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“But you said you didn’t care what we did for your birthday. Yah, no buts, you said you didn’t care! Am I wrong? Don’t even try to say no, no excuses. Now sit down and make a wish.”
Making your way to the dining room table with slightly shaking knees and your head swirling a hundred miles an hour in overload was nothing less than a miraculous feat of focus and luck. You didn’t know how you even walked when your lungs weren’t doing what they were supposed to anymore and when your heart was acting equally as funny, and even less so what with your thoughts an incoherent tangle of emotions. Your shortness of breath could be blamed on the desperation that followed his dismissal of your explanation, but also on the secret anticipation of whatever you had just gotten yourself into.
“Sit,” Namjoon repeated firmly as you arrived at the chair. Nonspeaking, you swallowed thickly and pulled it out, tentatively smoothing down your skirt as you placed yourself in it. Everything seemed so normal, so innocuous – nothing suspicious about your little apartment and the quaint bakery cake that sat before you, piled with cream and strawberries and your name in pretty blue icing.
He stepped in behind you, filling the air with the scent of his faint cologne and warmth, and you stiffened as he leaned over, his chest brushing against your scalp. A sharp flicking sound beside your ear made you flinch, and you realized it was only his lighter, being brought to the virgin wicks of the little candles.
One by one, a small flame caught on each of their crowns, taking hold and heating the wax beneath. The question of what exactly he was planning still lingered ominously in the back of your head, making you stay tense and your fingers to sink nervously into the wood grain of the table top.
“Ready?” he asked, voice low and much too close to the soft skin of your neck.
“Y-yeah,” you choked out, craning in. You didn’t have a wish, but the weight of Namjoon’s unspoken words made that secondary. That was fine. You could come up with one later. Rain check it for 11:11, maybe. That was fair, right? That still totally counted.
Just as you sucked in a breath, you came to a halt by the hair – a firm grip strained at your scalp, and suddenly he was musing, “Actually, I almost forgot.”
Anchored to the spot, you were helpless to watch as the same long fingers that had struck the lighter proceeded to pluck a candle from the thick cream, and gently tug your head back until you were forced to look up at him. Namjoon’s eyes were dark and bright, the merest hint of his dimple at one corner of his mouth. Maybe an unfamiliar bystander would call the look affectionate, but you knew better – your mouth went dry at the obvious cold amusement trapped in his gaze.
“What’s your first wish?” he asked casually, further tilting your head back and clearly exposing the column of your throat. Your blouse was unbuttoned slightly at the top, perfectly normal and comfortable, but at this angle the cool air of the apartment drifted down to your cleavage.
The candle hovered promisingly above you, right in front of his thin smile.
“First wish?” you managed to get out. “There’s more than one?”
“What kind of boyfriend do you think I am? I need to know everything you want in detail so I can lavish my baby girl just how she likes.” You almost believed him until his voice dropped, took a hard edge to it, “Now answer me.”
“I… I don’t know! A bubble bath? I want a nice bubble bath, with um, b-bath bombs.”
It wasn’t a lie, and he seemed satisfied with your answer.
“Stay still,” he murmured. With the barest tip of his wrist, the candle went horizontal, and you gasped sharply as the first drop of hot wax fell to your collarbone, stinging for a second before immediately cooling. Patiently, Namjoon flicked the candle, letting a second, then third drop follow the first, each time almost burning you before settling into meager warmth.
“Good girl. Now blow out the candle.”
You didn’t need to be asked twice – you were already trapped under his spell, bound to follow his commands because that’s what you were supposed to do, and you felt your skin pull lightly at the hardened spots as you inhaled and then extinguished the tiny flame.
Still holding your hair, Namjoon returned the candle in your cake – you assumed so, at least, since you could only see straight up at him and the ceiling and whatever managed to creep into your peripheral vision – and then his hand reappeared with the next one.
Your heart fumbled into your throat and you swallowed again, flushed and overstimulated. The anticipation of the wax was deliciously cruel, sending both a thrill down your spine to settle between your legs, but also a nervous flutter in your belly.
And you didn’t know how many candles were on the cake.
“Next wish,” Namjoon crooned.
You blanked again, unprepared, and frantically tried to come up with something. Anything.
“A copy of The Little Prince,” you said, a little meekly. There was a split-second of a genuine smile on his lips that was gone as quickly as it came, replaced with his steady, austere gaze.
“That can be arranged, I think,” he said coolly, and you felt his thumb drift gently across your forehead. “Now stay still.”
This time, the candle sweat splattered against your throat, crawling down centimeters before cooling in place. More followed it, and each spot was another instant of fierce heat that vanished in less than a second, leaving your flesh tingling in its soothing wake.
“Blow.”
Shakily, you took a breath, and blew out the next candle.
“Good work, baby,” Namjoon purred, surprising you when his fingers came back with no candle; instead, you felt the tips skim your clavicle, tracing it featherlight all the way to the dip of your breasts. There, he undid another two buttons, and you withheld a strangled sound as he roughly yanked down your bra to free your breasts. The air hit your skin and left goosebumps in its wake, and you hardly had time to adjust before candle number three was back.
“Next one.”
“Um,” you began, biting your lip and deliberating. Slightly shameless, you ignored your pride and mumbled, “For you to touch me.”
The request hung in the air for a moment, stretching out until you were about to burst with nerves, and then you squeaked and jerked as hot wax met the soft, sensitive flesh of your breasts. Your nipples were flushed and stiff instantly.
“Blow.”
There was no denying it any longer – your underwear was sticking obscenely to your lower folds and your body was begging for attention beyond the torturous teasing of the birthday candles. Trying to catch an adequate breath, you squirmed lightly in your seat and bit your lip, remembering in your haze you still had more wishes to come up with.
“I think,” Namjoon said, carefully enunciating each word as he suddenly let up on his grip, freeing your head from its bent position, “you can do a little better than that. Be more specific. I was touching you, so obviously you must mean I’m not doing a good job…”
You would’ve jumped out of the chair if he hadn’t immediately grabbed a handful of your locks and pressed you back down. Regardless, you spluttered out, red-faced, “N-no! No, no, you were, you were! I mean, I wish you’d touch me, um, more. M-my breasts. Things like that. Please? S-sir?”
Namjoon’s eyes flickered to you at the title, brow raising and evidently pleased. That single fact made the blood rush to your center and your insides twist, needing and wanting.
“Then I’ll need my hands free, won’t I?”
There was some implication in that statement that you didn’t understand, but there was nothing you could do about it. All you could do was sit and wait like a good girl, and try not to put yourself into a tizzy over the what ifs of what he had in store.
You supposed, if anything, he was nice enough not to let you wait long – his thumb suddenly brushed across your bottom lip and you instinctively parted them, ready and willing to accept it into your mouth to suck on. The reflex had you blushing not even a second later, and you stared at some meaningless point in the distance out of embarrassment, trying not to think about your reaction.
“What a good little thing you are,” Namjoon crooned once more, and before you could bask in the praise he continued, “Hold it between your teeth. I know you won’t drop it, since you are doing so very well at listening today, but if you’re sure you’re going to, let me know. Alright?”
Oh – oh, he was going to put the candle in your mouth, you realized with a pang of anxiety, but it was stifled by your knee-jerk desire to please. It wasn’t difficult, you knew, just scary. You could do this. You could do it for him.
You’d probably do a lot of stupid things if he asked.
“Yes, sir,” you rasped, unsurely nursing your bottom lip as he kneeled before you.
“That’s my baby girl. Open up for me.”
Obediently, you let him delicately put the next lit candle against your bottom incisors, then hold it still until you closed your mouth around its base. You could just scarcely feel the lick of heat from the burning wick, and if you crossed your eyes you could watch as the wax turned to liquid and hung, waiting to fall straight onto your chest.
“God, you have amazing tits,” he groaned, and you inhaled sharply as his large hands abruptly cupped your breasts and squeezed. The sudden motion caused the first drops to descend, and you whined softly at the contact combined with the insistent and newfound pleasure coming from him palming your breasts. He groped and massaged, biting his lip with far-blown pupils as he did.
It was impossible not to tremble as he touched you. When he was done kneading at the soft mounds, he immediately went to teasing at your already reddened nipples. Namjoon was neither easy or gentle – he started with hard pinches between his index fingers and thumbs, and once they were pebbled and bright pink, clamped them between thumb pad and curled knuckle, twisting them. The pleasure came in brutal, thick jolts that shot straight to your core and clawed at your arousal. His only reprieve was in tugging roughly at each of them and letting go before flicking, further coaxing in a wicked mix of pain and pleasure that had you beginning to sweat and pant.
All the while, horribly, tortuously, the hot wax dripped and decorated your totally exposed front. Your chest was flushed a rosy colour, a combination of your arousal and irritation from the candle’s work, and every time you wriggled from Namjoon’s touch there was only more, more, more.
Your breath hitched when you saw him grab what was the last, dwindling candle on the cake, and he didn’t even spare you a glance before holding it over each breast and dripped the wax on each nipple.
You couldn’t hold it in anymore – a strangled moan came from your throat, high and desperate, and Namjoon laughed under his breath. The sound was sexy and humiliating and your cunt was throbbing from need at this point, and you were sure if he didn’t give you some sort of satisfaction then your eyes were going to water more than they had already.
“Eyes on me, dear.”
The quiet, darkly amused order snapped you back to attention, and you blinked wetly as he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear before tenderly removed the candle from between your lips. Brandishing both of them in front of you, he gave you an appraising look as he whispered, “Last one.”
The wish spilled from your lips before you could help yourself.
“A nice kiss,” you said and sniffled very lightly. “Just a nice birthday kiss.”
That must’ve really done it – Namjoon could be very, very bad at hiding his emotions if he wasn’t expecting it, and it was plain as day when raw, overpowering love drowned you in his gaze. He nearly dropped everything in order to crush you into his arms and kiss every inch of your face he could reach, to comfort you and remind you how utterly, ridiculously in love he was with you. But he caught himself, and he took on shaky, steadying breath, closing his eyes as he focused until he opened them again.
“Go on, baby,” he said, dimples hinting in his cheeks.
You were more than happy to blow out the last two candles. The scent of smoke permeated in the air, and before you had the chance to even try and come back to your senses and apologize for getting so wound-up, there was a smearing of fluffy icing against your lips, followed by Namjoon’s mouth crushing against yours. The sugary sweetness of the icing mingled with the mild, soft texture of the cake and all of it was swept away by his tongue, tasting your mouth and kissing you deeply.
Namjoon broke away with a loud, wet noise, and you fairly gasped at the contact of his fingers dragging up the inside of your thigh and pushing past your dampened panties.
“Happy birthday,” he added, smiling lopsidedly. “You taste good.”
Two fingers found your entrance, and with no resistance, slipped past your lips and straight inside of you, curling up and making you clutch at him in a frantic attempt to stay upright. His thumb instantly found your clit, and he began a merciless pace of circling and thrusting. At this angle, you realized in a lust-driven haze, he was probably definitely going to make you squirt, and your face went hot with mortification at the thought.
“J-Joonie,” you stammered, voice tight and trembling, “i-it’s gonna be a huge m-m-mess!”
A thousand-watt grin spread across his ridiculously handsome face, and you felt yourself clench at the sight, only serving to further increase your profound embarrassment. Your nails clawed into the fabric of his t-shirt over his shoulders, but he didn’t seem to mind – if anything, his eyes glittered brighter.
“If I recall correctly, a bubble bath was asked for. It’s only fair we make a huge mess first.”
And with all the cruelness he possessed, he craned in and kissed you once more, hooking his fingers hard and grinding the entirety of palm against your clit to make you cum. The tightness in your belly swelled up and you whimpered and writhed until it suddenly seemed to burst. Your orgasm tore through you in a flood and left you screaming Namjoon’s name in begs and pleads, consumed by the rush of pleasure that he greedily drew out of you until it was splashing against your thighs and dripping down your calves.
You were only vaguely aware of his hummed, overly-pleased kisses that he pressed to your cheeks and the sides of your neck, whispering about how pretty you looked and how much he loved you like this and how he promised he’d clean up. Boneless, you just smiled and whined as you curled up against him, letting him lavish you in affection.
You guessed maybe this hadn’t been so bad. And aside from the imminent bubble bath and endless kisses, there was one other giant upside.
There was still an entire cake to smash in his face later