Work Text:
Kibum doesn’t get a lot of mornings like this.
Lazy, slow, the sun bleeding through the gaps of the curtains, flickering and folding onto the bed. He’s warm, encompassed by the blankets, body just a little sore as he sinks into the mattress, burrowing deeper into the cozy nest around him. He awoke by coincidence, there’s no alarm to wake up to, no barking of his pups, just his eyes naturally blinking open after a long night of necessary rest.
Or so he thinks.
At first, he thinks his ears are hearing things from another apartment, a distant wet noise, a shuffling and heavy breath. But as his brain wakes up and connects to his senses, slowly, one by one, he realizes that it’s coming from somewhere a lot closer, the rustling and shifting under his blankets that he didn’t notice until now.
The second sense to come back to him is touch—shivers running up his spine, the blood rushing down his body like he’s just caught on fire, nothing but a piece of delicate tinder. There’s something even hotter around him, keeping him in his grasp, it’s wet around his cock, brushing by his hipbone. He gasps as flames lick up his skin, back arching.
He almost believes that he’s still sleeping and this is some kind of a wickedly detailed dream out of his fantasies but then he remembers that late last night there was a knock on his door that pulled him out of his sleep.
He had opened the door mid-yawn, rubbing his eyes and his boyfriend stood on the other side, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m late. The shoot went way longer than I thought it would.”
Kibum’s brain was still too scrambled to respond. He grunted, then shifted to the side as Minho slipped his shoes off and put his overnight bag down. He moved in for a hug, but Kibum dodged, knowing his hands were frozen from the winter snow outside.
“Cold,” he said as an explanation and ignored Minho’s puppy pout. With his arms crossed over his thin pajama top, he nodded towards the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
Minho shook his head. “They catered food on set.”
“Come to bed, then.”
“Yeah, I’ll take a shower and join you.”
With the sounds of the water running through the walls, Kibum crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Just as he started drifting off again, steps approached the bed and the sheets were pulled up. A warm body crowded in behind him, a heavy arm around his waist, tugged back against a broad chest.
He let out a sigh of contentment. “’Took you look enough.”
Minho’s chuckle vibrated through his body. He nestled his nose into Kibum’s hair. “I had to wash all that gel out of my hair.”
“With my expensive shampoo?”
“Of course.” His lips formed a smile on the top of Kibum’s head. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t smell like you?”
Kibum was too tired to do anything but grunt again, feeling himself fall deeper and deeper into sleep. As quiet as a far away whisper, he heard a soft good night, but he didn’t get to respond.
Now, he realizes that Minho isn’t beside him, gripping him like the clingy octopus he is in the mornings. Kibum lifts the blanket up.
Under the depths of his 100% Egyptian silk sheets is Minho, tucked snugly between Kibum’s spread legs, mouth wrapped around his dick. Kibum blinks hard enough for there to be two Minhos sucking his two dicks.
Minho pulls off, long enough to smile dopily. “Good morning, Kibummie.”
Kibum throws the blanket off entirely and is hit with the thick scent of his sweat woven in with the pungent odour of cum that he knows is because his dick is leaking a ridiculous amount of pre-cum. He wonders if he came already somehow and Minho is just licking him like a dog treat.
“You couldn’t even wait until I was awake?” he asks. Truthfully, he doesn’t really mind being woken up like this—they’ve talked about it before and he trusts Minho, but he can’t miss an opportunity to bitch at him anyways.
Minho is barely paying attention to Kibum, choosing instead to lick a thick stripe up the side of his dick. Kibum shudders, a hand fisting the blankets. “It’s your fault anyways—I woke up to you rubbing your morning wood against my ass.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Minho tilts his head, running his lips along the shaft. “So, can I get back to it?”
Before Kibum can even open his mouth to reply, Minho’s sliding back down over his cock. He’s too enthusiastic about it, about anything that involves his mouth because he has a raging oral fixation that Kibum can’t even begin to satisfy no matter how much Minho begs to go down on him.
Minho bobs his head, tongue pressing and insistent, putting just the perfect amount of pressure. With every upstroke, he tightens his lips ever so slightly, just enough for Kibum to gasp and thread his fingers through Minho’s hair. It’s exactly how he likes to be blown, Minho’s studied the art down to a T, he knows everything about what Kibum likes and wants. He knows that when his nose is buried in Kibum’s pubic hair and when he swallows around his cock, Kibum will keen, shake and tremble like a leaf with overwhelming pleasure.
And he does exactly that, Kibum’s hips bucking up to somehow bury himself further down Minho’s throat, which would be impossible because Minho has turned deepthroating into another competition where he needs to beat his personal record of how far can he stick Kibum’s cock down his throat, and he’s already touching his fucking lungs.
“Fuck!” Kibum grunts, the sound ripping out of him. He pulls on Minho’s hair hard enough that it must hurt. He’s gonna cum any moment now at this rate.
Minho pulls off again, heaving. His face is red and his eyes are impossibly dark, lined with thick tears. He makes a small noise of confusion before his fingers reach up and he pulls a tiny hair off his tongue.
“Huh,” Minho says, looking at the strand. “You’re due for a trim, babe.”
Kibum blinks, staring at the pubic hair on Minho’s finger. He splutters, “I am trimmed, you big oaf—”
“Honestly, you’re so lucky I’m not judgemental—”
“You’re the one who begged me to stop waxing!” Kibum shrieks, lifting his foot up ready to kick his stupid boyfriend. Minho catches his incoming kick, fingers digging into the sole, primed and posed for a tickle fight that Kibum will lose. “I’m going to fucking kill you. You’re ruining the mood.”
Minho flicks the hair off his finger and nudges Kibum’s erection. “Please, don’t act like you don’t get hard just from me breathing.”
Kibum throws his hands over his face. “I can’t do this.” It comes out muffled, but he needs to keep his hands here to stop himself from choking Minho to death.
Minho crawls up his body, pressing little kisses on his stomach, his sternum, collarbones, then he’s peeling Kibum’s fingers off his face. Pursing his lips together for a kiss.
Kibum shoves his hand between their lips before Minho can land a kiss. He grimaces. “Ew. Get away from me.” Minho kisses his palm but Kibum pushes back against him. “You know how I feel about morning breath.” He’s huge on kisses, he loves all types of kisses, just not first thing in the morning.
Minho pouts. “Not even this once?”
“No.” Kibum ignores that stupid twinge in his chest at the sight of his boyfriend pouting. It’s not cute. There’s nothing cute about a grown man pouting, even if he’s flashing his round, doe eyes, and his hair is adorably mussed, cheeks flushed. “Absolutely not.”
“What about a peck?”
Kibum rolls his eyes. “Do you plan on fucking me today? We’re never gonna get there at this point.”
“Why are you always in a rush? Can’t a man just want to slow down and appreciate his boyfriend?” Minho hovers over him, a hand on either side of his face, brows drawn together like he’s angry. But he’s not, there’s that glint in his eyes he gets whenever he knows he’s getting on Kibum’s nerves. “I just want a kiss, and you won’t even give me that because you’re scared of morning breath—which honestly, Kibum-ah, you’ve seen me do too many gross things to even care about something like that.”
“I am not scared.”
It’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
“I’m not!”
“Then kiss me.” He stares at Kibum, eyes narrowing in challenge. And triumph. Fuck. Kibum shouldn’t fall for the bait because it’s so obvious but he won’t let Minho win. Not even for something like this.
He tugs Minho forward by the front of his shirt and presses their lips together. And it’s just as disgusting as he thought it would be—morning breath and cum and spit and that stupid pubic hair rolling around in their mouths, but somehow all those thoughts seem to float away from him when Minho slips his tongue in his mouth.
And truly, there’s something so gross about love, about being so open and vulnerable in front of someone. Letting them see you in every state, with crusties in your eyes, tangled hair and stinking of sweat. Using the bathroom with the door wide open so they can shower while you sit on the toilet, tangling legs under the covers when you cuddle and locking them in when you accidentally fart and laugh when they groan, popping and squeezing puss out of a pimple on their back and plucking ingrown hairs out just for the fun of it.
Taking every wall down and letting them see you for who you are. Gross. Imperfect. Human. And loving them regardless.
Kibum presses harder into the kiss, winding his arms around Minho’s neck and pulling him closer. God. Affection wells inside his chest, rising up to choke him and block out his sinuses, until he’s nothing but a sponge absorbing everything Minho gives him, a porous shell of a person. He loves him. So much.
When they pull apart to breathe, Minho is grinning, eyes warm. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he teases, voice soft.
If Kibum wasn’t ridiculously turned on, he’d coo. “Can you fuck me now?”
The smile drops off Minho’s face at a comical speed. “You—” He breaks off to sigh. “Yes. Okay. Let’s just fuck—that’s so not romantic—”
“You don’t have to be romantic—”
“—ask me to make love to you—”
Kibum makes a face. “I’m never saying the words ‘make love’. Are you crazy?”
Minho rolls over so he’s spooning Kibum, reaching out for the bottle of lube off the nightstand. He squeezes some onto his fingers and Kibum arches his back to make room for Minho’s prodding hands. The pads of his fingers rub cold lube against Kibum’s hole.
Kibum shudders.
“It’s okay, part of love is forgiving and accepting someone for their flaws.” Minho slides two fingers inside Kibum, pushing past the initial resistance with ease.
Kibum squeezes his eyes closed as Minho spreads his fingers to open him up, his nails digging into Minho’s forearm. Then his eyes fly open. “Excuse me? What are you calling a flaw?”
From behind him, Minho shrugs, curving his fingers deeper into Kibum. “You’re not very romantic.”
Kibum fights a moan. Minho doesn’t deserve his moans right now. “I’m plenty romantic, okay? Maybe I’d be more romantic in our relationship if you didn’t insist on arguing with me every step of the way.”
Minho’s smirk ghosts Kibum’s shoulder. “But you love me like that.” His fingers brush by Kibum’s prostate, just a feather-like touch but it rips a gasp out of him. “If it was easy, you wouldn’t want it.”
“You are easy.” It’s a lame comeback but it’s the best Kibum can come up with when Minho keeps teasing his prostate. He’s so hard that it’s starting to hurt, every little jerk has the tip of his cock rubbing up against the mattress but he doesn’t want to cum. Not yet.
“Okay, baby,” Minho says with the same patronizing voice he knows pisses Kibum off. “Do you need another finger?”
“No, no, no,” Kibum gasps out impatiently. “Just fuck me. Open me up with your cock.” He’s drunk just thinking about it. “Get me nice and loose around you, shit.”
For the first time since he woke up this morning, Minho seems to finally want to listen to him and he feels the tip of his cock brushing against his cheeks. “Lift your leg up,” he says, lips brushing by Kibum’s ear.
Kibum shudders and hooks his leg over his elbow, as high as he possibly can despite the ache in his hips. Luckily, Minho doesn’t delay any longer and his thumb pulls Kibum apart and then there’s a heavy, blunt pressure against his hole. He lets out a breath, forcing himself to relax as Minho pushes inside him. Inch by inch, he slides in, just wet enough that it doesn’t burn, but it still consumes him.
His fingers dig into his thigh and he’s already struggling to hold himself up, biting down on his lips to tamp down the embarrassingly high pitched whimper that threatens to slip out. As Minho bottoms out, he presses gentle kisses behind Kibum’s ear, the tip of his tongue tracing the cartilage.
“You okay?” he asks in between soft nibbles. His breath tickles Kibum.
Kibum nods. “Yeah, it’s just been a while.” With their conflicting schedules, it’s been too many long weeks without sex, and he hasn’t even had the energy to jerk off, much less bother with fingering himself. So, yeah, it’s been a long while.
Minho hums, settling his hips against Kibum’s ass, hands wandering over his belly, pinching the skin there, then up over his chest and thumbing at one of his nipples. “Are you cold?” Hands run over Kibum’s skin. “You have goosebumps.”
“A little,” Kibum murmurs. “Grab the blanket.”
When Minho shifts, it somehow pushes his cock deeper inside Kibum and this time he can’t hold back a strangled moan. Minho tucks the blanket over both of them, pulling Kibum closer. “Feeling okay? Does it hurt?”
Kibum shakes his head. “You can start moving.”
Minho doesn’t wait another moment and pulls his hips back just enough to thrust back into Kibum. And god. Every bundle and nerve inside Kibum comes alive as Minho’s cock slides back in—he can’t even call it thrusting, Minho is barely moving. He’s holding onto Kibum too tightly for that, he’s just burying himself inside, grinding into him.
Kibum is entirely boneless, losing himself with every pump of Minho’s cock. It feels too good the way Minho fucks into him, the way his teeth trace over Kibum’s jugular. He’s like prey, lost to the grip of the man holding him steady, holding him down to the bed with the weight of his body. “Mn—so good.” He punctuates his words by clenching down.
“Fuck, Kibum-ah—you’re gripping me so tightly.” Minho hisses, hips jerking. “I’m gonna cum.”
“No,” Kibum gets out, mouth trapped between the layers of fabric bunched up around his chin. “We just started. Don’t cum yet.”
Minho’s fingers wrap around Kibum’s weeping cock, laying in a puddle of his own pre-cum. He drags the pad of his thumb over the slit. “You’re closer than I am.”
Kibum moans, this time too loudly as Minho starts jerking him off, head whipping against the pillow. “Stop—” He’s touching Kibum in opposite directions, cock pulling out as his hand tightens around the tip and Kibum is suspended between leaning into Minho’s touch or spearing himself. He can’t escape, caught between Minho’s forearm trapping him.
He’s losing his mind.
Minho sets his foot down to get better leverage as his thrusts pick up, letting out tiny little grunts of exertion, hot breaths puffing against the back of Kibum’s neck.
With every plunge, his stomach tightens, a hot pressure building behind his eyes. Minho’s balls slap obscenely against his taint, and a muffled wetness rings out from under the covers. It’s so embarrassing, he can’t even think straight, forget saying anything or making any noise. He’s too high strung, tight tension running through his spinal cord and holding him hostage.
It’s not just how Minho fucks him, that angle that hits Kibum’s prostate dead on, it’s not just the girth of his cock and how it stretches Kibum open so perfectly, forcing him to mold to its shape until it’s like he’s made for him. If only it’s that simple.
It’s the tiny whispers Kibum catches. God I love you. So perfect. Feel so good. I love you I love you Kibum-ah. There’s nobody else in the world for me. Fuck. Stupid, stupid, sweet nothings that pour out of Minho’s lips. He’s a poet and Kibum is both his muse and canvas, melodic haikus of his love with the rhythmic pounding of his hips. He fucks him like he loves him. And he does. Minho loves him so much.
Tears prick at Kibum’s eyes. It feels so good, he’s not on Earth anymore, despite how Minho grips onto him tightly, grounding him. No. He’s floating high above, the lack of oxygen in his lungs making him fly weightlessly into the air. He moans, cries, makes a strangled noise of pleasure. Or pain. It hurts his chest, the overwhelming tightness in his heart as he takes everything Minho is giving him.
He reaches back with a pained whimper and immediately Minho is leaning again, brows threaded together in concern. “What’s wrong? What hurts? Should I pull out?”
“No no no no.” Kibum twists his fingers into Minho’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Kiss me.”
It’s embarrassing how he’s begging for the one thing he was so adamantly against just a few minutes ago, but for the first time, Minho too is too far gone to tease him. He holds Kibum by the jaw and brings their lips together, teeth, and tongue clashing in an uncoordinated mess. Kibum doesn’t care. He just wants to feel Minho against him in every way possible.
Closer. Closer. It’s not enough. He needs to be a part of Minho, he needs to take up space inside him, under his skin, a parasite in his body.
“Cum inside me, Minho-yah,” Kibum begs, pleads. “Fill me up.”
Through his teary eyes, he can see how his words topple Minho over, how only after a few jerky thrusts, he thrusts into Kibum so deep that his face gets smushed into the pillows. He’s grunting, groaning like a fucking animal as hot liquid fills Kibum up, shooting deep inside him.
“Shit...” Minho shudders, but when he makes a move to pull out, Kibum clenches around him, keeping him still.
“Stay inside me. Don’t you dare pull out.”
He can feel Minho slowly softening inside him, but he keeps Kibum plugged up, obediently frozen. The hand on Kibum’s belly crawls downward and he grasps his cock, lazily stroking him. Kibum lets out a sigh of relief as he feels his body finally relax, sinking back into the mattress as Minho touches him.
“You wanna come like this?” Minho murmurs against his shoulder.
“Mm, yeah,” Kibum says. A yawn makes its way to his lips. He hasn’t cum but he’s standing on the edge of it, head already peeking through the top of the clouds at the summit, and yet, something thick is pulling him under, lulling him to sleep. As if he ate a heavy meal, he could sink back into the depths of his dreams, feeling full and satisfied.
Minho presses soft kisses along the tops of Kibum’s back, his hand working, up and down slowly. God. It’s so good. It’s so easy. It’s always so easy with Minho.
The climb up is slow, despite being so close for so long and it feels like his cock has been rubbed raw. Still, there’s no rush as he ascends, wanting to soak in every second here with his lover, under the covers, bodies sticky with sweat.
When Kibum orgasms, it’s silent, his back arches and he seizes. Not explosively, but wet, thick dribbles down Minho’s fist. He milks him through it, the calluses on his palm just rough enough to get every last drop of cum out of Kibum.
Minho kisses him again and somehow every time they kiss, it feels just like the first. Even when it gets hot and heavy, he’s perfectly gentle, taking Kibum apart with the plushness of his lips, the soft presses and caresses. He pulls back and smiles. Kibum can’t help but smile back.
Minho brushes a hair out of Kibum’s face, pushing his hair back. “Are you hungry? What do you want for breakfast?” Minho asks, still smiling. Still soft. Still in their bubble.
“You’re staying?” Kibum perks up and hope creeps into his tone. “Not running to the gym?”
Minho shakes his head, eyes round and so impossibly warm. “Nah.” He laces his fingers with Kibum’s, bringing their joined hands up to his lips. “We don’t get a lot of slow mornings like this.”
Kibum won’t ever admit it but his heart skips a beat. So many beats. Enough that it almost feels like he’s having a heart attack—how many years has he loved Minho? It’s been so long and yet these tiny little words of his still have him giggling and shy, butterflies tumbling around his stomach.
“Okay. Let’s just stay like this for a bit longer,” Kibum says, tugging Minho down. He fixes the blanket so it’s covering the both of them, making space on his pillow for them to get as close as possible. Minho holds him, cuddles into him, sighing contently.
“Love you,” Kibum murmurs drowsily just as his eyes close.
Minho hums. “Love you too.”