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…
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
Yongbok jolts at the voice. He looks up, blinks once. "What?"
Hyunjin's dead serious when he repeats himself again. "Did you find it?" He has no business standing in the doorway to Yongbok's room looking like that, chest heaving and hands loosely hitched by his hips. He looks like a Greek god even in simple clothes, even with his hair buzzed short. It's almost unfair.
"Find what?"
The man falls silent, lips pursing. And it drives Yongbok mad. It makes him want to lunge across the room and throw himself at him, grab him by the lapels of his jacket and shake some sense back into those blank eyes. He remains glued to his chair instead, turning his phone over and over in his hands as he tries to bottle the fleeting impulse.
"I was waiting, y'know. For you."
Hyunjin's voice rises above the silence again, low and heavy with truth. This time it makes Yongbok want to cry and scream and rip his hair out and maybe kiss the man stupid.
"You didn't have to," he whispers.
Their eyes lock. There's something brimming under the surface, quiet and brooding and too uncertain to escape the heavy barriers of their lips. It almost scares him to confront it.
Hyunjin mutters something that Yongbok almost doesn't catch. Almost.
"I wanted to."
…
Hyunjin's fingertips are warm against his nape.
The man's towering frame feels like it should always be lined up against his. Yongbok can finally hear each thunderous heartbeat as if it were his own, can finally feel it chasing after his jackrabbiting pulse. A heavy breath cascades down his back. He shivers.
They're hugging.
More like Hyunjin's swallowing him whole.
"What are you doing to me..?" Hyunjin murmurs into his neck, more of an afterthought than anything meaningful. It makes Yongbok cling harder all the same. He takes a breath, but Hyunjin beats him to it.
"Don't. Don't talk. Let's just—" The man squeezes his waist that much tighter, inhaling deep like Yongbok were his only source of oxygen, "—stay like this."
"Hyunjin—"
"I need this, Yongbok-ah."
I need you. The hitch of breath was all he needed to know.
So, being weak as he is, he chooses to stay silent. Being the fool he's been since the beginning of time, he ignores the signs. Being the fish writhing at the bottom of the barrel, he lets it happen.
They both know it won't do anything good.
They choose the bad, anyway.
…
"I think I'm in love with you," Hyunjin finally whispers behind the closed door of his room.
Yongbok squeezes his eyes shut. "Please." Please don't say that.
Please say it again. Please tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do.
Hyunjin catches the shell of his pink-tipped ear with his teeth and whispers his own thoughts back to him. "Please what? What do you want?"
I don't know.
He slips his arms around Hyunjin's neck anyway. He lets his breath leave weak and trembling and pulls him in closer anyway. He tilts his head up anyway, just so the man can lean down and finally fit their mouths together.
"I'd do anything for you, Yongbok-ah," Hyunjin murmurs against him after, each syllable deliberate in the way it drags over the cusp of his shuddering lips.
"I know."
"I'd—fuck, I'd kill for you."
"You wouldn't."
"Don't make me try." And when the man slots their mouths together once more, the blood in Yongbok's veins sings fiery hot.
…
Every touch burns.
Hyunjin's rolling his hips now, shameless in the way he grunts into Yongbok's parted lips and tugs him closer by the waist. The muted sensation siphons all the strength from his muscles, leaving him slumped between the wall and the man's front, buckled at the knees.
"Yongbokie," is what he gets to swallow down with every grind, noises brimming high in his throat as he tries to match the maddening pace. He barely notices when the pressure around his mouth lessens, only to be replaced with a wet warmth against the side of his neck.
Then Hyunjin roves his tongue over his flushed skin, and he keens.
"God, I love the way you sound." Hyunjin's breath ghosts over his collarbones in a wave of sudden, stark self-consciousness. Yongbok wonders if there's still time to back out.
But a palm slides heavy up his stomach before he can even think, pushing the hem of his sweater up to his midriff.
It's too late for that now, huh?
…
Hyunjin tells him he's pretty.
"A fuckin' angel," he whispers, gravelly husk seeping into his voice when he drags Yongbok back and forth over his lap. They're on his bed now, still clothed, but somehow it feels even dirtier this way. Perhaps because the layers do practically nothing to hide the object of Yongbok's deepest forbidden fantasies, pressing insistently against him.
He feels small in Hyunjin's arms. Safe. Completely free to just sit there and let the man do whatever he pleases, whether it be to grind against his clothed cock or to keep his mouth occupied. And whenever the subtle pleasure ramps up just to his liking, the trip messing with his head kicks in excitement.
"You make me feel so fucking good, God." Hyunjin cants his hips and exhales sharp into his neck, body thrumming against his.
It dawns on Yongbok, then—things would never be the same after this.
…
"You're so tight down here."
Yongbok had never imagined Hyunjin's mind would be capable of thinking up the dirtiest sentences known to man. Then again, he'd never expected them to end up like this, either.
Hyunjin crooks his fingers, and laughs when Yongbok's abdomen tenses at the sudden jolt of pleasure. "You like that?"
His tongue is limp. But he nods anyway, hoping the gleam in his eyes is enough of an answer.
"Can't wait to feel you around me." A hand smooths over the small of his back, applying the subtlest bit of pressure. Not much, just enough to have his spine arching. "Wanna watch you cry on it."
It sounds more like a promise than a real desire, a challenge to push him to his limits and then some. Yongbok hangs his head and rolls his hips, searching for the extra sliver of pleasure that'll sharpen the muted pressure between his legs. But his wishes are interrupted by the feeling of Hyunjin's fingers leaving him. He wrenches his eyelids open, searching through the blurry thick for the reason for his misery.
The tell-tale clink of a belt buckle has him losing his next breath.
It's now or never.
…
"I'm gonna come."
Hyunjin huffs the confession into his hair, laughing like he simply refuses to believe it. Yongbok can feel him twitching inside, has no idea what to do with this dizzying information. He settles for dragging his fingers up the slope of the man's strong arms, marvelling at the minute ripple of muscle beneath his fingertips before finally grabbing onto his shoulders.
Their eyes meet at the height of it all, just long enough for the cup of his teary gaze to flow, filling the dark void of that sharp stare. Perhaps that's why Hyunjin is the first to break, clenching his jaw as he does.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" Because Yongbok doesn't know, and he wants to. Needs to.
"Like you're fucking innocent."
He blinks, momentarily at a loss for words. But it doesn't matter anymore, not when Hyunjin takes his silence as an opportunity to lift his hips up a fraction of an inch. The foreign sensation is amplified tenfold when he comes sinking back down, driving the man's length all the way home with a force he isn't prepared for.
"Because you're anything but innocent, Yongbokie," Hyunjin mouths against him, eyes boring into his. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"I'm—I don't—" Each time he tries to protest, Hyunjin will dampen his efforts with a cruel buck of his hips, enjoying the way his tongue falls limp and his head lolls to the side. "Ah..."
He can't help but gasp with every thrust. It feels like all the air is being punched out of him with an intense deliberation, fuelled by a motive hellbent on reducing him into nothing but a mess of depraved noises.
"You were made for this, Yongbok-ah. Made for me." A rough palm drags up the line of his hitching stomach, then moves back to the soft curve of his waist. Fits back around it like it was always meant to be there, an extension of him that he never knew he could have. Hyunjin's guiding his hips for him again, calling Yongbok his. Always willing to do the work, to pull Yongbok's weight for his own pleasure. Because maybe, just maybe, all Yongbok needs to do is simply be.
The pressure in his groin is building too much, too fast. He knows Hyunjin can feel it, because his voice spills rich into Yongbok's ringing ears once more, smooth and gentle.
"Let go, baby. Let it all out."
Yongbok pushes his flushed face into the crook of the man's neck and stifles a cry.
…
They kiss for hours after, intertwined under the covers. Since then, Hyunjin's large hands have explored the entirety of his body, worshipped every inch of naked skin until it bloomed raw red. In return, he's gifted lines of red up and down the man's back, the kind that sting to the touch but mark Hyunjin as his.
"I meant what I said," Hyunjin whispers. "About loving you, I mean."
For a second, Yongbok simply stares. Then his lower lip begins to wobble, all of its own accord. Hyunjin, ever so perceptive, catches the movement in the blink of an eye. "C'mon. Don't cry."
"I'm not crying."
"You are." A thumb dips into the corner of his eye, catching the tear that slips unluckily through the cracks. "Cry baby."
"Shut up." Yongbok blinks, and promptly regrets it when his tears seep into the pillowcase underneath.
"I won't. You're pretty when you cry, Yongbok-ah. A sick part of me makes me wanna see it more often."
The honest confession makes him laugh through a cry, wiping haphazardly at his face. He feels Hyunjin rolling onto his back, drawing him in close, pulling him onto his bare chest. His jerky motions are lulled by an anchoring heartbeat. His hiccupping breaths even out.
"I love you."
This time, Yongbok feels all of it, reverberating against his ear. Echoing in his head, lingering in the deepest crevices of his body.
"I love you too."