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Mark isn’t shy about sex. He’s twenty-two years old, single and raw-dogging it everyday. He knows what he likes, dislikes — but truth be told — he’s a pathological liar. Sorry. He can’t help it. He’s a pretty solid dude, in retrospect. He’s a momma’s boy, as Donghyuck quotes him on, good-hearted and when the bi-annual family gatherings at his grandparents house roll around it’s every family member and relative doting on him. He helps out with the monthly food drive at the church just down the block, and used to work summers during his undergrad at the local bookstores for student discounts. He likes helping others, and to be able to pay for his student loans. Now, job hunting with something of a Creative Writing degree, and that minor in Journalism coming in clutch, job-hunting is like sex. There are only so many fish in the sea, actually relatively speaking, hypothetically speaking — there are over three trillion fish in the sea, of different sizes, shapes and species but Mark isn’t one to aquate fish to the romantic availability of people looking to have sex with him.
There’s been a few hook-ups, some frisky rendezvous and if Donghyuck heard those exact words leave his mouth he would never hear the end of it. He would say he’s pretty good at it, he’s not one to boast or brag about his sexual endaveours, maybe a little too humble about it. Surely, kissing Jaemin in a frat bathroom, ie. Kappa Beta Zeta and throwing up his drink in his lap five seconds later is not how he would like to be reflected on as an individual but surely his friends might be of some sort of credibility.
He kisses like a ravenous animal, ready to snarf you down for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Jaemin reanimates, like they're discussing the next novel in their little book club. It’s kinda cute, especially when you wanna eat him who—“okay, come on man, that’s enough,” Mark interrupts.
“Oh no, please go on,” Chenle implores. Next to him, Jeno sips his Shirley Temple, so obedient and halfway on Chenle’s lap. Dog, (not derogatory) though he’s sure it’s not even close to an offense directed towards him.
Scratch that, he isn’t shy about sex at all, probably because the subject is still iffy, taboo to him, and when his good friend, Johnny Suh, local inhibitor of his apartment and part-time Mark Lee connoisseur suggests he go see a therapist, it's a first of many. “Dude, have you ever thought of seeing a therapist?”
Seeing a therapist? It never really crossed his mind, until now. “Nah, I don’t need a therapist to solve my problems,” Mark frowns around his guitar. Strumming the mess of strings, “Mad respect for people who do though“ He adds.
“Dude, there’s a guy that was in my Econ class year that was having — issues,” he pauses, “and he went to see a therapist and that shit got fixed pronto,” as Johnny snaps his fingers. “How about a sex therapist?”
Even in the comfort of their shared apartment, Mark lowers his voice and whines, “No man, that’s kinda embarrassing.” He admits.
“From one friend to another, if you ever need some help with your ‘issues’ I’m always happy to be of service,” Johnny nonchalantly offers. “It wouldn’t be the first.” There’s sincerity in his eyes, and Mark knows how earnest he can be.
“But Taeyong-hyung, '' he sputters. “You’re getting engaged in four months dude.” As Johnny shrugs, “we’re both very open people.” He hums. Right, he forgot in senior year, during their department dinner both confessed wildly to their Sex List while dating — with Brad Pitt smack on the top of Taeyong’s list. Now at the time they were fresh in the honeymoon phase of dating, and to their surprise Johnny had sprung out his own list.
Granted, seeing the top 20, hot, white male actors of the year was something not of the ordinary, Mark is very happy for the both of them, fitting perfect like clockwork.
“Like I said,” Johnny says, as he hands him a business card, and Mark is more concerned as to how he acquired the card to begin with, but decides against asking questions.
Huang Renjun, Sex Therapist, email me @ [email protected] for a free consultation!
“And he does it for pro-bono,” Johnny smirks.
Mark frowned, “was that supposed to be some dirty pun to convince me into calling the guy?” and he smiled quite frankly, “I like your way of thinking. But if you direct me to some 56-year old dude that asks me for nudes or some weird porn shit I’ll never forgive you,” He swore, and Johnny held his hands out in innocence. Accepting the card, without a second thought before stuffing it into his pocket.
☏
Now cue to two days later, Mark calls the number below the email written on the card. Why is he doing this again? He wasn’t particularly shy about it, though talking to a licensed professional about his small issue might be helpful. But what was even his issue? Was it his insatiable luck with stability and casual relationships or the fact that Mark wasn’t sure about his own abilities. It was probably silly, fretting over this, he was an adult after all. With big boy responsibilities.
The line rings, twice before a voice picks up, “Hello, Huang Renjun speaking, how can I help?” Voice buttery smooth, something silk-like, tangible. And Mark is uttterly fucked. It’s calming, and he could probably listen to it for hours. Maybe he could recommend to said stranger that he starts an ASMR business. He seems friendly, welcoming even and Mark relaxes even more. Sunken into his voice, he forgets to answer immediately, “Hello?” Renjun awkwardly repeats.
“Ah, shit — yes — yes!” Mark winces, “Hi there.”
Amused almost, a telling smile reaches his voice as Renjun answers, “hello there,” He mimics, softly but not poking fun. Mark reeps in embarrassment, what a fool he is. “Is there something I can help you with?” Yes, he wants to say, you sound very gorgeous and beautiful and I know you can magically get rid of my problems.
“Hah, that’s the thing — I’m not even sure why I’m calling, like, it’s not too big of a problem. And yet, I’m here, calling you about it —“ Mark rambles, hearing a soft chuckle across the phone.
Huang Renjun, said sex therapist on the phone has a nice laugh. Is that alright to say to a medical professional? Is it illegal? “Please, don’t apologize!” He says, “It’s alright, people are often nervous their first time, so I’ll be here to ease you throughout. Can I have your name sir?” He can hear the rustle of paper, maybe a notepad and the scribbling of pen against paper.
He swallows, “Mark, Mark Lee,” and asks, “what’s your name?” Slapping his forehead, and realizes how stupid he sounds. Maybe it was on instinct, simple a friendly conversation that everyone goes through, except Mark is an idiot, and asking his new therapist his name was strike one. “Ah shit, sorry dumb question.” He fumbles, “It’s Mark Lee, I feel like I’ve said that already.”
“Mark Lee,” he echos, and there’s a funny, slightly horny (again, you see his problem) in his stomach, fluttering and bat-shit crazy. “Fantastic, let’s get you started.”
☏
The questions start easy, if Mark didn’t know any better he would say they spoke as if they were good friends in a casual conversation. About Mark’s intimate sex life. “How long have you been feeling this way?”
It started a while back, he’s always comfortable in his sexuality, being surrounded by his group of supportive friends he doesn’t think it’s insecurity. Maybe it’s always been the right time, wrong person and no means for a long-term relationship. His first time was in his Sophomore year, with Jaemin, his first exploration. There was a second time, sort of a self-discovery, that Mark realized that he likes kissing boys, as much as he enjoyed holding girls' hands, like a lot. Well, they’re not on the same level, similar concept. Same results. “Well,” he begins, finding a spot on their coffee table. “It’s difficult to say, it’s not like I’ve really struggled with sex. Would I call myself Sex-a-tron 3000? Debatable?” What a great start, geez he was doing terrible so far. Suppressing the urge to facepalm his forehead sheepishly, Mark awaits for his answer. He wonders if Renjun, the very beautiful sounding sex therapist has ever encountered anyone like him. In the worst way possible.
He can hear the fast sounds scribbling of pen, and Mark bets he’s writing something along the lines of Refer him to another therapist! “I’m listening,” Renjun says gently.
“Sex has never been a struggle, it’s maybe the intimacy of it. Is it a me problem, or am I utterly afraid that I’ll fuck it up in bed.” He blurts out, “Is there something wrong with me?” Is there something wrong with my dick, he wants to say. And me, he adds.
Renjun maybe is a bit taken back, as he doesn’t respond immediately. “There is most definitely nothing wrong with you. Everyone’s struggles are different.” He answers, reassuringly.
Why are you so perfect? Mark wants to ask, but realizes it would be slightly inappropriate and might result in getting his number blocked or worse, so instead he says, “Dude, how do you know exactly the right words to say, it’s like I’m already feeling better.”
Renjun laughs, “I’m flattered, but it’s my job. It seems that we have a lot to talk about, how would you like to schedule for the next session?”
They discuss possible open dates, and manage to work it out with ease, Tuesday’s at 11 am. “Great, I’ll be waiting to hear from you until then.” Renjun politely says.
“Yeah, sounds solid. It’s a date.” Mark responds, and stops. Third strike. “Fuck — I might it’s not a date, but like the actual, literal date, which is next week.” He fumbles, and Renjun giggles, before clearing his throat. “Shit, you know what I mean.”
“Thank you for calling Mark, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or concerns.” They finally hang up, and Mark doesn’t move from his seat for a few minutes. The first thing he does, before he forgets, not that he would forget this, is put the appointment on the reminders app on his phone. Just for safekeeping.
☏
To his luck, two nights after his first session his friends are happy to discuss the intel and up-to-date research they’ve gathered about Huang Renjun. “Uh, isn’t that like a felony for invasion of privacy?” Mark asks. Surrounded by his good friends in an open booth, it’s open mic tonight and he’s struggling to hear the table with the courageous stranger who’s begun beatboxing one of 80’s top hits.
Donghyuck swats his hand, nonsense, nonsense. “We aren’t breaking any ethical guidelines, felony’s aren’t even real.”
As Chenle shakes his head, a sizable ipad in his hand and holds it in the middle. “Not if it’s all publicly posted online.” And they peer over, swiping between the multiple tabs. It starts easy, a public Linkedin page. Huang Renjun, it reads, Occupation as a certified Sex Therapist for two years. Graduated from UC Berkeley a year early with a PhD in Psychology. Chenle pauses the internet search to snort loudly, “at least you can sleep at night knowing he’s not some sort of weirdo, and with a real medical license.” He says, because that was the dependent factor on reliability of how legit he was.
To his surprise, he’s a year younger than Mark. Not that would’ve mattered anyway, sort of. “Hah, yeah that’s really nice, what else did you find?”
Then Chenle forms a disappointed frown, “he’s surprisingly private, other than his certification and list of experience, and a few published medical articles — the guy doesn't exist.”
“On the bright side,” Chenle clears his throat, “I’m happy to announce that your sex therapist is a real person, and not some deepfake. And he looks like he’s decent at his job,” He offers a toothy thumbs-up before requesting the server for another round. Though his request is swallowed by the bass of the band that’s taken over the stage. Mark has no complaints, the mood is a little calmer, drowning in the background.
Jeno looks like he’s ready to take Chenle right here and now, right on the table. “God, babe, you’re such a nerd. It’s hot. I love it when you talk smart.” Kissing him deeply, and buries his face into his neck. Mark doesn’t mind the PDA, even though it looks like he’s reliving a 2014 Tumblr couple.
“I love you too babe,” Chenle says, kissing him back. “And I haven’t even gotten to the best part hyung.”
“What?”
“He’s single,” He announces. And Mark feels his cheeks wash with pink in embarrassment. Clutching his beer, he chugs half before setting it down. “Yes —” “No —“ Both exchange simultaneously.
Donghyuck leans across the table, interested. “More for me then.”
“Sit down Hyuck, finish your plate before you start eating off of others,” Jaemin warns, and Donghyuck shrugs.
“I can’t help it. I have a thing for competent men.” Donghyuck says.
Mark clears his throat, “it’s alright guys, I don’t want to screw up my chances with the guy. It’s strictly business.”
Jaemin raises a brow, “yeah, business in his pants. Getting hanky panky,” Donghyuck shoved him in the chest as he gawked and fell back into his cushion.
Patting his shoulder in solidarity, Jeno slides him another beer. Maybe his friends weren’t so horrible after all.
☏
Mark jumps every second of the hour leading to his second session. He doesn’t take Renjun’s offer and bothers him with bustling questions and concerns just for the sake of hearing his voice. He had a bit more composure than a rabid animal, so he waited patiently until the time on his clock struck 11:00 on the dot, and waited for the phone to ring. The clock turns to 11:01, it’s alright, he thinks to himself, it happens to the best of everyone. He’s never been one for punctuality, and yet he’s pacing back and forth like a dog excitedly wagging his tail waiting for its owner to return home. But now it’s 11:10 and Mark might as well be freaking out, did his meeting get canceled, did Renjun flake on him, family emergency, personal emergency?
Then, his phone buzzes, an incoming call, Huang Renjun (Therapist) the number already saved to his phone. “Good mornin—” Mark starts to greet him, surprisingly managing for his voice to remain steady.
However, Renjun interrupts him before he can finish and says, “I’m so sorry for being late, I was caught up in another meeting and time went by so fast. I apologize,” He says profusely, over and over. “How extremely unprofessional of me.”
“Oh god, no, don’t sweat it man, we all got lives. It’s good to hear from you,” Yeah, that sounds good. It’s not too obsessive, nor the boiling point of excitement. Even though, he’s like really fucking happy to hear his voice again.
He hears Renjun brighten, “as am I, now let’s get started. I thought it would be good to begin with a few questions.” Nodding, it couldn’t be that bad, surely. He’s a pro at icebreakers, considering that every club he joined in college broke the air with them, that’s how he met Johnny. Or maybe it was the speed dating service that the Student Union held every Thursday Night. “Tell me a little about yourself, where you grew up, hobbies, interests,” Renjun says, charming as ever. Well, I’m 22-years-old, single, horny, and looking for a casual relationship. My social security number is 153 —
“I grew up bouncing between Vancouver and Toronto as a kid, you know, my dad’s job. Graduated with a degree in Creative Writing and Journalism, so hah,” He bites his tongue, “if you know someone who could use a guy,”
Renjun makes an impressionable noise, “Creative writing, are you a writer?” He seems sincere, probably because it’s his job. Like he does care, maybe not for Mark’s body and soul, but about him as a human-being. Which is certainly nice.
“A writer, hah, haha, I would use the term loosely, just in my spare time. Am I Shakespeare? Definitely not,” Mark stammers, flattered by his utter interest. It’s his damn job, Mark, he reminds himself.
“Well,” Renjun answers, something of a smile in his voice, “Shakespeare is overrated,”
“And you, what do you like?”
Double-taken, Renjun laughs, “I don’t know if it’s professional for the client to ask me their own interests. It’s certainly a first,”
“Have you ever played 23 questions before Dr. Huang?” He gawks, Dr. Huang, it sounds just right on his tongue. “Shit, sorry d- can I call you that?”
Renjun coughs, “yes, of course you may.” Recovering easily, as he says, “23 questions,” amused, “well, I like long walks on the beach, curling up in bed with my cat, Olive and reading the Weekly Psych Digest. Oh, and my favorite food is Hot Pot.” It’s a bit cliche, as Mark is certain every single medical profession puts in their bio’s long walks on the beach as a random fun fact but with Renjun it’s different. It feels genuine, and Mark has the ridiculous urge to picture it. Also, Renjun in bed. “How’d I do?” He asks, sharp, scary and endearing. Like cute, Renjun is cute.
“Great,” He falters, gathering himself, “Is there anything else I should know?” Your favorite drink, dream house, your hopes, wishes and insecurities.
Good lord, he was down bad.
Renjun giggles, yeah, he fucking giggles. And it’s the best noise on earth, “Not so fast, Mark, you’ll have to do a lot more if you want to poke information out of me.”
“Darn it,” Mark scratches his head convincingly, “too early?”
He likes to believe that Renjun wears the biggest grin, 2-points for being imaginative. “Not even close.”
☏
Johnny finds him sulking on the couch, to his dismay. Mark was suffering, to say the least. And not in a sexy, painful way, but excruciating pining, elementary school kind of heart thumping against the chest kind of love. “Dude, you’re moping, it’s kinda turning me off.” Johnny says, sighing.
“Sorry man,” Mark crosses his arms, inattentive to the rerun of the Warriors vs. Lakers semifinals that Chenle left inside his dvd player when he insisted they binge watch together. Steph Curry just made 3rd three-pointer in the first quarter, and the crowd goes wild. Mark lowers the volume, and slumps against the couch further.
“I haven’t asked yet, but how’s therapy going?” And Mark’s face darkens, “oh shit, is it bad?”
He shakes his head, “no, no it’s the opposite. It’s going great, really great. It’s just Renjun --”
Johnny’s expression morphs into confusion, before hysteria. “Have you met the guy, Taeyong says he’s a real great guy,” before he abruptly stops, noticing his glib expression darken, “you haven’t met the guy have you?”
“We’ve only had two phone calls, the video call is like third base,” Mark points out, and Johnny nods in solidarity, nearly convinced. “It’s too intimate, and I don’t what I would do if I were to meet him face-to-face,”
“You don’t even know what he looks like?”
“His voice is nice, he sounds like a pretty person.” and sheepishly asks, “Hey dude?”
“Don’t even.”
“Wait what! Come on, it’s just drinks.”
Disgruntled, turning up the volume, “It’s just drinks,”He mimics, “that’s what everyone says before they end up in their bed the next morning, not a good idea.” He says, “You are trespassing every ethical code, and guideline the guy had to swear to. I recommended you to a therapist to help with your problems, not let fall over heels with a stranger, who,” as he gestures vaguely, “might not even be who you might think he is, seeing as you have no idea what he even looks like.”
“So that’s a no to drinks?”
☏
The third session was a video call. They’d decided it together, at the end of the second meeting, and Mark has never been more nervous. Considering he uses the word together, like it’s a marital decision, such as deciding which piece of furniture from IKEA would best fit their living room, or choosing baby names. He should use it sparingly, considering that they were not together.
He meets Renjun for the first time, over the app Blueheart face-to-face, over a small camera lens but it counts. His bio profile must’ve not been updated in a few years, when Mark is led into the online waiting room and Renjun’s face appears in the camera, fixated. “Mark-ya, can you hear me?” He asks, squinting at the screen, a pout in his expression. Oh, that’s very cute, Mark thinks, before clicking the mute button off.
“Dr. Huang, I can hear you, is the connection working for you?” as Mark leans in, taking in Renjun’s figure. His small face, thin and rambunctious as his chin tilts upward, scrutinizing the camera like he’s afraid it’s going to run away. Two-toned hair, and if it was anyone else, he would say it reminds him of a skunk, except it does wonders to frame his every expression, combed away from his forehead, curling under his ear as he subconsciously tucks it underneath. He’s even more handsome then the shitty profile picture in his page could ever do him justice for.
Renjun laughs, for real, though the camera quality is a bit grainy, but it still rings the same, “I don't do video calls too often, if it wasn’t obvious already,” he laughs nervously, “Technology has never been my forte either,” And Renjun was right, his ability to dabble in technology was definitely not his strong suit, given that he’d been accidentally turning the mute on, in the during of their session. But it was cute, and Mark was a patient man. Very patient.
“Don’t worry about it, we all gotta be bad at something,” Mark acknowledges, Renjun raises a brow, and he chuckles awkwardly, “I mean, like it’s a good thing, because you seem so good at everything.”
“So, have you been working on those self-esteem exercises I assigned you to do?” Renjun says, looking intently at Mark, well into the camera, so indirectly. It’s even more intimate, seeing his face across a screen, imagining all the habits he’s picked up, flicking his pen against his notebook while he waits, or how he sticks the nib of the pen into his mouth while he thinks. He definitely is the type to cross his legs, with his back straightened— (Jaemin calls it the ‘the gay leprechaun pose,’ not that it’s important right now). “Mark,” he repeats his name, snapping him out of his daydream.
“Yes, I have. I’m gonna have to be straight with you doc, they were kinda weird,” He admits, rubbing his head sheepishly, gazing away from the camera. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I get the idea, but I don’t really understand what the point of them is.”
“I see, is there a reason you might’ve felt discomfort in participating in the activity?” Renjun doesn’t seem angry, or annoyed, in fact rather gentler, as his focus never strays away from Mark, only seconds to scribble whatever notes he writes.
Maybe the video call was a bad idea, he can barely see his gaze straight, fixating away from Renjun's keen expression, caring, patient. “Self-esteem is a weird thing ya know? It’s like sex, it comes and goes whenever it pleases, and I don’t really have that much control over it.” He says, distantly.
“I don’t think it’s such a taboo concept, your body reacts however it pleases, biologically speaking, the human body produces testosterone, allows oxycontin to flow during sex, and you should never be ashamed of nature running its course. It’s something you can take control of, and make sense of.” Renjun replies, stern almost, as his demeanor shifts, and he fixes his glasses slipping from the bridge of his nose. “Sex shouldn’t be anything worth ashamed over, nor should sexual intimacy and pleasure, it’s simply the body’s way of enjoying human gratification.”
It goes like that, they talk and it’s almost like a casual conversation, between good friends, only when the hour is up, abided by the several technical malfunctions on Renjun’s side, he thinks it was pretty successful. “Good-bye Mark,” He starts, smiling warmly.
“Good-bye, Dr. Huang, catch you later,” But neither of them move. “See you next time,” Renjun smirks, as Mark nods unfazed, maybe if he stares even harder, heart eyes will burst from his eyeballs, like those romantic cartoons.
“I’ll be hanging up now,” he remarks, “Good-bye now, for real.” And the video call hangs up, and the screen fades to black.
☏
“You’re absolutely sickening, I cannot afford to look at you anymore,” Donghyuck laments, sliding his bingo slot on the second row. Thursday evenings are reserved for senior bingo night at the local community center, and he’s lucky enough to have dragged a few of his friends; ie. Donghyuck, and Chenle. Jeno however, unfortunately wasn’t able to attend tonight, as he had to impress his boss, working a miserable corporate job that Mark is happy he didn’t get his degree in Finances. He was however bummed, as his pastime activity is beating old grannies, and the elderly at board games like bingo — babe, isn’t that a little crude, they’re like old, have some mercy! Chenle used to whine one of their first few times joining Mark, but maybe Chenle is just as senile in tedious games.
Mark snorts, sliding his bingo chip onto the cardboard. Three for three across, as he listens intently. “Hey, that’s rude, and lower your voice Hyuck, I’m trying to pay attention,” He scolds, as Donghyuck rolls his eyes, gesturing to Chenle, glued to his phone, probably texting his boyfriend, whatever kinky, dirty texts Mark could imagine. “So, did you text him yet?” Asking, in a loud whisper.
Mark nervously glances between the caller and Donghyuck’s flighty hands bound to mess with his board. “Text who?”
“Dr. Huang, the sexy therapist,” At this point, with no ounce of shame or filter, he says out loud. Luckily, everyone is too immersed in their own game, that other than a few scrutinizing stares, no one listens. “Do you think he likes being called Doctor in bed?”
“Number 23,” The caller says, and Mark frowns, sitting back, Donghyuck with an elbow propped on the plastic tables they bring out for community tables, that are too rickety and unstable. It’s only been two days since their third meeting, and it’s sent Mark into a frenzy. He’s managed to read two of his 100-page worth of articles on Sex and Masclunity, and Human Pleasures, both highly recommended, and 5-stars reviews on Goodreads. While he’s managed to confirm that Renjun wasn’t some spirit entity poised as some super duper, sexy, great therapist sent by the gods to play a good trick on him, he feels a little uneasy.
“Hyuck, there’s elderly people around us,” Mark hushs him, pinching his shoulder.
“Fine,” Donghyuck sighs, shaking his shoulders with pity exuberantly. “Can I borrow your phone to call an Uber?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Mark nods, and Donghyuck jumps at his phone on the table, unlocking it with ease which however is concerning, but not as concerning as one might think.
“Now, which one is his number saved in your phone,” he hums, “Aha, found it. Now, do you start your sentences with good morning, Dr. Huang, or what-up doc, you wanna hop on this dic—” Just as Mark reaches over, the plastic chair squeaks.
“Ooh, what are we scheming?” Chenle peaks over from his phone, gorilla grip in his hands with intrigue.
“Asking out sexy therapist—” Mark quickly stops from adding more fuel to the fire, as Donghyuck sings, “Nothing.” He adds reassuringly.
“Nice, I’m in. How about, Dear Dr. Huang, drinks tonight?”
Meanwhile, Mark gives up, distracted that he misses the last three calls and his board is left empty two rows upward. Scrabbling to catch up, Chenle and Donghyuck giggle over his phone and he sends a silent prayer that they don’t get him blacklisted from Blueheart, or from seeing any other therapist in the area, if he’s in need of searching for another. “Mark-hyung isn’t the forward type,” Chenle grimaces, “how about—” as he leans forward, whispering into his ear. As Donghyuck grins, nodding eagerly and types away.
“You’ll thank us later,” He winks, just as the caller announces, “number 84!” and Donghyuck jumps up, board in hand, yelling “bingo!”
In possession of his phone again, he scrambles to see his messages, oh god, how’d they manage to find his personal number. Maybe because he listed it in his contacts, when inputting his information, and he gives himself a slap on the face for being so reckless. Hey, Renjun, it’s Mark! Would you be down to maybe meet over drinks? Super chill, and casual.
☏
At 2:30 am, his phone beeps. An incoming text message. Mark bounces up in his bed, grasping for his phone on the bedside stand, charging. From Huang Renjun (Therapist):
That sounds wonderful, I’d love to. Please let me know when, and I’ll move my schedule around :D
Donghyuck: 0 Mark: 1
☏
He lets Renjun choose the place. Being the gentleman he is, and having zero knowledge of the popular dating spots, and bars in the area. How about you choose next time? Renjun had texted him, once replying with the location. Mark’s heart thumps like nobody’s business, so there will be a next time. That is, if he could even survive tonight. There wasn’t even anything to be afraid of, they just happened to be discussing Mark’s progress in person, over drinks, at a popular bar in downtown. Of course, Donghyuck was all over it, searching the in’s and out’s of the place Renjun had picked, “He has good taste, I’ll give him that. Expensive too,” Mark winces, seeing that wallet would be crying out loud and pleading for help by the end of the night if it was true.
“Maybe he’s just looking for a sugar daddy?” Chenle suggests.
“Yeah, it takes one to know one.” Jaemin says slyly. Chenle juts his chin out proudly, while petting Jeno’s head happily.
Now, Mark sits in the middle of the restaurant, constantly glancing at the time. He’s never been so nitpicky and worrisome when it came to arriving on time — not until he met Renjun. Antsy, tapping his feet against the chair as he spots a figure through the window, staggering to open the door in a hurry. He spots him, pointing to where Mark sat to the host.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Renjun says, hovering over the table. Mark widens his eyes, taken back — he stands there, wisps of silver hair flurry around his neck, a curtain of bangs pushed around his forehead. Dressed down, long coat, and black gloves, as he tugs them away, shoving them into his pockets. Revealing those long, delicate, thin, thick fingers as he slides into the table. Mark traces the movement of his fingers, tangible to be flick away from his eyes. With a wry smile, “It’s nice to finally meet you, in person,” Renjun’s fingers move to the menu, plying carefully around the edge of the table, tapping against wood. Almost nervously, shrugging his coat and finally meeting his gaze.
“Oh,” He coughs, now he’s finally able to meet him, see him living, breathing so beautifully. He doesn’t wear his glasses, “The same to you.”
He notices a few things about Renjun. Firstly, there’s no ring on his finger, whichever one it is it’s supposed to be; engagement, divorce, married. None of that sort, bare, where the wide part of his cuticles lay, fresh, and manicured. Everything about him is neat, put together. Probably like his life. The opposite of Mark. Secondly, he criss-crosses his legs underneath the table, sits with his hands in his lap — so tame, and suppressed. And Mark wants to decompartmentalize each part of him, his hands, his lips, how they poke and pout when he speaks wrly. Take apart his glasses from his face, and destroy him whole. Utterly, and completely. Thirdly, he seems to take interest in him, otherwise he wouldn’t be here in the first place.
“Now, Mark Lee, we never continued our conversation — tell me about yourself,” He leans back, so petite against the ambiance of the restaurant, so large and dark that it might swallow him. Mark cocks his head, a tad confused.
“I thought I already introduced myself when we first met?” He says, and Renjun dips his head, shaking it as their waiter arrives. “I’ll have a bottle of Riesling,” Before turning back to Mark, sinking his teeth into his eyes, Renjun doesn’t challenge him, not directly. “I’ll have whatever he's having,” Mark bites out, feeling red—hot, itchy in his seat.
Was he really testing Mark, to test his boundaries and limits. It makes sense, in a medical sense, testing where his comfort zone lies. He shouldn’t read too much into it, otherwise he would get caught in the details. “Nice choice, it’s my favorite wine, the brewery here is magnificent.” Renjun hums, “Now where were we? Ah, yes,” He says thoughtfully, leaning forward, “tell me your desires, your wants, your bad habits. I want to scoop and peel every layer inside of you,” He lowers his voice, reaching over the table, he holds his hands and his eyes glitter.
Fuck. He feels heat inside him, burns and bubbles to the surface. Renjun reclines from his face, sitting back in his seat. “Well, uh—” oh god, he’s so fucking done. “I scrunch my nose when I dislike something, I have pretty fast reflexes, my friends joke that I’m the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, and uh—” Shoot, he’s forgotten every single icebreaker he’s been forced to say in all 12+ years of his education. Renjun looks so familiar, sitting across from him with his arms crossed and fingers resting at his biceps. And don’t get it twisted, Renjun has very nice arms. “Sorry, I — am I talking right now? It feels like my mouth is moving, but no proper sentences are forming together—” Mark spits his words out at least. Renjun appears enthralled, delighted in the company of him. Their drinks arrive, and Mark snatches his glass, and takes a large sip. Sweet.
Renjun takes his own careful sip, lips forming around the rim of the glass like a professional. He desperately wants his lips touching the tip of his cock —
“So, hyung—” He starts, and laughs when Mark’s cheeks glow pinkish. Hyung, hyung, so tender and familiar. “Oh dear, you look like you’ve nearly seen a ghost? Was it something I said?”
“I don’t think it’s proper that you call me hyung, you’re the one with the PhD,” Mark meekly points out. “Dr. Huang.” He adds politely.
“So silly, Mark,” he says sweetly, all honeyed words like he couldn’t take him seriously. “Have you been sexually active recently?”
Mark chokes on his wine, and not again, in a sexy way. But embarrassing himself in front of his ‘crush’ way. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Don’t act so shy, part of regaining that self-esteem is being sexually active. Do you currently have or have had a partner recently to compensate for your sexual fantasties?” Sexual fantasties, he doesn’t remember talking about them with him at all, oh right, the private questionnaire he had to fill online before he met with Renjun for his first session. List your top 3 favorite foreplay, do you enjoy barebacking?
The last partner he had lasted 3 weeks in the form of Jaehyun — a co-worker at Taeyong’s work and coincidentally through Hinge, until Jaehyun admitted that he wasn’t too into casual hookups, of course Mark had chosen a family guy. “No, I don’t.” Mark confesses.
Renjun swirls his glass around, fixed gaze. “When was the last time you masturbated?”
“Last week.”
“Did it bring pleasure? Discomfort, how did you feel?” He thinks of it, tries not too hard. Renjun’s willowy frame, kissing his stomach, making a butterfly mark down to the inside of his thigh. You’ve done so well, I’ve taught you so well hyung.
He tries to remember this all in just in good medical advice, nothing advently sexual. But it felt different, the air between them was thicker, more nauce. “It felt insufficient. Lacking.” He blurts out.
Renjun does something frightening, he smiles at the dinner table. At a time like this, and Mark wants him even more. He’s terribly confused. “Now we’re finally getting somewhere.”
☏
By 10 pm, they’re stepping outside the restaurant, a little tipsy, Renjun leans against his shoulder comfortably. Neither of them are too drunk, thankfully given the moderate sips of wine Mark had wisely decided to take worried that liquid courage might enable him to say, or do something incredibly stupid. “Where do you live?” Mark asks. Renjun looks small in his large pea coat, rubbing his hands together for warmth before ducking him into his even bigger pockets.
Renjun murmurs, “I walked here, don’t suppose I could catch an Uber with you?”
“Come over to my apartment, I have coffee, and you can sober up there before going home,” Mark invites, “If you’d like, I don’t want you having to go home in the dark.”
Renjun squints through him, blowing his cheeks in the cold, and smiles. “How awfully kind of you, thank you.”
He’s called the Uber, and five minutes later they’re inside the warm car, opposite sides of the back seat. It’s a fairly quick ride, considering that Mark only lives a block from downtown serving its purpose in being one of those hip, young people towns where condos above grocery stores and overpriced boutiques rid the area. Renjun keeps his hands to himself the whole ride, staring out into the night. Mark lives on the fifth floor, and Johnny already let him know that he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. Opening the door for Renjun, as they step into the apartment lobby, making their way to the elevators. Standing 3-feet apart, Renjun has been terribly silent for the past 15 minutes and it slightly worries him.
“I have different brands of coffee, my roommate is a coffeeholic so if there’s anything to your liking I’d be happy to fish it out for you,” Mark says happily, and starts the conversation, pressing on his floor.
Stepping back, Renjun finally says, “I had a great time today.”
Mark, surprised, stutters, “Me too.” he laughs, awkwardly because he doesn’t know what to say next. Renjun steps closer, away from the opposite side of the elevator reaching for his hand. Then, the elevator chimes for the second floor — one of his balcony neighbors steps on, “good evening,” He mumbles. The elevator ride to the third floor is deathly quiet, Renjun’s head is lowered, and unreadable. With a wave, they step out and as the door closes with a chime Mark gravitates towards Renjun, meeting halfway. Leaning in, Mark hovers above him, paused. “Can I—” he hoarsely whispers.
Renjun rolls his eyes, tugging him down, “please.” His lips were warm, considering how cold he appears after drinking at the restaurant; chapped and rosy. Soft, and pillowly, everything that Mark could’ve imagined. He kisses him back, more exasperated than the next kiss. Renjun sinks into his arms, one hand steady on his waist, small and petite, fitting perfectly into his arms. His mouth, delicate parted slightly and so sensitive, as Mark laughs between his lips. The chime of the elevator, as Mark tugs him headfirst, not letting go. He’s never kissed someone while walking, hands carefully cradling his jaw, exploring his tongue, into each corner of his mouth and slipping spit shiny. Exhilarated, he pulls away just a bit, hovering over his lips, “watch your step,” he mumbles, “don’t want you to fall.”
“No need to be a gentleman when you’re mauling my face,” Renjun sours, sarcastically. “Are you trying to find your keys? They’re in your hands.”
Mark spares a glance, “oh, hah, right.” He breaks apart the kiss, to cram his key into the lock. Shoving it around, because kissing while trying to unlock your apartment is harder than you might think — that’s one useful move the movies don’t teach you. “Got it.”
“Thank god,” Renjun sighs before tangling his fingers into his hair and kissing him deeply. It runs a shiver down his spine, fidgeting as he swings his door open, slamming on the hinge. Wincing, Johnny would kill him if he found out that he almost broke their door. Good thing he isn’t here right now.
Stepping into his apartment, Mark murmurs, “do you counsel all your patients like this,” he asks in wonder. Assisting in helping Renjun shrug off his coat, “just asking for a friend.”
“Only the ones I like,” He answers simply.
“Oh,” and he kisses him chastely. Kissing soome while walking backwards was difficult, as it proved to be. Knocking into the lamp, he fumbles to fix it upright. “My roommate isn’t here right now,” he mumbles between kisses, stroking the nape of his neck carefully pulling him in closer. Circles in his mouth, teasing at his lower lip, Renjun chuckles breathlessly against him, “Johnny’s a pretty solid dude, he’s actually getting engaged this summer —“
“Enough, please don’t talk about your roommate. Not while I have my tongue shoved down your throat,” he says sternly.
“Right, right, sorry,” Mark apologizes, before Renjun leans him against the door, slamming it shut with a small wince.
He doesn’t think he’s ever kissed anything with this much urgency. Everything about Renjun is time, timely, staying on time, staying on-track — and yet, seeing him taken apart in front of his eyes, it fills Mark with more want. Wanting whatever has him breathing so heavily, holding Renjun’s waist like he might slip away from his hands. The foyer to his apartment is dark, a glimpse of shadows circle and run frantically around his cheekbones, luminous and hauntingly beautiful. “I’m not going anywhere,” Renjun gently reminds him, out of breath.
“Is this alright,” Mark asks, god what was he doing? “I’m pretty sure we’re breaking every single ethical, patient vs. doctor code in the rule book, I don’t want you to get fired, or in trouble —“
Mark,” Renjun cuts him off, “I want this, I want you. So relax.”
“Would you like some coffee?” And Renjun chuckles, “right, no you probably don’t want coffee right now.” Mark considers, as he kisses him again, pulling him away from the door, as Renjun whispers “bedroom,” tripping over each other’s feet down the hallway, holding him fragile between his fingers. It’s a mess, least coherent but they make it work. Stumbling to close the bedroom door behind him, Renjun’s already lost his coat, dumped on his floor somewhere in the living room. Mark fumbles to unbutton his shirt, damn it. Throwing it over his head, as Renjun reaches over, pushing him lightly onto the edge of the bed. Fingers flat, decorating his chest as he begins butterfly kisses away from his lips, crawling down to his neck. Mark shifts, placing Renjun between him and struggling to unbutton his own shirt, moaning softly in the crook of his neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Renjun smiles, kissing lower and lower. As he reaches the buckle of his pants, smirking. “May I?” Pangs, sinking into his prey, hungrily as he shrugs them off. He sinks to his knees, hysteria high, lips so thick and plush just as he prayed. Imagined. Dreamed of. Letting his cock spring from around the band of his underwear, and Renjun swallows, dazed as he begins to kiss the tip, peppering soft kisses, string of saliva inches away as Renjun licks away the precome, dribbling down the side of his cock. Mark moans, fingers crammed in his mouth, suppressing the urge to let go. He cups his chin, stroking his cheek as Renjun winks before sucking his cock, fingers cupped around him, girthy and sturdy but yet delicate. “You fit so perfectly in my mouth,” Renjun whines, “So big,” He mumbles, kissing down the sides, shifting on his knees, hisses of air, cold from his lips curling his tongue around the head and Mark juts his hips, gasping. “So sensitive too,” He muses.
His tongue is warm, flat against his cock before his eyes meet upward, flicking innocently and baby brown pupils filled with lust, and Mark withers under his touch. Every crevice discovered, cool air quips and he shivers, Renjun whispers, “Come baby,” Cooing gently, between the mouthful of his cock so eager in mouth — and all for him. Bucking his hips even more, as Renjun’s eyes widen and he chokes before he ducks down and says, “on my face.”
He comes on his face as Renjun grins, and Mark rides on that post orgasam, thrusting his fingers into his hair, combing through the pieces that have fallen onto his forehead, the swallow and curve of his cheek, decorated with his come. Completely undone. So angelic, sunk to his knees eager to take him whole and fingers scraping the inside of his thigh. “You’re insane,” He gasps exhilaratingly.
“I could say the same to you.”
☏
“So, about that coffee, do you have decaf?” Renjun asks. And Mark smiles like he’s just won like the fucking million-dollar lottery.
☏
He feels a little embarrassed, he slept past eight and couldn’t even offer Renjun breakfast as he was struggling to hastily throw on his clothes, “no breakfast?” He mumbles, elbowing his arm into the head post of his bed trying to get up. Sunlight bursts from his window, catching dust and the fine lines of Mark’s mess on his body.
“Have to run into the office, sorry baby,” he bends to kiss him shortly. “We’ll talk later.”
It’s not like Mark had a ready-to-go breakfast laid to plan, but he was a bit bummed that he couldn’t stay. But Renjun was a busy man, who stayed over, and slept in his bed — next to him. He does his little walk of shame out of the bedroom, finding Johnny sipping his on his Iced Americano. Damn him and his ‘early bird gets the worm’ mentality.’
“Was that —?”
“Yes, hyung.”
Johnny’s face transforms into shock then returns to delight. “Oh. Oh. He stayed the night?”
“Yes, he did. Stop looking at me like that,” he says, flustered.
“He slept in your bed, together?” Johnny carefully reiterates.
Mark sighs, exasperatedly. “That is what happens when two people sleep in the same bed.”
“Wow, that’s great to hear.” Johnny echos, before he takes another sip of his coffee, almost dubious.
☏
“The more you stare at your phone, the more it might run away. Stop clutching it like it’s going to escape you,” One of his friends said, he’s not sure. Knowingly, he thinks it might’ve been Jaemin and snide remarks, but he’s not exactly in the mood for that right now. “I mean it, what’s got you rubbing your nose into your phone like that?”
“Maybe it’s Renjunnie, the sexy therapist!” Donghyuck mocks, ordering a mojito. He stares at him with utter disgust, it’s only 7 pm on a Thursday Night, Mark isn’t that desperate.
Mark scowls, “he already has a nickname? And okay -- I didn’t even describe it like that. Stop giving out false information, that’s a crime.” He nods incessantly.
“Well, you did make out with him, in the elevator, at your apartment door and in your bedroom. I think that pretty much covers it all. Did you even do it?” Jaemin asks, even more intrigued in his own questions.
“No,” He darkens. “He was really tired, and fell asleep five minutes after.” It was cute, not that he didn’t enjoy seeing Renjun, sleeping in his own bed, comfortable and resting soundly. Trickles of snores, coming from the other half of the bed.“Well to be fair, he looked really cute!”
“So he hasn’t called you in three days, and you still want to bone him?”
“Yeah,” he utters miserably. Their first in-person session in the office was tomorrow, and he’s yet to hear a confirmation from Renjun, which worries him but also, he’s a big boy who can handle himself and it’s not like they're actually dating. He could be extremely busy, with other clients, Mark shouldn’t have to occupy all his time. And yet, Renjun ransacks his, turns it upside down and gives him the worst ache in his chest. The feeling of emptiness.
“Maybe you should write him a letter, like in the Victorian era and see if he replies,” Jaemin brightly suggests. “I highly suggest carrier pigeons, they’re very reliable.”
Donghyuck snorts. “Or, you could tell him how you really feel.” He says, now with an even gaze.
Staring at his phone, begging for it to ring, chime, let there be a message from him. This is the real world, and not everything that you want happens. More often then so, as Mark shoves his phone into the back pocket, and Jaemin howls, before sliding him a shot. Good lord, maybe tonight was the night to make bad decisions. Tell him how you really feel, otherwise I might puke from your puppy yearning, Donghyuck really meant to say, all well in good intention of course. But for now, he pushes it to the back of his mind and tries to enjoy himself. For now.
☏
He gets a beep from his phone and it’s a notification from his calendar. 11:30 am sex therapy session: cancelled. Mark squints, nearly dropping his phone, did he really read that right? Today would’ve been their last meeting for the trial, five meetings regardless at a price. And now, it appeared that Renjun had canceled at the last minute.
The office is surprisingly close by, only a ten minute drive. He’s so nervous, he wants an answer, and Donghyuck always told him how persistent he could be. There must be a reason, or maybe it was an accident. If he gets fired, that’s his fear. That he got in trouble, because he let things happen. Events led in accordance to the best night of his life with no regrets. Walking to the front desk, he sees the receptionist brighten almost in familiarity. “Can I help you?” He says, almost too chipper. With a sneaky smile, two studs in each ear, and an airpod in one, like something of a sly cat.
“I have an appointment with Dr. Huang for 11:30 am?” would they reject him, because his appointment had been canceled? Mark's heart thumps out of his chest, like the first time he met Renjun, fragile and ready to burst. The last time he was this nervous was when he had to read one of his personal, fictional stories for Creative Writing class back in college in front of the whole lecture. Sweaty palms, scrapping palms eager to turn his heel and get the fuck out of here.
He hums, with recognition. “Oh yes, you’re Dr. Huang’s 11:30, he’s ready for you right down the hall, second to your right. Have a good day!” Mark gets a glimpse of his name-tag, clipped right on his scrubs. Ten Lee.
Those cat eyes, glim and sharpen with glee as Mark raises a hand in thanks, “thanks, man you too,” He manages to stammer out.
He starts to let his feet take reign, imaging the words that would come out his mouth, would they be the right ones? It must’ve been an accident right, after you spent the night at my place and didn’t call for three days. It must’ve been an accident, right?
Second door to the right. He stands in front, Dr. Huang, it properly reads on the nameplate. Hushes voice inside already, as he reads a hand to knock, like a gentleman. The door swings open, and he’s met with the face of a man, not Renjun looking just as surprised, with a smaller framed facial structure, brown hair, but not like Renjun, his’s is too dark. They could pass for siblings, maybe cousins even. “Am I interrupting?” He says, spotting Renjun in the distance, lounging on a nearby chair.
“Oh no, I was just about to leave. He’s all yours.” The man says, Kim Doyoung, according to his own name tag. With something of invindiction, or telling -- as he side steps, letting Mark enter before shutting the door behind him.
The door has been closed for a good minute before he says:
“Look, I’m sorry for the other night —”
But at the same time, Renjun jumps to speak, “My phone was broken—” before he frowns, “wait what?”
“I don’t want to risk you getting hurt, your career. It seems so important to you. Your passion, your goals.” Mark says, “I shouldn’t have kissed you, you could get fired —”
“Mark,” Renjun begins slowly, stepping away from the chair, he looks angry. Pissed. “You don’t think I wasn’t aware, the moment we kissed, what it could do to my job, the risks and every ethical guideline I might’ve broken?”
“Well, no, yes --” just as he shakes his head, “I canceled today’s appointment to tell you that I won’t want to see you anymore, not as your doctor.” Mark looks up, confused, “but as something more, as your boyfriend.”
“My boyfriend? What, you like me?” He asks incredulously. Renjun laughs, “Then why did you ghost me for three days?”
Renjun appears sheepish, staring off at the abstract, hole-in-the-wall painting he’s hung over his desk. “As I was saying, my phone had broken the night after, I couldn’t even call an Uber but I was so embarrassed that I left so soon. And my computer wasn’t working right, and Blueheart was having a malfunction in the system that every appointment was going haywire.” He explains, “I would never ghost you, never alright?” He says sternly. Crossing over, holding Mark’s face in his hands, and oh he wants those fingers, caressing his cheek delicately. Fervently.
“So what, we’re like dating?” Mark blurts out.
Renjun smiles, almost shyly, “I’d like that very much.” and Mark takes a step back, as Renjun follows. A slow dance, until he bumps against his desk and Mark reaches over, tugging his glasses away from his face, setting them down gently. Before slowly kissing him, it felt so faint, the ache and want that he familiarized himself with. Letting his fingers run deep in his hair, cupping his chin upward to taste him even deeper. He kisses so gently, tame, not rampant and passionate like before. He wants to take him in, wholeheartedly, take him apart bit by bit. “I need you baby,” Renjun whines in between his lips, “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too,” he whispers, “Should we really be doing this right now, aren’t there people outside?” He turns just to make sure that someone wouldn’t walk in at that moment.
“Don’t worry, they know not to interrupt me while I’m with a patient,” He murmurs, pulling him into another kiss. Rubbing his tongue against his bottom lip, as he begins to grind his hip against him, ruthlessly. “So do your best to be quiet, hyung.”
Mark groans, kissing him back, taking hold of his wait, frantically letting his hands crawl up his shirt, quickly removing his coat and throwing it haphazardly on the floor. “Babe, you can’t say stuff like that.” Renjun grins, as his hand sneakily travels to the waist of Mark’s jeans, palming his cock.
“You’re hard already, naughty boy. How about I give you a lesson?” He clicks his tongue, unbuckling his jeans, letting them drop to his knees. “Answer me, hyung.” With his cock in his hand, Mark hits the brink of an orgasm, coming untouched already. Renjun seems impressed, a sinisterly beautiful expression on his face. “Ah, you like it when I call you hyung.”
“Dr. Huang,” he gasps into his mouth, “you sound so pretty.”
Cock heavy, his tip leaking with pre-come, as Renjun inspects the mess before sucking each finger like it’s favorite meal before pushing his thumb into Mark’s mouth, “suck it.”
Watching Renjun undress, so immersive and a sigh to hold, the thick outline of him and Mark wants to scramble him whole, hear him whimper. Leaning him back, moving the papers and folders out of his way, his leg limps against the cold surface of the desk as he towers above him. Hair fanned out, undone. Yes, yes, exactly how he wants him to be. “I need you inside of me, so badly.” He murmurs against his shoulder, kissing him gingerly. Lifting his leg above him, ready to prep him so well, stretch him so wide that he’d be begging for his cock with the second finger. “I took care of it already, last night. When I was thinking about you inside, hurry please,” He growls, tugging him close, “don’t make me beg. First rule.”
“What’s the second?” Mark tries, ducking down quickly to rifle for the condom in his wallet. Curse Donghyuck, and his tendencies, he must’ve developed the habit from him. He kisses him down to his belly button. “whatever you want it to be,” Renjun mumbles, fingers digging into his back. Riding the waves, fucking him deeper, so wet and hot that Mark nearly blacks out. “Harder, baby. I can take all of you,” Renjun insists. “You’re doing so good.”
The office is hot, when they both orgasm, coming on his stomach as Renjun lies there, arm over his mouth as he laughs, with a hiccup sob riding out that post-orgasm and moans — the decrescendo.
It’s the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard.
☏
Mark likes Renjun. A lot. He likes him so much that he introduces him to his friends. It goes great, Renjun likes the company of his friends that he asks when he will see them again. Mark can’t help but act surprised, “they didn’t drive you crazy, just wait.”
Renjun giggles, “No, no they’re all great. Donghyuck-ah especially, he’s a character.” And he almost forgot to mention, that oddly enough — those two got along the greatest. Maybe because they were a replication of the other, in some weird parallel universe kind of way. “I really enjoyed meeting them, thank you.” He says warmly, snuggling against Mark, as they walk home.
“Then how would you feel about Bingo Night? It’s a weekly tradition at the community center, and you’d be surprised at how good I am at bingo. Consider it my hidden talent,” he says proudly, before Renjun stands on his tip-toes kissing his cheek.
“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Renjun answers, smirking devilishly, as Mark’s phone chimes and he stares down. Last Appointment with Dr. Huang @ 11:30 am. Notes: Ask him out! “Unless you’re busy,”
Mark shakes his head, wrapping his hand around his waist, tugging him in closer. Kissing the top of his forehead, before he says, “I’ll always make time for you.”