Archive of Our Own ^beta

❝ Then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death. ❞

– James 1:15

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“We shouldn't…”

A high pitched giggle, a fond snort, followed by a surprised moan muffled by eager, heart shaped lips.

“We really shouldn't.”

“And yet here we are…”

The iron gate shudders with a hollow clang as it closes behind Yunho and Wooyoung, the creaky noise and the soft ‘oof’ Wooyoung produces when Yunho presses him against it getting swallowed by the thick mist that curls over the graves. Further down the path, mausoleums doom up like miniature gothic palaces, watching the lovers feverishly make out against the old intricate fence with solemn faces, unjudging. Grave markers lean like voyeurs, wilful yet silent witnesses, the sheer force with which Yunho pulls Wooyoung in rattling their ancient foundations.

“...And yet here we are,” Wooyoung breathes back, sweetly suckling on his boyfriend's bottom lip before biting down. 

“Dragging each other here in the middle of the night because we can't fucking behave.”

Yunho's giddy laugh slices through the solemn silence like an axe through wood, and Wooyoung gladly licks the noise out of the older's mouth before it has the chance to travel further over rot and ruin.

The taller tastes like Jägermeister, the black licorice and cinnamon rich and heavy on his tongue that swipes over the already opened seam of Wooyoung's mouth. Beneath the warm herbs of the alcohol, the distinct notes of Wooyoung's cum still linger, salt and slightly bitter, and Wooyoung can't help but groan, that addicting, proud possessiveness both warming his chest and filling his dick.

“Come,” purrs Yunho, withdrawing as soon as Wooyoung tries to suck the addicting blend of spices and musk off of Yunho's lip.

The older boy grabs Wooyoung’s hand, their laughter, rugged and drunk with metal and booze, echoing over the graveyard before dissolving into silence. Wooyoung stumbles over his feet as he lets Yunho drag him deeper into the cemetery, his movements slowed by alcohol.

Marble angels, pale and towering, their outstretched wings draped in ivy and shadows, rise all around him as he mindlessly follows Yunho. Their mournful expressions carved into weathering stone are a stark contradiction to the flame of arousal that flickers low in Wooyoung's gut, threatening to burn brighter with each clumsy step he takes, with each comforting squeeze of that large, warm hand covering his. They pass rows of moss-veiled headstones leaning forward as if bowing to time itself as the cemetery unfurls itself the further they run, giddy and out of breath.

Somewhere far away, a church bell tolls.

Vine-clad crypts line the shadowed path, partly hidden in darkness, the faded names and forgotten dates only revealed by the slivers of moonlight penetrating through the thick clouds in the sky. Some appear cracked open – black, hollow eyes following the stumbling duo. The night smells of fallen leaves and the faintest trace of decay that seeps from beneath the ground, but Wooyoung doesn't even notice it. He only smells the woody notes of Yunho’s perfume, the hints of herbs and spices on Yunho’s breath, the unmistakable musk of pure lust wafting off of Yunho’s body. He follows like a loyal dog, the various scents luring him in like a luxurious perfume store of perversion, his drunk laughter ripping through the night.

Wooyoung almost trips over either his own wobbly legs or over a root that juts out from the ground like crooked teeth, but Yunho is quick to catch him – gracefully, even while still under the influence of countless of shots, he pulls Wooyoung in as his own back collides against the cold, unforgiving stone of an angel’s pedestal. Fog wraps around their unsteady legs when their mouths find each other again, deeper this time, their skin itching with hunger. 

“Need you,” Yunho whisper-moans against Wooyoung’s eager lips. 

The cold October air stings at Wooyoung’s skin where clever fingers slip his leather jacket from his shoulder, but it is nothing compared to the sheer heat with which the older boy is kissing him – Yunho licks deep into his mouth, curling and twirling his tongue around Wooyoung’s while those big hands roam restlessly: they grasp at leather clad biceps, brush over abs, knead so feverishly at Wooyoung’s ass that they almost lift the younger into the air with the force and enthusiasm alone.

“You just had me not even ten minutes ago,” teases Wooyoung with a giggle, his fingers brushing through thick locks of black hair before they travel down and come to rest at his lover’s cute ass. There, he ghosts his fingers over where the silicone plug from earlier still snugly rests, and he presses, just briefly. Just enough to punctuate his words, just to remind Yunho that he literally pumped him full in that disgusting, grimy toilet stall of the decrepit venue, plugging him up and hastily pulling up those insanely tight leather pants just in time before they got kicked out by a very bulky bouncer after some lame partypooper had caught them and snitched on them.

Yunho whines low in his throat, arching his back to push back into the teasing caress. Each touch feels sharper, bolder in the cemetery’s silence, every pleased sigh and low moan carrying strangely, unnaturally far, bouncing against stone and vine.

“I know,” he admits almost shyly, yet his rude hands never stop feeling Wooyoung up, unashamed with how they grope the younger.

“Can’t ever get enough of you, kitten…”

“Mm,” Wooyoung hums noncommittally, the praise and the insinuation making the tips of his ears burn hotly even in the chill of the frigid moonlight. The angel above them bears witness, solemn and eternal as every brush of fingers raises a shiver – whether from the cold or the electric pulse of desire, neither can tell.

“Let’s go then,” grins Wooyoung after tearing his lips off of Yunho’s with much difficulty, Cheshire and dangerous, and the feral glisten in Yunho’s big doe eyes mimics his hunger. Yunho laughs, drunk and in love and breathless. Their fingers tangle yet again, Yunho taking the lead as the older boy drags Wooyoung further into the graveyard.

The gravel path eventually gives way to soft, damp earth where ivy tangles over forgotten, moss covered stones. Under their feet, dew clings to the grass like tears. Mist and fog thicken, curling around their klutzy lower bodies like translucent, bony hands, as though the cemetery itself is drawing them deeper into its eerily quiet heart. Far above the duo, in an old yew tree that groans in the windless night, a crow caws at them, but the hoarse coo soon dissipates like thick smoke slipping from between fingertips as Yunho's quick, marching steps eventually slow and come to a stop.

Here, the mausoleums rise heavier, like miniature cathedrals left to rot. Their stained-glass windows are fractured, and their spires point jagged fingers toward the shivering sky. Doors of rusted iron, etched with grotesque symbols, hang ajar, sighing with breath of cold air from within. In the distance, dooming up from the tendrils of mist, the imposing figure of the Grim Reaper blindly stares at them, with his skeletal face veiled in a stone shroud, long fingers curled around his trusty, rusted scythe.

It’s even darker here. Colder. The October chill bites sharply at revealed skin and moonlight struggles to penetrate itself through the thickening fog, but Wooyoung feels alive and warm, ablaze as he finds his boyfriend's smoldering eyes.

Wooyoung keeps his distance at first, dragging every precious second out so the moment stretches longer, his sharp eyes watching Yunho's every move. Lazily, his boyfriend leans against one of the rare closed doors of a mausoleum, his head tipped back against the blackened metal, plush lips parted in a sultry grin made crooked by drink. He looks cocky, oozing confidence and lust, and Wooyoung wants to devour him whole.

He beckons Wooyoung closer with a slow, seductive bend of two long ringed fingers, and the younger, emboldened by the gloom and the countless of shots earlier that evening, strides into his space, so close that their noses touch. He allows his hungry gaze to travel over Yunho's already disheveled appearance – his messy black hair with tufts sticking out to the sides akin to adorable floppy puppy ears, the red blush that lies draped over his sharp nose and cheekbones, hooded yet expectant kohl-rimmed eyes with blown pupils. The last remains of Yunho’s burgundy lipstick are sloppily smeared over his jaw and chin, a souvenir from their earlier kisses and escapades, and Wooyoung's mouth waters to lap at the dark reds, to replace them with bruises not created by make-up but by his own hungry lips and viscous teeth.

As if pulled by an invisible rope, he all but crashes into Yunho, the iron door rattling faintly under the force and weight of their need. He gracelessly kicks Yunho’s long legs apart, shoving his thigh in between, chuckling as Yunho’s breath catches in his throat. The older boy immediately grinds his hard dick down, desperate for friction, for pressure, for anything. Yunho curses, pawing at Wooyoung’s chest to roll stiff pierced nipples between deft fingers, and Wooyoung retaliates by licking over Yunho’s cheek, biting at his sharp jaw, down, down, down to clamp his teeth over his boyfriend’s Adam’s apple.

Desire now unfurls reckless and unashamed, feverish in the quiet sanctity of the dead.

Their mouths find each other again, teeth clashing, tongues licking and lapping outside of parted lips with feral urgency. Yunho bites at the silver ring decorating Wooyoung’s bottom lip, tugging at the metal, dragging the teasing tip of his tongue to the other side to lap over the mole on the opposite corner. The stud in Yunho’s tongue is as determined and persistent as the man himself is, plunging deep into Wooyoung’s throat, adding metal to the already rich palette of flavours and making Wooyoung’s head spin like he’s still headbanging front row at the venue. 

“Want you to fuck me, Yunnie,” Wooyoung lisps hotly against Yunho's throat, taking the dainty chain of their couples’ necklace between his teeth and pulling it taut. The vial consisting of his own blood clatters against his canines, and the fleeting thought to bite straight through the glass and smear the scarlet moisture all over Yunho's pretty flushed face has his cock kicking within the tight confines of his latex trousers. 

“Fill me up and own me like I did with you earlier. Make me drip with it, leave me gaping and leaking.”

As he peeks up at his lover through fluttering eyelashes, the glass vial resting on his bottom lip, Yunho grins at him – not a teasing, playful smirk laced with softness, but a wild, lethal one, one full of sharp teeth and dangerous promises.

“Yeah? Are you hoping the dead will hear you whine as I bully my cock in you, doll?” Yunho purrs, yanking Wooyoung impossibly closer so he can mouth at the younger’s throat. One hand trails up to Wooyoung’s neck, tugging playfully at black strands of hair that have fallen loose out of the equally black velvet ribbon. 

“Want me to ruin your pretty body under the eyes of these poor innocent corpses?”

“Fuck, yes,” Wooyoung breathes, his drunken laugh coming out ragged, adding a cocktail of spices and herbs to the thick air already heavy with the scent of damp earth and the copper tang of rust.

“Wanna have it right here, against this shitty mausoleum, hard and raw until I fucking wake the dead with my moans because you stuff me so well.”

Yunho grits his teeth. The hand in his hair tightens as soon as Wooyoung utters the words, making Wooyoung mewl as he brutally twists and maneuvers his head to the side to let his lips brush over the younger's ear. Clever fingers now tug harder on the black strands, sending prickles of pain-pleasure down from Wooyoung's scalp all the way to his combat boot clad feet.

“Filthy little thing, begging to be used on holy ground,” Yunho whispers back, suckling the lobe between his lips before lapping at that excruciatingly delicious spot behind Wooyoung's ear.

He clasps his counterpart of the necklace dangling around Wooyoung’s neck in his palm, pressing a brief kiss onto the frail glass while winking at him – a sweet, tender gesture, yet a stark dichotomy to the way he uses the hand that’s still tangled in Wooyoung’s locks to ruthlessly guide the younger down onto his knees. Wooyoung winces as his shins hit the sharp jagged stone of the doorstep, though the dull pain is quickly forgotten by both the copious amounts of booze still freely flowing through his system and by Yunho dragging him in, causing his cheek to smush against Yunho’s bulge.

“Suck me off first,” Yunho speaks lowly, voice hoarse, a command wrapped in the sugary sweetness of a deceptive suggestion. “A little ‘thank you’ for me making you come down my throat back at the venue, hm?” 

Wooyoung’s nostrils flare harshly, the heady scent that is so distinctively Yunho invading his senses and causing a dopey grin to curl around his lips. He nods, straight up purring when he rubs his cheek against Yunho’s clad cock like an affectionate cat would, salivating as the length throbs against skin even through the thick leather. 

“Mm, yes, daddy,” Wooyoung whispers, tongue-tied, slurring the words, yet loud and coherent enough for the noise to echo through the graveyard, loud and reckless in the somber hush of the cemetery.

From above him, Yunho growls at the title, forcing Wooyoung’s head back just enough to meet his scorching gaze. He towers over Wooyoung, tall and imposing, almost putting the weeping angels to shame. But the eldest is real, made of skin and sin instead of stone and sadness, and Wooyoung needs to feel him, to taste him, hunger curling in his lower stomach like vines twisting around crooked stones and toppled statues. Moss and broken earth stain the younger’s knees and shins when he shuffles closer, but he doesn’t care. Not with the way Yunho stares down at him with blown eyes like he is something holy, so utterly entranced, so hypnotized by the way Wooyoung’s ringed fingers spiderwalk up those milelong legs and pop the button open.

Clumsy hands, slowed by the cold and alcohol, drag the zipper down before trembling fingers coil into the belt loops like snakes to shimmy the material down. Wooyoung can’t stop the bizarre mix of a breathless giggle and a wanton moan from rolling out of his mouth as Yunho’s cock jumps free, thick, hard and leaking. Silently, Wooyoung thanks his boyfriend for going commando for the second time that evening.

Yunho grabs his dick in a loose, lazy grip, the slight change in angle causing the three silver barbels that run along the underside of it to shimmer in the pale moonlight, each glimmer a note in the night’s quiet melody. Wooyoung's tongue lolls out automatically, a bestial instinct to please, peeking up through heavy lidded eyes, starved, famished. Saliva pools on the wet muscle as his lover teasingly taps his crown on it, twice, thrice, just to give Wooyoung a little taste of what’s to come.

“Taste me, pretty,” Yunho murmurs, his voice nothing more than a low husk, his other hand tenderly cupping Wooyoung’s flushed cheeks, feverishly hot to the touch even in the October chill.

And so Wooyoung does.

The first taste is electric. Yunho’s gasp rips through the night as Wooyoung eagerly laps at the beads of precum bubbling up from the head. The sound is debauched in the serenity of silence – a needy, wet groan tumbling off his red bitten lips when Wooyoung presses a sweet kiss to the crown and dips lower, tracing the three piercings with the teasing tip of his tongue.

“God–” Yunho grits out. His head heavily tips back against the decrepit rusted gate which protests with a weak groan.

If Wooyoung wasn’t so drunk, both on dick and booze, he would have fired off something clever about the ironic choice of words, pathetically muttered by a filthy sinner desecrating divine ground like a wicked heretic. But right now, he can’t even bring himself to withdraw from Yunho’s cock, even if he truly wanted to – his body moves on its own, slobbering sloppy kisses all over the length, moving back up to take the head between the soft, wet pillows of his lips, suckling on it and whimpering as more of his boyfriend’s bitter essence fills his mouth. 

“Daddy always tastes so fucking good,” he lisps, the perverse words partly muffled as he drowns in the heavy weight of Yunho’s dick on his tongue and that addicting taste filling his mouth, his eyes crossing and rolling back as though he is the one on the receiving end.

His comment earns him an ever harsher tug on his locks and a beautiful snarl of pleasure that’s music to his ears. The ribbon holding together the last strands of his messy hair comes loose and slowly whirls onto the damp earth where it lays forgotten like the dead surrounding them. Wooyoung doesn’t notice it, too caught up in frantically gasping for air as Yunho guides him deeper without any mercy whatsoever, letting himself be guided by a strong hand maneuvering his head until the tip of his nose brushes against a soft patch of curls. Metal and salt reach the back of Wooyoung’s throat and he moans, raw and desperate, the three barbells cold on his tongue and Yunho’s precum hot against his uvula.

“Woo-ya, kitten–” growls Yunho, pulling Wooyoung’s head back only to thrust forward again, starting a rhythm in the tight, wet heat of the younger’s willing throat. “Yeah, fuckin’ take it–”

In the mingling of silence and sorrow, the fog presses even thicker as blasphemy and lust snake around their legs like green lace. It casts a translucent shroud over the watchful eyes of the weeping angel, her outstretched skeletal wings engulfing the debauchery in a solemn, protective veil. Yet, the corpses still seem to watch, their eyes dull, peeking through the cracks in the crypts, sighing under the weight of sin. 

Yunho forces his cock deeper while cunning fingers pinch Wooyoung’s nose shut, and on the damp, cold earth, Wooyoung spasms, hands curling around the back of Yunho’s strong thighs and weakly pawing at them as a reflex, but he takes it. Takes the older’s dick further down, messily swallowing and spluttering around it, drool and precum frothing at the corners of his obscenely stretched lips and dribbling down to mix with moss and stone. Takes it while struggling to maintain eye contact, tears prickling on his waterlines and mixing with kohl and mascara, pupils blown and lids heavy.

Arousal coils low in Wooyoung’s tummy, his own cock throbbing and leaking. His sight blurs at the edges and his blood buzzes in his ears, casting his already dark world consisting solely of Yunho and the cold cemetery to a fuzzy haze of pitch black. He lets Yunho use him as he pleases, sitting pliantly like a ragdoll while keeping his mouth soft – gagging, humming, swallowing the older boy down with filthy devotion, eager, relentless.

“Look at you,” Yunho purrs from above him. The gruff sound of his low voice barely reaches Wooyoung’s auditory canal with the way he is positively floating, but still he catches it, slicing through the night and adding to the cacophony of his own depraved, sinfully wet noises.

“Such a gorgeous fucking sight, angel, sitting so prettily and letting daddy use you.”

A gentle thumb brushes away two, three stray tears, a stark difference compared to how cruelly the other fingers are still restricting Wooyoung’s airflow.

“Shit, you’re a mess,” Yunho laughs. “You’re ruined already. You look like you’re dying for my cock, Young–ah. Quite fitting, don’t you think?”

Too dizzy, too disoriented and lightheaded to nod, Wooyoung swallows him even deeper, mewling around the intrusion. He feels weak, his limbs tingling. 

Right before he threatens to fade into oblivion, Yunho finally allows him to breathe again.

Wooyoung coughs, heaving for air, seeing double as he looks up at his pretty boyfriend proudly smirking down at him through wet lashes that stick together with both clumpy mascara and tears.

“Use me,” he croaks out, dipping lower to press a wet kiss onto Yunho’s heavy balls that drip with his own sloppy spit. “Make me choke on it again–”

Never one to refuse such a beautiful offer, Yunho’s grins cuts deeper, grabbing a new fist full of messy raven locks and eagerly yanking Wooyoung back onto his dick. The thrusts are slow yet deep, with the older boy taking his time as he softly moans into the night, his fingertips tenderly trailing over the vial decorating his boyfriend’s neck that swings back and forth in time with the rhythm.

Wooyoung mirrors his moan with a whine of his own, his hips bucking involuntarily, rutting against nothing but air. Attentive as always, Yunho is quick to help him out – damp grass and old, moist dirt squelch as wetly as Wooyoung’s mouth when Yunho shoves one chunky Demonia between the younger's spread legs, digging his heel into the ground so the iron nose functions as a harsh, unforgiving pillow Wooyoung can thrust against. Even through the latex, Wooyoung feels the numbing coldness, the cruel roughness of it, the metal digging into his length in a maddening, mind-numbing way that teethers deliciously on that fine line between pleasure and pain.

He gags, moans, retches as Yunho ever so slightly gives a very light kick to his balls before cruelly stepping down, right on his throbbing dick, hurling around the intrusion in his mouth and moaning incoherent muffled nonsense.

Of course, he instantly pays Yunho back. He unwraps his teeth from his lips and drags them over the entire searing girth as he withdraws, making sure to look Yunho straight in the eye, meanly digging one canine into his lover's dripping crown. More precum flows freely at the action, and even with his mouth full, Wooyoung grins, proud and wicked, heat blossoming in his sternum and spreading like molten lava. 

“Fuck, baby,” Yunho hisses, yanking and tugging on the other’s hair held between his trembling fingers like his drunk body is torn between leaning into the painful sting and sharp danger or to be smart and pull away from it. His rationality eventually loses (as it always does when it comes to Wooyoung), dumbed down by alcohol and lust, and his pitiful whine when Wooyoung scrapes his bottom teeth along the piercings up to his frenulum rattles both the younger's bones and those of the dead and forgotten.

“God, just like that,” the man above him groans. “Use those pretty teeth on me. Fuck, your fucking mouth–”

“Little pain whore,” Wooyoung sweetly purrs at him, fondness and affection seeping through his accusatory tone and softening his gruff voice. He soothes another harsh gnaw to the older's dripping crown with a wet suckle before practically unhinging his jaw and swallowing Yunho all the way to the hilt again.

Meanwhile, he uncurls one hand from where it’s been tightly clasped around those mile long legs to travel up, up, up, his teasing fingertips barely nudging the plug still sitting safe and snug inside of his lover causing Yunho’s knees to buckle.

“I can still feel you,” Yunho immediately breathes at the younger’s action, his eyebrows knotting upwards and his jaw dropping open as Wooyoung both constricts his throat and brushes his fingers over the older’s well used hole, still warm and tacky from both cum and lube.

“Still feel how well you fucked me full earlier, doll…”

Wooyoung hums, pleased, drunk, in love, so turned on he can barely think.

Time seems to drift differently with the company of crooked stones and decayed leaves – Wooyoung feels like he has been kneeling between his lover’s legs for hours, days, floating on the euphoria of being used, drooling, fucking wrecked already, make-up running down his face and his lips stinging.

The barely there rustling of slightly quivering hands rummaging through pockets of a leather jacket pull Wooyoung out of his dickdrunk trance. His eyes slowly flutter open and he blinks once, twice, his vision blurred by more blackened tears. The questioning little hum he produces vibrates through Yunho’s entire length and has Yunho’s knees buckling. Wooyoung smugly grins, his already obscenely stretched lips now curling around both a cock and a lewd smile.

Above him, Yunho lights a cigarette. The flickering flame of the lighter briefly cuts through the fog twirling up those long legs and illuminates the broken stained glass of the mausoleum in an eerie glow, turning skin into molten bronze and shadows of ambers and reds.

Wooyoung’s heart thrums beneath his ribcage. He follows his boyfriend’s movements like a hawk, his own dick twitching in his too tight latex pants as Yunho’s red bitten lips wrap around the cigarette to take a long, lazy drag, thick smoke curling from his nostrils and veiling the older’s flushed cheeks.

Yunho lowers his gaze then, still just as fiery and scorching. He cants his hips just slightly so his dick slips from free between Wooyoung’s lips, grinning at Wooyoung’s disappointed little whine slicing through the solemn silence.

“You’ll get it back soon enough, you insatiable slut,” Yunho croons with a fond laugh, brushing the stubborn strands of hair that are partly covering the other’s eyes away from his face and placing two commanding fingers under his chin to make Wooyoung look up.

“Tongue out,” he purrs, taking another slow drag.

Anticipation and another sickening wave of white-hot arousal have Wooyoung shivering on where his knees are buried in the moist soil, and mindlessly, he obeys, the moonlight reflecting both his messy spit and Yunho’s precum on his tongue like liquid silver.

The first hot tap of bitter ashes on his tongue causes him to wince and hiss as a reflex before the cruel burn turns into something sweeter, something intoxicating. It stings. It hurts. It's so fucking good. Wooyoung squirms on the dirt, eyes crossing in pleasure. Burning paper and tobacco melt on the wet muscle like snow in the spring sun, and he moans, raw and deep, wordlessly asking for more. 

“Perfect,” praises Yunho, breathless and in awe, thumb stroking the younger’s cheek. His cock that hangs heavy between his spread legs throbs twice, thrice at the sight. “Fucking perfect, Woo-ya.”

He taps again. More ash falls, acrid and chemical. Wooyoung takes it with a grateful whimper and a thankful smile, basking in the overwhelming amount of different tastes flooding his mouth – booze clinging to his uvula, Yunho’s essence sticking to his cheeks, bitter remains of the cigarette burning sharply on his tongue and turning candy pink into a dull grey.

“Swallow.”

Again, Wooyoung obeys. His eyes squeeze shut and his nose scrunches at the sensation of his throat working down the burning ash, but Yunho’s reaction pays back the bitter taste a thousandfold: the older boy groans, a broken, feral sound from deep within his body, staring in amazement as Wooyoung bravely meets his hooded eyes yet again.

The younger’s tongue is clean, but Wooyoung’s instincts still beg for ruin.

“Well done, sweets,” his lover whispers. “That’s a good boy. So good for me.”

Wooyoung smiles up at him, dizzy, fucked out already.

One of his hands clasps tighter around the back of Yunho’s thigh to ground himself, the other travels up, fingertips tenderly brushing over the soft sliver of exposed skin right under Yunho’s belly button. There, on that patch of rosy paleness between his lover’s navel and where thick, wiry curls start, the pads of Wooyoung’s fingers meet pink, scarred flesh, but it doesn’t feel the same. Not compared to some weeks ago.

“My initials are fading,” Wooyoung pouts. His voice is brittle and weak when it croaks out of his used throat, and he deliberately juts out his bottom lip, mournfully tracing over the remains of his name left by one of his favourite butterfly blades. He splays his hand over Yunho’s pretty tummy, and he just can’t help himself when he presses a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s dick that still dangles right in front of his face oh so invitingly.

“Hmm,” Yunho hums, his thumb dragging over Wooyoung’s parted mouth, contemplating. Even in the dark, Wooyoung easily spots that carnal shimmer of those big, brown eyes as Yunho takes one last drag of the cigarette before he speaks.

“We should do something about that, don’t you think, kitty?”

The brush of Yunho’s long fingers against his as Wooyoung takes the cigarette out of his hands is brief yet sweet, a comforting caress between filth and ruin.

“This will have to do for now, but I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

Keeping eye contact with his boyfriend, Wooyoung takes a drag. As the ember paints small circles of orange in the dark, he lets his fingertips brush over his boyfriend's tummy, making an appreciative little noise at the sensation of the older's happy trail under them.

The cigarette hovers. Its heat doesn't touch, not yet, but it's enough to make the air hum and for Yunho to suck in an anticipatory breath from between his teeth. The muscles in his abs flutter, the thick veins snaking down pulsating in time with his heartbeat visibly. Yunho’s hand trembles slightly as he bundles up his cropped shirt just a bit, revealing more of his pretty stomach, goosebumps littering the flesh when the October chill hits it.

“You’re mine,” Wooyoung whispers as the cigarette glows, his free hand possessively curling around Yunho’s hip with sharp nails digging in, holding him in that fragile space between surrender and defiance.

The thin red pulse trembles, millimeters away from soft, rosy flesh, now close enough that the heat brushes dangerously over Yunho’s exposed pelvis. Within Wooyoung’s grip, Yunho shivers – but he doesn’t move away. The cigarette glows faintly, a flare reflected in his eyes that never leave Wooyoung’s.

“Yours.”

The sizzling sound of searing heat against skin when Wooyoung presses the cigarette on Yunho’s lower tummy mingles with the older’s hiss that transforms into a whine, then a whimpery moan, is almost deafening in the peaceful silence of the cemetery. Yunho exhales shakily with a soft curse, a satisfied smile tugging his red bitten lips upwards, his cock kicking and leaking a fresh trickle of precum at the burning pain.

With his thumb, Wooyoung gently wipes the remains of ash away. The burn sits right on top of the fading scars, another layer of obsession, and proudly, Wooyoung seals the new mark with a soft kiss.

The spent nub gets flicked onto the soil, where it extinguishes slowly between the damp grass and rotting leaves.

“Pretty,” Wooyoung sighs, admiring his work, his tone laced with nothing but devotion and claim. “Pretty and mine.”

“C'mere,” Yunho pleads, voice gruff from moaning, using his iron grip in Wooyoung's messy locks to drag the younger up from where he's been kneeling in the damp dirt. “Wanna kiss you. Need to taste me on you, honey.”

Wooyoung goes willingly – he has no other choice, not when the booze still coursing through his veins has him seeing double, body lax from getting used, his limbs heavy and leadlike. He sways on unsteady legs when he rises, boots crunching against withered marble and moss. Yunho snickers at his clumsiness, a low, teasing sound, catching him with strong arms, watching his younger boyfriend with half-lidded eyes before leaning in to kiss him for the nth time that night.

Behind them, the iron door creaks and moans in protest as Wooyoung presses him harder against the mausoleum, his sharp teeth nicking into Yunho’s bottom lip and drawing blood. Yunho oh so sweetly whines at the sting, rutting his still bare cock against Wooyoung’s thigh as he kisses the younger more feverishly, his tongue curling deeper, trying to lick his very own taste right out of Wooyoung’s mouth. It’s filthy, desperate, wet lips sliding, blood and ash smearing, spit dripping, claiming each other as if the cemetery itself has become their altar.  

A sharp prickle on his own lip and the sensation of Yunho smirking against his mouth has Wooyoung hissing through his teeth, kissing back even harder, punishing, almost violent in its hunger. Nails rake down Wooyoung’s back through his jacket as greedy hands roam, Yunho pawing and clawing like he wants to peel skin straight through the fabric. Wooyoung pulls the older boy impossibly closer, unexpectedly jerking his knee up right against Yunho’s balls and reveling in Yunho’s pitiful whimper with a menacing grin of his own.

Bloody strings of saliva connect their lips as they separate after what feels like hours, stretching filthy and gooey and pink between them before it breaks off and splashes onto the stones and moss. For a heartbeat, with their foreheads pressed together, the world around them seems to blur. Yunho playfully licks over Wooyoung’s nose like an overly eager puppy would and grabs at his ass, which Wooyoung answers with a sharp tug on fluffy hair and a nip to the older’s jaw. Their breathless, giddy, drunken laughs that rips out of them are as sudden as the wind swirling through the ancient yew tree right behind the decrepit mausoleum they’re pressed up against.

“Did so good for me, daddy,” Wooyoung whispers against the taller’s spit slick, bloody lips, punctuating the last word with a sultry roll of his hips and a scratch of his black nails over the fresh burn decorating Yunho’s lower tummy. “Throatfucked me so well, I don’t think I’ll be able to talk tomorrow…”

Without a warning, Yunho bends and literally sweeps Wooyoung off his feet: he scoops the younger in a messy bridal carry, one arm slung under his knees and one supporting behind his back. 

“I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk come morning either.”

Wooyoung squeals in surprise at both the action and the promise, his leather coat falling open, revealing the flimsy, netted top beneath. The October air blows coldly over the exposed slivers of skin, causing goosebumps to break out all over his body.

With Wooyoung in his strong arms, Yunho pushes himself off the red rusted gate, staggering forward, his Demonias slipping over damp earth.

Only the dead and a crow cawing overhead see the rather silly picture they paint: drunkenly stumbling over moist soil that mixes with gravel, Yunho’s pants still half undone and hanging halfway off his ass, Wooyoung shivering and clinging onto him like a koala, swaying dangerously and giggling with each clumsy step Yunho takes. 

“Yuyu, careful,” Wooyoung squeaks, half-laughing, half-teasing, burying his face in the safe crook between his neck and shoulder to lap at salty skin, to kiss and bite and bruise. “You're still drunk, pup. You'll drop me in the dirt.”

“Good,” Yunho slurs back, pressing a kiss to Wooyoung’s temple. “Then you’ll be mine forever.”

Wooyoung snorts. Hanging limp in the older’s arms, he lets himself get carried over the cemetery, resting his head against Yunho’s shoulder, pressing wet kisses on every centimeter of exposed skin he can get his greedy lips on. Despite the warmth of Yunho’s graceless yet tender embrace, he is getting antsy and impatient, his cock still hard and demandingly throbbing within the tight confines of his latex pants. That ache of yearning in both his chest and gut grows and grows, unfurling like ink in water, and he nips at Yunho’s ear, bratty and commanding.

“Hurry up,” he whines, kicking his legs childishly, slurring the words. “Wanna get fucked now, don’t care where, c’mon, put me down, don’t wanna wait–”

“If I’m gonna absolutely demolish you in a fucking cemetery,” Yunho interrupts him with a grin, his gaze drifting across the graves, searching, “I might as well pick a beautiful spot.”

“You have a very strange idea of beautiful,” Wooyoung instantly argues, but he can’t deny that the romantic insinuation behind the words is making his ears grow hot and has his blood flowing to his dick even faster.
 
Then, they both see it – a grave both regal and ruined. It lies beneath a canopy of black branches, half-swallowed by ivy and neglect. The headstone had once been tall and proud – a cross of pale stone tenderly embraced by an angel whose face had long since worn away, leaving only the hollow suggestion of eyes that seem to weep beneath the full moon. One of the angel’s wings is broken, the other barely intact, and in the fractures of the stone, slender vines have rooted, curling upward as if to cradle what time has taken.

“This one,” Yunho decides. 

It's ravaged yet beautiful, and Wooyoung thinks it suits them perfectly.

Slowly, Yunho sets Wooyoung down with reverence like laying something sacred upon an altar. He quickly follows, taking his rightful place between Wooyoung’s legs that spread automatically. The stone is cold beneath them, the air damp with the breath of centuries. 

For a moment neither of them speak. The silence stretches as Wooyoung combs one hand through Yunho’s messy locks, the other feeling the faint inscription on the base of the tombstone. The names on the grave are erased by years of wind and weather, but a single line remains, etched deep enough to defy the decay:

❝…And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age. ❞

— Matthew 28:20

They share a knowing look, a loving smile that says more than words upon a grave ever will, but not for long – Wooyoung yelps as Yunho roughly pushes him down onto the cold, cracked stones, making quick work of tugging the skin tight latex pants down until the younger’s hard dick is exposed to the chilly air before mercilessly manhandling and maneuvering Wooyoung onto his front.

“Hands and knees, angel.”

The command is a sultry purr in his red tinted ears with no room for arguments, and Wooyoung awkwardly scrumbles to the instructed position. He trembles as the wind softly blows over his now exposed ass, but with how dizzy and aroused he is, he’s not sure if he’s shivering because of the cold or because of pure mindnumbing anticipation and lust.

Yunho kneels behind him, towering over him with that heated gaze. Wooyoung hooks his chin over his shoulder, watching with lidded eyes as Yunho fishes the distinct golden foil package of lube out of his jacket. 

“Fingers or tongue?” Yunho asks, that dangerously low timbre lacing through his deep voice, unable to keep himself from bringing a heavy hand down on Wooyoung’s ass. The impact ripples through the quiet night like a stone disturbing the tranquillity of water, leaving behind a pink mark that throbs dully.

Wooyoung moans at the sting and blinks owlishly. Normally, he can handle his booze, but compared to Yunho, he’s a fucking lightweight, and in this state Yunho is too quick for him, way too quick. His lover grins, all sharp teeth on display, chuckling at how fucked out and cockdumb Wooyoung already is despite not even having had a dick in his hole yet. 

“H-huh?”

“I asked…” purrs Yunho, grabbing at messy raven locks to yank the younger’s head back brutishly, brushing his lips over Wooyoung’s ear, breathing the words hot and moist, “...what I should use to break you in for my cock, Woo-ya.”

Yunho’s other hand trails over his spine, following the protruding bones with ghosting fingertips, down, down, down, stopping right above the cleft of the younger’s ass as if waiting for the green light. It takes Wooyoung longer than he would like to admit before what Yunho is saying makes any sense to him, but when it finally does, the words strike like thunder.

“Both,” he rasps out, sinking down until he’s resting on his elbows, arching his back deeper to add weight to his words.

His pupils flit to Yunho’s flushed, grinning face, the older using his teeth to tear open the package of lube. The provocative sight has Wooyoung’s balls positively aching, and he gives an impatient little wiggle of his ass, needing Yunho in him right the fuck now. Fingers, tongue, cock, doesn’t really matter. He just wants his lover.

“B-both, fuck, please–” 

“You’re so spoiled,” Yunho accuses.

He roughly shoves Wooyoung’s jacket and netted top up, the condescending tone seamlessly mixing in with the open mouthed kisses he trails down the younger’s now exposed, goosebump littered back. Working a loving path downwards, making sure to leave a harsh bite or a claiming suck every now and then, he warms the lube between his fingers, allowing Wooyoung at least this tiny little bit of comfort in the frigid fog of the cemetery.

“Such a spoiled, coddled little slut, isn’t that right?”

“I’m n– Ah!”

Wooyoung’s drunken, tongue-tied protests die in his mouth like ashes in the wind when he feels that first, heavenly soft lick all the way from his taint up to his tailbone. Strong hands completely cover the globes of Wooyoung’s ass, long, dainty fingers spreading the younger open for better access.

The tip of Yunho’s tongue traces Wooyoung’s rim that frantically flutters around nothing, just a soft, barely there tease of a touch that has Wooyoung’s dick spurting onto the stones beneath him, and a full body shiver wrecks through the younger when Yunho’s breathy, cocky laugh fans over his hole. 

“Already clenching,” croons Yunho, the words partly muffled but still crystal clear, “and I haven’t even done anything yet, you greedy thing. Just my tongue got you this fucked up, hm?”

Wooyoung mewls as Yunho sloppily spits on his hole, tilting his hips, crying out in relief when that warm tongue dips in again. It’s softer now, slow yet deliberate licks over his opening, Yunho taking his sweet, sweet time eating his baby out under the watchful eyes of the broken angel looming above them.

Unhurried, Yunho tastes him, savours him like he’s a bouquet of wildflowers placed upon a fresh grave, that sharp nose pressed against the cleft of his ass, Yunho’s pleased groans vibrating through his entire shivering frame. The mix of Yunho's tender tongue and the persistent roughness of the metal bar shoved right through it is as confusing as it is maddening, and it has Wooyoung reeling on top of the grave, whimpering curses that only his boyfriend and the dead can hear.

“Fuck,” he moans, sinking even deeper into his kneeling position, surrendering fully. “Yunho, feels so good–”

“Mm,” Yunho hums back, licking deeper, harder. “You taste so sweet, baby. Like fucking sin. Want every corpse here to watch me devour you.”

He can’t stop it – Wooyoung’s cock drips yet again at the crude words, and he is met with the harsh palm of Yunho’s hand against his asscheek when one hand sneakily wanders to it.

“No touching,” orders Yunho, an icy command spoken in a honeyed voice. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“Yunnie, please, let me–” 

Another brutal slap, one so hard that it has his ears ringing from the impact, effectively shuts Wooyoung up, and he is forced to just feel his brain shrink to gooey mush and seep right out of his ears under the wonderful assault of Yunho's clever, pierced tongue. The booze has made it impossible to be even somewhat mad at the fact that the older boy is always so perfectly capable of rendering him unable to put a single thought together, and helplessly, Wooyoung’s hands curl around the broken marble, a last futile attempt to ground himself.

But it's in vain. His strangled cry rips through the cemetery when the first finger breaches his hole, loud and broken, lifting his unfocused eyes to the full moon filtering through the trees as if she can somehow soothe and tame the already overwhelming pleasure coursing through his veins. 

“Yunho, Yunho–!”

“How many fingers do you want, angel?” Yunho lisps against his hole, sending Wooyoung's thoughts scrambling as forces his index finger deeper while taking a good chunk of Wooyoung's ass between his teeth to bite down, hard. Something warm and tacky that isn't Yunho's spit cascades down the reddened, stinging globe not long after, and Wooyoung almost breaks right there and then when he realizes that his lover has bitten down so viciously that he's actually bleeding.

“J-just two,” Wooyoung starts with a stutter, hooking his chin back over his shoulder like before to make eye contact with Yunho once again. Despite falling deeper and deeper into the trenches of pleasure, he knows fully well there is still that troublesome, challenging glint momentarily flashing in his glassy eyes. Weakly, he lifts the corners of his mouth into a daring smirk as he lowly adds:

“Want it to fucking hurt when you shove your cock in me and finally take me.”

Yunho growls – a near animalistic noise that twists his mouth in a snarl, his eyes almost ablaze in the silver moonlight seeping between the tendrils of fog. He doesn’t waste any time, diving back in again, not being gentle at all with how harshly he pushes the second lubed finger in next to the first one. Wooyoung whimpers under the rough treatment, gasping for air, his hands wildly scrambling around for purchase as he is forced to take what he asked for. His hole flutters and clenches around the delicious intrusion like his body is unsure what to do with it, to push it out or to greedily suck it in.

“Like I said before,” Yunho grunts against his hole, licking filthily deep between his two long fingers that curl just right, making the younger boy choke on a moan vaguely consisting of Yunho’s name. Wooyoung’s body shakes, his curses spilling into the cold air, his flushed cock throbbing and now leaking a steady string of precum on moss and stone and names of the gone and forgotten.

“Such a greedy, filthy little thing, Youngie. You love this, don’t you? Being used like a common whore among the bones?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung immediately breathes back. His neck hurts from craning it in this unnatural position, but he perseveres, never breaking eye contact, demandingly pushing back against the digits and Yunho’s cunning tongue, needing them deeper, harder, rougher.

“Yes, love it– fuck, right there,” he whines, legs sliding open even further as Yunho's fingertips press against his sweet spot again, again, again. “Love it so much– ah, Yunho, Yuyu–”

“On your knees, cute lil ass up, drooling for me even without my cock in your pretty hole.”

The fingers of Yunho’s free hand tangle in Wooyoung’s messy locks, yanking his head back before using the strands as leverage to then mercilessly push Wooyoung's face back down to the lichen covered cracked tombstone under him, cruelly smushing his cheek against the unforgiving coldness of it. The other fingers alternate between plunging, curling and scissoring the younger open with quick practiced ease that only comes with years of experience, sending heat up Wooyoung's spine with each clever bend.

“Fuck me,” Wooyoung can only plead, his voice cracking, babbling and begging as though the two fingers and tongue in his ass have driven him to the point of madness already. He is so gone, fueled by alcohol, possessive obsession and the overwhelming lingering taste-smell-feel of Yunho, Yunho, Yunho that just he can’t stop himself from pleading as he lays there, leather jacket and latex pants soiled with damp earth and vines and decaying leaves like he has become one with the cemetery.

“Fuck me, Yunho, need you in me, ‘m ready,” he blabbers, throwing a begging look over his shoulder. 

“God, do you even hear yourself?” Yunho laughs. “Begging for my dick with your face in the dirt, right where you belong?” And then, with a hiss: “Little slut.”

Yunho grins at him, eyes dark, sharp teeth bared. Wild. It only serves as yet another match thrown to the barrel of hot oil that bubbles low in Wooyoung's gut.

“Please, please just gimme it Yunnie,” he mewls, not even arguing with the words he knows to be true. “Want your cock in me, fuck me open and mark me, fuckin’ please–”

“Mark you?” Yunho echoes, imitating Wooyoung’s pathetic whine with a smug, dark laugh. His tone hovers somewhere between mockery and amazement as he pulls his fingers out with a last filthy lick over the other’s opening, leaving Wooyoung’s wet hole gaping and his heart clenching. 

“I’ll do more than that, doll. I’ll fucking break you.”

Those words are Wooyoung’s only and final warning.

The blunt head of Yunho’s cock catches on Wooyoung’s rim, wet and threatening, and Wooyoung braces himself – he draws in a sharp, shuddering breath, shoulders rigid, every muscle tense, every nerve in his body alight with that mind melting mix of fear and carnal hunger.

Then, Yunho presses in, and Wooyoung screams.

He was right. Two of Yunho’s fingers and his tongue were definitely not enough to prepare him properly to take his boyfriend’s cock: the stretch stings, it burns, even with the copious amounts of lube and with how Yunho's precum eases the glide.

“H-hurts,” he whimpers in reflex, his voice cracking. “Hurts so bad–”

It’s so much, too much, yet it’s everything he needs – the pressure, the heat, the ache that feels like it might rip him open, every centimeter that sinks in an euphoric agony. Cold sweat breaks out of every pore when Wooyoung feels the piercings breaching the tight ring of muscle – first one, then two, then three, and he twitches and trembles against cold stone as if trying to crawl away from it.

“Yunnie, you’ll tear me apart, it hurts–”

“Shh, you can take it,” Yunho coos with a shush, pressing in deeper. “You always can, Wooyoungie. You wanna make daddy proud, don’t you?”

Yunho’s forearms come to rest next to his, safely caging him in, the older draping himself over Wooyoung until they’re clothed chest to clothed back, comforting yet claiming. Under him, Wooyoung sniffles, nodding his head in short jerks. He swallows hard, letting himself sink deeper into the ache. 

“Breathe, baby,” Yunho reminds him, pressing in further, purring reassurance, praise and mockery alike into Wooyoung’s unkempt hair.

“Through your nose, in and out – that’s it, sweets. Perfect. Push back against me a bit more, yeah, like that, there you go. Take my cock like a good boy. Fuck– ‘m almost in, Woo-ya, almost.”

He licks over the letters decorating Wooyoung's nape before clamping his teeth down, and Wooyoung can't help but feel like a kitten getting scruffed by a wild dog, something that causes his dick to throb between his legs.

It hurts. His neck, his ass, his lips still open and tender from their bruising kisses earlier. Everything hurts, and it’s just so fucking good.

“Already regretting your big bratty mouth from earlier, doll?” Yunho lisps over the flesh held between his canines. “Lil kitten lost its sharp claws?”

Through the fat tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, Wooyoung defiantly lifts his hips, causing the last torturous centimeters of Yunho’s cock to finally, finally sink in all the way to the hilt.

“Never,” he hisses, squeezing around Yunho to add weight to his words. “Fuckin’ give it to me, pup.”

Yunho’s moan comes strangled, raw, beautiful. He presses even closer, the heat and weight of his body atop of Wooyoung’s swallowing the October chill, pressing a proud kiss to Wooyoung’s sweaty shoulder where his jacket has slipped off.

“That’s what I thought.”

He withdraws until only his tip remains in Wooyoung’s hole, rising to a knee-sit. Big, warm hands envelop Wooyoung’s waist and when he starts building a rhythm – deep, long strokes that have them both sighing in pleasure – Wooyoung swears the dirt under them shakes with it.

Arching into Yunho instinctively, his body seamlessly dances along to the pace Yunho slowly but surely creates for the both of them as they move together on top of moss covered marble. Fingertips sink into the exposed skin of Wooyoung's hips, deeper, harder until the soft pads turn into vicious nails, biting in the flesh and leaving behind red welts in the shape of half moons – yet another claim, as if Yunho's cock so far up Wooyoung's ass the latter can taste him in his throat isn't good enough for the older boy, as if Yunho needs to fully own him like a coffin owns a corpse.

Yunho's thrusts are calculated, precise, no filthy slap of skin against skin, not yet. Just a deliberate grind, each motion aiming for where Wooyoung is most sensitive, filling and stuffing the younger with each perfect push and pull, making him feel it in every nerve of his body.

“Fuck, Wooyoung,” Yunho mutters from behind him, undoubtedly staring at where their bodies are connected. “You feel amazing, so tight, pretty hole stretches around my dick so well…”

Wooyoung answers him with a moan, rolling his hips back, meeting Yunho halfway.

“Feels so good…”

It's more than good, Yunho stretching him so heavenly with every thrust, the piercings sliding over Wooyoung's sensitive inner walls, cockhead nudging against his prostate. It's amazing, but it's not enough. Wooyoung's body screams with it – take me, claim me, break me, Yunho's earlier promise of rendering him unable to walk come morning burning in his mind, so crystal clear even through the numbing haze of alcohol.

“Harder,” he whimpers, “please, fuck me harder–”

He must look absolutely pathetic when he cranes his neck to find Yunho’s gaze, tears wet and glassy, cheeks smudged with dirt, make-up running. And yet, something in Yunho’s expression hardens, the barely there brown rings of his eyes darkening to near black, almost molten, like dusk settling over water. On his hips, Wooyoung feels the slightest tremble of Yunho’s fingers before they claw in impossibly deeper, sees the muscle in his jaw tightening as though he’s still holding back.

“You want it harder?” Yunho asks, jaw clenched, pure wildfire in those dark eyes. He asks it like it’s a warning, like Wooyoung truly doesn’t know what he’s in for.

“Need it,” Wooyoung corrects him, voice ragged, breaking with need. 

“Make me cry on your cock. Ruin me.”

Ruin him is exactly what Yunho does. The scrape of leather over marble and the crunch of heavy boots on stone when Yunho braces himself are Wooyoung's only forewarnings: sharp rings cut harshly into the revealed slivers of flesh, but Wooyoung doesn't even feel it with the sheer force Yunho all but bullies his thick cock into him. He rocks forwards at the next forceful thrusts that follow, knees grating over unforgiving cracked marble, his grateful moan transforming into a wet gasp as those big hands eagerly grab at the globes of his ass to yank him back onto his boyfriend’s dick.

“Like that, right?” Yunho grunts at him, punctuating the word with a filthy smack on the asscheek that's still raw and bleeding, plunging in so deep that Wooyoung just simply has to place a shaking hand on his lower stomach to feel his boyfriend there, rearranging his insides.

Each thrust is more intense, more violent, with the man behind Wooyoung fucking him like he hates him him – rough, ruthless, heavy balls slapping against Wooyoung's taint, the crude noise of flesh against flesh almost louder than Wooyoung's pitiful wails.

“Fuck, yes,” he weeps, “Don't stop, don't fucking stop–”

Yunho bends forwards again, that big frame engulfed in mist and moonlight almost completely covering Wooyoung's, his breath hot and ragged. Razor sharp teeth scrape over the younger's neck before sinking in, harder, even more feral than before.

Skin breaks, and Wooyoung sobs.

“Yunho–!”

“That's it,” Yunho growls against the reddened flesh, rutting into Wooyoung even harder, panting like a dog in heat.

“Say my name. Fucking cry on this cock, baby. Shit, you're incredible–”

One arm slings around Wooyoung’s waist to keep his trembling body from completely losing balance, clever fingers trailing up first to ghost over hardened nipples, tugging at the silver rings pierced through them to make Wooyoung cry out louder. Then, the fingertips spiderwalk down, sweetly brushing over the younger’s sweat–slick sternum before they come to rest on Wooyoung’s lower tummy.

Yunho’s sharp inhale of air is harsh against Wooyoung’s ear as he traces the outline of his own dick bulging up the soft, golden skin, and Wooyoung can only whimper and surrender to the greedy hands roaming over his body and the relentless pounding, sagging further down, his cheek unforgivingly squished against the cold, cracked stone as more tears blur his vision. 

He squeaks when Yunho harshly grabs one of his hands and places it where the head of his dick bulges, pressing down, both of their combined moans intermingling in the thick mist curling around them.

“Feel that, love?” he asks, trailing the tip of his tongue over Wooyoung’s ear. “That’s all me. Pretty little body was made for my dick, made for me, hm?”

“For you,” Wooyoung mindlessly babbles back, arching up into the violent thrusts, drawn to the pain of it. “Only for you, harder, harder–”

With an appreciative grunt, Yunho takes Wooyoung deeper, harsher like the younger demands, until Wooyoung’s moans turn guttural, until his whimpers of Yunho’s name transform into miserable hiccups. The cemetery seems to tremble with them, the fog pressing close to their bodies shifting as though stirred with their blasphemy.

Moist dirt clings under Wooyoung’s nails as his other hand uselessly flails around, frantically searching for purchase. Wooyoung finds it when it shakily wraps around the mossy base of the cross, the withered stone a somewhat calming presence in the brutal storm that is Yunho. Teary, unfocused eyes stare up hopelessly at the angel looming over them, as if she can offer some mercy in the mindbreaking ferocity Wooyoung has brought upon himself, but all she does is watch in stillness, her cold stone gaze silently disappointed in their sacrilege on holy ground.

Wooyoung feels it building already, the hot coil in his gut tightening more and more with every fierce thrust. He doesn't even have the mind to think about reaching between his legs where his cock is hanging hard and heavy, just the near unbearable stretch, silver rubbing against his walls and Yunho perfectly filling him up so full he can barely breathe is all he needs.

Two, three more perfectly aimed thrust against his sweet spot. Four, five more sweet licks over his ear. With a wail, he curls in on himself, his body bracing for that heartstopping impact that seems inevitable now.

“Yunho,” he cries out, tears sliding down for the second time that night. “Yuyu, daddy, fuck– I-I’m–”

But suddenly it's all gone – Yunho's harsh panting on the fresh, bloody mark, his torso draped over Wooyoung's back, the promising signs of the younger's peak building low in his tummy. 

“No–!”

Hands hook under Wooyoung's armpits, and Wooyoung's teeth clatter as the warmth of Yunho's body disappears.

“You fucking asshole,” he hisses, “I was so close–”

“Oh shush,” Yunho interrupts him with a condescending tut. He lands a reprimanding slap on his ass, and Wooyoung hates that his boyfriend doesn’t even sound the slightest bit affected. 

“Up you go, kitten. C'mon.”

Wooyoung isn't exactly proud of the despairing whine that leaves his mouth when Yunho slides out of him, wholly unexpected and so sudden that the emptiness has him wincing. Boneless, nothing more than a flimsy rag doll in Yunho’s strong arms, stupefied by dick and booze, he lets himself get manhandled upwards and onto the cracked stone, and yet again, Yunho is quick, way too quick for him.

Wooyoung's surprised shriek when big hands wrap around his skin tight pants to yank them down all the way causes a crow to caw and flee to a different tree looming over them. He opens his mouth, only for another astonished yelp to rip out of him as Yunho makes quick work of untying his boots and rips them both clean off in one go, leaving his bottom half completely exposed in the biting cold of the October chill.

His pants and boots end up somewhere between moss and decayed leaves. Wooyoung shivers as a ghostly gust of wind hits his skin. He narrows his eyes, glaring at Yunho under him, but with the pout that decorates his lips, caused by the disappointing lack of cock in him, it's very far from convincing.

“What?” Yunho laughs, a shiteating grin on his features. With much more grace than Wooyoung, he easily settles besides the younger, patting his thighs as an invitation.

“You think you could lay there in the soil like a fucking corpse and letting me do all the work? Come ride me, doll.”

Wooyoung’s hole desperately clenches around nothing, the slivering tendrils of his impending orgasm slowly retreating with every second that passes. Part of him wants to grind down his bare heel in Yunho’s balls just to see his pretty boyfriend squirm and wince and cry as a fitting punishment for leaving him high and dry, but his mind quickly decides against it and conjures up an even better plan much more suitable.

Something shifts – Wooyoung isn't sure if it's the church bell tolling somewhere far in the distance, the mist pressing thicker, or the headstones seeming to lean in closer to watch their every move. He crawls into Yunho’s lap, his lube leaking ass hot and tacky against the taut muscles of Yunho’s soft tummy, seeking both warmth and revenge. 

“You're particularly mouthy tonight, pup,” he purrs, getting comfortable on Yunho’s thighs. His tone is as sugary sweet as the way his ringed fingers curl around Yunho's jaw, smiling deceivingly adoring at Yunho peeking up at him through hooded eyes with his arms lazily folded behind his head. He appears like Dionysus in his pleasure den, the epitome of cockiness and lust come to life. 

His rather arrogant expression quickly changes into one of surprise, however, when the gentle brush of Wooyoung’s thumb over his flushed cheeks dips lower and loving fingertips turn into a cruel vice grip around his jugular.

With his hand snugly around Yunho's throat, his palm pressing down onto his lover's windpipe in a manner he knows is very, very dangerous, Wooyoung reaches behind him, but not to guide Yunho's cock back to where it belongs in his waiting, clenching hole (though deep within he craves nothing more than the sensation of being filled up to the brim again). Instead, his fingers dip lower, nails scratching down over Yunho's balls before easily finding the base of the plug and grabbing hold of it to thrust. Under him, Yunho all but thrashes on the grave, his eyebrows furrowing upwards in a deliciously pathetic way, hands grasping at nothing but air.

Wooyoung's lethal grin almost splits his face in two as Yunho’s jaw drops open and he chokes on a garbled moan, his eyes glazing over, rolling back into his skull.

“Did you forget that you were just dumbly slumped against that toilet stall when I fucked you earlier this night, baby?” the younger coos, shifting on his knees so he can grind his wet, open hole over his boyfriend's searing cock while thrusting the plug in and out. Cum seeps over his fingers, still warm because of how feverishly hot Yunho always runs, and Wooyoung's smirk cuts even deeper when he feels Yunho clenching, desperate to keep his boyfriend's cum in him like the obsessive little fucker he is.

“Not even fucking back on my cock like I just did,” continues Wooyoung, voice low and honeyed, pride warming his chest and heat blossoming low in his gut at the sensation of Yunho's cock wildly throbbing against his ass.

“Just standing there with your back arched and your ass out, begging me to fill you up like the useless whore mutt you are?”

Of course, Yunho's red bitten lips part to form around a protest, but Wooyoung simply squeezes harder, the glass vial of the necklace cold against his hand, surely leaving behind a lasting mark on the rosy skin of his lover's neck. Chipped nails ruthlessly dig deeper into Yunho’s jugular, the palm of Wooyoung’s hand pressing tighter and tighter on his trachea.

Yunho sputters, face going a scarlet red, staring daggers at Wooyoung before his eyelashes flutter shut. He could easily take the reins and force Wooyoung back onto his cock, but the downright pornographic way his eyes cross back at the dizzying lack of air tells Wooyoung all he needs to know.

“Hm?” Wooyoung hums, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity. “What’s that, sweets? Kitty’s got your tongue?”

His other hand thrusts the plug back in, snug and safe as far as it can go, before it grabs Yunho’s weeping cock that throbs and twitches uncontrollably. Wooyoung lifts his hips, tapping the tacky tip against his hole once, twice, basking in the desperate choking noises from the man under him, how his beautiful reddened face seems to almost glow with heat in the pale silvers of the moonlight.

“No answer? Pliant pup gets all weak and stupid just because of a hand around his throat?” Wooyoung asks, tone laced with deceptive sympathy, cooing the words.

In lieu of a verbal answer, without any warning whatsoever, he drops straight back down onto Yunho’s dick.

“Thought so.”

Then, he finally releases his fierce grip around the other’s throat just so he can hear the frantic heave for air and the guttural moan that follows at the sensation of his tight, warm walls enveloping Yunho once more.

“You’re fucking insane,” Yunho chokes out as soon as he gets some much needed air into his depleted lungs. He coughs wetly, his flushed face a plethora of a thousand confusing and contradicting expressions as Wooyoung takes him to the hilt until his ass is flush against Yunho’s pelvis.

Big hands scramble at the plush of Wooyoung’s bare thighs, gasping, his back arching up from the cold stone as Wooyoung deliberately clenches around him. Yunho laughs, a breathy, ragged sound that's almost crazed, his mouth wet and red and swollen, eyes glassy with pure hunger as they look up at the man in his lap.

“Crazy little bitch–”

“And yet you fucking adore me,” Wooyoung purrs back, resting his own hands on Yunho’s chest, balancing himself, canting his hips just right to have both of them moaning with their heads tipped back.

Yunho doesn't even argue with him.

The angle is different but just as delicious, the still burning stretch coursing through Wooyoung's body like fire and ice both at once. Proudly, he savours the wicked grin on Yunho's pretty face, his boyfriend's wild eyes hungrily taking in the way his smaller frame dances smoothly on top of him.

He knows Yunho wants nothing more than for him to start riding him like his life depends on it, using his strong thighs to lift himself up until only the tip remains to drop back down, hard, fast, deep, over and over again. But instead, he takes his time, drawing languid figure eights on Yunho's cock, sultry rolls of his hips back and forth.

Wooyoung’s smile is all sharp edges and reverence. His thumb brushes a stray strand of hair away from Yunho’s hooded eyes, the movement slow, deliberate, savoring every flicker of trembling restraint the shuddering man under him.

“My crazy little bitch,” Yunho groans possessively, guiding Wooyoung's hips back and forth as the younger lazily grinds on his cock. “Woo-ya, angel, the way you fuck– God, you've ruined me for everyone else…”

Even though the words are spoken in a blissful moment of unbridled lust, Wooyoung knows Yunho speaks nothing but the truth, and his heart still soars when he hears them. He rewards Yunho by squeezing around him once more and pressing his dirty nails right into the fresh mark of the cigarette, still raw and tender, another reminder who his little puppy really belongs to. 

(As if he ever gives Yunho a chance to forget that.)

“You're fucking mine,” he growls. “I’ll put you right into the fucking ground if you even dare to look at someone else, sweetheart.”

Others would run for the hills as soon as the sentence drips from Wooyoung's lips like poison, but not Yunho. Yunho fucking whines, his cock twitching where it's buried deep in Wooyoung, and Wooyoung swears he can feel his lover's frantic heartbeat fluttering against his tight walls.

“I want you,” Yunho gasps, bucking his hips up to add weight to his words, his fingers gripping at the back of Wooyoung’s coat as though he might vanish if he lets go.

“Only you, Youngie, fuck, I promise– Won't even think about anyone else, I swear–”

He stares up at Wooyoung with glassy, unfocused eyes like the younger has hung the stars in the pitch black night sky envelopping them. 

Very, very satisfied with the answer, Wooyoung leans in, biting at his lips – not kind, not gentle, perfectly matching the force with which he starts riding Yunho with renewed vigor. Placing one hand on the cross pedestal behind them for balance, he picks up the tempo again, filthy, hard, the lewd slap of skin loud enough to echo between the mausoleums down the path.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he whispers against Yunho’s drooling mouth, a mix of triumph and adoration, tracing the lines of his lover’s warm face with his other hand, memorizing the way Yunho’s desperation warps his expression. 

“‘m never, ever letting you go, Yun.”

"Me neither," Yunho promises, rough and raspy but oh so genuine and truthful. 

The world around them shrinks to just the heat and presence of each other. Yunho’s hands are everywhere: toying with the silver rings decorating Wooyoung's nipples that stand stiff with arousal, hungry claws roaming over Wooyoung’s thighs, brushing over his stomach, grabbing at his ass. Eventually, one of them wraps around his cock, clinging and claiming while Wooyoung rides him wilder, harder, that animalistic need itching under his skin.

“Fuck, Yunnie, just like that,” he gasps out, frantically bucking in the warm tightness of Yunho’s fist. “Touch me while I fuck your cock, please, don't stop–”

Despite the cold of the eerie October mists engulfing him, Wooyoung swears he's on fire – sweat drips down his hairline, his skin burning with sizzling heat, every nerve ending alight as he slams himself down quicker, feeling Yunho all the way in his throat. He tips his head back, laughing breathlessly, crazed and obsessed and drunk and so in love his entire body sings with it.

“Not stopping, not now, baby,” Yunho promises him, heaving for air between words, clutching him so tightly it's violent. “‘m getting close, keep riding me, tighten that ass for me– God, yes, fuckin’ squeeze me exactly like that kitten, you’re perfect–”

Wooyoung doesn’t slow down his brutal pace to alternate between grinding down and drawing tight circles with his hips that drive Yunho absolutely insane like he normally likes to do.

Not anymore.

He is too fired up, too lost in the heavenly fullness, the burning stretch, overwhelmed by the pressure building in his gut and the breathtaking sight of Yunho gasping and moaning and grunting under him. Slamming down in that punishing tempo, over and over again, he scratches his nails over Yunho’s stomach to both mark and somewhat ground himself as sparks of pleasure shoot up his spine so violently he can’t stop shivering.

He’s certain he’s an fucking mess: drool trickles down his parted lips with every delicious drag of Yunho’s pierced cock over his velvet walls, he can’t keep his make-up smudged eyes from crossing as Yunho’s skilled hand works over his slicked dick faster, half-naked on top of Yunho with his jacket slipping off and his black hair sticking to his forehead, moans and sighs and drunken giggles and hiccups all mingling with each other in the frigid air as he rides Yunho’s dick so hard and fast it almost seems like his intention is to break it. 

But he doesn’t care. After all, Yunho loves him exactly like this: a cockdrunk mess so possessive and obsessive with the other it borders on insanity. All that matters now is the heat flaring unbearably hot, the tight coil in his lower stomach ready to spring at any second now.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whines out, “‘m close Yun, shit I’m so Goddamn close-”

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me soon, Young-ah?” Yunho grunts, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth, his hips pistoning harder when Wooyoung answers with a sob and a shaky nod of his head.

The muscles in the younger’s thighs tremble and strain with the effort as he feverishly ruts himself towards his peak, his chest heaving, hands grasping at nothing and everything at once.

He can't see straight, his legs can no longer hold him up, and Yunho knows: he firmly plants his boots in the dirt to fuck up even harder into Wooyoung, his arms coming to wrap snugly around the younger's back to pull their bodies flush together. Wooyoung instantly misses those big hands playing with his cock, but the stimulation is quickly replaced by the sensation of being pressed against his lover's soft tummy, sweat and precum easing the slide. Their foreheads knock together painfully when Yunho tightens his iron hold around the younger, but they don’t even register it.

“Me too, kitty,” Yunho grunts against his lips, “Fuck, gonna fill you up like you’ve been begging me all night, c’mon, ‘m almost there–”

As the night deepens into something almost sentient, Wooyoung can barely breathe, can barely fucking think – ecstasy builds and builds, tears of bliss running down his face, movements frantic and uncoordinated. He can’t stop himself from babbling, the words that drop from his drooling mouth an incoherent mess of disjointed sentences and pleas, increasing in both pitch and volume, echoing over graves and resonating between red rusted gates and ruined crypts.

“G-gonna cum,” he sobs, “oh fuck, Yunho, Yunho, I’m gonna cum–”

“That’s it, moan my fucking name,” Yunho growls at him, breathing the command against Wooyoung's jaw that keeps dropping open, nipping and biting at the sharp bones.

“Scream it as you cum, doll.”

And with the command, Wooyoung shatters.

The world tilts around him as everything cuts to black. The graves, the mist, the tolling bell, a crow cawing at them: all fades into nothingness as Wooyoung grinds down one last time before euphoria takes over and he tips over the edge in the safe cage of Yunho’s arms beneath the gaze of the dead.

His eyes roll back as his entire body tenses, and he cums - intense, consuming, his mindblowing peak washing over him like waves of liquid fire. He spills hot and messy between their stomachs in violent bursts that have him shuddering from head to toe with only Yunho’s name on his lips, the sound a wretched scream like Yunho commanded, broken in the solemn silence.

“In me,” he begs, breathless, gasping for air with the last slivers of his rationality, frantically fucking himself through his orgasm to milk every delicious wave of pleasure. His dick spurts even more, completely soiling their clothes, and he giggles, high off the exhilaration that doesn’t seem to end.

“In me, s-stuff me full, Yuyu, cum in me, daddy, please–”

The words are enough to unspool Yunho as well.

As Wooyoung slumps forwards, collapsing in the older’s embrace, Yunho’s entire frame goes rigid on the broken grave. His deep, heartfelt groans quickly transform in pathetic panting whines high in his throat, and then he cries out, a stretched out sob so pitiful and loud that Wooyoung swears the entire cemetery shakes with it.

“Fuck, Youngie, cumming– I’m–”

He can’t finish his sentence. Yunho cums, fierce, hard, ferocious, head falling back against forgotten names and dates, hands clawing at Wooyoung’s ass, his cock twitching and throbbing as he spills within the younger, thick, hot, endless.

Through fluttering lashes that clump together with tears, Wooyoung watches Yunho fall into the throes of pleasure, awestruck. His hands ache to brush the hair from his face, to cradle his cheek and whisper filth and praise, but he simply can’t, completely overtaken by pleasure and bone deep exhaustion.

Yunho stuffs him full, grinding deep, deeper, deepest in Wooyoung to ride it out, and Wooyoung holds him through it, his ear on Yunho’s throat, soaking in the frantic pulse of the older’s heart that he knows beats only for him.

While the last aftershocks of his orgasm slither through Wooyoung’s drained body, he burrows himself deeper in Yunho’s arms, nose brushing the vial around the other’s neck just briefly before his eyes eventually slip shut.

──── ♱ ────

When Wooyoung wakes, the night is still heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth, moss and decay, though right between the dead and rotten, he has never felt more alive. Despite the cracked stone being cool against his flushed, sweat-slick body, he can feel the ghost of Yunho’s touch – teeth, nails, lips – lingering on his skin, warm where everything else around him is cold.

He’s on his back, apparently having rolled off of Yunho (he can’t remember when or where or how), breath still unsteady, staring up through the jagged silhouettes of tree branches and half-toppled gravestones. Above, the clouds have finally parted, just enough to let the moon pry its way through, spilling silver light over Yunho’s sharp jaw and catching in his own tousled hair that lies on the marble like a black halo.

Yunho props himself up on one elbow, draping his coat over Wooyoung’s half naked body as he observes the way the younger’s goosebump littered chest rises and falls – uneven, still trying to get much needed air into his lungs. A hint of a wicked grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, and where Wooyoung’s eyes are droopy, glassy, still unfocused, Yunho’s are sharp, that kind of look that never just see Wooyoung but the one that devours, lingers, claims. It’s both terrifying as it is reassuring, and despite his bonedeep exhaustion, it makes Wooyoung’s stomach twist in that delicious knot and his softened cock give the smallest kick.

Cum still leaks out of him. His thighs are wet and sticky with Yunho’s hot release, the pearlescent fluid shimmering in the moonlight, dribbling onto faded names and seeping into the earth, staining it with sacrilege.

Wooyoung turns his head, quietly studying Yunho’s profile in the silver light. The slope of his nose, his pink cheeks, those pretty lips that are still swollen and cherry red. He reaches out, tracing his fingertip lightly down Yunho’s throat, to the hollow just above his collarbone. Yunho’s breath catches, almost imperceptibly. Wooyoung smiles – small, satisfied. Not cruel, but claiming. A quiet reminder that possession and obsession goes both ways.

 “Would you let me haunt you if I die before you?” he asks, breaking the solemn silence, toying with dainty necklace around Yunho’s neck.

His lover’s laugh is loud, startled and fond. Tenderly, he brushes a smudge of dirt from Wooyoung’s temple.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” he grins.

“So are you,” Wooyoung counters, his own smirk lazy but dangerous. “That’s why this works. Why we work.”

The air between them is still charged, like static after lightning. Yunho’s hair is adorably messy, the ends having curled up fully, and Wooyoung can’t stop the fondness from spreading warmly in his tummy.

“I’d follow you,” Yunho says. He’s not grinning anymore. “You know I would.”

The words lodge somewhere in Wooyoung’s chest. It’s both comforting and frightening, how certain Yunho sounds. His throat tightens. He wants to giggle, call him dramatic, tease him back into laughter, but the sincerity and something darker looming in Yunho’s eyes stops him. That raw, unblinking devotion that never fails to unspool him creeps under his skin, snaking through his veins easily finding its way to bury itself in Wooyoung’s heart that rattles against his ribcage.

Momentarily lost for words that fall heavier than Yunho’s, he simply lifts up his head to capture Yunho’s mouth in a kiss that’s softer than all the ones they’ve shared before. He sighs when Yunho immediately reciprocates his kiss and smiles in it, their tongues curling around each other in an unhurried, tender, almost lazy dance.

Around them, the cemetery seems to finally avoid their eyes, the marble angle looming overhead now too tired to judge, the rattled sigh of the dead quieting until there’s just the sound of the duo’s breath mingling in the cold October air.

“Luckily for you, my cute living ass will be annoying you for years to come,” Wooyoung murmurs against Yunho’s mouth as they separate again, his lips curling into the same smile from earlier.

“I’m not planning on dying anytime soon.”

His hand trembles slightly as it wraps around Yunho’s necklace to tug him in impossibly closer, whispering the words like both a threat and a vow all at once.

“But if I do, you fucking better keep that promise. Or I’ll drag you into the grave myself.” 

Yunho’s thumb drags across his lower lip, smearing the trace of blood where teeth met skin hours ago.

“I will, honey,” he whispers back. His smile is soft, matching the younger’s. His pinky finds Wooyoung’s to intertwine, to seal the deal.

“But until then, we will live.”

The grave beneath them gleams faintly in the moonlight, as though marked, as though it knows the weight of what was just promised above it.

The fog moves again, folding around them as the night settles back into silence. The corpses that had stirred to listen settle back, satisfied. There they lie, ruined, a mess, blissful – two lovers among the stones, the warmth of their bodies the only living thing in all that ruin, wrapped in the hush of decay and the fierce joy of being alive.