—tæhyn bday fic! (tægyv)
// fwb, top tyvn, bttm gyv

Coming to Tæhyvn's house after weeks of avoiding each other is supposed to be a healing experience—it was Tæhyvn’s suggestion after all, always the level headed one of the two.

(“Come on Gyv Hyvng, just a couple drinks, you and me?”) They’re supposed to untangle the toxic little threads of their messy orgasms and petty jealousy; the leftover tugs and lashings that beat against Bœmgyv’s heart when the 'benefits' between the two of them aren’t enough.

Bœmgyv is more than content with welcoming Tæhyvn back in his life as a friend, wants it in fact, it would be good for him, good for them.

Even when his dick just loves to tell him otherwise. When it keeps him up at night, reminding him of the way Tæhyvn growls when

Bœmgyv cums on his cock, untouched, trembling, and with Tæhyvn’s cum coating the insides of his hole. He’s had to satisfy the ache in his body left by Tæhyvn’s vacancy late into the night. It’s almost violent, him seated on his bed coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of it

with guitar blistered fingers all in an attempt to prove that no, Tæhyvn hasn't molded his body to his preferences, thank you very much, he is still a strong independent man capable of his own orgasms.

(Doesn't matter that the only thing that gets his dick hard is the image of Käng Tæhyvn drowning in between his thighs, nope, not at all why would you even say that?)

Either way, he's more than sure he’s going to be able to walk into Tæhyvn's house, keep things strictly

and completely platonic, and not drive himself—or Tæhyvn for that matter—crazy with, well, whatever had originally spurred on their little friends-with-benefits agreement in the first place. He has every intention of keeping his desperation to himself, thank you very much,

but when Käng Tæhyvn looks at him over the rim of his fifth glass of whiskey with dark eyes, bitten lips and long, pretty, fingers clenching and unclenching over the meat of his thighs, real, Bœmgyv’s body is the only one to blame for melting as Tæhyvn leans over

to taste the alcohol right off his tongue instead of the perfectly satisfactory glass in his hands instead.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Tæhyvn murmurs against Bœmgyv’s lips, his voice a slow crackle that sets fire to any logical thought left in Bœmgyv's brain,

“miss making you cum, Hyvng.”

It's in the whine hidden underneath his voice, the way his insistent fingers trace the line of Bœmgyv's neck, the slow purposeful ways that Tæhyvn moves all of which have Bœmgyv clutching at the arm of Tæhyvn's couch in what feels like second,

hips bucking into the rocking weight of Tæhyvn's body in between his thighs. His underwear swings in time with Tæhyvn's thrusts, fabric having gotten caught in the curve of his ankle somewhere during Tæhyvn’s frantic efforts at getting Bœmgyv naked.

His dick pulses at the sight of them; a reminder of his own vulnerability, of his skin being on display while Tæhyvn is clothed from head to toe, grounding into him and making the zipper of his jeans scratch the tender skin of his thighs.

"Deeper," Bœmgyv chokes out, rolling his hips hungrily, stuffing himself with Tæhyvn's cock and hoping Tæhyvn’s grip on him leaves a permanent mark—that they make him remember that no one can fuck him like Tæhyvn does—“need it deeper!”

Tæhyvn hums, a familiar teasing sound

that has Bœmgyv baring his throat, body arching into the rough rhythm of his pounding. He puts himself on display for Tæhyvn and, as a reward, Tæhyvn slides home, knocks against his sweet spot immediately with the way he has Bœmgyv’s body ingrained into his memory.

He rocks in, once, twice, and smirks when Bœmgyv screams with shaking thighs. He's hole fluttering every time Tæhyvn pulls out, desperate for him to slip back in.

"You're so hard,” Tæhyvn groans, fingers sliding up Bœmgyv's thighs the lightly trace the veins of his cock.

"Fuck, baby, look at you.”

He slows down, keeps himself seated in Bœmgyv's heat and watches with a wicked smirk and undivided attention as Bœmgyv's heaves with each gasp, as he tightens his fingers over the surface of Tæhyvn’s familiar couch, trying desperately to hang on

to something, anything, so as he doesn’t loose his last shred of sanity. Tæhyvn always does this, has the uncanny ability to fuck him into nothing but a puddle of garbled words and messy feelings.

Tæhyvn teases against his entrance, dips one of his fingers in along his cock

so easily it punches a growl right out of his throat. "What a hungry little hole,” He says, the pad of his finger pressing upwards and making Bœmgyv's hips jump when he hits that intimate spot, the one that makes his walls hug Tæhyvn's cock unbearably tight,

“swallowing up everything I give it."

He doesn't bother with slow; has barely started fingerfucking his way into Bœmgyv's channel alongside where his dick is already sitting tight, when Bœmgyv’s body locks tight, toes curling where they rest against Tæhyvn's lower back.

He tilts his head back, inky black hair spilling over the arm of the couch, and he can't seem to stop twitching, every tight, desperate movement slowly decimating what’s left of Tæhyvn's control.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," Bœmgyv whimpers, voice raw and broken, cheeks reddened

and lower lip trembling with effort. The expanse of quivering, lightly honeyed skin is a supple dream, and Tæhyvn doesn't think he will survive another withdrawal from this. "Right there. Baby, please -- fuck me right there."

Tæhyvn crooks his finger, presses hard against exactly where Bœmgyv wants him, and builds him up with the easiness of knowing every curve and fold of Bœmgyv's body down to perfection. He reaches the perfect rhythm,

the exact pressure and angle that he knows makes Bœmgyv weak in the legs and foggy in the head, and when he sees Bœmgyv's eyes widening with the realization of his impending orgasm, he stops.

"Fuck! " Bœmgyv screams, hands coming up to lock in his hair tightly in frustration.

His hips move on their own accord, chasing the feeling of Tæhyvn thrusting against his walls, but Tæhyvn holds him down, slips his fingers out and starts fucking into his pulsing hole again with renewed fervour.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate y--" Tæhyvn cuts off Bœmgyv's babbling with a sloppy kiss, all tongue and no finesse as he falls forward, making Bœmgyv take the entirety of his weight, the deep grind of his cock.

Bœmgyv has never been this turned on before, dick dripping, hole squelching every time Tæhyvn slams in—slick need slipping free whenever Tæhyvn pulls back, lube and precum (both his own and Tæhyvn’s) gushing out of his rim as it tries to swallow Tæhyvn right back in.

He can feel it running down his balls, the beginning of his inner thighs, his ass—

"The sofa," he says, they’re so close that that he gasps the words into Tæhyvn's mouth. The sound gets lost in the creaking of the couch and the slap of their skin and Bœmgyv can only moan,

grip the cushion underneath his ass and feel the wetness rolling down his skin to gather on his fingers. “The sofa, Tæhyvn-ah, don't ruin the sofa!”

"I'll just have to come inside you then," Tæhyvn whispers right in his ear, lips brushing against the shell of it and biting.

Just the thought of Tæhyvn spilling inside of him, driving wildly into him with pure instinct until he has bred him is enough to get Bœmgyv right on the edge of his sanity, has Bœmgyv’s hands come up and clench into a fist, has him bite at his knuckles in desperation

as his legs kick uselessly under the onslaught of Tæhyvn's cock and the iron-grip of his hands.

"That good?" Tæhyvn cooes, voice simultaneously mocking and in awe, taking Bœmgyv's fist from his mouth and tonguing at his fingers himself.

He moves impossibly slowly, a jarring juxtaposition against the steady, quick, thrust of his hips, his saliva dripping into the spaces between Bœmgyv’s fingers and clinging stubbornly to his skin. "Touch yourself,” Tæhyvn instructs, voice firm and low and delicious.

His trembling fingers follow the command without hesitation, finding their way down his torso to his stiffened cock, coated with pre-cum. His movements are frantic, pressing too hard and too fast up and down himself, trying desperately to follow the rhythm set by Tæhyvn’s cock.

The pressure against his walls is a burden too heavy for his hole to carry, and he's nearly hyperventilating with each thrust, the coil in his stomach gradually growing tighter and tighter, Tæhyvn taking him closer and closer to the edge.

"Tæhyvn," he's being loud, he knows, but Tæhyvn's name slips right off his tongue, as if he’s meant to be saying it, “don't stop—Iit's so good! My hole feels so—fuck—good!”

"Yeah?" Tæhyvn growls, bruising the curve of his neck with open-mouthed kisses, thrusts growing erratic.

"Cum for me, Hyvng. Wanna feel how desperate you are for me."

Bœmgyv's eyes roll to the back of his head at the words, Tæhyvn's voice sending relentless sparks of electricity down his spine and directly into his spasming walls.

His pretty mouth opens in a scream and his hole opens in kind, hugging Tæhyvn's cock for dear life before his cock cums all over him; wet musk coercing Tæhyvn into driving harder into Bœmgyv.

Bœmgyv bites down to suffocate his sobbing, sweet little sounds that vary with every shiver, twitch of his body. He's barely aware of Tæhyvn cumming, emptying his load inside him with a rawness Bœmgyv wishes he could have witnessed without heavy eyelids and a cottoned brain.

There’s a pause, a silence permeated only by heavy breaths and low gasps.

"One more," Tæhyvn says into the curve of his clavicle not much later and Bœmgyv's hole spasms, Tæhyvn’s cum dripping out onto his own balls, come hot and plenty inside of him.

fin/// j a lil quick lil bday fic for our lord and savior k4ng tæhyvn because i (and bgyv) am in love with him