Chapter Text
Jun’s mouth moved lower, slower, his tongue dragging over every trembling inch of skin as though he had sworn to memorize it with taste alone. He kissed along the sensitive line beneath Dylan’s waistband, then pushed the silk down further, baring more of him to candlelight.
Dylan gasped sharply, his whole body jerking, his hands tangling in the sheets, eyes wide and shining. His lips parted, kiss-bruised and wet, as a sound broke from his throat—raw, unrestrained, filled with too many weeks of aching.
Dylan’s head fell back, his moan spilling out into the silk-draped room, uncontained, helpless. His body arched, trembling violently as Jun’s mouth worked deeper, his tongue sliding, lips sealing, pulling more and more desperate sounds from him.
Jun groaned against his skin, the vibration making Dylan writhe. “God, the way you sound—” He pressed another wet kiss, another long lick, another slow pull with his lips. “So beautiful, so undone. Every sound is for me. Every shiver. Every tear.” His voice cracked, thick with devotion.
Dylan’s hands tore from the sheets to clutch at Jun’s hair, tugging helplessly, his voice breaking with sobs of pleasure. “Husband—”
Jun held him steady, one hand pressed flat to Dylan’s hip, the other splayed against his trembling thigh, anchoring him. His mouth was unrelenting now, worshipping, consuming, his tongue and lips pulling Dylan apart piece by piece.
The bed shook beneath them, garlands trembling above, candlelight flickering wildly with every broken gasp. Dylan tried to muffle his cries but couldn’t—his voice spilled free, high and desperate, filling the air between them.
Jun’s words came between kisses, ragged, reverent, breathless. “Give it to me. Don’t hold back. Let me taste all of you.”
And Dylan did—his body arching violently, his cry splitting open as his release tore through him, hot and unstoppable, spilling into Jun’s waiting mouth.
Jun groaned low and deep, swallowing him down, worshipping even this. He licked him clean with aching slowness, reverent as though it were communion, then pressed soft, lingering kisses into the damp skin, savoring the aftershocks of Dylan’s trembling.
When Dylan collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving, tears caught at the corners of his lashes, Jun finally lifted his head. His lips were swollen, his mouth wet, his eyes molten with love and hunger. He crawled up Dylan’s body, kissing every inch of him along the way—the stomach still shining from his mouth, the chest marked by his teeth, the throat flushed and trembling—until he reached his lips again.
Their mouths met in a slow, devastating kiss, Dylan tasting himself on Jun’s tongue. Jun whispered against his lips, voice broken and shaking, “Mine. Forever. No distance will ever take you from me again.”
Dylan’s arms wrapped weakly around him, dragging him close, his voice hoarse, wrecked. “Jun… my everything…”
They stayed tangled there, breathless and trembling, their first release a storm that left them stripped bare, worshipped and worshipping, their wedding night sealed not in ceremony but in the raw, unrestrained proof of belonging.
For a long moment, Dylan only clung to him, trembling in the aftermath, Jun kissing the sweat-damp curls at his temple. The room smelled of melted wax and garlands, of silk warmed by skin, of them. The silence was thick with their ragged breaths.
Then Dylan stirred. Slowly, shakily, he shifted, rolling them until Jun’s back pressed into the sheets. Jun blinked up at him, startled, his lips parting as if to protest, but Dylan silenced him with a kiss that was all teeth and longing.
When he finally drew back, Dylan’s cheeks were crimson, his eyes bright, but his voice was steady, low. “My turn.”
Jun’s breath caught. The sight above him — Dylan flushed, lips kiss-swollen, chest rising and falling with raw hunger — nearly undid him already. “Dylan…” he whispered, hoarse, almost pleading.
But Dylan only smiled faintly, wicked and shy all at once. He leaned down, kissing Jun’s jaw, then his throat, then lower. Every press of his lips was deliberate, worshipful, leaving wet trails along Jun’s skin.
Jun shivered, head tipping back, his fingers fisting the sheets now. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Dylan interrupted softly against his collarbone, kissing there, licking into the hollow, sucking until the skin flushed deep. “You gave me everything. Let me give it back.”
He trailed lower, slow but relentless, kissing down Jun’s chest, his stomach, leaving Jun slick and glistening in candlelight. Jun’s hands scrambled, desperate, as he bit back moans that grew harder and harder to contain.
“You’re shaking,” Dylan murmured, pressing his tongue flat against the line of Jun’s abdomen, tasting him like he was something sacred. “And you’re so beautiful like this. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
Jun let out a wrecked sound, half sob, half laugh, his hand flying to cover his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear to be seen unraveling. Dylan gently pulled it away, lacing their fingers together, kissing the inside of Jun’s wrist before holding it firm against the mattress.
“Don’t hide,” Dylan whispered, his mouth brushing Jun’s waistband now. “I want to see you fall apart.”
Jun choked on a moan as Dylan pressed his lips beneath the loosened fabric, tasting the heat there, slow and reverent, just as Jun had done to him. His back arched violently, garlands shaking above them, his voice breaking open. “Dylan—oh God—”
Dylan groaned softly at the sound, kissing deeper, tongue tracing, savoring the way Jun writhed under him. “Every sound,” he whispered against his skin, “every tremor… all mine.”
Jun couldn’t stop the cries now, spilling helplessly, his body taut and trembling as Dylan worked him with relentless devotion. His free hand clutched Dylan’s hair, pulling him closer, torn between begging for mercy and demanding more.
When release finally overtook him, it was with a strangled cry that echoed through the silk-draped room, his body arching high off the sheets as Dylan held him down, swallowing every last tremor, worshipping him to the end.
Jun collapsed back into the bed, shuddering, eyes glassy with tears and bliss. Dylan kissed the inside of his thigh, then his stomach, then up his chest, slow and tender, until he reached his mouth again. Their lips met in a long, breathless kiss, Jun still trembling beneath him.
“You drive me mad,” Jun whispered hoarsely against his lips, half laughing, half sobbing.
Dylan smiled shakily, brushing damp hair from Jun’s forehead. “Good,” he whispered, kissing him again, lingering. “Because I’m already mad for you.”
They lay there tangled, marked and breathless, the garlands swaying gently above as if blessing their storm.
After a few more rounds later and several moans later, completely exhausted of their energy sources, they just lay there, tangled in heat and silk and garlands, too breathless to speak. The candles had burned lower, shadows climbing the walls, but the room felt brighter somehow—lit from within by the two of them.
Both on laid flat on their stomach, snuggling close to one side avoiding the wet mess they’d created and the poor room service people would have to deal with.
Dylan shifted first, pressing a shaky kiss to Jun’s damp temple. His lips lingered there, trembling. “I can’t believe this is real,” he whispered, voice rough and small.
Jun gave a broken laugh, one arm tightening around him. “Says the man who just ruined me twice in one night.” His voice cracked at the edges, hoarse and wrecked, but the smile in it was undeniable.
Dylan laughed too, the sound breathless and soft, muffled into Jun’s shoulder. “I wasn’t keeping count husband.”
“I was,” Jun murmured, tugging him closer, their legs tangling lazily beneath the sheets. “Every kiss, every touch—I counted them all. And now I can’t stop.” His fingers drifted through Dylan’s curls, slow and tender, until his hand slid down to brush along his cheek. His thumb lingered against the flush there. “Look at you. Still blushing.”
Dylan ducked his head into Jun’s chest, his ears burning. “You make it sound like I’m some boy caught sneaking into bed for the first time.”
“You feel like it,” Jun whispered. “Except this time, you’re not just mine—you’re mine to keep.”
The word hung between them, heavy and fragile. Dylan’s throat tightened. He kissed Jun’s collarbone, lingering there until he could steady his voice. “…Say it again.”
Jun smiled, his chest shaking under Dylan’s cheek. He tilted Dylan’s chin up until their eyes met in the flicker of candlelight. “My soul.” He kissed him softly. “Mine.” Another kiss, deeper. “Forever.”
Dylan made a wounded little sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob, then buried his face back against Jun’s chest. “God, I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
They lay in silence again, their breaths syncing, the world shrinking to the rise and fall of their bodies pressed together. Eventually, Dylan spoke, voice muffled. “So… who does dishes now?”
Jun blinked, then barked a laugh, startled and warm. “Dishes?”
“Well…” Dylan lifted his head, his grin lopsided and sheepish. “We’re married. People talk about splitting duties, right? Cooking, laundry, bills. Figured we should sort it out before we fight over it.”
Jun’s laugh softened into something fond. “You mean before my husband leaves every dish in the sink and I lose my mind?”
Dylan gasped, mock-offended. “Excuse me, your husband is very responsible! He does laundry.”
“Only when he runs out of shirts.” Jun smirked, brushing his knuckles over Dylan’s flushed cheek.
“Practical timing,” Dylan muttered, sulking into Jun’s chest again.
Jun tilted his head, considering, his fingers playing absently with Dylan’s hair. “Fine. I’ll cook. You wash. We’ll do laundry together. And bills… well, we’ll both curse them equally. And I’ll charge one kiss per dish.”
Dylan grinned, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. “Oh the inflations! Why don’t you charge per spice at this rate husband?”
Jun’ eyes sparkled with mischief smirking. “Right I didn’t even consider the inflation rates, so it’s a kiss a spice unless my love wants blunt food every day.”
Dylan laughed, voice hoarse. “So domestic already.”
Jun kissed him, soft and sweet. “That’s what we are now.” His voice gentled. “A home. For each other.”
Dylan’s chest squeezed tight. He pressed their foreheads together, whispering like a vow, “Yeah. My home.”
They stayed like that, drifting in and out of laughter, trading promises about morning routines and grocery shopping and who got the bathroom first—mundane things wrapped in silk and candlelight, made holy by the simple fact that they were theirs to share now.
Eventually, Dylan pulled the blankets tighter around them, settling against Jun’s chest. Jun’s arms curled around him protectively, his lips brushing the top of Dylan’s head.
“I’ll never get used to this,” Dylan murmured sleepily. “Falling asleep knowing you’re right here.”
Jun smiled into his hair. “Then don’t get used to it. Just… treasure it. Like I do.”
And in the hush of their wedding night, laughter still clinging faintly to their breaths, they slipped into dreams—two boys, tangled in silk, beginning forever not with ceremony but with love, worship, and the promise of all the days ahead.