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There is an apparition outside Mark’s door.
He’s pretty, with lips slightly parted. Pink and plump, obviously bitten into oblivion. Atop his head is a mop of brown hair. This familiar shade of home, windswept and mussed by the autumn winds that must have followed him into the hallway of Mark’s apartment, judging by the uncharacteristic build up of floral spice — peony, a hint of rose maybe, lychee and oh.
Alarm bells begin to blare at the back of Mark’s mind, screaming at him to slam the door shut now or he will never know peace.
Because this apparition looks a lot like Lee Donghyuck, and it’s all well and good, except the Donghyuck that Mark knows vowed never to step foot inside his apartment ever again.
“Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to let me in?”
The mere sound of Donghyuck’s voice almost has Mark swinging the door open for him, but at the last minute he reminds himself that this is his home and his life, and it was Donghyuck’s decision to walk out of it six months ago when he said it was over.
“What do you want?” Mark says instead, voice coming out a little harsher than he intended. He takes satisfaction in the slight widening of Donghyuck’s eyes, no doubt surprised by the shiny new spine that Mark has managed to grow in the last ten seconds.
Heart shaped lips recover into a sneer. A scoff, and then, “You weren’t answering my texts.”
“When have I ever?” Mark asks, raising his brows. Last he heard, Donghyuck got himself an alpha boyfriend in that law firm he hated working at so much. He was pretty sure all of Donghyuck’s unsolicited life updates were bait from day one, but that one had actually hurt.
These days, Mark’s taken to just straight up deleting the messages as they come, scared of what godless tidbit he’d find in his inbox and terrified of the inevitable pain. To be honest, he should have probably just blocked the number altogether, but that felt way too severe for Mark’s tastes. Figures, his mom always said he was too soft for an alpha.
“You’re right,” Donghyuck nods, his voice a little tight. Mark thinks he sees a wince threaten to break into Donghyuck’s features, but he could be wrong. “You never answer, but at least you used to read them.”
Mark wants to tell him that people have no business texting their ex boyfriends in the first place, but the words get stuck in his throat when Donghyuck stiffens up, a look of panic painting his face for a split second before he’s falling, falling, falling.
Mark has no time to think. He surges forward, arms wrapping tight around Donghyuck’s waist to keep him from sinking completely into the floor.
The jostle pulls a distressed whimper out of Donghyuck. On instinct, Mark nuzzles the side of his face, whispering hushed comfort in his ears as he pulls them both safely inside his apartment.
Like clockwork, Donghyuck’s shoulders relax at the close proximity. Mark would be relieved if only Donghyuck’s body weren’t six degrees too warm for a cold October night.
“Hyuck.” Mark deposits him on the couch, brain too muddled with worry to notice the nickname slipping out. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Donghyuck answers only in ragged breaths, arms curling around himself in a confused attempt to squirm out of his own skin. His cheeks are flushed, eyes fluttering close momentarily to ground himself.
Mark lifts the back of his hand to Donghyuck’s forehead and nearly flinches at the burn. He's wondering how Donghyuck had the gall to trudge all the way to the other side of the city with a raging fever, when he catches it — the minute change in the air, the suppressants lifting their final veil, and the sweet, lightly spiced scent of Donghyuck’s pheromones taking a sharp turn into heady, intoxicating, overwhelming.
“Don’t tell me…” Mark’s voice is low, as if keeping his voice down would somehow make this whole situation any less real. “You’re in heat. What the fuck are you doing here?”
A part of Mark refuses to believe this is happening, but he’s been with Donghyuck long enough to witness the wayward cycles of his adolescence regularize into bi-annual visits — once in the spring and another right in the middle of fall. The dates check out, but it doesn’t give Mark any comfort.
“I don’t know how to do this without you,” Donghyuck croaks out, voice devoid of its flippant edge from minutes ago. His face twists into something a little desperate when he feels Mark start to pull away. “No— Mark, just hear me out.”
“Donghyuck,” Mark says, his voice dripping with a quiet warning. He needs to distance himself before he does something he regrets, but Donghyuck’s bruising grip on his arm makes it difficult. “Let me go. You don’t know what you’re asking for—”
“ Really? ” There’s a wild, almost murderous look in Donghyuck’s eyes, pinning Mark to his seat and making his breath catch in his throat. “You can't seriously be—” he cuts himself off. “Do you think I didn’t think this though? You think I don’t know what it means that I’m waltzing up your door when I’m like this?”
Mark remains silent, not because he doesn’t know what to say but because he knows his answer will only serve to anger Donghyuck even more.
It’s true. Donghyuck has always been the brazen type. He likes to decide on things at the last minute, and glares his way through the consequences. It had been one of Donghyuck’s charming points then, but Mark doesn’t know if he can take the look of scorn that’ll be directed at him when the sun rises tomorrow morning and Donghyuck realizes what they’ve done.
“I wish I could say I wasn’t thinking straight when I came here, so at least I had an excuse.” Donghyuck swallows thickly, voice simmering down to a whisper. “But I actually thought long and hard about this, Mark. I know what I’m asking for and I know how big this is. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask this of you if I could help it.”
The implication of Donghyuck’s words hurtle through Mark like bullets, and if anything Mark is grateful to be seated lest he stumble through the fall.
At the end of the day, Donghyuck wouldn’t set foot back in here if it weren’t for some biological need, if he weren’t his last resort. And to the selfish part of Mark’s brain, it just feels a little unfair that Donghyuck gets to choose like that when he’s stuck in this place. Paradise lost, an incessant reminder of all that Mark once had and can never get back.
Permanently, at least, if he lets himself be talked into giving Donghyuck what he wants.
It might as well be a done deal, with the way Donghyuck is looking at him — vulnerable, desperate, like Mark is the only one who can stop this madness. It would positively break Mark to try to say no, but for his sanity he tries all the same.
“Isn’t there anyone else you could ask?” Mark’s scent takes a sharp left, fingernails digging into his palm in an attempt to calm himself down. “Weren’t you seeing that guy? Jeno, was it?”
“My omega refuses to lay with him,” Donghyuck says weakly, biting at his lips. He could have left it at that, but he continues, “In or out of heat.”
The confession shoots up to the most basal parts of Mark’s brain and reverberates loud in his ears. He can feel his alpha instinct claw at his insides, angry, asking to be let out to please its mate. Mark chooses to close his eyes and take a deep breath to steel himself, but regrets it almost immediately.
"Fuck,” Mark breathes out, brain muddled with a strong flurry of scents. The waves are coming harder by the minute, and in no time neither of them will be in any position to make proper decisions. Something’s gotta give. “What— Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I tried, but I didn’t think you’d ever stop reading my texts,” Donghyuck says, looking down. He never really learned to look Mark in the eye whenever he felt humiliated, but his cautious inching to where Mark sits perfectly still on the couch is formidable progress. Ill-timed, but progress. “I guess that’s on me. You always did say I was too smug about my place in your life.”
For someone so warm, Donghyuck’s hands are cold. Mark feels reluctant fingers ghost around his own, slowly gaining courage when Mark just lets it happen.
If they were in any other situation, Mark would relish the words coming out of Donghyuck’s mouth. It’s the closest to an admission of defeat as he was going to get from someone as prideful as Donghyuck, but somehow the victory seems hollow.
“This is…” Mark trails off, eloquence throwing itself out the window.
“I know.” Donghyuck is quick to cut in. His voice is shaky but his grip on Mark’s hand grows tight, as if he's scared Mark would disappear. “I can leave right now if you want, but I wanted to give it a shot. The last time I did this alone…” he swallows, pupils shaking in the low light. “Mark, it hurt so much without you I thought I was going to die.”
Mark is fighting a losing game, but he no longer knows if he’s playing against Donghyuck or himself. That’s a lie, of course. The harsh, bitter truth is that Mark would do anything for Donghyuck, and his life’s work has been carved out for him in the shape of Donghyuck’s bashful playground smile when they first met fifteen years ago.
“You’re not leaving,” Mark decides, whipping his head so fast that it takes a couple of seconds for Donghyuck’s form to stabilize in front of him. A low growl rips through his throat at the mere thought of Donghyuck walking out his door. Not again. “And you’re not going through this alone.”
There’s fragile hope in Donghyuck’s eyes that Mark hasn’t seen in ages, and whatever apprehension he held in his heart about this fucked up arrangement disappears with the shuddering of Donghyuck’s breath.
“R-really?” Donghyuck exhales, almost unbelieving. “You’d let me—”
“It’s not a chore, Hyuck.” The conviction in his voice should surprise him, but it doesn’t. “Not when it’s you.”
The words break something in Donghyuck’s eyes, and for a second Mark thinks he actually hears them crack. It’s not until seconds later when Donghyuck speaks again does Mark realize that the sound had come from knees hitting the hardwood floor and that Donghyuck is in front of him, kneeling.
“I’m so sorry,” Donghyuck whimpers, fresh tears tracking down his cheeks in scents of both distress and relief. “I don’t deserve thi—”
Mark refuses to listen, hauling Donghyuck back up by their intertwined hands before he could say any more. “What you do not deserve is to beg,” he whispers, hand coming up to wipe at Donghyuck’s tear stained face. “Nothing more.”
The air around them is perfectly still, but the way Donghyuck’s trembling body is balanced precariously on his lap makes Mark feel like an exposed wire. The small puffs of breath against his skin from Donghyuck’s hiccups kick his senses into overdrive, taunting him to lean in and just take, but Mark stays put.
This is the tipping point. One wrong move could pop this bubble and then it’s down, down, down to where they’re beyond saving. Mark has to wait patiently for a sign, because wherever that rabbit hole leads, there is no Mark and Donghyuck together, only apart.
“Can I kiss you?” Donghyuck’s arms tighten around Mark’s neck, pulling him closer until there’s nothing Mark can see that isn’t devastating beauty. “Please.”
Mark can feel the last vestiges of restraint slowly leave his body. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he whispers in prayer.
“I won’t.” Donghyuck shakes his head, hand coming up to cup the side of Mark’s face. “I’ll never regret you, Mark. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Mark knows in his very core it can’t possibly be true, but just for tonight and whatever it will bring, his greedy little hands take Donghyuck’s words for all they're worth and he runs with it.
He feels himself nod once, and then again and again until Donghyuck leans into him and everything else turns into noise.
Donghyuck’s lips are soft, careful and warm as if rediscovering what it feels like to kiss Mark again after so long. It’s like dipping a foot into a bottomless lake, only to find out that the waters are shallow and the ground is there to catch you before you even fall. Mark refuses to waste any more time and presses deeper, tongue sweeping across the seam of Donghyuck’s lips and sighing when Donghyuck yields, gasping to let Mark in.
He tastes sweet, like the strawberry chapstick he used to leave all around Mark’s apartment. Donghyuck tightens his arms around Mark, pulling him closer, and Mark surrenders, drowning himself in the light tug of Donghyuck’s fingers on his hair and this soft keening sound he makes at the back of his throat.
All distress dissipates from the air and there is only relief, though Mark can’t pinpoint whose. It doesn’t really matter because right now, breathing the same air with their chests flush together, Mark finally feels like coming home.
But having Donghyuck so near him devastates him, too, in ways that involve the scents blooming profusely from right under Donghyuck’s ear. It coats Mark’s mouth in a mouthwatering syrup that makes his brain stutter, trapped between wanting to continue the kiss and wanting to lean down and bite. He holds Donghyuck tighter against him, wondering distantly how to do both when a pained whimper escapes Donghyuck’s lips. Mark pulls away almost immediately, arms circling tighter around Donghyuck as he doubles over in pain.
“Hyuck, we need to get you to bed,” Mark says softly, nosing the side of Donghyuck’s face in a comforting gesture as they wait for the wave to pass.
Donghyuck’s cramps are always the worst in the limbo between the suppressants wearing off and his heat hitting full force, but it’s usually not something a hot pack can’t solve. Mark wonders if the waves are coming stronger because Donghyuck had to suffer through his last heat alone, and his body was protesting against the possibility of it happening again.
The thought of it makes Mark want to hurl. He has a hand in Donghyuck’s suffering, and he promises never to let the younger man go through this alone ever again. If he can help it.
When Donghyuck’s breathing evens out again, Mark hooks an arm behind his knees, the other wrapping around Donghyuck’s back to lift them both from the couch. Donghyuck will have to sleep the next hour off if he doesn’t want to suffer needlessly, and Mark tries not to jostle him too much on the way to the bedroom.
With as much gentleness as he could muster, Mark lays Donghyuck down on the bed, taking care to place him nearer to the side of the windows where Donghyuck preferred to sleep. He always said seeing the moon made him calmer, though for months he’d led Mark to believe it was because he didn’t want to be taken first should an intruder come in in the middle of the night.
Mark’s heart aches, his fingers lingering against Donghyuck’s skin before pulling away. He has to check if he still has any of Donghyuck’s old painkillers in the kitchen to help him sleep better, but he stops in his tracks when he feels Donghyuck reach out, barely grazing the back of Mark’s shirt.
“Don’t leave,” Donghyuck says, voice entirely too faint.
Mark turns to see Donghyuck halfway gone, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. He’s looking up at him the way he used to on weekend mornings, when Mark would go out for a jog at the crack of dawn and Donghyuck would paw at him sleepily, not wanting to let go.
“Don’t worry,” Mark says. “I’m just going to get you some meds. I’ll be back in a second.”
The answer displeases Donghyuck, his scent turning sharp as a frown mars his face. “I don’t need it.”
“But—”
“Just stay,” Donghyuck says, reaching out again. Mark takes his hand before he can even think. “Stay with me and I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Donghyuck’s grip on him might be weak but his gaze has always been intense. His big glassy eyes do not beg, not really. They command, pulling Mark closer and closer until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, slipping himself into the sheets and curling into negative space around Donghyuck’s body.
Mark feels a sigh of contentment blown against his skin when he finally settles in Donghyuck’s embrace. Almost immediately after that, Donghyuck’s scent mellows, and Mark finds himself carding his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair to soothe him even further.
It doesn’t take long for Donghyuck to fall asleep, but as soon as he’s out, the rational part of Mark’s brain kicks in and tells him to get up and leave. Mark does the exact opposite, ignoring the noise in his head in favor of arms around him he hasn’t felt in months. He savors the feeling for posterity, and prays this one night is enough to get him through the rest of his life.
When Donghyuck wakes up, everything is on fire.
The sky does that sometimes in this part of the city, turning all sorts of colors in the dead of night before settling on something apocalyptic nearer to midnight. The way it splatters through the sky is not unlike the itch travelling under his skin, and Donghyuck writhes against the sheets, a thirst for something beginning to pound incessantly against his skull.
His whole body aches, but at the very least, the sheets are warm. Donghyuck turns himself over and sniffs into the pillows, chasing the scent that smells like better days as he rolls his hips down in hopes to subdue the spike of arousal coursing through his veins.
“Fuck,” Donghyuck moans, a gathering of a feeling starting to coil in his gut. He’s sweating so much, and he’s pretty sure he’s leaking slick through the sheets, but no matter how hard his orgasm builds, it never crests. Almost as if it’s waiting for something, someone. And then there’s a name on his tongue, the only one he calls on nights like these. “M-Mark!”
The creak of the door is suddenly too loud, and against his better judgement Donghyuck halts all movement, turning his eyes to the figure hovering by the door. Ask and you shall receive, they say. But Donghyuck had never truly believed in it until now, staring at the Mark that he managed to manifest out of thin air.
His glasses are askew and he’s carrying what looks to be an inordinate amount of water bottles, but Donghyuck thinks he’s lovely.
Mark starts to inch carefully towards the bed, but Donghyuck only follows him with his eyes and doesn’t move. Donghyuck finds that on really bad days, he can start imagining things, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take it if the Mark in front of him was just a figment of his imagination.
“Mark,” Donghyuck whispers, mostly to himself. “Are you real?”
The bottles land with soft thuds on the bedside table. Then the bed dips, and Donghyuck shivers against the warmth of Mark’s hand — so fucking real, against the back of his neck.
“Shh… I’m right here,” Mark says, working to undo the knots he finds under his fingers. It makes Donghyuck go boneless underneath him, falling apart as he inevitably resumes rutting against the bed. “I got you.”
Ask and you shall receive, they say. Donghyuck thinks he better start asking more often.
Donghyuck shies away from Mark’s touch for a second to flip over, wanting to see and touch Mark’s face properly. He’s gorgeous despite his hair sticking out in places, and Donghyuck wants him so much that a fresh wave of slick flows out of him, making him press his wet thighs together as a reflex.
The one downside of changing positions though is that Donghyuck loses all the petty friction he gets from the mattress. He squirms in his skin and groans, feeling more and more aware of the ocean’s distance between Mark and all of his pressing problems.
“God, fuck. C’mere,” Donghyuck breathes out, pulling Mark to hover over him by the sleeve of his shirt. “Why are you so far away?”
That somehow makes Mark chuckle a little, which leaves Donghyuck wondering if there’s anything remotely funny about this situation. But before Donghyuck could call him out, Mark yields, letting himself be pulled down but not without caging an arm beside Donghyuck’s head at the last minute.
“Last chance to back out, Donghyuck,” Mark says, swallowing audibly as the back of his hand comes up — painfully tender, to caress the side of Donghyuck’s face. “Say the word and I’ll go.”
He watches Mark bite his lips as if to hold himself back, and Donghyuck surmises that Mark may not be as unaffected by all of this as he seems.
Donghyuck doesn’t want to make this any harder on any of them, so he says, “Stay,” as firm and resolute as he can, leaving no room for uncertainty. He gives Mark only a second to take it in before he’s crashing their lips together, end of conversation. Mark takes the cue, licking his way past Donghyuck’s lips to swallow the dying noises from the back of his throat.
Having each other close like this does wonders to Donghyuck’s fraying nerves, but now that the nitty gritty details have been cleared out, Donghyuck’s brain shuts down. With it, the instinctual need to be filled comes back full force, and Donghyuck doesn’t quite care about anything that doesn’t have to do with Mark sticking it in him and shutting him up for the rest of the night.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” Mark murmurs along his throat, sneaking a hand underneath Donghyuck’s damp shirt to feel his nipples pebble against his thumb. Donghyuck yells too loudly, back arching against Mark’s chest as his cock twitches underneath his pants. “I’ll take care of you.”
There are many things Donghyuck can say off the top of his head, but none of them remotely possible with the way these layers are clinging onto him like second skin. He fists at the bottom of his shirt — Mark’s shirt, he doesn’t know the difference, crumpling it with his desperation. “Clothes —ah— off,” he whines, feeling too hot. “Geddit off.”
Mark nods, lifting himself off of Donghyuck for a second to yank the offending material almost clinically off his furnace of a body. It’s supposed to help with the heat, but somehow it only makes Donghyuck burn hotter. His instincts can sense Mark nearby, and it doesn’t understand why Donghyuck is allowing him to be so far away.
Fortunately, Donghyuck doesn’t have to wait too long before they’re skin to skin, finally. His heavy panting pitches into a gasp, and then a choked sob when Mark spreads his thighs, marvelling only for a second before diving in and swallowing Donghyuck whole. White flashes against Donghyuck’s eyelids and he almost crushes Mark’s skull with the intensity in which his thighs clamp down, the rest of him thrashing against the bed, delirium reaching a fever pitch.
“ Yes,” Donghyuck sobs, his hand searching for anything of Mark that he can reach. He settles on his hair and pulls hard, reining him in. “God yes, Mark. I’m s-so close.”
Distantly, he hears Mark grunt at the sting, but Donghyuck doesn’t have it in him to feel guilty. He knows this is child’s play for Mark; his years of practice evident in the swift curling of his tongue, taking special attention to the underside of Donghyuck’s cock, right under the head where Mark knows he’s most sensitive.
Donghyuck turns his head to the side, trying to muffle his whimpers into the pillow to no avail. His body feels like a string pulled taut, a house of cards waiting to collapse.
He’s been so on edge since he woke up that a simple gust of wind would be enough to blindside him, but Mark goes above and beyond, pressing insistently on his perineum at the last minute.
With that Donghyuck snaps, knuckles deathly white as his orgasm charges at him full tilt. Mark’s throat only flutters around him in response, making sure to swallow every single drop before pulling off completely.
Donghyuck feels his heart everywhere; in his ears, along his dick, and pounding through his ass, but his head is clearing. It won’t last long — five minutes at most before everything returns into a haze, but he’s thankful for it. At least like this, he can stare into the popcorn ceiling in high definition.
“How are you feeling?” Mark asks.
His voice sounds pretty wrecked, but that’s to be expected. Donghyuck watches him cut across the bed to reach for one of the water bottles on the nightstand, which with a clearer head Donghyuck recognizes to be Evian — that brand Mark loathes for being overpriced spring water, but used to buy anyway when Donghyuck would pout in the middle of the grocery.
The cap makes a crisp sound in the silence of the room when Mark twists it open. “You should drink.”
Donghyuck lifts himself by the forearms and mumbles a small thanks before taking the bottle up to his lips. He didn’t realize how parched he was, and basically demolishes the entire thing in a flash.
Mark on the other hand, takes his sweet time. Part of Donghyuck wonders if it has anything to do with the price tag, which he now admits is pretty stupid. But he’s not complaining. This tiny pocket of time gives him a front row seat to seeing Mark in his element, with no one to judge him if his eyes linger a little too long.
His hair is still black like Donghyuck remembers, but it’s styled a little differently from what Mark would normally go for. This undercut makes Mark look older, his features sharper and a little more severe than when he sported his boyish bangs. Donghyuck misses that version of him but this is a good look on Mark too, though he doesn’t know if it’s really him talking or his heat starting to flare up again.
Inevitably, Donghyuck’s brain starts wandering south, trailing down to Mark’s half-mast cock as if looking would somehow ease the hollow he feels inside his ass. It looks big — it is big, he reminds himself, and all Donghyuck can think about is how much he wants to feel the weight of it in his hands.
And so he does. Donghyuck waits for Mark to empty the bottle before scooting over, passing an inconspicuous hand through the wetness in his ass before slathering his slick all over Mark’s cock. Donghyuck’s hands are too small, or maybe Mark’s dick is just too big, that Donghyuck’s fingers don’t make it around the girth.
“Hyuck.” It’s obvious how it catches Mark off guard, the muscles of his stomach flexing so suddenly when Donghyuck dips a tongue into his slit. “What are you doing?”
The haze is coming back, and Donghyuck has to trade off his inhibitions. “I want to make you feel good,” he says, taking the head of Mark’s cock into his mouth and sucking hard. Above him, Mark releases a low growl and tries not to buck into Donghyuck’s mouth before gently pulling him off.
“Baby,” Mark whispers, the sound of it running a tremor through Donghyuck’s spine. It’s been a while since he last heard that. Donghyuck turns into goo. “Don’t you wanna save that for later?”
“But it’s unfair,” Donghyuck whines, the warmth starting to pool in his gut making him restless. “You should have a go too.”
Despite his protests, Donghyuck lets Mark maneuver him back into the sheets. He sighs when Mark slots himself between his thighs, grateful for the friction and the lips hovering over his ear.
“If I come now, I won’t be able to knot you later,” Mark says low, licking a stripe up his neck. “Don’t you want my knot, baby?”
In his defense, Donghyuck tries very hard to convince himself that it makes sense. He knows he needs about two more orgasms before his fever breaks for the night, and Mark usually knots him on the third one before he passes out. But oh god, a knot. A fucking knot. Donghyuck hasn’t had one in him in so long that just the thought of it makes him crazy.
“I want it,” Donghyuck gasps, the corners of his eyes watering as he grinds up against Mark’s thigh. “Mark, please. I need it.”
“And you’ll get it if you’re good.” Mark kisses down the length of his neck, thumbs back to fiddling with hardened nipples, drawing a broken sound from Donghyuck’s lips. “You’d be good for me, won’t you?”
Donghyuck nods furiously, gums aching. He’s good. He’ll be so good for Mark. He’ll do anything.
Mark hums, seemingly appeased at Donghyuck’s obedience. He presses a chaste kiss right over Donghyuck’s heart before slinking back onto his haunches, grabbing Donghyuck’s legs and lifting his hips until he’s almost folded in half.
“Just one more,” Mark promises. “Can you hold your legs up for me?”
The yes goes without saying. Donghyuck hooks his arms around the back of his thighs, feeling his face start to burn when he gets into position and fresh slick immediately dribbles out of his hole. He almost wants to fold himself back, incredibly exposed, but then Mark makes this sound at the back of his throat that has Donghyuck gripping around his thighs tighter, eager to please.
“My pretty baby,” Mark moans, and it’s the only warning Donghyuck gets before Mark’s flattening his hot tongue against his hole and Donghyuck falls apart.
Donghyuck doesn’t know what really does it for him — the compliments or the tongue in his ass. He suspects it’s both, and in large part because it’s Mark who’s doing it and no one else. Whatever it is, it feels absolutely glorious. He keens once, and then Donghyuck promptly loses control of his throat, pouring a slew of godless noises out of him. “ M-Mark. ”
The hot drag of Mark’s tongue leaves a filthy trail along Donghyuck’s ass, licking teasingly around the edges before sinking right in. Mark pokes and prods in frantic strokes relentlessly, until Donghyuck flutters helplessly around his tongue, spit mixing obscenely with slick that drives them both crazy.
Mark doesn’t stop even when Donghyuck’s thighs start to quiver, not when one of them slips out of Donghyuck’s grip from the sheer pleasure. If anything, it seems to fuel him, one hand coming up to hold Donghyuck still and his two fingers from the other finding a playmate in his tongue.
“Holy—” Donghyuck cuts himself off with a high whine, then a sob. “Fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He hears a breathless laugh puff out of Mark’s lips, and though he can’t see it, Donghyuck is certain half of Mark’s face is dripping wet. It used to embarrass him before, at the beginning of their relationship, how Mark would go absolutely ballistic over the taste of his slick. He’d been an insecure teenager and thought Mark was doing it to boost his ego, but then Mark got casted and fired from a TVC gig all in the same week, and that’s how Donghyuck learned that Mark was a rotten actor.
Donghyuck would like to think that the same still holds true, and Mark hasn’t learned to fake enthusiasm in the time they were apart. As if to answer him, Mark sinks back between Donghyuck’s legs and lets out a moan so gratuitous that Donghyuck screams, the vibrations sending him into a frenzy.
It doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers never stopped working him over, even though they both know there’s no real use for prep like this when Donghyuck’s already so loose and soft and pliant from the heat. He clenches around Mark’s fingers, choking out a sob when Mark finally hits his prostate after intentionally missing it for the nth time. “Oh my god, Mark. I can’t—”
“That’s it,” Mark says. “You’re almost there, baby.”
“Keep going, keep going! I’m gonna—” There is not enough air in Donghyuck’s lungs for when he folds in on himself, convulsing as he splatters white and hot across his stomach. There’s a ringing in his ears that matches the rhythm of Mark’s fingers still pistoning in and out of him, and his tongue — lapping up every blessed drop Donghyuck has to offer.
With a high keening sound, strength escapes Donghyuck’s body, his legs dropping somewhere within the bed, arms falling limp against his side.
He waits for the ceiling to return to him in crystal clear quality but it never comes, and only when Mark’s thumb caresses the side of his face shortly after does he understand why.
“Did I hurt you?” Mark asks, voice laced with worry. “I’m so sorry—”
“Why did you let me leave?”
Donghyuck’s voice cracks like knees on a hardwood floor, like the last sternal rib snapping in two. This is hardly the time and place, he knows. But he couldn’t help it. The wave that crashed into him just now had been too strong, washing up shells of pleasure but along with it, questions that have plagued him for the last six months.
Now they’re out here; drying in the sand, parching his throat, and what’s worse is that he can’t throw them back into the sea.
“What?” Mark’s face flickers not unlike a faulty flashlight. “Donghyuck, you weren—”
Donghyuck shakes his head, pulling himself up slowly from the sheets. The fog in his mind isn’t clearing and his vision is blurring even further, but even then he refuses to hear the words coming out of Mark’s mouth.
“I was happy,” Donghyuck says, voice coming out more like a small whimper than anything. But there is no hesitation when he reaches out, cradling Mark’s face in his hands. “You made me so happy.”
The expression on Mark’s face settles into something destroyed, and Donghyuck can’t help but think to himself, I did that. He watches Mark bite into his bottom lip, looking like he wants to say something but can’t. If it’s because he doesn’t have the words or because the words won’t be pretty, Donghyuck doesn’t know. Frankly, he doesn’t care. He’ll take anything that Mark is willing to give, good or bad.
Donghyuck starts burning up again under his skin and he knows he doesn’t have much time. He’s lived through the worst case scenario over the last six months and figures he doesn’t have much else to lose. Chances are hard to come by around here. He lets his lips run wild. “Do you love me?”
“I do,” Mark says, so certain. Once is enough for Donghyuck’s heart but Mark says it again and again, each one surer than the last. “I love you, Donghyuck. I love you.”
“Then let’s be happy,” is the only thing that Donghyuck manages to say before he’s surging forward, hands pulling Mark in for a frantic kiss. It tastes like salt and slick, and the crash of their lips is borderline painful, but Donghyuck feels like floating, as if the flood of dopamine from the previous orgasm had hit late, and now he’s inebriated. Drunk on the feeling of wanting and being wanted.
The only thing tethering him to this physical plane is the feeling of Mark’s arms wrapping around his waist, guiding him downward until his back is flat on the bed. Even when Mark lifts his hips a little to shove a hand between their bodies, Donghyuck doesn’t let the kiss end, only turning it sloppier the more tongue, spit, and breathless moans are added into the mix.
“Mark.” The fever under Donghyuck’s skin is becoming unbearable, and he grinds his hips up against Mark’s cock for any sort of relief. “Fuck me now, please.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mark mumbles, lifting Donghyuck’s legs to hook them over his shoulders. “I’ll make you the happiest, baby.”
Donghyuck groans, a wave of warmth and pleasure washing over his body. He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but he swears he’s somehow gotten even wetter. He can feel the head of Mark’s cock tracing and slipping around his hole, making these obscene sounds against his taint as it prepares for the plunge.
It’s maddening. All of it goes straight to Donghyuck’s dick, and he trembles like an autumn leaf against the crisp white sheets.
That is, until Mark finally presses the head of his dick into Donghyuck’s hole and begins to push. For a second, Donghyuck thinks everything has stopped; time, breathing, all of it. The room has turned into a vacuum, and there is nothing else but the slick sensation of Mark pushing into him, inch by perfect inch.
Six months apart has done nothing to undo Mark’s brand on his body, and Donghyuck welcomes him back with open arms. Only when Mark bottoms out with a groan do sounds begin to rush back into his ears, and then he realizes he’s heaving, breathing lungfuls back into his chest.
Mark doesn’t wait for a go signal before snapping his hips, which is good because Donghyuck isn’t sure he can form proper words at the moment. Each of Mark’s thrusts is powerful enough to send him flying into the headboard, and the only reason he’s not is because of the harsh grip on his waist keeping him still.
Donghyuck preens at the thought of having pretty little bruises all over his body for days after all of this is over, but that’s not the only thing that he wants. Right now, Donghyuck wants Mark near, close to him to see his face, to feel his hot breath against his neck, to hear the litany of curses from Mark’s lips straight into his ear.
He finds one of Mark’s hands on his waist and curls around it, hoping to get the message across. “M-Mark.”
“I’m here,” Mark says, lifting their arms to kiss the back of Donghyuck’s hand tenderly before tipping forward, bracing himself over Donghyuck. “I’ve got you.”
The lean forward does wonders to the angle. Donghyuck arches, feeling the force of his moans in his chest when Mark starts hitting his prostate dead-on. It won’t take long now, and his eyes roll to the back of his head at how good it feels. More slick definitely pours out of him, too, but it’s like Mark’s hell bent on fucking it back into his system by speeding up and redoubling his thrusts.
Distantly, Donghyuck feels something wide start to catch against his rim. It’ll be over soon — too soon, and the thought of it is enough to have him whimpering.
“D-don’t let me go,” he begs, in between staccato and slurred articulation. He doesn’t know if Mark hears it, so he fights against slacked jaws to repeat it, even just for himself. “Don’t you ever let me go.”
“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to,” Mark says reverently. “I love you.”
Mark kisses him through the last stretch, drinking in all of Donghyuck’s cries as he continues to pound at a relentless pace. The air around them is getting increasingly hotter, and it doesn’t take long before Donghyuck’s pulling away from the kiss, body beginning to quiver at the overwhelming sensations.
“ Oh fuck, ” Donghyuck’s whispers taper off when the rhythm stutters, feeling pressure against his hole. With a breathy sigh he says, “Come inside me, Mark,” and then there’s one last push before Mark’s knot finally locks into place.
The intensity of it all has Donghyuck crying out, pulsing white in ecstasy when he feels Mark finally fill him up. It makes breathing difficult, and even his own spill shooting between them has nothing on the way Mark is pumping him full — thick hot cum coating his insides and making him expand.
There is a stretch of time that Donghyuck can’t account for, spent bathed in blinding white light. It can’t have been long, because when he comes to, Mark is still above him, grunting under his breath.
It’s almost too much, but thankfully Mark has it in him to drop Donghyuck’s legs gently from his shoulders, carefully bunching Donghyuck up together to tip them both and lie on their sides. Strong arms wrap around him, and Donghyuck sinks comfortably into the warmth.
It’s been a minute and Mark’s still coming inside him in waves. It’ll be like this for a while, Donghyuck knows. And even though he’s tired — mind muddled and body heavy, he makes a small noise of contentment knowing they’ll be glued together for at least the next half hour.
But speaking from experience, he’ll probably be out like a light before Mark even softens enough to pull out of him. In fact, Donghyuck can already feel himself slip away, hovering between realms of consciousness. The way Mark is running a hand through his hair is doing nothing for his cause.
Donghyuck blinks, steeling himself, and forces his eyes open for at least this one small thing.
“You and me,” he whispers, lips against Mark’s heart. “We’re perfect for each other.”
The hand in his hair freezes, but Donghyuck pays it no mind. He only closes his eyes, sighing into the feeling of Mark’s skin against his own. “Don’t ever let me convince you otherwise,” he says, before darkness takes him and reality lets him go.