“Good morning, baby,” he murmured, his voice still deep with sleep. He’d probably just woken up himself.
“Morning, love.” Obiora smiled, leaning down to peck him lightly on the lips. “What time is it?” It felt like there were a million miniscule acrobats doing somersaults in his stomach.
“Five minutes to seven,” Ejiro replied after checking his phone.
“Mm,” Obiora murmured, stretching.
He must’ve failed to look casual, because when he looked down, Ejiro’s eyes were dancing with laughter.
“Excited?” Ejiro teased, waggling his eyebrows.
Obiora playfully rolled his eyes. “You already know.”
Ejiro laughed, leaning up to kiss him properly.
It was probably supposed to be a longer good-morning kiss, but as it usually was with him and Ejiro, when they were all warm and cosy and cuddled up like this, the kiss soon turned deeper, more passionate.
Ejiro sank his teeth into Obiora’s lower lip, making him groan, pleasure flooding his body and making his morning wood throb.
Ejiro pushed his hips forward, pressing his own stiff length against Obiora’s thigh. Both of them had taken to sleeping naked, loving the intimacy irregardless of whether or not they had sex, which meant it was easy for Ejiro to begin trailing kisses down his throat.
“Ejiro,” Obiora whispered huskily, overwhelmed with love and lust, his hands gently cupping his boyfriend’s head.
His breath hissed through his teeth when Ejiro nipped at his hard nipples, soothing the sting with broad strokes of his tongue, before trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses and soft nips down to Obiora’s stomach.
By the time he made it to Obiora’s dick, Obiora was so hard, several pearls of pre-come had formed, leaking down his slit.
Ejiro looked up at him, and Obiora felt bowled over by the intensity in his gaze. He was taken back to that first time, almost eight months ago now during the filming of Cupid Calling, after the first episode where he and Ejiro had sort of been enemies; when Ejiro had ripped him a new one when they’d involuntarily jogged together—the way his gaze had sparked with fire and left Obiora wondering if Ejiro looked that intense when he fucked.
Over the course of the past few months, especially since Ejiro had moved in with him, Obiora was inclined to say yes; Ejiro was just as intense, if not even more so, when they were having sex. Having all that fervent passion pinned on him never failed to leave Obiora trembling and breathless, overwhelmed in the best possible way.
“Ejiro,” he groaned, arching, his fingers gently sinking into the short, soft coils of Ejiro’s hair as Ejiro sensually licked the trail of pre-come sliding down his shaft, then gently took him into the warm cavern of his mouth.
Ejiro moaned around his length, his eyelashes fluttering. That was another thing they’d discovered together: how much Ejiro loved giving head.
Ejiro gently bobbed his head, cheeks hollowing, throat vibrating with encouraging moans, until Obiora was shaking, his hands flexing where they held gently at Ejiro’s head. While Obiora didn’t mind a bit of rough handling while giving a blowjob, Ejiro preferred gentler, encouraging treatment.
“Fuck, look at you,” Obiora whispered hoarsely, gently stroking his hair.
Ejiro’s eyes flicked up to meet his, dark with desire.
“Jesus.” Obiora rolled his hips gently, very gently, unable to help it, wanting to fuck into that sweet mouth. The sight of his dick slowly slipping in and out of those slick, plump lips was nearly enough to push him over the edge.
He was almost on the brink when Ejiro pulled off with a lewd slurp and climbed astride his hips. He found the small bottle of lube on the nightstand, and poured a generous amount into his palm, before reaching behind him for Obiora’s length, which was still slick with his saliva.
“Baby,” Obiora groaned, as Ejiro stroked the lube onto his length, held him in position, then sank down, slow and easy, his ass still a bit stretched out from the night before.
“Fuck,” Ejiro whimpered, his profanity filter shot to hell.
Despite last night’s lovemaking when they’d arrived in the hotel room, Ejiro was still tight, almost painfully so, the feel of it making Obiora’s toes curl.
Ejiro braced one hand on the headboard, the other on Obiora’s shoulder, and began to roll his hips, slow and languid.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Obiora whispered, cupping his hips, digging his heels into the mattress so he could move with him. “Jesus. I love you.”
“I love you,” Ejiro echoed, his throat scraped raw, his eyelashes wet. “Obiora. Obiora.”
“Christ,” Obiora grunted, throwing his head back, clenching his eyes shut because fucking hell, it felt so good.
