(hehehe thank u for this LOVELY prompt, i was buzzing the whole time writing this 🤤

tags: no scenarios AU, d/s, established relationship)

It had taken a lot of work to get here. The wealth of trust between them had been hard-won, accumulated after many, many heated arguments.

It starts of slow, with soft, warm lighting and the two of them freshly showered. Yu Junghyeok is clean all over, inside and out, his preparation thorough.

Kim Dokja will not kiss him, no matter how tantalizing his lips are. He lets his fingers roam carelessly, silently reminding Yu Junghyeok of the rules of their game. No talking. You’ll come only when I say you can.

His partner isn’t disgruntled by the slow scrape of nails against scalp, exactly. What’s agonizing to Yu Junghyeok about this whole experience is how easy it is to enjoy these sweet gestures, allowing himself to get swept up in Kim Dokja’s pace. It’s humiliating because he enjoys it so much, and because he knows this is only the beginning. That he will be unraveled so much further, stripped down to his core before he reaches climax.

The concept makes him shiver.

First, he sprays spritz into Yu Junghyeok’s hair, detangling his curls. Next, with lotion on his fingers, he skillfully works the knots out of his poor shoulders, lingering on his impressive arms and his pecs, squeezing them so intently that Yu Junghyeok has to bite his bottom lip to keep from moaning. Noise isn’t against the rules—it’s encouraged, in fact—but he doesn’t trust himself not to snarl the minute his lips part.

Kim Dokja gives him a brief reprieve after he’s finished massaging his ass, “Saving the best for last,” in his own words.

He washes his hands thoroughly, returning with a tempered rope. He spends several minutes watching the steady rise and fall of Yu Junghyeok’s chest pick up speed in anticipation, though he schools his expression, stubbornly stopping his nostrils from flaring.

Kim Dokja’s hands are rough. Not as rough as Yu Junghyeok’s, nowhere near, but he spent a lot of time practicing this art. Making sturdy loops requires patience and a steady hand. He is graced with both.

He winds the anchor around the bed post, not necessarily because it will stop Yu Junghyeok but because it will remind him to be careful. If, at any time, he decides he needs to bow out, Kim Dokja will undo everything and let him go.

For better or worse, Yu Junghyeok has never used a safeword—not with him. (This led to a quite literal knock-down drag-out fight between them, but their relationship benefitted from the conversation that followed.)

The ropework is beautiful; Yu Junghyeok knows without looking. He’d seen Kim Dokja demonstrate his prowess. He’d seen pictures. The idea of being on display for him and only him has him twitching, thickening up rapidly.

When his partner glances down, he laughs. “It doesn’t hurt, then. That’s good.”

Slowly, Kim Dokja drags his hands down, down, down. Breath hot on Yu Junghyeok’s skin, he sucks at his most sensitive parts, leaving bruises on his neck and his collarbone. He’s fully erect by the time Kim Dokja makes it to his left nipple, worrying it gently between his teeth.

Kim Dokja giggles when he feels it, the insistent roll of his hips, his body seeking friction. “Wait for it, Junghyeok-ah,” he teases, brushing his thumb over Yu Junghyeok’s balls.

The gesture makes him buck, unable to suppress a gasp.

Finally, after a seemingly endless eternity, Kim Dokja situates himself, resting on his elbows. Yu Junghyeok’s skin is feverishly hot and he feels delirious with arousal, but he manages to release the tension in his body. Let go, Junghyeok-ah, a phantom version of Kim Dokja reminds him, running him through his breathing exercises. Slowly, carefully, Kim Dokja waits for him to count down, waits for Yu Junghyeok’s brain to go white and fuzzy before he curls his fingers around the shaft.

The first time they did this, giddily sharing test results with each other, Yu Junghyeok had come almost immediately. He constant burn of the rope and the endless teasing had him taut like a tripwire, ready to burst.

Discipline has his lashes fluttering when Kim Dokja starts lapping at him, clever tongue working at his slit. He peels the foreskin back gingerly, teasing his typically covered area until he starts to tremble, hateful of his bonds now. I would give anything to tug at this bastard’s hair, manages to make it through the fog, eyes going glossy when Kim Dokja unhinges his jaw.

Mostly, he uses wet warmth to his advantage, staying still. Yu Junghyeok is by no means small, but he’s not unwieldy. Kim Dokja is practiced enough to sheathe his teeth and bob slowly, using his own drool to his advantage. With lube slathered at the base, his grip just this side of too painful, Kim Dokja can taste it when he gets close, precome flowing down his throat despite Yu Junghyeok’s best intentions.

Kim Dokja pulls off to reassure him, throat hoarse. “It’s okay. You’ve been such a good boy. Let it out.”

When he says those magic words, he means all of it. “Dokja,” he rasps, on the verge of horny tears.

He hums in return. The vibrations travel up from Yu Junghyeok’s dick up to the base of his skill, fingers clenching and unclenching, trapped in place.

“Please,” he begs and Kim Dokja hollows his cheeks, milking Yu Junghyeok for everything he’s got. He swallows, rubbing two fingers against Yu Junghyeok’s taint just to make him whine, spitting out what he can’t be bothered to catch.

He’s a sight, lovely, limp, and red, a prize for the taking.

Tonight, Kim Dokja will not fuck him. He likes to feel Yu Junghyeok’s nails digging into him when he puts his dick inside, when he drags him into subspace kicking and screaming, saliva spilling on the sheets; he can’t help himself when he’s getting spanked.

Tonight, he talks mostly to himself, fingering Yu Junghyeok open while he waits for his cock go refill with blood. The pressure against his prostate has him climaxing again in no time at all and he feels overwrought, exhausted and boneless and devastatingly charmed.

Kim Dokja plays with his toy until he can’t justify it any longer. Yu Junghyeok is sweaty and messy and tear-tracks are still fresh on his cheeks. He encounters no resistance as he unfastens the rope, marveling over the deep, pink imprints in Yu Junghyeok’s skin.

He works the blood back into his limbs, massaging Yu Junghyeok once more. He walks away to grab a soapy washcloth, giving him a decent wipe-down before he helps Yu Junghyeok sit up, retrieving his water bottle and a snack tray.

Kim Dokja throws on a t-shirt and a ratty pair of sweats, never one for sleeping nude. He acrobatically sidles behind Yu Junghyeok, getting settled to help feed him and cuddle at the same time, all-too-aware that Yu Junghyeok won’t be in the mood to talk to him for twenty minutes, if not longer.

It’s a short period, this time—half an hour of drowsy sips and intermittent nibbling are broken by a quiet comment. “Seven,” he says, giving a ranking.

“Not bad,” Kim Dokja muses, grinning into the soft, freshly-cut part of his undercut. “You took away points because it didn’t hurt, didn’t you?”

To that, Yu Junghyeok says nothing, simply huffs.

“It doesn’t have to hurt. That’s not a requirement.”

They’ve fought about this, too. “I like it better when it does,” he admits, committed to being clearer about his preferences.

Kim Dokja blinks, snuggling closer, lips curling up at the embarrassed expression on Yu Junghyeok’s face. “Noted.”

Eventually, he rolls out of bed to take a proper bath. Kim Dokja follows him into the bathroom, if only to keep him company. It’s pleasant, and all told, the evening is a success.

They’ll take whatever wins they can get.