his entire body, and he’s pretty certain his cock twitches in his pants. “You… you mean…” Beomgyu swallows, searching over Yeonjun’s face as he feels his own start to redden. “We both would… at the same time?”
The answer comes in the form of a smirk that is somewhere between knowing and shy.
Beomgyu feels dizzy. “Is that… will it even work?” He asks, eyeing the toy next to them.
Yeonjun simply shrugs, following his gaze. “I mean, I think so,” he muses, gesturing towards the dildo. “It’s pretty long.”
Beomgyu snorts despite himself, and Yeonjun giggles too. “I mean, yeah,” he laughs, putting his hands down to measure it. “What the fuck were you doing with that thing?”
He only laughs harder when Yeonjun smacks a hand on his bare chest. “Shut up,” he whines, grabbing Beomgyu’s nipple and twisting it, making him let out a shrieking noise that’s somewhere between pain and pleasure, earning him a returned smack. “I ordered it online and didn’t realize just how long it would be,” he whines, blushing like crazy.
But Beomgyu’s too intrigued. “Have you used it?” He asks, trying to catch his eye. He blushes harder, and Beomgyu gives a pleased groan, his dick twitching again. He makes a mental note to put watch Yeonjun use huge dildo on his to-do list—something to be completed as soon as possible.
Eyes rolling, Yeonjun pinches at his sides. “Not the whole thing,” he insists, flushed. “I mean, I don’t even think that’s anatomically possible.” He eyes the toy, breathing out a laugh through his nose. “It’s really long.”
Not missing a beat, Beomgyu shrugs. “I mean, I dunno,” he hums, dragging a finger down Yeonjun’s chest, tracing over his abs. Slowly, he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You always take my cock so well, this must be easy for you,” he purrs, lips still brushing Yeonjun’s.
He pulls back to see him blush harder, eyes fluttering open with a hazy look—and then he blinks hard, face morphing into a glare that has not one bit of real mirth. “Shut up,” he grumbles. The pout of his lips makes Beomgyu want to kiss him again. Yeonjun flicks him on the forehead. “Your dick is small.”
Barking out a laugh, Beomgyu tilts his head, smirking down at Yeonjun, who—making his statement not very convincing—is staring at the bulge in his sweatpants. “Sure, baby,” he leers, knowing sarcasm laced in every word. “I know it is.”
Yeonjun goes somehow even more red. His ears are nearly purple with his blush. “Oh, fuck off,” he whines, smacking Beomgyu on the chest again. “Don’t be big headed.”
Beomgyu shrugs. “I’m not. I’m just big dick-ed,” he smirks, realizing the second it comes out how downright horrible the joke is.
Yeonjun doesn’t grin. He glares harder—still not convincing.
Beomgyu stares back, trying to not laugh at himself—not because the joke is funny, but because the joke is so bad.
Continuing to glare, Yeonjun’s lips start to twitch, while Beomgyu’s are pressed into a point.
There’s a disbelieving scoff. “Four out of ten,” Yeonjun says matter of factly, lips pursed in what’s meant to be disgust, but mostly just looks amused.
Beomgyu lets out a gasp. “Did you just rank my dick?”
The laugh that comes from Yeonjun is pure amusement. “No,” he snorts, shaking his head fondly, all his fake annoyance gone in a blink. “Your joke.”
Beomgyu’s still frowning. “You’re ranking my joke?”
A casual shrug. “Yeah.”
“During sex?”
“Mhm.”
“And all I got is a four?”
The silence is loud as Yeonjun continues to stare at him, face neutral. “Babe. What would you rank that joke?” He asks, eyebrows raised and barely holding back his grin.
Beomgyu’s mouth opens and closes multiple times like a fish, trying to think of some way to defend himself—he’d honestly give the joke something closer to a two, but it's not the ranking so much as his determination to be correct. He settles on simply letting out a huff. “Just grab the fucking lube,” he snaps, making Yeonjun bark out another laugh.
“Of course, princess.”
Beomgyu flushes down to his toes.
Rolling off him so Yeonjun can reach into his bedside table, Beomgyu tugs at his sweatpants, and is met with a pout when eyes are on him again. “What if I wanted to undress you?” Yeonjun whines, pulling at his own sweatpants, dragging them down and taking his boxers with them, making Beomgyu help him when the ankles of his pants get stuck on his feet.
The second he’s untangled, Yeonjun’s lips are on his again, and Beomgyu makes a broken noise into his mouth when their cocks brush together, only the layer of his boxers separating them. “We don’t have all night, Hyung,” he chides, immediately regretting the teasing—or maybe, he’s actually thankful for it, when a hand presses over his cock, putting pressure on him through his boxers. “How do you—shit—how should we…” Beomgyu can’t concentrate with Yeonjun’s hand squeezing over him.
Thankfully, Yeonjun knows what he’s asking. “Can I take these off?” He asks, fingers hooked in his boxers. Beomgyu thinks it's sweet he still asks, even after they’ve been together for close to a year and have been having sex for much, much longer.
With Beomgyu’s approval, he tugs the fabric down and settles himself next to him on his knees. “So… um…” He starts, glancing between Beomgyu, the dildo, and the clock. “We’re both going to have to prep… so…”
Beomgyu shrugs. “Okay—so come here,” he says, grabbing towards Yeonjun’s ass unceremoniously. It’s probably not very sexy of him, but he has far more important things to worry about; like getting his fingers inside him.
Letting out a noise somewhere between an embarrassed whine and a snort of laughter, Yeonjun sighs. “I just mean… how should we do this… in a timely manner?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
Beomgyu—with the most lewd, diabolical thoughts racing through his mind—could think of multiple ways to make this happen. But Yeonjun is right; they need to do this in a timely manner. So, he huffs out an exasperated sigh and sits up, scooting over to the side. “Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the middle of the bed. The way Yeonjun obliges instantly makes heat flood over him, and part of him wants to ditch the whole plan and spend the night simply telling Yeonjun what to do.
But, the dark, curious look he feels on him spurs him on, so he grabs a few pillows and puts them under Yeonjun’s lower back to prop him up.
Just as he’s about to be questioned again, Beomgyu turns to the side, leaning over Yeonjun so he can press a single, gentle kiss to the head of his dick, while simultaneously arching his ass into the air right next to his boyfriend’s waiting arm.
The moan Yeonjun lets out is cut off by his own higher, needier one as Beomgyu licks a long, wet stripe up his cock. “Oh—fucking… shit, Beomgyu-yah,” he groans, his cock already leaking on his stomach.
Beomgyu ignores his groaning, but he’s glad he’s facing away from his boyfriend, because he can’t fully hide the pleased grin on his face. He thrusts an impatient hand backwards. “Lube,” he demands, wiggling his fingers but not looking back, instead taking the tip of Yeonjun’s dick and suckling it in his mouth for a split second. His other arm laces around his thigh to spread him open, and he presses two fingers onto his hole with the tiniest bit of pressure.
Yeonjun jolts, writhing against him already—Beomgyu pulls back, sitting up on his knees. “Hyung,” he bleats, eyes searching on the bed, “lube.”
Blinking, Yeonjun startles, beginning to look as well. “Right…” He murmurs, starting to search the bed, but his gaze gets stuck—on Beomgyu; or more like, on Beomgyu’s cock, flushed and hard against his stomach.
Beomgyu snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Baby,” he grouses, putting a hand on his chin to catch his attention, making their eyes meet. “Where’s the lube?”
Yeonjun’s awed, dopey look turned into a confused pout. “I’m—I dunno,” he says breathily, looking around the bed again. “I think it’s still in the drawer.”
Beomgyu blinks. “So… grab it?”
He gets a slow nod in reply, finally processing. “Right…. yeah,” Yeonjun swallows, shaking his head like it will clear his mind. He reaches over to rustle around in his bedside table. “You’re so bossy,” he grumbles, tossing the tube towards Beomgyu, who flips the cap open instantly, squeezing some out onto his fingers and rubbing it around to warm it up.
He shrugs carelessly, leaning over to press a wet, lingering kiss to Yeonjun’s lips. “You like it,” he murmurs against him, which makes him whine in reply.
Trailing kisses down his throat, Beomgyu moves back towards his lower half, kissing the whole way down. Purposefully, he skirts around Yeonjun’s cock and places the final kiss on the inside of his thigh, spreading his legs wider and leaning over the one closest to him so he can have a view of his hole.
Wasting no time, he rubs two lubed fingers at his entrance, busying his mouth with biting and licking and sucking at the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. There’s a hand tracing absently up and down the back of one of his own thighs, but Yeonjun is mostly squirming under his touch, whining every time Beomgyu just slightly dips a finger inside him. “Stop teasing,” he groans, hips moving impatiently as the tip of a finger breeches his entrance.
In lieu of a reply, Beomgyu picks his head up, closes his mouth, and after a minute, spits as much as he could gather down onto Yeonjun’s hole, using the extra wetness to slide a finger in. With the destroyed noise he hears from his boyfriend, Beomgyu’s quite certain he completely forgot about this plan of his—which means he might just get his way and be able to fuck him.
Then, out of nowhere—as Beomgyu arches his ass up while leaning down to mouth at Yeonjun’s balls—there’s suddenly two fingers pressing inside of him. He garbles a surprised moan around him, and the vibration spurs a groan out of him too, followed by a knowing chuckle. “You always take me so well, Beomie,” he mutters, almost to himself. He’s already scissoring the fingers inside of him and with the amount of lube he’s using and how relaxed he is, it’s nothing but pleasurable.
He was getting too cocky with how Yeonjun seemed distracted, and now Beomgyu feels like it’s turned into some sort of horny competition.
One that he desperately wants to win.
To get even, he slides a second finger inside too, making Yeonjun let out his own surprised moan, hips grinding down greedily on his hand.
And it takes no time at all for them to both be a mess. Beomgyu’s going back and forth between pushing his ass back on Yeonjun’s fingers and leaning down so he can push his tongue into his hole alongside fingers, making him let out wails of pleasure.
It’s only when he hears a discontented humph that he pauses, coming up for air and glancing towards his boyfriend, clenching around the fingers that are twisting inside him when he sets eyes on him—the sight is insanely hot. Despite the look of mild annoyance present in his pout, Yeonjun is concentrated and flushed and his mouth is dropped open, staring at where his fingers thrust in and out of Beomgyu’s hole.
It makes him shiver; Yeonjun’s rapt attention and determination to make him feel good.
His pout gets deeper as Beomgyu watches him, and it makes him let out a laugh that turns into a moan when fingers brush against his prostate. “What’s—ah—what’s wrong, Jjunie?” He asks, swallowing hard to try and compose his voice. “What are you all pouty for, pretty?”
At his words, Yeonjun colors, his cheeks only going even more pink when they make eye contact, and Beomgyu leans down to slowly lick a line up his cock. “I’m—you,” he stammers, jolting when the fingers inside him press at his prostate. “It’s hard to see,” he whines, glancing towards Beomgyu’s ass, “I wanna see you better.”
It’s Beomgyu’s turn to flush then, especially with the way Yeonjun’s gaze moves back to his ass, using his free hand to spread him open and watch himself slip a third finger in. He can’t help but let out a broken noise, his chest flopping down completely on Yeonjun’s thigh and his ass greedily pressing back into the fingers entering him, wanting more. “So pretty,” Yeonjun murmurs to himself, “so good for me.” Beomgyu whines high and loud, pushing himself back further.
Suddenly, Yeonjun’s grabbing at his thigh, trying to drag it closer. “Put your leg around me,” he grumbles, tugging at him hard enough that he stumbles, legs falling apart more.
“W-what?” Beomgyu chokes out, trying to not come on the spot with Yeonjun’s fingers on his prostate and the way he keeps attempting to manhandle him into a new position. It’s far too hot and Beomgyu is far too pent up.
And then, before he can process it, the fingers inside him disappear and there’s a grip around his calf, lifting it up so he’s forced to put his weight on one knee and his elbows. His other leg is pulled over Yeonjun’s chest, and he follows obediently, planting a knee on either side of his torso, his ass directly in his boyfriend's face.
He only has a split second to be embarrassed about how exposed he must be until Yeonjun sits up, using both hands to spread his cheeks and licking a stripe over his hole.
He nearly screams.
“Perfect,” Yeonjun breathes out as Beomgyu collapses on top of him, his head thunking down on one of his thighs and fingers jolting inside him uncontrollably. “This okay, baby?” He asks, fingers sliding back into him and rubbing at his prostate, leaving him only able to answer with a wild moan.
It’s only when Yeonjun clenches around his fingers at the sound of his moan does Beomgyu remember that even though he is getting very close to the edge, he’s supposed to be prepping his boyfriend too.
Determined, he bends down, spitting over his hole again and pressing a third finger in, making the fingers inside him stutter. “Oh fuck, angel,” Yeonjun groans, dropping the hand away that’s not inside him, but was holding him open. Beomgyu is about to whine about it, because he was enjoying the feeling of it helping him stretch open, but he’s cut off when the hand smacks down over his ass—a quick, sharp spank.
He wails with pleasure.
“You have the cutest—nng—cutest little ass,” Yeonjun coos, stuttering on a moan in the middle as Beomgyu messily mouths at the head of his cock while still scissoring him open. He lands another smack on the other cheek, and Beomgyu feels precome spurt out of him onto Yeonjun’s chest, smudging it as his own hips grind down, frantically looking for relief.
It doesn’t help that Yeonjun keeps talking. “You wanted to fuck me so bad, but here you are taking my fingers so greedily,” he purrs, twisting into him hard.
And Beomgyu—he’s stubborn and determined. No matter how badly he wants Yeonjun inside him, he also wants to see him fall completely apart on his dick.
So in one motion, he grips the base of Yeonjun’s cock and swallows him down, rubbing the three fingers inside him, thrusting in and out rhythmically. Clenching around him, Yeonjun jolts, hips jerking up into Beomgyu’s mouth at the sudden feeling. “Shit—fuck. Shit,” he yelps, voice high and tight. His hand flies to Beomgyu’s head, petting over it lightly. “Sorry, I’m—Jesus christ Beomgyu-yah,” he grits out, unable to get a sentence out as Beomgyu gags around him but doesn’t pull away, taking a deep breath through his nose to relax his throat. “You can’t—fucking hell—you can’t do that if you don’t want me to come right now.”
Humming around him, Beomgyu shrugs in response—that sounds perfect to him.
He only gets to swirl his tongue around the head of Yeonjun’s cock once before the hand in his hair is gripping tight and yanking him upwards. He groans into the open air once his mouth is removed. “Brat,” Yeonjun murmurs, rubbing at his prostate and gripping his hair tighter—it makes him whine, high and loud. “We don’t have time for all this, remember?” He continues, his voice soft again, a contrast to the grip he has on his hair.
The only reason Beomgyu hasn’t come already is his focus on trying to get Yeonjun close too—which he knows he is when he whimpers and clenches around his twisting fingers. It’s not good enough though; he wants the upper hand again.
Especially with Yeonjun talking about how they don’t have much time, when all of this was his idea.
Not that Beomgyu is complaining. Still though, it’s all part of the fun.
So instead of continuing to desperately bounce himself on Yeonjun’s fingers, Beomgyu swings his leg back around to the side of him, holding his wrist the whole time so his fingers don’t leave their spot inside him. Yeonjun whines at the loss of Beomgyu’s fingers, but he instead wraps his hand around his cock, slowly stroking. “No time?” He asks, head tilted down at him, watching eyebrows furrow with pleasure.
“Yeah, we—ah.”
Beomgyu smirks, his thumb digging into the slit at the head of Yeonjun’s cock, making him whimper. “We…?” He teases, grinning evilly.
Yeonjun barely has it in him to glare. “No—fucking shit—no time,” he pants, hips jerking into Beomgyu’s hand. “Hurry up.”
Pushing his lips into a pout, Beomgyu coos at him—teasing and a little bit arrogant. “No time?” He hums, smirking harder as he flattens his palm against the head of Yeonjun’s cock, rubbing over him and making him let out a broken noise. “So how about you be a good boy and grab that dildo, hmm?” He challenges, his voice a mix of demanding and begging, unable to help clenching down on the fingers inside him as they press on his prostate.
Precome spurts out onto Yeonjun’s stomach. “Yeah—fuck yes,” he nods frantically, sliding his fingers out of Beomgyu and pushing up on his elbows, looking around frantically.
His desperation makes Beomgyu let out a breathy laugh, even though that’s exactly what he was going for. He loves how easy it is for him to get Yeonjun all riled up.
Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “Relax, baby,” he purrs, kissing down his neck gently. “Let’s grab your little toy, yeah?” He teases, and Yeonjun groans, attempting to sound exasperated but mostly sounding wrecked.
“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, pouting as he reaches for the dildo and flipping open the lube to start spreading it all over the toy. His pink cheeks are short lived as he makes grabby hands towards Beomgyu. “C’mere,” he whines, scooting up towards the headboard and planting both feet on the bed, letting his knees fall open. “Put this in before I change my mind and fuck the attitude out of you.”
The threat isn’t very convincing with the way Yeonjun’s hole flutters in anticipation, but it still makes Beomgyu’s cock twitch all the same. He tilts his head, staring at the clenching muscle between his legs. “I dunno Hyungie, you look like you really need something in you,” he smirks, letting his eyes soften when he sees the wrecked look in Yeonjun’s eyes. He looks like he’s about to explode, holding the dildo right next to his hole.
It gives him an idea. “How about you let me watch you put it in, and then I’ll let you tell me what to do next?” Beomgyu requests, eyes fixated on the grip Yeonjun has on the toy. He can feel his cock twitching on his stomach and he settles himself between his legs, mirroring his position.
Flushing, Yeonjun gulps. “You want to watch me?” He asks, eyes big and intrigued. His cock twitches on his stomach, and Beomgyu files that concept away for later use.
He simply nods, knowing how late it already is. “If we had time, I’d love to sit right here and watch you get yourself off with that,” he murmurs, unable to hold back the truth. His eyes flick back and forth between Yeonjun’s hole starting to swallow the toy, and the pinched look on his face. “I want to sit here with the best view in the world, and talk you through the whole thing,” he says, watching his boyfriend slowly push the toy inside himself. “I love seeing you make yourself feel good—it’s so fucking hot.” He’s ranting now but he can’t help it, his eyes fixated on the way Yeonjun’s hole is swallowing up the toy.
When he looks up, he’s met with the most gorgeous sight—Yeonjun’s face scrunched in pleasure, hazy eyes and mouth open around wet, bitten lips. “Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty—you look so good like this,” he murmurs, making him whine. “So good for me.” Yeonjun’s cock twitches on his stomach at the praise. “You’re doing so well, my baby,” he adds, knowing the soft smile on his face is far too fond for the way his eyes are watching him slowly press the dildo inside of him, pulling out and pressing back in, getting himself used to the feeling.
It is by far one of the hottest sights he has ever seen—he’s putting watch Yeonjun get himself off with huge dildo to the very top of his to-do list, promising himself that he’s going to have to see that happen as soon as possible.
He’s so distracted by his thoughts and watching him work the toy into himself that he startles at his voice. “Put your legs over mine,” Yeonjun grits out, the toy deep in him, but still leaving at least half of it out for Beomgyu, who moves instantly, scooting his butt closer. “Bend them over, so you’re close enough.” Beomgyu again obeys without hesitation, scooting even closer and hooking both of his legs over Yeonjun’s, so the other end of the dildo brushes against his ass.
Yeonjun whimpers as the contact presses the toy into him further, and Beomgyu smirks. “Feel good, baby?” He teases, and he gets a scowl in return that is not convincing, since his eyes have that big, wet, pathetic look in them.
His cockiness is short lived, because when he shifts closer again and the tip of the dildo presses against his hole, he instantly lets out a sharp whine. Yeonjun groans in response.
It’s when he looks down and sees the dildo disappearing inside Yeonjun, the other half waiting for him that suddenly, he’s desperate. Somehow leagues more desperate than before.
And he was really fucking desperate before—so that’s saying something.
He tries to shift closer, but the angle isn’t the easiest and he’s moving frantically, so it doesn’t take long for him to let out an impatient, exasperated whine. He barely finishes the noise before Yeonjun jumps into action, cooing at him softly. “Shh, it’s alright, baby,” he purrs, scooting himself closer, “Hyung’s got it, okay?” He reassures, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “How about you just lay back, and Hyung will get us situated?”
Nodding, Beomgyu’s heart swells so big he thinks his chest might burst. Even in the midst of sex—in the midst of attempting to share a goddamn dildo—Yeonjun is so beyond sweet. Beomgyu fucking adores him.
He lays back, feeling Yeonjun shift closer and the press of the dildo against his hole. He whines, the sound being soothed with a gentle shush. “Just relax, baby. Hyung’s got it.”
And then he starts pressing the dildo into Beomgyu.
Instantly—his body is like jelly.
Thanks to Yeonjun’s flexibility, he’s able to push his own legs back so Beomgyu has more room, and when he adds even more lube, the slide is easy. He whimpers at the full feeling, already wanting more.
A gentle hand rubs over the inside of his thigh, giving him goosebumps. “Good boy, Beomgyu-yah,” Yeonjun murmurs, making him let out a long, drawn out whine. “You’re always so good for Hyung.”
And as if all of this isn’t already about to make Beomgyu see stars, Yeonjun starts grinding his hips down on the dildo, making it move inside of him as well.
Their schedules in the morning probably won’t matter at all, because Beomgyu might not even live that long. He has always kind of thought he might die in bed with Yeonjun—from pure, unfiltered horniness.
Tonight, he’s quite certain that someday—possibly even today—that’ll come true.
He has to push up on his elbows immediately, and though he can’t see the dildo inside them from his angle, he can see Yeonjun’s gyrating body; the way he’s sitting up, thrusting his hips down towards his ass. Eyes are watching the spot where the toy is inside both of them, and his mouth is open in awe, eyes glazed over with that hazy, gooey look Beomgyu adores.
He’s quite certain that every time he has sex with Yeonjun, he finds a new hottest sight he’s ever seen.
“Fuck—you’re so fucking pretty,” he grits out, his voice making Yeonjun snap out of his stupor of looking down between them. Their eyes meet, and the pure need on Beomgyu’s face must be obvious, because the second they make eye contact, Yeonjun groans, head tipping back and thrusting his hips down hard, making the dildo brush against Beomgyu’s prostate. He yelps, his hips finally moving too, wanting that feeling again.
The second he starts moving his own hips downwards, Yeonjun nearly sobs, back arching and eyes squeezing shut. Beomgyu moans at the sight, grinding his own hips down again, and Yeonjun’s head snaps back up at the sound, eyes locking on him.
Beomgyu reaches for his cock, wanting to relieve some of the tension he’s feeling, but a hand bats him away. “Don’t,” Yeonjun spits out, moving his hips faster as Beomgyu tries his best to match his pace. His voice is pointed and strict—in the way that makes Beomgyu’s cock twitch. “You want to take care of me?” He asks, circling his hips and cursing under his breath. “Then you’ll wait, and you’ll let me decide when you get to come.”
Groaning loudly, Beomgyu nods obediently, sitting up further. The angle isn’t as good for him, but he can see the way the dildo keeps sliding in and out of Yeonjun with every circle of his hips and he can brush a thumb over his nipples to make him squirm even more, so it’s worth it.
And suddenly, Yeonjun lets out a particularly loud moan, and something crosses Beomgyu’s mind that is a little bit insane.
It’s a little bit psychotic and a tiny bit too possessive and if he wasn’t already so fucked out it probably wouldn’t even be a thing. But he is—so it is—and he’s whining and pouting. “Hyung,” he laments, reaching for Yeonjun’s hand, lacing it with his own. “Miss you—I want you closer,” he agonizes, pulling his hand up to his mouth so he can press a kiss to the back of it.
Yeonjun—sweet, loving, merciful Yeonjun—just coos at him. “Okay, baby—don’t worry,” he reassures, immediately understanding. “I know what you mean.”
Before Beomgyu even has to explain, Yeonjun stops his hip movements and he’s slowly sliding the dildo out of himself. “It’s hot, but it’s not the same as us, right?”
And god is he right—and he understands Beomgyu so, so well.
Because the question has him nodding frantically, grabbing at his boyfriend and pulling him down into a kiss—needy and desperate. The toy inside both of them—yes, it was hot, but it didn’t feel like enough. He wants the feeling of either Yeonjun in him or Yeonjun around him so they could be as close as possible.
So it’s probably a little bit insane that Beomgyu is feeling the slightest bit jealous of a pink dildo—because it was inside Yeonjun and making him moan over and over—but he’s thankful that even if he is a little bit crazy, his boyfriend understands, and feels the same.
Without the toy in him anymore, Yeonjun leans over him, his knee pressed against the end of the dildo that is still inside Beomgyu and he presses their lips together, licking into his mouth. The pressure pushes it further in him, making him whine against his lips.
Yeonjun whines back, swinging a leg over either side of his torso. “Need you in me, Gyu-ah,” he laments, eyebrows knit together and speaking through a pout.
Suddenly, he’s somehow located the lube in the midst of everything, and he’s reaching behind him to spread it all over Beomgyu’s cock. Something inside him is activated like a sleeper agent with Yeonjun’s words. “Yes, please,” he groans out, pushing up on his elbows again so he can help him get lined up.
Holding himself at the base, he rubs the head of his cock over Yeonjun’s hole. The other hand rubs up and down his thigh soothingly, feeling the hard muscle underneath. “Nothing compares, does it baby?” He coos, and the desperate shake of Yeonjun’s head and the look of pure bliss on his face as he slowly slides down on his cock is answer enough.
And Beomgyu—Beomgyu feels like he might explode.
Everything is far too much and Yeonjun is far too hot and he’s so distracted that he forgets the toy is still in him until Yeonjun bottoms out, and his shifting makes Beomgyu clench. With his body tightening, the silicone in him moves, brushing against his prostate and reminding him of its presence.
He nearly comes then and there. Yeonjun isn’t even moving on his cock yet, and he’s about to lose it. The feeling of warm, wet heat surrounding his cock and the toy filling him is making him see stars. “Oh—fuck. Shit. Jjun… Jjunie… the—the,” he can’t get a sentence out, eyes squeezed tight to focus on not coming. “Toy.”
Above him, Yeonjun gives a roll of his hips, chuckling. Beomgyu wails. “Oh—I know, baby,” he coos, tracing a finger over his collarbone, grinding his hips forward again. “How about we leave it in, yeah?”
All Beomgyu can do in reply is choke out a whine, because as if it wasn’t already too much, Yeonjun also reaches a hand back and grabs the end of the dildo, slowly twisting it and moving it in and out, while simultaneously starting to ride his cock—slow and steady and gyrating.
Beomgyu is pretty certain he’s going to die in this bed.
Peeling his eyes open, he’s met with Yeonjun’s eyes already on him—gaze hazy and marveling, staring down at him like he’s the eighth wonder of the world. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips while cupping his face. “So pretty, my baby,” he murmurs against him, grinding himself back on his cock. “You feel so good inside me—you fill me so perfectly. There’s nothing like it.”
Beomgyu groans, his hands flying to Yeonjun’s hips, as if he’s guiding them over his cock; as if Yeonjun doesn’t have perfect control of his hips, and is stupidly good at riding him until they both see stars. He does not need help, but Beomgyu has to hold on to something or he’s pretty certain he’s going to start levitating off the bed in pleasure, like he’s been possessed by some sort of horny sex demon.
Sitting back up, Yeonjun starts grinding his hips faster, leaning back so he can grab the toy again. With his other hand, he laces his palm into Beomgyu's, bringing it up to kiss each of his knuckles. “I love you so much,” he murmurs, eyes hazy and tender and gooey.
Beomgyu lets out a whimper, because despite Yeonjun’s hand being intertwined with his, the other hand is twisting and thrusting the toy inside him, whilst he rides him at the same pace. “I—oh my, Jesus christ Jjun—I love you so fucking much,” he manages to spit out, his heart thumping violently in his chest and eyes welling up; he’s not sure if he’s about to cry because of how good it all feels, or because he’s so fucking in love with Yeonjun, it’s overwhelming.
But Beomgyu is not going to make it if he keeps this up. “Hyung—I can’t, I’m gonna,” he whines, nose scrunched up in pure willpower to not come too soon. “It’s too much, I’m—”
“You can, baby,” Yeonjun says gently, leaning forward to cup his face with his free hand. He rubs a thumb under his eye, and that's how Beomgyu realizes he’s crying. “You can wait a little longer, can’t you, my love?” He asks, waiting for the frantic nod he gets in reply.
Beomgyu isn’t actually sure he can wait a little longer, but he’s most certainly sure that he wants to do whatever Yeonjun says. He needs to hold it together.
Searching his face, Yeonjun must see how desperate he is—that he doesn’t want it to stop. He smiles gently, rolling his hips again. “Be good for Hyung, okay?”
If Beomgyu doesn’t die in the bed, it’ll be Yeonjun, because Beomgyu kind of wants to kill him—in the most loving and exasperated and horny way possible.
It’s a dirty move saying something like that to him, at a time like this—it almost sends him over the edge then and there, and Yeonjun knows it.
Whining, Beomgyu continues to nod. “O-okay,” he gulps out, grabbing onto Yeonjun’s hips again. He’s squeezing each side of his waist like his life depends on it, because it’s the only thing that can ground him.
“Good, my Beomgyu-yah,” Yeonjun purrs, twisting the toy inside of him while he’s completely bottomed out on his cock, making circles with his hips. Another tear falls down his cheek, and Yeonjun coos at him, wiping it away. “Oh, Beomie-yah,” he hums, tracing a finger over his jawline, then cupping his face. “You're being such a good boy for your Hyung, aren’t you baby?”
Beomgyu lets out a moan that sounds more like a sob, and Yeonjun pouts down at him, tracing his features. “Look at you,” he murmurs, twisting the toy inside him. “So perfect for me.”
And without being able to control it, Beomgyu’s hips jerk up at the same time Yeonjun bounces down—the noise it pulls out of him; it simultaneously almost makes Beomgyu come on the spot, but also sets something off in him. Yeonjun’s near wail of pleasure makes him fall back down to earth—which is good, because he needs to think things through.
Because if they’re going to keep going, Beomgyu is determined to make the most out of this.
And that high, pretty sound Yeonjun just made reminded him of his determination to take care of his boyfriend.
So he’s going to—just like he said he would.
Swallowing hard, he takes a deep breath to somewhat compose himself. “You were amazing today, Hyungie,” he praises, pulling himself up on his elbows so he can properly look over Yeonjun, taking in his rippling muscles and pinched brows and smooth skin. Eyes dart to his with the compliment, and hips stutter against him.
Yeonjun looks wrecked and Beomgyu fucking loves it. He wants to wreck him even more. “Whenever I see you on stage, I can’t believe you’re real,” he rants, every piece of his rambling a deep, honest truth. “I see you on stage, and I’m so impressed and amazed and so fucking turned on and I can’t believe you’re all mine.”
With the word, Beomgyu thrusts his hips up to meet Yeonjun’s, and instantly, he screams. “Oh—fuck… Gyu-ah,” he chokes out, his grinding starting to get sloppy, hand barely moving the toy as he gets distracted—he’s getting close. Which is exactly what Beomgyu was going for.
“My Hyungie,” he purrs, “you feel so good around me—you’re so good. My pretty.” He thrusts his hips up again as Yeonjun whines, cutting off his own moan with a wail of pleasure. He’s barely moving on Beomgyu’s cock now, head thrown back and panting—it’s exactly what Beomgyu wanted.
Planting his feet on the bed, he starts to meet each of the tiny bounces on his cock. “There’s no one like you, my Yeonjjunie,” he murmurs, gripping his hips hard. Yeonjun starts to give up, letting him do all the work. He’s whining up a storm, mouth dropped open and letting out a slew of whines and moans and whimpers. He’s the hottest sight in the universe.
“You know, when you told me you were going shirtless for the album, I thought I was going to get jealous,” Beomgyu admits, rhythmically thrusting upwards and making Yeonjun let out little ah, ah, ah noises. Somehow—despite looking and sounding completely destroyed—he keeps periodically twisting and thrusting the toy inside Beomgyu, out of nowhere making him jolt with pleasure. “But seeing you like this—seeing you thrive,” he grits out, trying to hold himself back, “I love it. Because so many people want you, and I’m the only one to get you like this.”
Reaching up, he brushes a thumb over Yeonjun’s nipple and his cock twitches against his stomach hard, spurting precome—he’s close, only communicating through desperate noises. “I’m the only one who makes you feel this good, aren’t I, Hyungie?” Beomgyu asks, flicking over his nipple again.
Yeonjun keens, hips jolting. “Yes, yes, yes,” he manages to chant, eyes hazy and nearly drooling, staring down at Beomgyu with the most desperate look. He reaches for his cock gets batted away.
He almost sobs. His hips jerk up against nothing, looking for friction as he lets out the most wounded noises.
“You gonna come, Hyungie?” Beomgyu purrs, and Yeonjun’s body starts to lock up as if on cue. He jerks his hips up fast—deep rhythmic thrusts upwards, making Yeonjun’s cock bounce against his stomach. It must be an absolutely incredible sight, but Beomgyu merely glances; his eyes are instead fixed on Yeonjun’s, doing his best to keep eye contact through the pleasure. “Pretty,” he murmurs—it’s a noun, with Yeonjun, not just an adjective. “My pretty… you feel so good.”
Head tipping back slowly, Yeonjun squeezes his eyes closed—Beomgyu can’t have that.
“Look at me, Jjun,” he calls—he gets ignored.
Instead, Yeonjun lets out a garbled mess of whines and moans. He’s so far gone, hovering just on the edge, but Beomgyu needs to look him in the eyes.
“Baby,” he says—like an order, instead of a request. It works instantly, Yeonjun’s head snapping down to him. “Look at me,” he repeats, and Yeonjun nods frantically, keeping eye contact. “Good, my baby.”
Wailing, Yeonjun just about collapses forwards onto his chest. “Gyu-ah, I’m—nnng,” he moans out, not able to finish the sentence.
Beomgyu cups the side of his face, pressing his thumb to the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got you, Yeonjjunie. I’ve always got you,” he murmurs, feeling him clench around him. “I love you so much.”
Yeonjun whimpers, and Beomgyu knows that’s the best he can do in reply. He’s shaking, almost there.
Beomgyu knows how to push him over the edge.
Brushing his thumb over his cheeks, he keeps his eyes on Yeonjun’s. “Come for me, my pretty boy,” he requests—soft and gentle and firm and begging.
And he can’t fucking breathe.
It’s nearly impossible to even take in air with the way Yeonjun clenches around him and presses their lips together, kissing him hard and moaning into his mouth, spilling onto their stomachs and shaking in his arms. Despite how close he is, Beomgyu makes sure to keep thrusting up into him, riding out his orgasm and trying his best to not explode.
The relentless lips on his and the gorgeous, wrecked sounds Yeonjun makes are no help to him trying to hold it together, but he knows his boyfriend well enough—and has had more than enough sex with him—to know that if he comes inside him while he’s tired and after he has already showered, he is not going to be happy.
Or at least, he’s going to whine and complain about Beomgyu not doing it, but only in the way that he’s whining and complaining while still fucked out and clingy. Once he has his head on straight again, he’ll be thankful he doesn’t have to take the time to go clean up.
Somehow though—probably because Beomgyu is quite certain he is capable of anything when it comes to pleasing Yeonjun—he holds it together, reveling in the clenching around him but not letting himself go over the edge.
He’s not sure if its the way his cock feels like its downright pulsating inside Yeonjun, or the fact that he’s just still super fucking hard that it’s noticed almost immediately that he didn’t come. “Baby,” Yeonjun sits up off his chest with a worried look, still breathing heavily, “did you not…” He questions, shifting on top of him slightly, still giving little jolts of pleasure.
Beomgyu kind of wishes he would lay back down against his chest, because the view of flushed, sweaty, spent Yeonjun on top of him—come covering his stomach and chest heaving—it’s too much.
He grits his teeth, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want to make you a mess,” he breathes out, trying to hold it together while Yeonjun shifts again, still tight around him.
The answer makes Yeonjun frown, sucking in a sharp, overstimulated breath with his movement. His pout is prominent, as Beomgyu expected. “I don’t care,” he whines, rolling his hips despite the sensitive moan it brings out of him. Beomgyu grabs his waist—to let him know he doesn’t have to move, and also to ground himself. The stubborn look Yeonjun gives him makes him loosen his grip. “Want you to—ah—want you come for me, baby,” he laments, leaning himself back further. “Let Hyung take care of you, okay?”
All Beomgyu can do is nod, his entire body buzzing.
Slowly, Yeonjun starts grinding his hips again, letting out little overstimulated whimpers but moaning too, clearly enjoying it. “So pretty,” he hums, hips doing a circle that is downright sinful. “You’ve been so good for me, my love. You waited this whole time,” he praises, caressing Beomgyu’s face softly.
The way he’s looking down at him—eyes bleary, but so loving and so gentle and completely amazed—Beomgyu is quite certain he’s the luckiest person to exist; past, present and future.
Because the way Yeonjun looks at him; it’s indescribable.
It’s love in every second, in every inch and every blink. It’s soft and fond and tender and dumbstruck and delicate.
He can only imagine it’s the same look that reflects from his own face.
And just when he thinks he’s not going to make it—that he’s going to finally completely black out from pleasure—Yeonjun reaches behind him and grabs the toy that’s somehow still in him and pushes it further, twisting and thrusting.
Beomgyu screams.
“Hyung—Jjun, I’m… I…” He wails, thrashing on the pillow and gripping onto Yeonjun’s hips, his own jerking up into him uncontrollably. The orgasm that he’s been just on the edge of over and over has come back full force, building and building, slow but mighty. Yeonjun’s whining but keeps rolling his hips, pressing the toy into Beomgyu over and over, hitting his prostate every time.
Humming, he cups his face, wiping away his tears of pleasure. “Hyung’s here, baby,” he coos, rubbing his thumb over his cheek. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart. Such a good boy for Hyung.”
The world is spinning, and Beomgyu’s vision is going blurry, but he’s determined to keep his eyes open—to keep eye contact with Yeonjun, because he can’t fathom looking away from that much love.
Smiling in a way that’s far too sweet for the movements his hips are making, Yeonjun rubs a thumb over his lips, and they part instantly, taking his thumb into his mouth. Eyebrows knitting together in awe, Yeonjun groans. “Oh—my baby,” he laments, pressing down on Beomgyu’s tongue. “I love you so much, my Gyu-ah. You can come now—Hyung’s here.”
The world explodes.
Vision blurring over, the second Beomgyu hears Yeonjun's permission his entire body stiffens and then starts to shake, his orgasm hitting him so hard he feels like he actually pass out. It’s obvious the thumb in his mouth was purposeful, the way the grip on his chin keeps his mouth closed, muffling the near hysterical noise that comes out of him as he falls over the edge, hips jerking up into Yeonjun and down onto the toy and he’s trying so hard to keep his eyes on his boyfriend but he’s seeing spots and his eyes roll back, arching up off the bed.
Faintly, he can hear Yeonjun cooing at him; murmurs of I’ve got you, good boy, my baby, I love you, so pretty. His orgasm seems never ending, Yeonjun clenching down on him and letting out his own overstimulated whines, but still riding him through the pleasure and twisting the toy inside him, prolonging his orgasm.
By the time his body has mostly relaxed—still giving little tremors of pleasure here and there—Yeonjun has collapsed on top of him, lips pressing to his. They kiss and they kiss and they kiss, lazy and messy and slow and wet, both of them absolutely spent.
Since he was the one who made Yeonjun messy, Beomgyu figures that even though his legs are shaking the second he stands, he needs to be the responsible one and drag his boyfriend back into the shower. They rinse off under the warm water, and they kiss, and they whisper teasing, gentle words filled with so much love.
“I love you so much,” Yeonjun says under the stream of warm water, as Beomgyu gently cleans the dried come off his stomach, tracing over his abs with nimble fingers.
“I love you so much,” Beomgyu says as Yeonjun shuts the blow dryer off, hands still running gently through his now dry hair, scratching at his scalp and pressing soft kisses to his bare shoulder.
“I love you so much,” they both say, curled around each other in bed, satiated and tired and so fucking in love.
Beomgyu’s comfortable on Yeonjun’s chest, a leg hitched over him and nuzzled into his neck. Yeonjun’s drawing patterns on his back, and if he focuses hard enough, he’s certain the patterns are actually words. “Are you writing something?” He asks, his voice heavy with sleep.
The hand on his back pauses for a second, and Yeonjun lets out the breath of laugh that brushes air over his head. “How’d you know?” He giggles, squinting down at him when he picks his head up, resting his chin on his chest.
“I concentrated—really hard.”
Yeonjun’s eyebrows raise. “Wow. I didn’t know that was possible for you.”
“And I didn’t know you could even spell, so I guess we’re always learning new things about each other aren’t we?”
Teasing is cut off with a kiss, and Beomgyu giggles against him. “Shut up,” Yeonjun murmurs on his lips, reaching down and squeezing his ass in retaliation, making him squeak.
Pulling back, Beomgyu places himself on the pillow next to him, and instantly, his boyfriend turns on his side to face him, interlacing their legs between them. A hand comes up and traces over his eyebrows, then his nose and his lips, mapping his features with a gentle touch—something Yeonjun does often, and something that makes Beomgyu’s heart flutter no matter how many times he does it.
When he lets his eyes open again, Yeonjun’s watching him with that soft smile that’s reserved just for him—fond and tender and so fucking in love. He can’t help but return his own adoring grin. “You wrote I love you, didn’t you?” He murmurs, reaching for Yeonjun’s hand and starting to play with his fingers, kissing each knuckle as he goes. “On my back.”
Yeonjun just smiles harder, and Beomgyu adores the way that he can see his ears going red, even in the dim light of the room. “How’d you know?” He asks bashfully, soft eyes stuck on Beomgyu’s face. “You’re too smart, my Gyu-ah,” he commends, tugging their conjoined hands to his own lips for a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.
Shrugging, Beomgyu’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “I know you,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering closed. He’s so tired, and so in love, and everything is so peaceful and warm and calm, he can’t help it. “It was an educated guess—I can predict all your moves.”
Yeonjun giggles lightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead and pulling him closer, tucking his head into his chest again. “You’re right, you do—you know me better than anyone,” he agrees, kissing his head. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Beomgyu answers, sleepy and warm.
A hand comes around his body to continue drawing letters on his bare back. “I used to do this all the time, you know,” Yeonjun hums, spelling out I love you over and over. “Before we were together.” Beomgyu’s heart swells. “When I couldn’t say it to you, I’d do this. It made me feel less like I was going to explode out of my skin with love for you.”
Beomgyu lets out a tired giggle, smiling hard. He presses a soft kiss to Yeonjun’s neck, cuddling impossibly closer. “Stupid,” he murmurs, in the way that says I love you. But still, it’s not enough, he has to say it. “I love you, my Yeonjjunie.”
The next day, they’re both exhausted. Beomgyu nearly falls asleep on Yeonjun’s shoulder in the middle of dance practice, when they’re supposed to be watching back the video they just filmed. Faintly, he hears Yeonjun’s voice. “Give him a few minutes,” he whispers, scooting closer so Beomgyu can lean into him more. “He’s tired.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you know exactly why that is,” Soobin snorts.
From the movement of Yeonjun’s body next to him, Beomgyu can only assume the comment earns him a middle finger.
And he hopes his fake sleeping will cover up the fact that he’s blushing like crazy.
When he’s finally dragged to his feet by his boyfriend, and they’re in position to start the next run through for one of their end of year performances, he catches Yeonjun’s eye in the mirror.
You’ve got this—we’ll be able to go home soon, his eyes say. We can relax soon. You can do it.
Beomgyu knows him well enough that he doesn’t need words. His eyes say it all.
He smiles back, soft and tender. I love you, his eyes say.
Yeonjun returns his sweet grin, because he knows Beomgyu too—every piece of him. Every expression and sound and blink; he knows.
They don’t need words. Their souls are intertwined, and they’ve known each other in every lifetime. Beomgyu’s certain of it.
Yeonjun knows and loves every piece of him—all the light and the dark.
And being known by Yeonjun—being so understood and cared for and so deeply adored—it’s more than Beomgyu could’ve ever expected.
He’s a fool for him—forever and longer.