9. GRINDING
27. HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Waiting for Hakyeon to come home was frustrating. He’s such a wonderful person that gives his attention and love to his fans, even on a day that is about him. He stays out all day and late just so he can spend as much time with Starlights as possible.

But a suggestive text of your bum in something frilly and lacy, something that would have him frustrated instantly, receives an “I’ll be home in less than an hour” with a grumpy emoji five minutes later.

An hour means lighting candles and finishing the last of the chocolates you made for him. You check on the meat you cooked and is warming in the oven, making sure nothing is charred or overcooked. You bring out the sides, putting them into the new dishes you’d bought just for special occasions.

Cha Hakyeon’s birthday is a special occasion.

It’s 46 minutes before the sound of the key turning in the lock breaks the silence and you hurry out to greet him, purposely leaving your apron on to tease. He knows what’s underneath, but the thrill of him getting to it is what you’re craving.

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you coo, your arms draping over his shoulders. Your fingers graze over the cropped hairs on the back of his neck and you can see his shiver crashing through him. His mind has been on you this whole time, and he makes sure to waste no time closing the space between your lips and his. He pulls you against him with a deep growl, one that burns its way to your groin.

“You’re the most wicked person alive sending me this while I’m working.” He punctuates his words by grabbing your , hard and possessive. His voice is predatory and you don’t seem to care when you know that it follows. He kicks off his shoes before lifting your legs around his waist, lips attaching to your neck as he makes his way to the couch. He collapses down, hands on your lace-covered bottom.

“You made dinner.”

“I did.”

“I’m having you first.” He pulls you against him more and you can feel the heat in his groin, his hard member straining against his tight jeans. He groans and drops his head back on the couch. His bronze neck extended like that is tempting, and you give in just enough to leave quickly-fading marks.

He lets out a low moan when you start to rock your hips over him, grinding down in a slow, calculated rhythm. His hands glide up your back, pulling the strings to your apron. He throws it aside, leaving you bare save for the lace.

“You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” You shrug, a smirk toying at your lips. He pats your thighs. He grins up at you, his smile as bright as the twinkle in his eyes, but you know that you’re in trouble. He stands effortlessly and carries you to the bedroom. For some reason, you don’t seem to care if dinner gets ruined.