Work Text:
For an alpha, Kim Dokja is impossibly pretty.
It’s a word that rarely finds association in anything other than omegas. In omegas, those who were dainty, petite, and those who dolled themselves up in clothes that would dwarf their forms would find themselves being called pretty, cute, all sorts of diminutives.
But, for Yoo Joonghyuk, his eyes had been drawn to Kim Dokja’s body from the start, rather than any omega at all. The slight pink of his lips, pallid with malnutrition, had only drawn Yoo Joonghyuk in further, a siren’s call.
In bed, while under Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja somehow manages to exude an even greater sense of beauty.
Those red-rimmed eyes that grow puffy with tears as Yoo Joonghyuk thrusts into his all-encompassing warmth. Those cheeks that puff outwards as Kim Dokja makes every effort possible to subdue his moans of pleasure. Those pink, pert nipples that grow a poignant crimson shade the more Yoo Joonghyuk teases them. Kim Dokja’s tightening warmth, and his soft, pliant hole, that has been molded right to suit Yoo Joonghyuk’s tastes.
All of it is beautiful. All of it is something that Yoo Joonghyuk would never trade for anything else. Neither the stars in the sky, nor the galaxies and nebulae that pose their greatness from lightyears away—none could match up to such beauty.
Yoo Joonghyuk laps up a stray tear that slips right from Kim Dokja’s eyes, shifting deeper into his tightening insides. He can feel a minute clench follow as his tongue licks up, stopping right below Kim Dokja’s eyes.
“Hng… Joonghyuk—ah—!”
That moan alone is a song more captivating than any song an orchestra could play. If given Kim Dokja’s moans all day, he could sustain himself off the sound itself.
“You’re beautiful,” Yoo Joonghyuk mumbles. “Kim Dokja. How do you manage this?”
He shifts, bottoming out entirely. Kim Dokja releases a sharp wheeze, flailing and struggling. His insides flutter maddeningly against Yoo Joonghyuk, forcing him to grit his teeth to even endure a second of it.
Yoo Joonghyuk buries his face into Kim Dokja’s shoulder as soon as it stops. He releases an amused huff.
“How do you manage to be so beautiful, Kim Dokja?” Yoo Joonghyuk rumbles into Kim Dokja’s skin. He nips against his collar, again and again, until it’s tainted with the bright stain of red—the only lasting claim he could make on Kim Dokja’s body.
“Ugh, hn, ah—!”
Kim Dokja is clearly in no state to reply. His face is a mess of tears, his stomach distended with the girth of Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock. Yoo Joonghyuk can’t help but watch as each individual movement brings the swell on Kim Dokja’s stomach with it, shifting and squirming under his pale skin.
He snaps his hips forwards, a brutal pace.
Kim Dokja bucks against his touch, melting deeper onto his cock. Yoo Joonghyuk relishes in that small action—relishes in how much Kim Dokja truly wants this, wants him.
It’s a thought that could make him come alone.
His tongue laves across Kim Dokja’s skin, drinking up all traces of his sweat. Everything exuding from him tastes sweet. Even his alpha pheromones, which should be repulsive to him tastes cloyingly sweet, more delectable than anything he’s consumed in his entire life. It tastes like chocolate—dark and rich and bitter—a taste he can’t and wouldn’t ever wash out of his mouth.
“Pretty,” Yoo Joonghyuk whispers. “You’re pretty, Kim Dokja.” He bites down onto Kim Dokja’s collarbone, teeth sinking in deep. The action forces a groan out of Kim Dokja’s mouth, an animalistic sound that resounds sharp in the room.
Even his cock is pretty. It’s a thought that Yoo Joonghyuk would’ve never thought to have before all of this. But pretty is the only word that could possibly describe this. The slight pink flush of his cock, combined with the beginnings of his bulbous knot, forming right at his base, presents a sight that fills Yoo Joonghyuk mouth with saliva—the clear markings of hunger.
He snaps into Kim Dokja again, his cock practically melting in the sweltering heat. Another keen, sharp and abrupt, cuts through the air, singing its tantalizing tune to Yoo Joonghyuk’s ears. He chases after those sounds, the high, the tightness that squeezes down so tightly onto his cock it makes him sees stars—unsheathing himself entirely until his cock kisses the rim of Kim Dokja’s hole, before slamming back in with as much force as he could possibly muster. The sight of Kim Dokja’s set jaw, his eyes squeezed tight shut, draws some sort of sadistic satisfaction into Yoo Joonghyuk.
“Be gentle, Kim Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk runs a finger across Kim Dokja’s jaw, easing the tenseness. “Don’t bite down too hard.”
Kim Dokja follows his command, his eyes dazed, clouded over. In this state, he’d listen to anything that came out of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth, too cock-drunk to process a single thing. It’s a state that Yoo Joonghyuk loves to see Kim Dokja in—a state he’s only in when he’s far gone in their sessions of passion.
Another snap of his hips into Kim Dokja sends him reeling. His mouth opens in a silent scream, an utterly beautiful sight, as a low garbled noise emanates from his throat. Clear fluid squirts out of his pathetic cock, before Yoo Joonghyuk feels Kim Dokja clench down, down so tight it’s as though he’s desperate to swallow him whole.
That action, the insane fluttering around his cock, forces only one option forth. Yoo Joonghyuk feels his bearings slip as he finally comes, emptying himself into Kim Dokja. As it always does, his knot inflates, locking himself right inside of Kim Dokja.
In all the times they’ve done this, Yoo Joonghyuk has cherished this the most. The sight of Kim Dokja’s face as he’s taking his knot, his eyes rolled so far back only the whites are visible. While dealing with the burden of taking in his size, Kim Dokja digs his fingers deep into Yoo Joonghyuk’s biceps, grounding himself. Even the pain melts into something more akin to desire, creating an amalgam with pleasure as he faces the constant clenching of Kim Dokja around him.
If only he could eat Kim Dokja up, swallow him in his entirety, and make him part of himself. If only he could keep Kim Dokja as eternally his. Only then would he be happy.
But this, with Kim Dokja’s soft, pattering breaths slowing down right beside him—this, for now, was enough.