Chapter Text
The apartment was still in the early morning hush. Soft light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets, where Namping stirred, still lost in the lingering heat of the night.
He reached out instinctively, his fingertips meeting only empty space. A sleepy frown creased his brow as Namping cracked one eye open. The other side of the bed was already cool.
He yawned, his hair a fluffy mess and his mind still swimming in the hazy memory of last night — the kisses against the wall, the whispered words between intertwined limbs, the way Keng had held him like he was a fever he couldn't get enough of. Because in a way, he had been. Just a few days apart always felt like an eternity.
Namping pushed himself up, and the hoodie he wore — Keng’s hoodie, slipped off one shoulder. He stretched, his naked legs tangling with the sheets, before padding barefoot down the quiet hallway.
Namping called out softly, "P’Keng?"
A soft sound of running water and a familiar, low, off-key hum came from behind the bathroom door. Namping leaned on the doorframe, a slow smile gracing his lips at the sight.
Keng stood before the mirror, his messy hair damp at the ends. His head was tilted in concentration as he tried to cut his own hair. His tattoos peeked from behind his sleeveless shirt, and his grey sweats hung low on his hips
“Morning,” Namping mumbled, voice raspy.
Keng’s head snapped up, and his smile appeared instantly, a natural reflex.
"Morning," he said, his voice husky with sleep. "Did I wake you?"
"You weren’t in bed," Namping said, rubbing his eye. “Cutting hair?”
Keng chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "I was going to get it done before you woke up."
Namping walked over, his steps slow, still half-asleep. He stopped directly behind Keng, his arms sliding around his waist. "Let me do it."
Keng's breath hitched. “What—cut my hair?”
“Mhm.” Namping reached for the scissors, a mischievous curl to his lips. “Sit.”
“You sure you’re awake enough not to kill me?”
“No promises but you should take off your shirt if you don't want me to mess up that expensive shirt you just bought."
When he turned back, Keng had already taken off his shirt. Namping bit his lower lip, his gaze sweeping over the tanned skin and the few tattoos. They were still as breathtaking as the first time he’d seen them — so much that his throat tightened, his chest aching at how distracting they were.
He walked around Keng, a pair of scissors in one hand and a black comb in the other before starting to cut.
Keng closed his eyes, and a sudden memory flashed in his mind. "This reminds me of when we first started dating." He chuckled before adding, "You really scratched my face up so badly my manager thought you'd hit me."
Namping slapped his shoulder lightly. "But you were the one who always begged me to cut your hair anyway!"
"That's because I was crazy about you, and you looked so damn cute trying to concentrate on cutting my hair." Namping could feel his cheeks heating up at the words.
"So you mean I'm not cute anymore?"
"Now you're adorable," the hand that was on his thigh slowly moved up and landed on Namping's waist, "and incredibly hot."
With a soft sigh, Namping blew the fallen strands off his lover’s face and whispered, “Done.”
Keng didn't even pay attention to his hair but immediately pulled Namping into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. "But I want you to kiss me right now."
It took Namping by surprise — He really was a cheesy boy when no one was around. Despite the thought he still leaned down to peck at the pouting lips, "Here?" Keng shook his head, jutting his chin up, demanding more. Namping cupped the older man’s face and pulled him down, leaving a longer kiss this time.
When he pulled back, he frowned, stroking the stubble on Keng's jaw. "You need to shave too."
“Now?” Keng let out a low growl as Namping slipped from his grasp for the second time, watching the younger man reach for the can of shaving cream.
He gave a hum of pure satisfaction as Namping sat back on his lap. “Okay. Just don’t slit my throat. I have fans to impress.” He placed his hands on Namping’s waist.
Namping rolled his eyes but nodded, applying a dab of shaving cream to his lover's face. “Your fans are already obsessed. You could show up bald and toothless and they’d still cry.”
Keng grinned. “You jealous?”
“No. I have you all to myself. So let them cry.”
“Now hold still,” Namping whispered, and began.
His touch was surprisingly gentle, dragging the razor along Keng’s jaw with deliberate care. Keng watched him through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized. Every now and then, Namping would frown in concentration, or the tip of his tongue would peek out. His hand remained glued to the hoodie hugging his waist, sliding down a little, his fingers sneaking inside the fabric to feel the soft, warm skin underneath.
And all Keng could think was how beautiful he was—God, he’s so beautiful.
Namping gasped at the sudden intrusion. "What are you doing?" Keng hissed at the movement, which, though unintentional, rubbed against a place it shouldn't have, and he could feel something hot pooling in his gut.
"Stop moving, Ping—" He shifted, his body tightening.
The smaller man frowned at him. "Don't do weird things while I'm trying to shave you. You could get hurt you know!"
But Keng couldn't help but caress the skin on Namping's waist again with his fingers, his hand moving inside the hoodie. This time, Namping didn't seem to mind the intrusion. Or maybe he had given up because he was so focused on his task.
“How was the tour?” Namping asked, still shaving.
“Loud. Exhausting. Worth it.” Keng’s voice softened. “But I missed you like hell.”
Namping didn’t reply immediately. He simply leaned in and kissed his clean-shaven cheek.
Keng smiled, wrapping his arms around Namping’s waist lightly. “The guys teased me. Said I was clingy. That I kept checking my phone every hour.”
“You are clingy.”
“You like it.”
“I do.”
The hand on his waist tightened, Keng's fingers digging deeper into his warm flesh. Namping gasped, startled by the pressure. "Wh-…"
Keng groaned, pulling his lover closer until their foreheads touched. He sighed, his jaw still tight as he buried his face in the soft fabric and warmth. "I can't... God, Ping—" Keng grumbled as Namping squirmed in his arms, perhaps trying to pull away. "You need to stop moving or I won't be able to control myself."
Meanwhile Namping felt a hard, insistent pressure against his butt. He glanced down, a jolt of arousal shooting through him as he realized Keng was struggling with his own desire. The fact that Namping was only wearing a thin pair of shorts suddenly felt like a very bad idea.
"Ping—" Keng groaned, choked up. He quickly leaned back to look at Namping, whose eyes were half-lidded. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "D-do you want to go to the bedroom baby?"
Namping shook his head, leaning down to place a kiss on Keng's lips. He mumbled against his mouth, "Here is fine."
Keng quickly put a hand behind his head and kissed their lips again, a deeper kiss this time. Namping grumbled, a little surprised, but he quickly fell into the rhythm, kissing Keng back as fiercely as he could. Namping moaned when he felt Keng's tongue invade his mouth and sweep across his palate.
It was messy, always messy but it still felt incredible because Keng always held onto Namping's waist as if he was about to disappear, and Namping always clung to the taller man's shoulders. This time, nothing was different.
The kiss deepened, becoming a desperate exchange of breath and need. Namping's soft moans were devoured by Keng’s hungry mouth, each sound only fueling the fire between them. Keng’s tongue traced the sensitive line of Namping's upper palate, a slow, deliberate torment that sent a shiver down Namping’s spine and made his fingers tighten in Keng’s thick hair. Namping’s hips began to move of their own accord, a rhythmic, grinding motion against Keng’s thigh that drew a low, guttural groan from his lover. Keng didn't break the kiss, but his grip on Namping's waist tightened to the point of being a vice, a silent command to stop the motion that was driving him over the edge. Namping knew what he was doing, and his own moan was a response of pure defiance and pleasure.
Keng tightened his grip on Namping's waist, pulling him in closer, their bodies fitting together in a way that felt both familiar and brand new. There wasn't much going through his head, only the intoxicating sight of Namping. He was a breathtaking vision of soft chaos—with his swollen, pink lips, his eyes and eyebrows tightly knit together in concentration, and the faint moans he couldn't hold back. Each detail was a hook, pulling Keng deeper and making his heart ache with a fierce, possessive kind of love. Keng knew he was in too deep, lost in a way he never wanted to find his way out of.
written by s