Chapter 11: Honeymoon in Jeju
The villa was a monument of glass and bleached wood, perched on the cliffs of Jeju like an afterthought of the sea itself. Hyukjae stood in the vast living room, his duffel bag at his feet, and felt profoundly out of place. The silence was different here—not the insulating quiet of Donghae’s penthouse, but a roaring absence filled by wind and distant, collapsing water. It was too big, too beautiful.
“They call this the honeymoon suite,” Donghae said from behind him, his voice a low vibration in the cavernous space. He was unpacking a crate of groceries with an unsettling domesticity. “I told them it was for our anniversary.”
Hyukjae didn’t turn. “We haven’t known each other for a year.”
“A technicality.” Donghae’s footsteps approached, quiet on the polished concrete. His arms slid around Hyukjae’s waist, his chin hooking over his shoulder. “One week felt like a year. The first time you punched me? That was a lifetime.”
“You’re an idiot.” Hyukjae leaned back into the solid heat of him despite himself. Through the wall of glass, the infinity pool bled into the horizon, a liquid mirror for the bruising purple and orange of the setting sun.
“Your idiot.” Donghae’s lips brushed the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His hands slid lower, palming the front of Hyukjae’s shorts. He was already hard. “Missed you. The flight was too long.”
“You had your hand on my thigh the whole time.”
“Not inside you.” The words were a hot whisper. Donghae spun him around, backing him up until his shoulders met the cool, unyielding glass of the sliding door. The view was staggering at his back—the sheer drop to the rocks, the endless ocean. Donghae’s eyes held none of that landscape; they were fixed on Hyukjae’s mouth. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his fingers deftly working the button and zip of Hyukjae’s shorts. “I won’t get you pregnant.”
Hyukjae barked a short, shocked laugh that was cut off as Donghae dropped to his knees. The sight was still arresting, the wealthy heir, the hockey prodigy, on his knees on cold stone, his beautiful face level with Hyukjae’s cock. He didn’t tease. He pulled Hyukjae’s shorts and briefs down just enough to free him, and took him in, deep and sudden.
Hyukjae’s head snapped back against the glass with a dull thud. The heat was devastating, the wet, tight suction so expert it made his legs tremble. Donghae’s throat opened, taking him deeper, his nose pressed into the coarse hair at the base. He hummed, the vibration shooting up Hyukjae’s spine like a live wire.
“Fuck—” Hyukjae gasped, his hands fumbling for purchase on the smooth glass.
Donghae pulled off with a wet pop, his lips slick and swollen. “You taste like travel. And want.” He dove back down, one hand wrapping around the root to steady his rhythm, the other sliding beneath, pressing firmly against the sensitive skin of his perineum. The dual pressure, inside and out, was unbearable. Hyukjae’s hips jerked forward, fucking into that willing mouth. Donghae took it, his eyes sliding shut in pure pleasure, a low groan echoing around Hyukjae’s cock.
The climax built not as a wave but as a sudden detonation. There was no warning, just a blinding white rupture behind his eyes. He came with a strangled, broken cry, his body bowing, his release pulsing down Donghae’s throat in harsh bursts. Donghae swallowed, his throat working, sucking him through it until Hyukjae was wrung out, oversensitive, shivering.
When he finally released him, Hyukjae slumped against the glass, breathless. Donghae stood, swaying into him. He kissed him, deep and filthy, letting Hyukjae taste himself on his tongue. Then he licked a stray drop from the corner of Hyukjae’s mouth. “That’s just the welcome,” he breathed, his own arousal a hard line against Hyukjae’s hip. He took his hand. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck you on every surface in this villa.”
He led him, not to the bedroom, but out onto the pool deck. The warm, salt-tinged air wrapped around them. Donghae pushed him onto a wide, cushioned lounger. “Stay.”
He disappeared inside, returning with a small bottle and a strip of foil packets. The sunset had deepened, painting Donghae’s skin in gold and shadow. He knelt on the lounger, straddling Hyukjae’s thighs. He poured lube onto his fingers, his gaze locked on Hyukjae’s as he reached behind himself.
Hyukjae watched, transfixed, as Donghae prepared himself, his fingers working, his breath coming faster. The audacity of it, the sheer fucking trust, left Hyukjae raw. “You—”
“I want to ride you,” Donghae said, his voice strained. “I want to feel you in me while I watch the sun go down.” He tore open a packet, rolled the condom onto Hyukjae with practiced efficiency, and added more lube. Then, bracing his hands on Hyukjae’s shoulders, he positioned himself.
He sank down slowly, a breathless gasp escaping his parted lips. Hyukjae watched his face, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the moment of intense focus as his body opened, stretched, accepted. When he was fully seated, he went still, his head falling back, the line of his throat exposed to the dying light.
“God,” Donghae whispered. “You fill me so perfectly.”
He began to move. Not with frantic haste, but with a slow, rolling cadence that was somehow more obscene. Hyukjae could only watch, his hands coming to grip Donghae’s narrow hips, feeling the muscles work. Donghae fucked himself on Hyukjae’s cock with a concentrated, sensual grace, his own erection bouncing against his stomach. The sounds were soft, wet, private—the slick glide of their joining, Donghae’s ragged sighs, the distant, rhythmic crash of the waves.
“Touch yourself,” Hyukjae heard himself say, his voice rough.
Donghae obeyed, his hand wrapping around his own cock, stroking in time with his descent. The sight was devastating. The most beautiful man Hyukjae had ever seen, fucking himself on his dick, pleasuring himself against the backdrop of a paradise sunset, all for Hyukjae’s benefit.
“Look at me,” Hyukjae demanded.
Donghae’s eyes, dark and glazed, found his. The connection was a physical blow. Hyukjae thrust upward, meeting his next descent, driving deeper. Donghae’s composure shattered. His movements lost their rhythm, became desperate, chasing his own peak. “Hyukjae—I’m gonna—”
“Come. Let me see you.”
Donghae’s orgasm ripped through him silently, his body seizing, his release striping Hyukjae’s stomach and his own. The internal flutters around Hyukjae’s cock triggered his own. He held Donghae’s hips down, burying himself to the hilt as he came, the force of it wringing a broken sob from Donghae’s throat.
They collapsed together on the lounger, a mess of sweat and salt and spend. The sky was indigo now, the first stars piercing through. Donghae nuzzled into his neck. “One surface down.”
He was true to his word.
After cleaning up, they made a simple dinner, and Donghae chased a bite of grilled fish from Hyukjae’s lips with his tongue. He fucked him over the granite kitchen island, the cold stone a shocking contrast to the burning heat of Donghae’s body covering his back, his breath hot in his ear as he murmured filthy, tender things. Later, in the vast living room, Donghae laid him out on the expensive rug before the fire he’d built, worshiping every inch of him with his mouth before sinking into him with a slow, relentless patience that had Hyukjae begging into the woven wool.
But it was in the bedroom, with the glass doors open to the sound of the sea, that the frantic energy finally bled into something else. Hyukjae was sore, thoroughly used, every nerve alight. Donghae pulled him into the shower, washing him with a focus that felt like a sacrament. They fell into the bed, and Donghae simply held him, his arms a vise, his face buried in Hyukjae’s hair.
“Tell me something,” Donghae murmured into the dark.
“What?”
“Something you’ve never told anyone.”
Hyukjae was silent for a long time. The trust from earlier, the image of Donghae preparing himself on the lounger, floated behind his eyes. “After my parents died,” he began, the words rusty, unfamiliar. “Hyohyeon was a mess. I wasn’t much better. But I had hockey. It was… a place to put all the anger. All the fear. It was loud enough to drown everything out.” He swallowed. “When you took the captaincy, it wasn’t just about the title. It felt like you took the one thing that kept me from screaming. That’s why I hated you so much. You didn’t just beat me. You took my silence.”
Donghae’s arms tightened. He didn’t offer platitudes. He just held on, as if he could absorb the old pain through his skin.
“Your turn,” Hyukjae said.
Donghae breathed against his neck. “I’ve never been in love before. Not even close. I thought it was something people made up for songs. Then I saw you across the rink, glaring at me like you wanted me deleted from the planet, and I knew. It was the most real thing I’d ever felt. I planned our wedding that night.”
Hyukjae’s throat closed. He turned in the circle of his arms until they were face to face in the faint moonlight. He saw the truth there, stark and unguarded. He kissed him. It was nothing like their other kisses—no hunger, no contest. It was soft, a seal. A promise.
Donghae’s hand slid between them, not with intent, just seeking contact. His fingers traced the outline of Hyukjae’s cock, soft, then stirring again under his touch. “Again?” he whispered, wonder in his voice.
“You’ll kill me.”
“I’ll bring you back.” Donghae’s touch grew firmer. He pushed Hyukjae onto his back and moved down the bed. He took him into his mouth, not to drive him to a quick finish, but slowly, languidly, as if savoring the weight and texture. Hyukjae carded his fingers through Donghae’s hair, watching the dark head bob between his thighs, a moan slipping from his lips.
This time, when Donghae rose over him, he didn’t use a condom. He just slicked himself with lube and pressed against Hyukjae’s entrance. The question was silent in the dark.
Hyukjae nodded, pulling him down.
The feeling was shattering. The slick, hot slide of Donghae inside him, bare, no barrier. It was more than physical. It was a vow. Donghae moved with a deep, grinding cadence, his forehead pressed to Hyukjae’s, their breaths syncing. “Mine,” Donghae whispered, each thrust punctuating the word. “You’re mine. I’m yours. Fuck, Hyukjae.”
The pleasure built not in a spike, but in a deep, resonant tide. Hyukjae came first, his release spilling between their stomachs with a cry that was half sob. The convulsing tightness pushed Donghae over the edge. He drove in one final time, burying himself, and came with a shattered gasp, his release flooding Hyukjae’s depths, hot and endless.
He collapsed, spent, his weight a welcome anchor. Hyukjae could feel the evidence of their carelessness leaking from him. It should have felt messy. It felt like belonging.
Sometime before dawn, Hyukjae woke. Donghae was asleep, a line of drool on the pillow. Carefully, he extracted himself and walked naked out to the pool deck. The air was cool, the sky bleeding into a pale, pre-dawn grey. He sat on the edge of the infinity pool, his feet in the cool water, and watched the horizon.
He heard the soft shuffle of feet. Donghae sat beside him, wordlessly, and passed him a cup of coffee. They sat in silence as the sun began its ascent, turning the sea to molten copper.
“We have to go back tomorrow,” Donghae said softly.
“I know.”
“Practice. Games. Your sister. The world.”
Hyukjae took a sip. The coffee was bitter, perfect. “It won’t be the same.”
“No.” Donghae looked at him, his eyes reflecting the newborn light. “It’ll be better. Because I’ll know what you taste like at sunrise. And you’ll know what I feel like inside you, bare.” He leaned his shoulder against Hyukjae’s. “And when I check you into the boards on Monday, you’ll feel me, right here.” He pressed a hand low on Hyukjae’s stomach.
Hyukjae didn’t smile. But he leaned into the touch. The sun broke the horizon, flooding the deck with blinding, golden light. He closed his eyes, letting it warm his skin. The silence wasn’t loud anymore. It was just quiet. And his. And theirs.
The coffee was bitter and perfect on his tongue. Beside him, Donghae’s bare shoulder was warm against his own, a solid anchor against the vast, waking sky. The world beyond the cliffs was returning, and with it, the shape of their other lives.
Donghae’s finger traced a slow, possessive circle on his thigh. “One more time,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.“Before the world gets in.”
Hyukjae didn’t answer. He just stood, letting the towel fall from his hips, and walked back into the villa. Donghae followed. The cool interior air raised goosebumps on his skin, a sharp contrast to the heat already coiling low in his gut. Donghae pushed him gently against the wall in the hallway, a few feet from the disheveled bed. His mouth found Hyukjae’s, languid and deep, tasting of coffee and sleep and him.
“I want to play,” Donghae murmured against his lips. His hands slid down Hyukjae’s chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples in a casual, passing sweep.
A jolt, sharp and electric, shot straight to Hyukjae’s cock.His breath hitched.Donghae noticed. He always noticed.A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. “You like that?” He did it again, a firmer pass, his nail scraping lightly.
Hyukjae’s head thumped back against the wall. “Fuck off.”
“No.” Donghae dipped his head, his tongue laving flat and wet over one tightened bud. He sucked it into the heat of his mouth, his teeth grazing with deceptive softness.The sensation was a live wire. Hyukjae’s hips jerked forward, his hardening cock dragging against Donghae’s stomach. Every muscle in his body tightened, a bowstring pulled taut. Inside, he clenched down on nothing, a phantom, visceral grip.Donghae moaned around him, the vibration a second torture. “There it is,” he breathed, pulling off with a wet sound. “You clamp down so tight for me.”
He switched to the other nipple, biting down just enough to walk the line between pleasure and pain.His hand wrapped around Hyukjae’s cock, giving one long, filthy stroke. The orgasm gathered suddenly, a storm surge at the base of his spine. He was right there, teetering. “Donghae, I’m gonna—”
Donghae released his nipple and took his hand away in the same instant.He stepped back. “No,” he said softly, his eyes black and intent. “Not yet.”
A frustrated groan tore from Hyukjae’s throat.The peak receded, leaving him aching and exposed. Donghae watched the shudder of denial pass through him.He leaned in, kissed the hollow of his throat. “Again.”
He pushed Hyukjae toward the bed this time, laying him out on the sheets that still smelled of them.He settled between his thighs, but ignored his cock. He focused entirely on his chest.He used his tongue, his lips, the careful edge of his teeth. He rolled one nipple, pinched it, pulled until Hyukjae was arching off the bed, wordless sounds choking in his throat.
Donghae’s own cock, hard and leaking, pressed against Hyukjae’s thigh. He rutted against him, a slow grind, as his mouth worked. He circled the oversensitive nub with a wet fingertip, pressed the flat of his hot tongue against it, sucked until it was a rosy, throbbing peak.
The pressure built again, fiercer this time, a molten claim gathering in his balls. His legs fell open wider, a silent plea.He was so close. The warmth of Donghae’s mouth, the rhythmic pressure of his hip against his leg, the filthy, perfect friction—it was too much.He felt the taut snap, the imminent release. “Please.”
Donghae lifted his head.He blew a cool breath across the wet, abused flesh. The sudden absence of heat, the denial, was a small violence. Hyukjae cried out, his fists clenching in the sheets as the climax crashed against a dam inside him and receded, leaving him trembling violently.
“Two,” Donghae whispered, crawling up to kiss his jaw.He was breathing hard. His own need was a visible tremor in his arms.
The third time was against the sliding glass door, the morning sun heating their skin. Donghae pressed him against the glass, his hands pinning Hyukjae’s wrists above his head. He took his nipple between his teeth from behind, biting down as he ground his aching erection against the cleft of Hyukjae’s ass. The dual sensation—the sharp, possessive pain on his chest and the relentless pressure behind—drove Hyukjae mad.He pushed back, trying to get friction, to finish it.
He was strung so tight he was vibrating.The orgasm wound itself into a single, screaming point of light. “I’m coming, I’m coming, let me—”
Donghae released his wrists. His hands slid down, one wrapping around Hyukjae’s cock to squeeze the base, hard, cutting off the flow.The other covered his mouth, stifling his ragged shout. “Not yet.”
Hyukjae slumped against the glass, sweat-slick and shattered. A tear of pure frustration escaped the corner of his eye.Donghae licked it away. “So good for me,” he murmured, his own voice wrecked. “Taking it so well.”
The fourth time was on the floor. Donghae laid him on the rug, knelt between his legs, and just used his mouth on his chest.He was relentless. He licked, suckled, nipped, alternating between cruel and tender until Hyukjae’s nipples were swollen, hypersensitive, and every touch sent shockwaves straight to his dick, which lay heavy and neglected on his stomach, dripping steadily onto his skin.
Donghae would bring him to that razor’s edge with just his tongue on one nipple, his fingers lightly scratching the other. Hyukjae’s whole body would bow, his heels digging into the rug, a broken litany of “yes, yes, fuck, yes,” spilling from his lips. And every single time, just as the world was about to dissolve into white, Donghae would stop. He’d rest his forehead against Hyukjae’s heaving chest, his breath gusting hot, and let him fall back from the brink.“Four,” Donghae panted, looking up. His lips were red, his eyes glazed with a desperate pride.“You’re shaking. You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”
Hyukjae was a live wire of unmet need. Every nerve ending screamed.He felt raw, owned, and utterly empty. He looked at Donghae’s face, at the love and the torment there, and something in him snapped clean through.
With a strength born of pure desperation, he flipped them. Donghae’s back hit the rug, surprise flashing in his dark eyes. Hyukjae straddled him, knees digging into the floor on either side of his hips. He reached for the lube bottle nearby, poured a reckless amount into his palm.“No,” Hyukjae said, his voice a guttural command. He didn’t prep himself. He just slicked Donghae’s straining cock, lifted himself, and guided the head to his entrance. He looked straight into Donghae’s eyes as he sank down.It was a brutal, breathtaking impalement. The stretch was searing, too fast, a delicious burn that bordered on pain. Donghae shouted, his hands flying to grip Hyukjae’s hips, his nails biting in. “Hyukjae—fuck—slow down—”
Hyukjae didn’t slow down. He bottomed out, took him all in a single, devastating drop. He threw his head back, a ragged cry torn from his throat.Then he began to move.
He rode Donghae like he was trying to destroy them both. He used his thighs, his back, every ounce of his athlete’s strength to piston himself up and down on that hard, thick cock. It was messy, brutal, and deeply visceral. The wet slap of skin, their choked curses, the creak of the floor beneath the rug—it was the only music.
Donghae could only watch, overwhelmed, his hands scrambling over Hyukjae’s body, over his sweat-slick abs, up to his ravaged chest. He thumbed a nipple, and Hyukjae clenched around him like a vise, milking him, dragging a sobbing groan from Donghae’s chest.
“That’s it,” Hyukjae growled, fucking himself harder.“You like that? You like how tight I get for you?”
He was in complete control, a frenzied, magnificent tyrant.The pleasure, held back so violently, erupted.It wasn’t a wave. It was a detonation.
Hyukjae came first, his orgasm ripping through him with silent, violent intensity.His cock jerked, pulsing streaks of release across Donghae’s stomach and chest. The internal convulsions triggered Donghae’s own climax seconds later. He arched off the floor, his scream raw and unfiltered as he emptied himself deep inside, his hips bucking wildly up into the clasp of Hyukjae’s body.
The shaking started in Hyukjae’s thighs, a fine, uncontrollable tremor. It spread upwards, wracking his spine, rattling his teeth. He collapsed forward onto Donghae’s chest, his body reverberating with the aftershocks, a helpless, continuous shiver. Donghae held him through it, arms locked around him, his own breath coming in shattered gasps against Hyukjae’s shoulder.The tremors slowly subsided, leaving a profound, boneless silence in their wake. Outside, the sea continued its patient, rhythmic crash against the rocks.