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November 1st, 2019, was the busiest day of Mark Lee’s entire life.
Tomorrow, he would fly to the States for the North American leg of the SuperM tour. To say he was shitting it was an understatement.
Of course, before leaving Seoul for an uncertain amount of time — leaving the members — Mark’s to-do list was miles long. Meetings, goodbyes, good lucks, more meetings, packing between meetings, phone calls, more goodbyes. By the time it was ten PM, Mark hadn’t finished packing, hadn’t said goodbye to everyone, and still hadn’t eaten dinner.
“Your last meal at home can’t be ramen, Mark,” Taeyong said with a terse shake of his head and a sigh. When their leader set his mind to something, it was nearly impossible to change it. So despite all of Mark’s protests, Taeyong recruited Donghyuck and Doyoung from their rooms as helpers and set to making Mark a proper goodbye meal, with enough side dishes to feed a small army.
Mark did not correct Taeyong by saying it would be their last meal at home; he figured Taeyong was all too aware that he would be leaving the following day, as well. Mark supposed that that knowledge had something to do with why Taeyong was stress cooking so close to midnight — and why Doyoung and Donghyuck had agreed to help with little pleading from their hyung. Taeyong would probably never admit it, but he was just as nervous as Mark was about the whole thing.
“Eat your vegetables first,” Taeyong admonished, when Mark almost immediately asked for more rice. Mark felt his ears heat up at the nagging, and choked out a laugh.
“Yes, mother,” Mark mumbled, tucking back into his meal — his vegetables, damnit.
“If Taeyong hyung’s your mother, doesn’t that make Johnny hyung your father?” Jungwoo asked with a playful grin, the comment drawing Mark back to a Brooklyn grocery store, during a different time, a different tour, and a happy, glowing memory. Mark snorted out a laugh, then laughed again at how pink the comment left Taeyong, his feathers positively ruffled.
Seemingly summoned by the sound of his name, Johnny strolled out of his room just a few moments later, wrapping himself over Taeyong’s back like a blanket. He asked Jungwoo if that made him a DILF, the English acronym startling a shriek of laughter out of the few who understood it, and a narrowing of Taeyong’s eyes as he tried to piece it all together. The conversation moved on, and Johnny hooked a chin over the top of Taeyong’s head, tucking him tight into his body, pressing an indulgent kiss to the joint of his neck and shoulder that Mark smiled softly at. It was rare to see them like this — touchy, and soft, and glued together — but Mark got it. They were probably feeling the impending doom of tomorrow’s departure creeping up on them, too, desperate to steal away any moments, touches, memories that they could before being apart for a bit. Taeyong’s flush didn’t leave his skin, but he didn’t fight the embrace, his back sagging into Johnny’s chest, his mouth curling into a small, pleased smile.
They didn’t talk about their relationship so openly — not like Yuta loved to talk about his and Mark’s whenever he got the chance — but Mark knew that there was love there, just as strong and unwavering as his for Yuta.
Speaking of whom…
Mark’s eyes scanned the room, as subtle as he could manage, but found no shaggy head of brown hair anywhere in the room, no shock of piercings, no perpetually black nail polish, or grin that made his stomach do irresponsible things in public.
Mark didn’t know what Yuta’s absence meant, but he had a few guesses. The two of them hadn’t really ever had any reason to say goodbye to each other, not for more than a few days here and there when Mark’s schedules with Dream took him away from his own bed (or Yuta’s, when Taeil could be convinced to bunk with someone else for a night).
Mark doubted they’d be any good at them.
Despite all of Yuta’s menacing, cool as ice front on stage, he was kind of a sap. Not that Mark was any better. The thought of being away from each other for so long… Mark shook his head at the thought, finishing up his stew. They’d talk about it later, he hoped. Or they’d pretend it wasn’t happening, more likely. Mark tried his best to be present in the room, laughing at Johnny’s jokes, teasing Donghyuck about anything he possibly could, downing an indulgent shot of watermelon soju with Doyoung that Mark was probably strictly forbidden from doing, so close to such a big day.
Even then, Mark’s mind couldn’t help but wander back to the boy in his bedroom, tucked away from all of the noise, waiting for him.
“Tired?” Taeil asked, a knowing glint in his eye. So maybe Mark wasn’t so subtle after all.
Mark grinned, mouth twitching. “Shut up, hyung.” Taeil raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” Mark admitted sheepishly. He was tired and also … something else, that he wasn’t going to sit there and discuss at their kitchen table with all of his best friends who loved to tease him.
“I’m off to sleep,” Taeil announced, taking Mark’s plates and clearing them for him.
Taeyong frowned at the idea of cutting off their last night all together, but yawned soon after. “Probably a good idea,” he admitted, grimacing when he checked the time on his phone. “Early day tomorrow.”
“Princess has to get his beauty sleep,” Johnny joked, which Taeyong shot a glare at, but didn’t counter. They walked back to Taeyong’s room, hand-in-hand, and the rest of the room dissipated, pairing off for games, or sleep, or that something else that Mark couldn’t stop thinking about now that he’d started.
Mark realized, halfway to his bedroom, that not one person had forced him to say a goodbye that he didn’t want to acknowledge, just yet. Mark wondered if Yuta mentioned something to them earlier, or if they all just knew him too well to know he’d rather pretend this was a two-day trip instead of an entire tour, but he was thankful nonetheless. He really hated goodbyes.
As expected, Mark found Yuta in his bed, his boyfriend splayed out on the sheets, wearing nothing but his underwear and one of Mark’s favorite t-shirts — worn red cotton, “VANCOUVER” blazing across the front with a small canadian flag, the color shocking and vibrant and more beautiful on Yuta than any raggedy t-shirt could ever be on Mark. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Yuta in his clothes, something intoxicating and possessive filling Mark’s stomach. Yuta knew exactly what it did to Mark when he wore his clothes. Mark would wager a guess that that’s probably exactly why he did it.
“Mark,” Yuta greeted with a lazy grin, the sound of his name in his lover’s voice as arresting as it always was, the scratch of Yuta’s accent around the word sending shivers down Mark’s spine. Yuta always said his name like it was his favorite thing in the world: Mark, Mark, Mark. It was addicting, and Mark hoped he never stopped.
“Hi,” Mark breathed, making quick work of locking his door before crawling onto the sheets, straddling Yuta’s hips like they were a seat made just for him. Strong hands spread over the tops of Mark’s thighs, squeezing tight over the gray sweats he’d thrown on earlier.
“Hi, baby,” Yuta murmured back, his voice like the sweetest drug, pulling Mark in, and in, and in, until their lips slotted together in a kiss, gentle and slow.
As it always was with them, gentle and slow didn’t last for very long.
Mark shifted his hips, grinding over Yuta’s lap, and slipped his tongue past Yuta’s lips, tasting him with a pleased moan. Yuta, never one to let Mark have control for too long, wrapped a strong hand around Mark’s jaw, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as he licked behind Mark’s teeth. When that wasn’t enough, Yuta’s free hand slid around Mark’s hip to his ass, shoving roughly into the back of his sweatpants to grope at the muscle there, guiding Mark’s hips over his cock in rough tugs, until they were both panting, the kiss hardly a kiss, just open mouths pressed together.
Need coursed through Mark’s veins, thick and heady. Mark used to be embarrassed, getting so hard so quickly under Yuta’s touches and clever mouth. That was, at least, until he realized how much Yuta loved it — Mark’s reactiveness, how sensitive he was. Yuta didn’t give a damn that his cock was the only one that Mark had ever touched; Yuta only cared that it was the last.
“Need you,” Mark begged, his voice already thin as he panted, dick straining against his sweats uncomfortably. Yuta’s eyes were nearly black when he pulled back, pupils blown with lust. Mark could drown in that gaze, and die happily doing so.
“Thought you were supposed to have an early night tonight?” Yuta said with a teasing hum, running his fingers through Mark’s hair, so short now, black nails scratching over his scalp. Mark’s eyes slipped shut at the touch, and a whine slipped out of him.
“’S not that late,” Mark dismissed, though it could have been four in the morning and he wouldn’t have cared otherwise. He could sleep on the plane, if he had to. He needed Yuta now.
“You really should sleep,” Yuta said, his tone firm even though Mark could tell it took all of him to grit out the words. Mark knew that it was because Yuta cared about him, loved him, and worried about him, but Mark couldn’t help but feel like it was a dismissal nonetheless. Did Yuta not want this so badly he felt like he could explode at any second, too?
“I don’t want to sleep, though,” Mark groaned. He was tired of people telling him what he should do. Whatever happened to what Mark wanted to do?
Yuta smiled, predatory and slow, and Mark felt them dip into the familiar territory of playing in the bedroom. Mark loved the switch from sweet to pure lust, the way Yuta’s entire demeanor changed when it was just them. “What do you want?”
“You,” Mark said, far too quickly. He’d be embarrassed at how eager he sounded if they didn’t both already know it was the truth. Yuta was all Mark ever wanted. All he ever needed. Now that Mark had him, he was never going to want anything, anyone else.
“Sap,” Yuta teased, though his eyes gave him away, soft and fond. His hand crawled down to Mark’s nape, curling around it, his grip possessive and firm. Mine, it seemed to say, his fingertips forming a collar around Mark’s throat. Mark swallowed hard, and felt his pulse jump under Yuta’s fingers. “And how do you want me, baby?”
And oh, if that didn’t turn Mark to putty. “Don’t really care. Just wanna make you feel good.”
“You will, darling,” Yuta promised, smirking around the words. Mark’s heart leapt in his chest, and then his cock stirred in his pants. Darling, darling, darling. Mark could get used to the sound of that. “But this isn’t about me. Do you want my mouth, or my cock, Mark?” Yuta asked, his eyes making a quick inventory of Mark’s well-kissed state, from his swollen, red mouth to his mussed hair, messy from Yuta’s greedy touch. At the beginning, Mark would be taken aback at Yuta being so crass, throwing around words that made Mark’s face burn and his cock twitching guiltily in his underwear. Now, Mark loved it.
“I don’t care,” Mark breathed out, vague and quickly growing annoyed. He was tired of all of this talk. Mark reached down between them, palming Yuta over his briefs, thumbing over the head of his cock where the outline was obvious, cherishing the whispered curse Yuta let out when Mark rolled the heel of his palm over his length. “Oppa, please,” Mark whined, letting himself beg for it, because he knew much Yuta liked the sound of it.
Wicked delight coursed through Yuta’s eyes, and then, without warning, he pushed Mark roughly at his shoulders, reversing their positions so he could crawl on top of him. Like this, Yuta had Mark’s hips trapped with his own. Like this, Mark could feel exactly how he made Yuta feel, his cock hard against Mark’s body, teasing him with the promise of more. Mark didn’t have time to marvel at the beauty of Yuta looming over him, because soon Yuta’s body was folding in half to ruck up Mark’s t-shirt to his throat, dropping a wet kiss on Mark’s chest.
And then another, and another, and—
“You can’t — don’t leave marks, oppa,” Mark panted, clawing at Yuta’s shoulders until his teeth let go of Mark’s collarbone, pulling back just far enough to stare down at Mark, t-shirt bunched around his neck, chest flushed and nipples hard. Yuta looked wild, hungry, and startlingly beautiful. He looked like he wanted to eat Mark alive, and Mark knew that he would let him. In that moment, with the clock ticking down until Mark’s flight, something desperate and rushed and possessive hung in the air between them, Mark would have let Yuta do anything he wanted.
“Not even here?” Yuta asked, sliding further down Mark’s body to mouth at his hip bones. Mark gasped, spine arching off of the bed, and Yuta flattened a palm against his belly, pinning him to the bed as he made a mess of Mark’s stomach. The stylists wouldn’t be pleased with him; they knew as well as Mark did how much the fans went crazy over a flash of stomach in a loose shirt while he was dancing. But Mark didn’t care. He wouldn’t do anything to stop Yuta, addicted to the sweet pain of Yuta’s teeth digging into his lower belly, marking him up purple and red. The love bites were a secret, for just the two of them, one that Mark would carry proudly under his fancy clothes until he had to change in front of one of the SuperM members and get teased relentlessly about his bitey boyfriend.
“Shit,” Mark breathed out, fighting against the hold Yuta had on him, desperate for more. “Touch me,” Mark pleaded, nothing restrained in his voice as his fingers tore through Yuta’s hair, trying to pull his mouth lower, where ache sat heavy in Mark’s pants.
“Be patient, love,” Yuta scolded, punctuating the jab with a nip of his teeth over Mark’s hip bone. He sat back up, and Mark groaned at the loss of contact. Before Mark could comment on it, Yuta was dragging Mark’s red t-shirt over his head, revealing the flat plane of his stomach, that damn piercing in his navel, straight out of one of Mark’s fantasies. Mark didn’t even think he had a thing for piercings, until Yuta got one. But perhaps Mark just had a thing for Yuta, and anything he did would be sexy.
Mark reached up, molding his palms around Yuta’s waist, so small under his grip. His abs flexed at the touch, and Mark groaned. “So damn pretty,” Mark cursed, low and appreciative. Mark pictured the pale skin inked up, thinking of the butterfly drawing that Yuta showed him the other night that he wanted to get one day, and felt himself get even harder at the thought.
Yuta laughed at the praise, flashing Mark a pretty grin before reaching to take off his shirt, too. Mark pushed his upper body off of the bed for Yuta to get it over his shoulders, and soon Mark’s shirt joined the lump of red cotton on the floor of his room. It still wasn’t enough, though. Mark wanted Yuta bare, his skin on Mark’s skin, every inch of them touching.
Mark hooked a thumb into Yuta’s waistband, tugging on the material. His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he swallowed his words. Yuta told him to be patient, didn’t he? Mark looked up at him from under his lashes, hoping Yuta got the gist that Mark wanted them off already without him having to beg for it.
“Want me to take these off?” Yuta asked, replacing Mark’s thumb with his own, pulling the black cotton away from his hips before letting it snap back against his skin, the sound ringing in Mark’s ears. Mark grinned, teeth digging harder into his bottom lip as he nodded. Yuta’s eyes darkened. “How do you ask nicely, Markie?”
Mark swallowed, cheeks burning hot. “Please, oppa? Wanna see you. Please.”
Yuta rolled off of Mark’s lap with a satisfied tilt to his lips, stepping off of the bed to tug his underwear off. Mark’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the sight of him — Yuta’s cock fully hard, rosy at the tip, wet just for him. Yuta wrapped one hand around the base, his rings glittering under the lamp light, adorning almost all of his fingers, masculine and pretty. Yuta’s tongue swept out to wet his lips as he let Mark watch him touch himself, lazy, indulgent strokes that Mark couldn’t tear his gaze from if he tried.
Yuta murmured something low in Japanese that Mark didn’t quite catch and probably wouldn’t have understood anyway, and dropped his cock, stepping back up to the bed. He wrapped a hand around Mark’s ankle, and tugged until Mark’s legs hung off the edge of the mattress, his heart skipping at the sudden motion.
Kneeling on the floor in front of him, Yuta grabbed Mark’s waistband and tugged his sweats and boxers down in one go, throwing them carelessly with the rest of their discarded clothes. Like this, Yuta was eye level with Mark’s cock, his eyes almost completely black as he just looked. Mark’s heart seized in his chest when Yuta’s fingers finally wrapped around him, giving him one long stroke before pressing a kiss to his shaft, the touch of his pretty mouth to Mark’s dick intoxicating. Mark pushed up on his elbows to watch, cursing when Yuta’s tongue swept out to lick a bead of precome off of his flushed tip. Yuta’s eyes flicked up to meet Mark’s when he closed his mouth around Mark’s tip, encasing his cock in tight, wet heat.
“Christ,” Mark whined, unable to look away as Yuta got his cock wet with clever licks of his tongue. Mark knew he’d be jerking off to this memory for the next few weeks, touching himself in every hotel he went to, wishing Yuta was kneeling before him again.
Content with Mark’s reaction, Yuta released Mark’s tip with a wet pop before pushing off of the floor, nudging Mark further up the mattress to lay back on the pillows before rounding the bed to pull open the bottom drawer of Mark’s bedside table.
Yuta threw an almost empty bottle of lube in Mark’s direction before crawling back on top of him, spreading his legs and sitting between them.
Mark held the backs of his thighs for Yuta like he knew he was supposed to, ignoring the self-conscious tug at his gut at being so exposed, cool air kissing his skin.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Yuta purred, his thumb sweeping dry over Mark’s hole, the praise shooting through him as every muscle in his body went tight. Mark’s heart thundered in his chest, his entire body singing for Yuta. Mark watched with half-lidded eyes as Yuta took off each of his rings, the slow slide of silver coming off of his fingers a tortuous form of foreplay, the sharp sound of them hitting the dish on his bedside table a familiar song. The anticipation of Yuta’s fingers inside of him left Mark panting slightly, his breathing quickly turning erratic.
Even out of Mark’s line of sight, the click of the lube opening had Mark responding like a damn dog, his hole clenching down in anticipation. The first touch of Yuta’s slick finger to his hole was like a reward, a heavy sigh falling from Mark’s lips as his head fell back and Yuta started to finger him open.
“Such a good boy,” Yuta hummed, shortly adding a second finger, curling them just right to get Mark blabbering for him, moans and whines and desperate curses of Yuta’s name falling off of his tongue. Mark could only thank God that Yuta remembered to turn his fan on earlier, letting him be loud without worrying about scarring the members just next door with the sounds of his pleasure.
“Stop— I’m— I’m gonna come,“ Mark panted, grabbing at Yuta’s wrist to drag him away from that spot inside of him that left him dizzy and shaking. “Oppa, stop. Wanna come with you inside,” Mark begged, slightly panicked he’d actually come when Yuta didn’t remove his fingers.
Yuta gave Mark’s prostate one last teasing rub, drawing out a punched out moan, before finally pulling his fingers out, wiping lube on the crease of Mark’s thigh.
Mark reached for Yuta’s cock, needing all glorious seven or so inches of it inside of him already, but Yuta pushed his hands away with a click of his tongue, pinning Mark’s wrists to the mattress by his sides.
“Yuta, please,” Mark begged, hips pushing off of the bed as he squirmed, so hard he was going insane, every atom in him buzzing with pleasure.
“You have public schedules tomorrow, Mark,” Yuta reminded him with a smirk, his tone slightly chastising. “Can’t have everyone in the airport knowing what a slut for my cock you are just from how you’re walking.”
Well, shit. It was a fair point, one that Mark had failed to consider. The last time Yuta fucked him hard into the mattress, Johnny gave him enough shit about limping around the dorm the next day to last him a lifetime. But still—
“You’re not gonna fuck me?” Mark blurted out, confused. As much as he loved Yuta’s beautiful fingers inside of him, he didn’t see the point of Yuta prepping him so thoroughly if he wasn’t going to follow through with it. This had to be some form of torture, teasing Mark with the promise of sex and not giving it to him. Was Yuta punishing him for leaving, or something?
“I bought you a going away present,” Yuta said, ignoring Mark’s question.
Mark’s eyebrows furrowed, equal parts frustrated and confused. Yuta was sweet, getting Mark something. Mark couldn’t find it in him to care that much, though, not when he was this hard, and his hole was loose and slippery with lube. “Okay,” he said, the word coming out like an angry huff.
“Close your eyes, baby,” Yuta said, grinning again, teasing and wide.
“Yuta,” Mark whined. Were they seriously going to do this right now?
“Close your eyes,” Yuta repeated, his tone shortening, leaving no room for argument. Mark shut his eyes with a sigh, and felt Yuta crawl off of the bed. He heard another drawer open, and his eyebrows furrowed with curiosity, and then Yuta finally settled back onto the mattress, the bed dipping under his weight. “Okay,” Yuta hummed. “Open.”
Mark’s eyes flew open, and immediately widened. Yuta had his palm out in front of him, something hot pink and silicon and flared at one end resting on top of it. It appeared to be a vibrator — a big one, at that. They’d collected a few toys since they started fooling around, but rarely reached for them, too caught up in touching each other to bother with anything else.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Yuta hummed, stroking the toy with his free hand.
Mark swallowed, his cock twitching in anticipation. “Yeah,” he breathed out. Was that really going to fit inside of him?
Mark was apparently going to find out, because without any further ado, Yuta clicked a button three times, and the toy whirred to life. It was loud, louder than Mark’s fan, loud enough for every single person in the building to hear it, probably. Yuta pressed the toy to Mark’s hole and just the tease of strong vibrations against his skin had goosebumps exploding over the length of Mark’s arms, his cock twitching against his thigh as he held his legs tighter to his chest.
And then Yuta pushed it in.
Mark’s entire body convulsed as a wave of pleasure washed over him, the vibrator positioned right over his prostate, a scream of pleasure wrenching from Mark’s mouth. If Mark thought that Yuta’s fingers felt good inside of him, this was ecstasy that Mark had never felt before. Yuta pressed a thumb over the base, pushing the toy further in, drawing another groan from Mark’s clenched lips.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mark panted, writhing on the mattress, nowhere to go, no relief in sight, the pleasure so overwhelming he was worried he would come right then and there, entirely untouched.
“Let go,” Yuta murmured, pushing Mark’s hands off of the backs of his thighs, flattening his thighs back down to the mattress. Mark was surprised that Yuta didn’t want to watch his hole clench around the vibrator — Yuta loved to watch, normally — but was too far gone to protest, letting himself be maneuvered however Yuta wanted him if only it meant he got to come soon. But then Yuta crawled on top of his thighs, his skin warm against Mark’s, and he got up on his knees, one hand wrapping around the base of Mark’s cock, holding it up.
“Hyung, what are you—” The question died on Mark’s lips, the tip of his cock suddenly pressing against Yuta’s hole. Mark’s eyes searched Yuta’s, and found nothing but dark mischief staring back at him.
“Had some fun waiting for you,” Yuta shrugged with a smirk, rubbing Mark’s tip against his hole that was unmistakably slick with lube.
There was something ridiculously sinful about it, the knowledge that Yuta was in Mark’s room touching himself as all of the members sat in the kitchen some twenty feet away. Hell, the door wasn’t even locked. Anyone could have come in and seen it, Yuta spread out on Mark’s bedsheets, three fingers inside of him, wrecked and beautiful.
And then Yuta sat on his cock, and Mark’s vision went blurry, his eyes actually rolling up into his head as pleasure filled his veins, electric and overwhelming. Like this, Yuta still had all of the control. Like this, Mark was trapped, buried inside of Yuta, arms pinned down, pleasure dizzying, and intoxicating, with nowhere to escape from it.
Yuta’s hole was so, so tight around him — it had been ages since he last let Mark top him — his walls clenching down around Mark as he set a pace that was sure to have Mark coming in a minute like a teenager getting his dick wet for the first time.
“Mark,” Yuta breathed, the pleasure obvious in his voice as he bounced on Mark’s cock like he was made for it, his body glistening with sweat, muscles clenched and skin flushed with exertion. “Yes, Mark.”
Mark forced himself to keep eye contact, desperate to see just how good his cock made Yuta feel, despite how impossible it felt to keep his eyes open when everything felt so intense. And, oh, did Yuta look like a vision, his eyes as dark as his hair, the deep brown soaked in sweat to a near midnight black, long enough to hang in his eyes when it wasn’t styled.
“’S too much,” Mark slurred out, not even sure what he was saying. It was all too much. Mark was drowning in pleasure, with no end in sight. He was going to come. Oh, shit, he was going to come.
Fuck. Mark felt it coming like a tsunami wave held above his head, ready to crash at any second.
“Yuta, oppa, baby, I’m gonna co—“
Right when Mark was about to orgasm, his balls drawn up, his breath caught in his throat, his entire body shaking, Yuta reached down under him and pulled the vibrator out with an obscene squelch, and sat completely still on Mark’s dick.
Mark gasped, chest heaving as his breath went staticy, his orgasm staved off by a hair, the lack of stimulation impossibly frustrating. He tried to fuck his hips up deeper into Yuta’s ass, but his thighs tightened around Mark’s hips, and he couldn’t move an inch.
“Need to come,” Mark whined. Yuta raised up on his knees just an inch, his ass clenching around Mark’s dick like a sleeve, and it was sweet, sweet torture as Yuta sank back down to meet Mark’s hips. Tears clung to Mark’s eyelashes as he whimpered, frustrated and desperate.
“Did I say you could come?” Yuta asked, leaning over Mark’s body, his chin caught between Yuta’s grasp, his fingers slick against Mark’s skin.
“No,” Mark panted, the answer wrenching out of him, immediate and ashamed.
Yuta rewarded him with another roll of his hips. “Who do you belong to, Markie?” Yuta asked, his voice a low, wrecked rumble. “Who’s cock is this?”
“Yours, oppa,” Mark cried out, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I’m yours.”
“Mine,” Yuta parroted back, the word dripping in lust, possessive and stupidly hot. He let go of Mark’s face and began to ride him again, slowly at first, just edging Mark, stopping whenever Mark got close to coming. Yuta continued the cruel pattern until he was sure Mark wasn’t going to come before he was told he could, and then started to ride him hard and fast, his balls slapping against Mark’s hips, the sound entirely obscene.
Mark gasped, hands flying out to grab at Yuta’s waist, holding on for dear life as Yuta rode him until he was completely boneless, melting onto the mattress as he tried desperately not to come before he was told.
“Are you gonna be good?” Yuta asked, reaching back for the vibrator. Mark’s vision went dark, and he cursed, head tossing back in ecstasy. Mark’s cock slipped out of Yuta’s hole when he moved, and Yuta pushed one of Mark’s knees up, slipping a thumb into his hole to push some lube back in, Mark’s body sucking it in greedily, ready to take anything Yuta would give him.
“Please,” Mark begged. “Please, please, I’ll be so good for you.”
The vibrator slipped back into Mark like a reward, and it took everything in him not to let go at the buzz of it inside of him.
“Mine,” Yuta breathed, his pace slowing down as he got close. Mark thrust his hips up to meet him with every stroke, wanting to be good for Yuta, wanting him to come on Mark’s cock. Yuta cried out when Mark rubbed up against his prostate, and his hole clenched down on Mark’s cock so hard he nearly blacked out.
“Yuta, Please,” Mark cried out. He wasn’t going to last. He couldn’t, not when everything felt so good. Even his feet were buzzing with pleasure, every inch of him ready to burst.
“Okay, baby,” Yuta finally breathed out, his voice wrecked. He was close, too. “Okay. Come for me. Come with me.”
Like a switch went on at the words, Mark let go completely, spilling into Yuta with a curse of his name, coming more than he ever had in his life. Mark filled Yuta up with come until he was completely drained, his body numb with pleasure as he lazily fucked his hips up into Yuta, chasing his orgasm with the last dregs of his energy.
Mark reached between them and grabbed clumsily at Yuta’s cock, tugging him just a few times until he was spilling over Mark’s fist and onto his stomach and pubes, making a mess of the both of them.
The vibrator kept going, and going, and going, and Mark cried at the overstimulation, until Yuta reached down and pulled it out of him with a laugh, turning it off and tossing it onto the other side of the bed.
“Yuta,” Mark panted, and then Yuta gingerly crawled off of him, Mark’s cock slipping out of him, and rolled onto his stomach next to Mark, burying a sigh into the pillow. Mark watched as his come slipped out of Yuta’s used hole, making a mess of his ass and the bed, and decided it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in his life. Too tempted to control himself, Mark scooped some of it up with his fingers, pressing it back into Yuta’s hole, overcome by the whine Yuta made at the press of his fingers.
“Mark,” Yuta groaned, but did nothing to stop him.
“Sorry,” Mark murmured, really not sorry at all. He fought the urge to crawl over Yuta’s back, grab a plug out of his bedside table and keep some of the come inside. It was a primal urge, one that was a little bit gross, but too hot to feel any real shame for.
Yuta rolled over eventually, slotting a knee between Mark’s and burying his face in Mark’s neck, just breathing him in. They stayed like that for a long time, content to lay in their mess as the afterglow settled on top of them like a blanket of hazy pleasure. They both knew they’d have to get out of bed and clean up eventually, but neither of them wanted to, not just yet.
“I don’t want you to go,” Yuta said eventually, his voice muffled where his mouth was pressed to Mark’s skin, and Mark knew he wasn’t just saying that because of the mind-blowing sex. Mark pulled him closer, fingernails scratching over Yuta’s spine, and pressed a kiss to his lips, pouring all of his love, and heart, and soul into it and hoping Yuta could taste the sincerity on his tongue.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Mark whispered against Yuta’s lips, his voice small. He didn’t want to leave Yuta, either. As excited as Mark was for the tour, he didn’t know what to do with being so far away, while his heart was back home, with Yuta.
“You better,” Yuta hummed, seemingly content with Mark’s answer as he buried his face back in Mark’s shoulder. Yuta was always cuddly after sex — probably because he knew how much Mark loved it, almost as much as the sex itself — but he never held Mark quite this tight, or quite this close.
“I really am going to miss you,” Mark bit out, willing himself not to get upset about it, but desperate to know that Yuta was assured that he really meant it. Mark still felt it in his throat, that familiar ache of incoming tears.
Like Yuta could hear it in his voice, too, he decided to steer them away from it before they both became a mess. The last thing Mark needed was to wake up with puffy eyes and a sore throat from crying himself to sleep.
“At least you’ll have your going away present if you miss me,” Yuta teased, nipping at Mark’s earlobe. Mark squeaked at the sentence, skin flushing a deep crimson at the thought of bringing the toy with him on tour, and felt a wicked smile press against his skin at the reaction. For a second, Mark really considered bringing it, before chickening out at the thought of getting stopped in security for a random check and TSA pulling out the hot pink monstrosity and someone snapping an incredibly incriminating picture to spread online.
“Jesus,” Mark whined, pulling back to meet Yuta’s smoldering gaze, “and if you miss me?”
Yuta smiled at that, feline and sharp. “When I miss you, there’s a nice bed right here that smells just like you for me to touch myself in.”
Mark’s mind filled with the visual, Yuta crawling into his bed while he was thousands of miles away to touch himself, surrounded by the scent of Mark’s shampoo and his familiar bedsheets. “You’d call me, right?” Mark asked, amazed when his cock stirred to life at the thought.
Yuta hummed, teasing his fingertips over Mark’s belly, tracing lazy circles in the skin, “Video call?”
Fuck. “That would be torture,” Mark groaned.
“Why?” Yuta asked, intentionally naive. “You don’t want to watch me fuck myself with one of our toys?”
Mark did want that. Fuck, he wanted that. He just wanted to be there to touch Yuta, too. “God, don’t get me hard again,” he whined.
“Why’s that?” Yuta asked, his voice low and smooth, like it always was when he wanted Mark, and wanted Mark to know it too.
“I still have to finish packing,” Mark groaned, miserable at the thought. He’d been putting it off now for weeks. Packing meant that it was real, that he’d actually be leaving for tour without his boyfriend with him for the first time.
Yuta hummed, considering it. “We need to shower first.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Shower, then pack,” Yuta listed off, counting on his fingers. He held up a third finger, and grinned at Mark, sleazy and warm. “And then there’s this setting I want to show you on your going away present.”
Mark cursed. Yeah, he was definitely getting hard again. “Oh, yeah?” Mark asked, his voice strained at the question.
“Yeah,” Yuta grinned. “The reviews promised me you’d come untouched with it.”
“Baby,” Mark groaned, laughing. Of course Yuta read the fucking reviews. “Wait, I have a question.”
Yuta raised his eyebrows.
Mark smirked, pushing up onto his elbows. “I don’t suppose that toy’s waterproof is it?”