Compass and Boat

by CharisMoon

Summary:

A week in Italy: just the two of them, one double bed, and years of unspoken feelings hanging in the salt air.

Notes:

I had a reader request to write TenYang in Italy ... so here is my take on it.

Hope you enjoy and as always please drop a comment and kudos if you enjoy this as they inspire me to keep going. 🥹🥰

Compass and Boat

 

The sixth night of their trip to Italy came quickly. Yangyang lay awake in the hotel room overlooking the ocean, the balcony doors cracked open just enough to let the sound of the waves seep in. Positano breathed outside, water lapping against the rocks, distant voices floating up from somewhere far below. The air smelled faintly of salt and freshness. Everything felt soft, intimate, unreal.

He stared at the ceiling, eyes burning with exhaustion that refused to turn into sleep. When Ten had suggested Italy, just the two of them. “A honeymoon?” he’d joked, light and careless, like the word didn’t land directly between them, Yangyang had looked shocked, but Ten had smiled, that familiar slow smile that always felt like a secret, and shrugged it off like it was nothing. Like it didn’t mean anything at all - Yangyang had let himself believe it meant something anyway, because how could he not?

 

Italy, especially Positano, was romance carved into stone and sea. Narrow paths winding down cliffs, sunsets spilling gold across the water, balconies meant for lingering touches and quiet confessions. It wasn’t a place you came to to run from feelings. It was a place you came to finally name them.

Years of almosts had taught Yangyang to be cautious, but hope still found him.

From the beginning, Ten had been constant in his life. Flirty, teasing, infuriatingly attentive. Their friendship had formed fast and strong, like something inevitable. Late nights after practice, shared jokes no one else understood, Ten’s hand always finding Yangyang’s back in crowded spaces, grounding him without asking.

Back then, Yangyang had been too young. Too unsure. Still trying to understand himself, still afraid of what it might mean if the feelings he had for Ten were real, were more than friendship. Ten had known anyway. Not in a way that pressured him, just quietly, patiently, like he was willing to wait.

When Yangyang had finally been ready to say it out loud - that he liked men, that his feelings for Ten were more than friendship, they’d talked for hours. Carefully. Honestly. Painfully. They’d acknowledged it, but then they had decided to bury it for the sake of their friendship, for the group, for their careers. They had decided that they just had too much to lose.

So they’d stayed platonic, even as the tension never quite disappeared. Even as it hummed between them constantly, something alive and dangerous.

Yangyang continued to shift in the double bed he was sharing with Ten, the sheets were cool against his skin. His mind raced, thinking about the last few years.

He thought about the guy he dated a few years ago, Ye-jun, a male idol from another group and how quickly Ten’s behavior had changed. Sharper jokes. Tighter smiles. Jealousy so obvious it almost hurt to look at.

Yangyang had felt guilty then. Confused. Torn between wanting to protect Ten and wanting to protect himself. And then that relationship had ended, their schedules never matched up and if he was honest the chemistry just wasn’t there for Yangyang.

Not long after, Ten had started seeing someone too, a male actor and Yangyang had learned what jealousy really felt like. The hollow ache. The way he’d forced himself to smile because Ten looked happy, and that was supposed to be enough. It hadn’t been. But now that relationship was over as well. The breakup had been mutual, clean and adult. And Ten had not seemed upset about it.

And then there was Italy. Yangyang had thought or hoped that this trip meant something. That Ten was finally ready to stop pretending. That the years of circling each other would finally resolve into something real.

Instead, Ten saved everything for the camera. During the day, when the vlog cameras were running, Ten was fearless. Hands on Yangyang’s waist. Fingers laced briefly with his. Murmured teasing meant to make fans scream. Flirty jokes delivered with a smile that felt too intimate to be fake.

Yangyang played along. Smiled. Leaned in, then pushed Ten away, embarrassed, like he usually did in public. But every time, his heart betrayed him.

But then the moment the camera shut off, Ten pulled back. He wasn't cold, but just careful. There were no lingering touches in the quiet. No stolen kisses on the balcony at night. No acknowledgment of the way the air between them crackled when they were alone.

Yangyang turned onto his side, facing the balcony, watching moonlight ripple across the surface of the sea. Maybe he’d imagined the quiet promise he’d thought Italy was. Maybe Ten was content to live in the in-between forever - close enough to want, never close enough to risk.

The thought hurt more than Yangyang wanted to admit, because the truth was simple, even if everything else was complicated he was tired of pretending he didn’t want Ten. Tired of swallowing feelings that refused to disappear. Tired of lying awake in this beautiful place, listening to the ocean and wishing the person in the next bed to him would finally choose him.

Outside, Positano slept but inside, Yangyang stayed awake, pining, the sound of the waves marking time as he waited for something that might never come.

Ten slept beside him, turned slightly onto his back, one arm flung loosely above his head. His face was relaxed in sleep, lashes dark against his skin, mouth softened in a way Yangyang rarely got to see. In the moonlight filtering in from the balcony, he looked impossibly beautiful.

What a man he was, the thought made Yangyang ache. Maybe Yangyang didn’t deserve him, maybe Ten knew that.

Maybe that was why Ten’s past lovers had all been older - more experienced, more certain, more solid. People who knew who they were and what they wanted. People who didn’t still feel like a boy pretending to be a grown man.

Maybe Yangyang was still just that to him, a silly boy. The sting behind Yangyang’s eyes grew unbearable. He pressed his lips together, breathing carefully, terrified of letting even a single sound escape. He was so deeply, hopelessly in love with Ten it frightened him.

Why doesn’t he love me back? Why does he give me this, but never more?

A sharp sting pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts - his wrist. Yangyang lifted it slightly, careful not to move too much, and stared at the fresh tattoo there. The skin was still tender, still sensitive beneath his fingers.

He’d wanted another tattoo for months, and when Ten had suggested he get one here - something to remember the trip - it had felt perfect. Like another sign. Ten had taken it seriously too, researching local artists, scrolling through Instagram late at night, showing Yangyang portfolios and asking what he liked.

He’d found the place, booked the appointment, and of course gone with him. At the studio, Yangyang had shown the artist the tattoos Ten had, the styles he admired. He’d explained what he wanted in clumsy words - something about direction, about feeling lost sometimes, needing guidance.

The artist had listened quietly, and then he’d drawn the perfect design. A compass - something to help him find his way and Yangyang had loved it instantly.

On impulse, Ten had decided to get one too. Nothing elaborate, just a small, simple abstract boat. A memory, he’d said, of the boats they saw every morning from their hotel room, drifting endlessly across the water. They’d gone back to their room together afterward, arms sore, riding that giddy, intimate high of shared pain and shared meaning.

Later, over pasta with Yangyang’s sister and her friend, Ten had explained his interpretation of the tattoos' meanings casually.

“My tattoo’s a boat,” he’d said, smiling. “And Yangyang’s is the light.”

Yangyang’s breath had caught.

“So we’ll always find our way to each other,” Ten had added easily, like it was obvious.

Tears had pricked at Yangyang’s eyes.

Overwhelmed, exposed, he’d blurted out, “No, no, that’s not it,” instinctively deflecting, afraid of how much it meant to him.

But the sentiment had stayed lodged deep in his chest.

And then, just like everything else on this trip, it had slipped away. Forgotten. Brushed past. Reduced to laughter and conversation moving on.

Was it just a joke? A pretty comment that meant nothing once the moment passed? Yangyang swallowed hard, his fingers curling slightly over his wrist. The compass stared back at him, inked permanently into his skin.

He wondered, miserably, if Ten had already found his way and if Yangyang was still standing here, turning in slow circles, lost.

Beside him, Ten slept on, unaware, but Yangyang lay awake in the dark, loving him quietly, painfully, afraid that the thing he wanted most was something he was never meant to have.

Eventually, exhaustion won. Yangyang didn’t remember drifting off, only the moment when his thoughts loosened their grip and the sound of the ocean blurred into something softer, dreamlike.

When he woke again, it was to a low, familiar sound — Ten humming.

The bathroom door was open just enough for steam to slip out, carrying the faint scent of soap. Ten’s voice was quiet, absentminded, the kind of humming that meant he was relaxed and at ease.

Yangyang lay still for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling, then reached for his phone - 11:03 a.m. He stared at the screen, surprised. They’d slept late, like really late. For the first time all trip, his body felt rested instead of wrung out.

Maybe that was it, he thought groggily. Maybe he’d just been overtired last night. Too many feelings piling up with nowhere to go. Too many long days, too little sleep. Maybe in the dark everything had just felt heavier than it really was.

The humming stopped and Ten came out of the bathroom wearing only his boxers, hair damp, skin still flushed from the shower.

Sunlight from the balcony caught on him unfairly, outlining his shoulders, the easy confidence of his body, the quiet familiarity of sharing a space like this. Yangyang’s breath hitched before he could stop it.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Ten said casually, smiling at him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Yangyang’s face warmed instantly. “Morning.”

“Man,” Ten added, stretching slightly, completely unbothered by his near-nakedness, “we slept late. Guess we really needed it, huh?”

“Yeah,” Yangyang said, voice a little soft. “I guess we did.”

Ten moved around the room easily, grabbing clothes, opening the balcony doors wider. The ocean flooded in - light, sound, blue everywhere. It felt like a reset.

They got ready without rushing. No camera yet. Just quiet music from Ten’s phone, the shared mirror space, the easy rhythm they’d always had together. Yangyang found himself relaxing despite everything, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a little.

Once Yangyang was showered and dressed he stepped out onto the balcony, still wowed by the view. The ocean stretched endlessly below, impossibly blue, darkening where it met the cliffs and brightening where the light caught it just right. Boats drifted lazily across the water. Somewhere below, waves broke steadily against rock.

Ten was already there, leaning against the railing, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. The camera was on, and Ten was busy vlogging already.

As Yangyang approached, Ten's hand slid easily to his waist, pulling him close without hesitation. “This view,” Ten said, voice smooth and playful for the vlog, “is perfect! Don’t you think?”

Yangyang laughed softly, leaning in like it was natural, like it didn’t make his heart race. He nodded, smiled, let Ten stay close because fans expected it, because it felt too good not to.

Ten murmured something teasing in his ear, just low enough to sound intimate. Yangyang reacted perfectly. He always did.

When the camera clicked off, the moment vanished. Ten stepped back first, only a half-step, but Yangyang felt it anyway. The breeze rushed into the space between them, cool and sharp. Ten adjusted his sweater, glanced out at the water, then down at his phone like he needed something else to focus on.

Yangyang stayed where he was, skin still warm where Ten had touched him. “Let's go eat”, Ten said softly.

 

They walked the narrow cliffside paths together, pastel buildings stacked above them, laundry fluttering in the wind. Couples passed by openly holding hands, laughing, unafraid. Yangyang watched them longer than he should have.

They stopped at a lower overlook, the ocean louder here, salt thick in the air. Ten rested his arms on the railing, relaxed, thoughtful.

“This place is so beautiful,” Ten said quietly.

Yangyang swallowed. “Yeah.”

The silence stretched.

Yangyang wanted to ask why Ten only touched him when the world was watching. Wanted to ask if the honeymoon joke had meant anything. Wanted to ask if there was still an us hiding under all their caution. But as usual he said nothing.

The sea glittered endlessly in front of them and Yangyang stood beside Ten, close but never quite close enough, pining quietly.

The trip blurred together when Yangyang tried to think about it all at once.

Six days of moments that felt too deliberate to be accidental, too intimate to be meaningless.

Rome had been the beginning. Ten had taken him to a park, sunlight filtering through the trees, the air warm and slow. A boating lake sat at the center of it, calm and impossibly romantic. The kind of place couples chose on purpose. Ten had rented a small boat without hesitation, rolling up his sleeves, insisting on rowing while Yangyang sat opposite him.

They’d been surrounded by couples with their hands intertwined, the lake full of soft laughter. Cameras angled just right for memories.

Ten had started laughing when they realised that the Titanic theme tune was playing from the speakers next to the lake, dramatically at first, then softer. The moment had been ridiculous and unbearably tender all at once.

Yangyang had laughed, face burning from embarrassment but heart racing all the same, unsure where to look. And it had all been filmed. He’d felt flustered, painfully aware of how exposed he was, how easily Ten could make him unravel with a smile and a song.

Then the next day they’d driven south. Positano had unfolded like a postcard when they arrived, cliffs and color and sea. Waiting there had been Yangyang’s sister, arms open, smile bright. Ten had slipped into the moment seamlessly, charming her instantly, teasing Yangyang openly, touching his arm, leaning close, saying things that made Yangyang stammer and flush.

His sister and her friend had noticed immediately. They’d teased him mercilessly, trading looks, laughing when Yangyang tried to deflect. Ten hadn’t helped. If anything, he leaned into it, smiling knowingly, flirting without restraint.

At one point, his sister had pulled Yangyang aside, expression gentle but curious and asked.

“Are you two together now?”

Yangyang had shaken his head, words catching in his throat. “No.”

She’d looked genuinely surprised. The look had stayed with him longer than he wanted to admit.

The next day, they’d rented Vespas. Yangyang had climbed on behind Ten, hands hovering awkwardly at first, unsure where to put them. The road wound along the cliff, the drop dizzying, the sea far too close.

“Hold on tighter,” Ten had told him over his shoulder, voice steady, warm. “Around my waist.”

Yangyang had hesitated, but then, as always, had obeyed. His arms wrapped around Ten, chest pressed to his back, the vibration of the engine humming through them both. Fear melted into something softer, something heady and dangerous. Ten had laughed, pleased, speeding up just enough to make Yangyang cling a little more.

He’d loved it. And Ten had seemed to love it too.

Then there was the yacht. White and gleaming against the blue, sun overhead, the air thick with salt and heat. At one point, Ten had encouraged Yangyang to take his shirt off, camera already in hand, voice low and coaxing.

“Just try,” he’d said. “The photos will look incredible.”

Yangyang had been embarrassed, painfully aware of his body, of the attention but he’d done it anyway. He’d posed awkwardly at first, then more confidently as Ten kept praising him, voice sincere, eyes dark behind his sunglasses.

“Gorgeous.”

“So sexy.”

“I love this.”

The words had soaked into Yangyang, warming something deep inside him. He’d pretended it was just playful, just content but the truth was, he’d wanted that attention more than he should have.

The next day in town, the jokes had tipped into something sharper. They’d been laughing about Ten buying a house in Positano, about staying forever, when Ten had turned to Yangyang - on camera, in front of his sister - and said casually, like it was obvious:

“And then I’m gonna propose to you.”

Yangyang had panicked.

“Gay marriage isn’t allowed in Italy,” he’d blurted out, mortified and was immediately grateful no one questioned how he knew that.

Ten hadn’t missed a beat.

“Well,” he’d said lightly, smiling, “we’ll just have to do it somewhere else then.”

His sister had laughed. Ten had laughed. Yangyang had stood there, heart hammering, wondering if he was the only one taking it seriously.

Even the cooking class hadn’t been safe. Ten hovered close, guiding his hands as they made pasta, watching him with an attention so focused it made Yangyang dizzy. The host kept glancing between them, curiosity obvious, like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

Yangyang had felt seen by Ten, chosen, and he was addicted to that feeling. Six days of Ten’s undivided attention. Of being the center of his focus, his teasing, his care had softened something in Yangyang he wasn’t sure he could harden again. He could get used to this so easily and that thought scared him most of all.

Because last night, lying awake in bed, with only one more full day left, Yangyang hadn’t known how he was supposed to go back to normal.

He didn’t know how he was supposed to stop wanting more. Didn’t know what it would do to him if this, all of it, ended without answers.

When Yangyang had first seen the booking, something warm and reckless had bloomed in his chest. The romantic locations, the sort of places couples went. One shared room, one double bed. He had thought it all seemed too deliberate to be coincidence. It all carried the faint, unmistakable vibe of romance. As if the trip itself had been designed to blur lines, to invite late nights and closeness that lingered too long.

He’d assumed, stupidly and hopefully that it was on purpose. That Ten had chosen places meant to feel intimate, had booked them with closeness and romance in mind. That he wanted Yangyang beside him, that he wanted this - wanted him - wanted more!

Yangyang was broken from his thoughts by Ten saying, “Let’s just do something chill today,” slipping on his sunglasses.

“Light lunch first, yeah? Then we can just go to the beach and do absolutely nothing.”

Yangyang shut down his spiraling thoughts and smiled, genuinely. “That sounds perfect.”

And for a moment, walking out into the bright Positano sun, the ocean waiting below Yangyang let himself believe that maybe today could be simple. Maybe last night had just been the exhaustion talking. Maybe he didn’t need answers yet.

They found a small place tucked just off the main path, shaded by canvas awnings, the kind of restaurant that felt like it had been there forever. The food was simple and perfect. Fresh bread, seafood and creamy pasta and Ten was full of smiles, bright and open in a way that made Yangyang’s chest ache.

“I swear,” Ten said at one point, gesturing vaguely with his fork, “this has been the best trip of my life.”

Yangyang looked at him, caught off guard. “Really?”

Ten nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. No schedules, no rushing. Just…us. I didn’t know how much I needed this.”

Yangyang smiled, soft and genuine. “I’ve loved it too.”

That was an understatement. Ten was his world, had been for years, and this uninterrupted stretch of time together felt precious in a way Yangyang didn’t have the words for. Every shared meal, every walk, every quiet moment felt irreplaceable, something he wanted to hold onto long after they left.

After lunch, they headed down to the beach. The sun was warm, the sky impossibly blue, but the air carried a chill that Yangyang noticed immediately. Ten, of course, ignored it completely.

“I’m going in,” Ten announced, already toeing off his shoes.

Yangyang laughed. “It’s freezing.”

“That’s part of the fun.”

Ten didn’t wait for him, stripping off his shirt and jogging straight toward the water. Yangyang followed more cautiously, wincing the moment the waves hit his legs. Cold shot up his calves, stealing his breath.

“This is insane,” he said, teeth already chattering.

Ten splashed farther out, laughing, clearly enjoying himself far too much. Yangyang tried to stay with him, but within minutes he’d had enough. He retreated quickly, grabbing a towel and wrapping himself up tightly on a sun lounger, shivering uncontrollably.

Ten noticed immediately.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, coming out of the water, hair dripping, eyes bright. “You look tragic.”

“I am tragic,” Yangyang muttered, nose pink, arms clutched tight around himself.

Ten dropped his towel beside him and crouched slightly. “Take your swim top off. You’re gonna freeze like that.”

Yangyang hesitated, then stood up and obeyed, tugging the wet fabric over his head. The cool air hit his skin and he hissed softly.

Ten’s laughter softened into something else. He looked at Yangyang openly. Not quick or careless, but slow, appreciative. His gaze lingered, warm and unmistakable.

“Wow,” Ten said quietly, then louder, smiling. “You’ve been working out, huh? You look really good.”

Yangyang’s face flushed instantly. He ducked his head, embarrassed, but his heart soared all the same. Being seen like this, praised, wanted, sent a thrill straight through him.

“Stop,” he murmured, even as a shy smile betrayed him.

Ten just grinned, clearly pleased with the reaction, and angled the camera slightly, capturing Yangyang wrapped in a towel, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

“Fans are gonna lose it,” Ten teased.

Yangyang hid his face for a second, laughing softly, warmth blooming in his chest despite the cold. Shy - confused - thrilled. All at once and entirely because of Ten.

Eventually, even Ten had to admit defeat.

“Okay,” he said, teeth chattering slightly now that the adrenaline had worn off, laughing at himself. “It might actually be too cold.”

Yangyang shot him a look from inside his towel cocoon. “I told you.”

They packed up and headed back to the hotel, both of them quieter now, the day settling into something gentler. Back in the room, they took turns showering off the beach, steam fogging up the bathroom mirror, the sound of the ocean never far away.

By the time it was Yangyang’s turn, the chill had finally sunk deep into his bones, and he stood under the hot water longer than necessary, letting it thaw him out completely.

When he came back out, warm and relaxed again, Ten was sitting on the edge of the bed, hair damp, scrolling idly on his phone.

“Better?” Ten asked.

“Much,” Yangyang said, smiling.

They changed into comfortable clothes and stepped out onto the balcony together as the afternoon began to fade. The sun hung low over the horizon, casting the ocean in molten gold. The water caught the light in long, shimmering paths that seemed to lead straight to them.

This was it, their last sunset in Positano.

Ten leaned against the railing, quiet for once, just watching. After a moment, he reached for the vlog camera, hesitating slightly before turning it on.

“Alright,” he said, voice softer than usual. “Last one.”

They sat side by side, close enough that their arms brushed, the camera propped up to catch both of them. Ten talked first, thanking fans for coming along with them, for supporting them, for letting them share something that had meant more than he’d expected.

Yangyang listened, nodding, throat tight. When it was his turn, he spoke more slowly. About how beautiful Italy was. How special it had been to experience it like this. How grateful he was.

His voice wavered despite his best efforts. They both laughed it off, blinking a little too much, joking about being emotional. But it was obvious, this trip had sunk deep into them both. It had been amazing in a way that felt rare and fleeting.

As the sun dipped fully below the horizon, the sky blushed pink and then deepened into purple, the ocean darkening beneath it, Yangyang felt that familiar ache return.

One night left. One last chance to hold onto this feeling.

Ten turned off the camera. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, watching the light disappear, letting the weight of the ending settle between them.

“It really was a good trip,” Ten said quietly.

Yangyang nodded, eyes shining. “Yeah. It really was.”

 

Ten had booked one last dinner. They dressed carefully for it. Yangyang took longer than usual, standing in front of the mirror, smoothing his clothes, trying to calm the tight feeling in his chest. Tonight mattered, even if he didn’t know why yet. When they finally stepped out together, Positano felt quieter than it had all week.

The restaurant sat right on the edge of the water, lanterns glowing softly, tables spaced just far enough apart to feel private. The ocean stretched out in front of them, black and endless now, moonlight flickering across its surface. It felt like a closing note for their trip.

Dinner was slow and indulgent. Fresh seafood, shared plates, glasses of wine that kept being refilled before Yangyang really noticed. Ten was relaxed, talkative, leaning in close as he spoke, eyes bright. The kind of happy that made Yangyang’s heart ache.

At one point, Yangyang considered it, saying something - saying anything!

The words hovered right there...I love you, or even just what are we...? But fear crept in immediately. What if Ten didn’t want to hear it? What if it made everything awkward or changed the way Ten looked at him? Worse - what if it tainted this perfect thing they’d shared?

He couldn’t bear that, so he swallowed it down.

When Ten noticed his quiet, the concern in his eyes was immediate. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay? You’ve gone a bit quiet.”

Yangyang forced a smile. “Yeah. Just…sad it’s ending.”

Ten’s expression softened. “Me too.”

As the wine kept flowing, Ten grew bolder with every glass - his laughter louder, his touches lingering longer. He brushed Yangyang’s knee under the table. Let his fingers rest at his wrist when they talked. Each small thing sent sparks through Yangyang, equal parts joy and confusion.

After dinner, they walked along the beach one last time, shoes in hand, sand cool beneath their feet. The waves rolled in gently, the night air carrying the scent of salt.

Ten slipped an arm around Yangyang’s waist without asking, pulling him close like it was the most natural thing in the world. Yangyang leaned in automatically, heart pounding.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Ten said quietly, gaze fixed on the water. “And for putting up with all my bossiness.”

Yangyang laughed weakly. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Ten squeezed him, then turned slightly and pressed a light kiss to Yangyang’s cheek. It was quick....soft....devastating.

Yangyang froze, throat tight, emotions crashing into each other all at once. He wanted to cry. Wanted to laugh. Wanted to turn and kiss Ten properly, to finally cross the line and never look back - instead, he just walked.

Because what was he supposed to do? What was he to Ten, really - a friend, a muse, a convenient companion for a beautiful trip?

The ocean answered with silence, and Yangyang held his confusion close as they continued down the beach together, arm still around him, the night slipping away too fast.

They walked back to the hotel slowly, neither of them saying much, the wine still warm in Yangyang’s veins, the kiss on his cheek burning like a brand.

Back in the room, Ten kicked off his shoes and stretched. “Flight’s not till the evening tomorrow,” he said lightly, “so let’s not pack tonight.”

“Yeah,” Yangyang agreed quickly. Tomorrow felt far away. Manageable. Tonight was the problem.

“I’m gonna shower,” Yangyang said, too fast, already heading for the bathroom. “Just..get the sand off, like.”

“Go ahead,” Ten said easily.

The door closed behind him, and the moment the lock clicked, Yangyang’s composure shattered.

He leaned both hands against the sink, head bowed, chest tight like it was being crushed from the inside. His reflection stared back at him. Eyes too bright, mouth trembling despite his efforts to steady it.

He turned the shower on, more for the noise than the water, and stripped off his clothes quickly, letting the heat hit him, grounding him. His throat burned. His eyes stung.

He was so in love with Ten it hurt to breathe.

And this trip. This stupid, beautiful, devastating trip had convinced him it was finally going to be different. He had been so sure. The romance of it all. Rome. Positano. The shared beds. The way Ten had chosen him, focused on him, planned everything with such care. The fact that they were both single, both sure of themselves, finally aligned in time in a way they never had been before.

Yangyang had thought this was Ten’s way of saying it, of confessing, of choosing them. Now all that hope lay in pieces at his feet.

He pressed his palm to his mouth, choking back a sound, breathing hard until the ache dulled just enough to survive. He washed quickly, mechanically, eyes squeezed shut, refusing to let himself fall apart here. Not yet, not where Ten could hear.

By the time he stepped out, wrapped in a towel, his face was carefully neutral again. His heart, less so. As he emerged from the bathroom, Ten stood up from the bed.

“All yours,” Yangyang said softly.

Ten smiled. “Thanks.”

The bathroom door closed again almost immediately, the sound of the shower resuming.

Yangyang moved on autopilot. He pulled on his night clothes, hands shaking just slightly, and then slipped out onto the balcony like he needed air to survive.

Lights dotted the cliffs like constellations, warm and golden. Below, couples walked hand in hand along the paths, laughing quietly, stopping to kiss, leaning into each other without hesitation. The ocean reflected the moon, endless and indifferent.

Yangyang gripped the railing. He told himself not to cry, he really did. But the sights around him cracked something wide open inside him. A sob tore free before he could stop it. Then another. His shoulders shook as tears spilled down his cheeks, fast and uncontrollable.

He covered his mouth with his hand, panicked, trying desperately to be quiet. Not now...please, not now.

He dragged in breath after breath, but it only made it worse. The grief hit him all at once. The loss of what he’d hoped for, the fear that this was all he’d ever get from Ten, the unbearable thought of being just friends after this.

He bent forward, forehead resting against the cool metal railing, sobbing silently, body shaking. Ten could come out any second....any second. Yangyang tried, really tried, to pull himself together. But his heart was breaking, and for the first time all trip, he couldn’t hide it fast enough.

The bathroom door opened behind him.

Yangyang barely registered it at first, too caught in the effort of trying to breathe, to stop the tears that just kept coming. He wiped at his face uselessly, shoulders shaking, chest aching with every inhale.

“Yangyang?”

Ten’s voice cut through the night, sharp with alarm.

Yangyang stiffened. Panic flared. He tried desperately to pull it together, to swallow the sob still lodged in his throat. But it was too late, Ten had already stepped onto the balcony.

He was wearing a robe hastily tied at the waist, hair still damp, concern written openly across his face the second he saw Yangyang bent over the railing, crying. Really crying. The kind Yangyang never did.

Ten’s heart dropped.

“Hey..hey,” he said urgently, crossing the space between them in two strides. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself? Yangyang, talk to me.”

Yangyang shook his head hard, breath hitching, but the sound that came out of him was broken, raw.

Ten didn’t wait for an answer.

He grabbed Yangyang gently but firmly, turning him away from the railing and pulling him straight into his arms. One hand came up to cradle the back of his head instinctively, the other wrapping around his shoulders, holding him close.

And that was it, Yangyang broke completely.

The moment he felt Ten’s arms around him, warm and solid and familiar, the last bit of control vanished. He clutched at the front of Ten’s robe and sobbed into his chest, body shaking violently, tears soaking into the fabric.

Ten froze for half a second, startled by the intensity, then tightened his hold.

“It’s okay,” he murmured urgently, voice low and steady even as panic churned in his chest. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe, yeah? I’m here.”

Yangyang nodded weakly against him, trying to speak, failing, then trying again.

“I-I’m not hurt,” he managed to get out between shaky breaths. “Nothing bad...nothing happened.”

Ten pulled back just enough to look at his face, thumbs brushing gently at Yangyang’s cheeks, wiping away tears without thinking. His eyes searched Yangyang’s frantically, scanning for injuries, for signs of something worse.

“Are you sure?” Ten asked quietly. “You scared me.”

Yangyang nodded again, more firmly this time. “I’m sorry. I just....I don’t know. I’m okay.”

Ten exhaled slowly, relief flooding through him so hard it made his hands tremble. He pressed his forehead briefly to Yangyang’s, grounding them both.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. Sit down. I’ll get you some water.”

He guided Yangyang to the chair on the balcony, easing him down like he was something fragile, then disappeared inside for a moment. Yangyang wrapped his arms around himself, still sniffling, trying to slow his breathing.

Ten was back almost immediately, pressing a cool bottle of water into his hands.

“Small sips,” Ten said gently. “That’s it.”

Yangyang did as he was told, hands shaking slightly as he drank. The water helped. So did Ten sitting beside him, close enough that their knees touched, one hand resting on Yangyang’s back in a way that was steady, grounding, unmistakably there.

Ten watched him carefully, worry still etched into his face.

“Whatever it is,” Ten said quietly after a moment, voice softer now, “you don’t have to go through it alone. Okay?”

Yangyang nodded, eyes still wet, heart aching worse than before because Ten’s care felt so real, so instinctive, it hurt in a completely different way.

And he wondered, not for the first time, whether this was what made loving Ten so unbearable. He held him like he mattered. Even when he didn’t love him the way Yangyang needed.

Ten noticed the shiver before Yangyang did.

“Hey,” he said softly, concern flaring again as he took Yangyang’s hands. They were cold. “You’re freezing.”

Yangyang barely had the strength to protest before Ten was guiding him back inside, the balcony doors sliding shut behind them, cutting off the night air. Ten sat him down on the couch, close, knees almost touching, and pulled a blanket over his shoulders like it was instinct.

Ten crouched in front of him, eyes searching his face, jaw tight with worry.

“Talk to me,” he said quietly. “Did something happen while I was in the shower?” Ten paused, then added. “Is it your family? Or someone from the group?”

Yangyang’s chest clenched. He knew he had to reassure him - had to say something safe. Normal. But whatever filter he usually had was gone.

“I...” His voice cracked immediately. He laughed weakly, breathless, unsteady. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, I just...I got emotional because I was thinking about someone I have feelings for.”

Ten stiffened.

Yangyang kept going because stopping now felt impossible. “I love someone,” he whispered. But they don’t love me back.”

For a split second, Ten looked stunned. Then hurt flashed across his face - sharp and unmistakable. Something dark followed it, was it jealousy, anger.....pain?

“Who?” Ten demanded before he could stop himself, then shook his head and swore under his breath. “No...it doesn’t matter. Whoever he is, he’s a fucking idiot.”

Yangyang blinked.

Ten’s voice was fierce now, raw. “Anyone who doesn’t love you back doesn’t deserve you. Do you have any idea how incredible you are? You’re kind, and beautiful, and stupidly talented. You’re....” He broke off, hands fisting at his sides. “...you’re perfect, Yangyang.”

That did it. Yangyang let out a broken, almost hysterical laugh, tears spilling over again as he shook his head. “God, you really are a fucking idiot.”

“What?” Ten snapped, confused, wounded.

Yangyang laughed again, half-sobbing now, heart hammering so hard it hurt. “Do you really not know?” He leaned forward, hands trembling. “Hyung...it’s you. Fucking hell, it’s you. Do you seriously not know that?”

Ten froze but Yangyang couldn’t stop anymore.

“I love you,” he said, voice breaking completely. “I am completely and helplessly in love with you. I always have been.” He sucked in a shaky breath, words tumbling out fast and desperate. “I know you don’t feel the same, I know, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin things, or make it awkward, or spoil the trip...”

“Yangyang...”

“I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore,” Yangyang cried. “I’m sorry if I ruined the vacation, I’m sorry if this changes everything..”

“Yangyang, shut up.”

The words were sharp, sudden. Before Yangyang could even process them, Ten grabbed him, hands on his face, firm, urgent and lunged forward.

Their mouths collided. Hard. Unmistakable. Real.

Ten kissed him like he’d been holding back for years, like something inside him had finally snapped. Yangyang gasped in shock, frozen for half a second, then melted, hands clutching at Ten’s robe as the kiss deepened, desperate and unrestrained.

It wasn’t careful and it wasn’t hesitant. It was everything Yangyang had been afraid to hope for.

Ten pulled back slowly, like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too fast.

His hands stayed on Yangyang’s face, thumbs warm against tear-damp skin, holding him there, anchoring him.

Ten searched his eyes intensely, like he was trying to relearn a familiar landscape under different light.

And Yangyang could see it now - the love. Unmistakable, raw, tangled with shock, confusion, and something that looked painfully close to regret.

“Yangyang.” Ten’s voice was rough, nothing like his teasing tone from earlier. “I didn’t know. I swear to you, I didn’t know.”

Yangyang’s breath trembled.

“I’m sorry,” Ten continued, words spilling out slower now, careful but urgent. “You always pull away first. You always have. Every time things got close, you’d be the one to step back. To laugh it off. To pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

Yangyang shook his head faintly, but Ten kept going, needing to say it.

“And then you moved away from me,” Ten said quietly. “You started dating that guy. And I thought…I thought that was you telling me you weren’t interested. Not like that. That you’d made your choice.”

His jaw tightened.

“So I tried to do the same. I tried to move on.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “But you saw how well that went.”

Yangyang swallowed hard, tears blurring his vision again.

“I couldn’t stop looking for you,” Ten admitted. “Couldn’t stop finding excuses to touch you, to sit next to you, to keep you close. Even when I told myself I shouldn’t.”

Yangyang’s voice came out small. “I thought…I thought it was just fan service.”

Ten laughed again, softer this time, but it broke something open between them.

“Fan service,” he echoed. “God.” He shook his head. “That was the only time I felt like I was allowed to do it. When there was a camera. When I could pretend it wasn’t real.”

His thumbs brushed Yangyang’s cheeks gently, reverently.

“I’m addicted to you,” Ten said simply. “To touching you. To being close to you. But off camera, I was terrified. Because if I crossed that line and you pulled away again…” He exhaled shakily. “I don’t think I could’ve survived that.”

Yangyang’s chest ached.

“All this time,” Ten whispered, eyes searching his desperately, “you wanted me too?”

Yangyang nodded, tears spilling freely now. “I always did.”

Ten stared at him like the world had just tilted.

“You mean...” He stopped, swallowed. “Even when I was with someone else?”

“Yes,” Yangyang said honestly. “Even then.”

“And here....in Italy?” Ten asked, voice barely above a breath. “All of this, it wasn't just me imagining it?”

Yangyang shook his head again. “I thought you brought me here to tell me.”

Ten let out a shaky sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Yangyang’s, eyes closed.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “We’re idiots.”

Yangyang laughed weakly through his tears. “The biggest.”

Ten pulled back just enough to look at him again, hands still cradling his face, like he couldn’t let go even for a second.

“All this time,” Ten said quietly, awe creeping into his voice, “we were both so scared of losing each other that we almost did.”

His thumb brushed over Yangyang’s lower lip unconsciously, and this time he didn’t stop himself.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” Ten said. “I don’t want cameras or excuses or safe moments.”

Yangyang’s heart pounded. Ten met his gaze fully, emotion bare and unguarded.

“I want you,” he said, finally, clearly.

Yangyang didn’t hesitate this time. The moment stretched, fragile and charged, and then he leaned in, slowly, still afraid Ten might pull away if he moved too fast. His hands came up, fingers curling into the soft fabric of Ten’s robe, grounding himself before he lost his nerve.

Their lips met gently at first. It wasn’t the desperate crash from before. This kiss was quieter - fuller. Years of restraint pressed into it, everything they’d swallowed down layered between them. Yangyang breathed Ten in, the faint scent of soap and wine and something unmistakably him, and his chest ached with how familiar it felt.

Ten made a sound in his throat, low and helpless, before kissing him back. He deepened it slowly, reverently, like he was learning Yangyang’s mouth. One hand slid into Yangyang’s hair, fingers tangling there, holding him close without forcing him closer - asking, not taking. Their lips moved together in a way that felt inevitable, like they’d always known how to fit together.

Yangyang kissed him like he’d been waiting his whole life. All the times he’d pulled away, all the nights he’d laid awake wanting this - it poured into the kiss. His hands tightened at Ten’s waist, trembling, and when Ten responded by pulling him closer, chest to chest, Yangyang almost broke from the relief of it.

They kissed like they’d been starved. Like they were afraid if they stopped, reality would rush back in and steal the moment away. Every brush of lips said I wanted this, every breath shared whispered I’m here.

When they finally parted, foreheads pressed together again, both of them breathless, shaken, undone - there was no doubt left between them. Only everything they’d been holding back.

Yangyang had never seen Ten look like that. Not on stage, not mid-performance with the lights low and the crowd screaming, not even in those moments when Ten knew exactly how to wield his charm like a weapon. This was different. Quieter. Darker. Intimate in a way that made Yangyang’s breath catch painfully in his chest.

Ten’s eyes held him, heavy-lidded and molten, all teasing stripped away, replaced with something deliberate and certain.

“Come to bed,” Ten said simply.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t flirtation for the camera - it was an invitation.

Ten stood up unhurried, crossing the room like he had all the time in the world. He stopped at the edge of the bed, fingers slipping easily to the tie of his robe. He let it fall open without ceremony, no embarrassment, no rush - just confidence.

Ten was naked underneath. He had always been shameless with his body, but this…this was intentional in a way that made Yangyang’s pulse spike.
Ten slipped under the covers, settling in like this was exactly where he belonged. Yangyang was still sat sideways on the couch, frozen, staring.

Ten glanced over at him, caught him openly gaping, and laughed - soft, low, affectionate.

“Well?” he said, eyes bright with mischief now. “You coming or what?”

The wink that followed nearly undid Yangyang entirely. He swallowed hard.

Suddenly hyper-aware of his own body, his oversized nightshirt, the shorts that now felt ridiculous, Yangyang fumbled his way forward. He stripped quickly, shy and clumsy in contrast to Ten’s ease - shirt off, shorts and underwear pushed down in one hurried motion - cheeks burning as he dove under the covers like he might combust if he lingered a second longer.

The bed dipped as Ten shifted closer. A hand brushed Yangyang’s arm, warm and sure.

Ten leaned in, voice low and fond, eyes roaming him without restraint now. “How can you...” he murmured “..be so adorable and so sexy at the same time?”

Yangyang felt his heart stutter. Ten gathered Yangyang into his arms as soon as he settled, pulling him close until Yangyang’s head fit naturally against his chest, like it had always belonged there. The sheets were warm, their bodies warmer still, the steady sound of the ocean threading through the quiet between them.

For a while, they just breathed. Yangyang listened to Ten’s heartbeat, fast and real, and felt his own slowly begin to match it. Ten’s hand moved in slow circles along Yangyang’s back, grounding rather than demanding.

“I’ve wanted this....” Ten said quietly, voice softer than Yangyang had ever heard it, “...for a long time.”
Yangyang tilted his head just enough to look up at him. “Me too.”

Ten exhaled, like he’d been holding that breath for years. “I hate that we kept hurting each other without meaning to. All the guessing. All the silence.”

“I was scared,” Yangyang admitted. “Of losing you. Of ruining everything.”

Ten nodded, pressing a kiss to Yangyang’s hair. “Same.”

Yangyang’s fingers curled into Ten’s side, tentative but trusting. “Can we promise something?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“No more guessing,” Yangyang said. “No more pretending we’re fine when we’re not. Even when it’s uncomfortable.”

Ten’s arm tightened around him. “I promise,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll tell you what I feel. I won’t hide it behind jokes or cameras.”

Yangyang swallowed, emotion thick in his throat. “And I won’t pull away without explaining. I won’t assume.”

They lay there, faces close, eyes heavy but awake, the weight of years finally lifting.

“It still feels risky though,” Yangyang murmured, “...for our friendship....for the group...for everything.”

Ten smiled softly, brushing his thumb over Yangyang’s cheek. “Yeah, it is...” he paused “...but still worth it,” Ten finished.

Yangyang smiled too, small but sure. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It really is.”

Ten kissed his forehead, slow and deliberate, and held him like he wasn’t planning to let go this time.

Yangyang shifted closer without thinking, and their lips met again. Slower this time, and deeper. The kiss unfolded naturally, unhurried, mouths parting as they breathed each other in. Ten’s hand slid to the back of Yangyang’s neck, steady and warm, guiding him closer with a certainty that made Yangyang’s knees feel weak.

Ten’s thumb brushed Yangyang’s jaw as he tilted his head, kissing him more fully, lingering like he was memorizing the moment. When Ten’s teeth caught Yangyang’s lower lip and pulled, gentle but deliberate, Yangyang moaned softly, the sound escaping him before he could stop it.

Ten pulled back just enough to breathe, eyes dark, voice rough.

“Yangyang…” He swallowed. “If you keep making sounds like that, I’m not going to be able to pretend I have any self-control.”

Yangyang’s cheeks burned, but he didn’t pull away. It felt inevitable now, like something that had been waiting patiently for years.

He pressed closer, heart racing, overwhelmed by how right it felt. Skin met skin, warm and bare, and as Ten drew him in tighter, bodies aligning, Yangyang suddenly became aware of it - the heat building low in his belly, the unmistakable throb between his legs. He was getting hard, fast, the ache sharp and sweet, blood rushing south until he strained against nothing.

Ten shifted again, hips rolling just slightly, and Yangyang felt it: the hot, rigid length of Ten’s erection brushing against his thigh.

“You’re hard,” Yangyang gasped against Ten’s mouth, voice breathless, both shocked and delighted.
Ten laughed, low, rough, fond, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “Of course I am,” he murmured, voice rough with want. “Yangyang, you have no idea how much I want you. You drive me insane.”

The words hit Yangyang like lightning, pooling low and urgent. “Let me have you,” Ten whispered, lips brushing his ear, breath hot against his skin. “Please.”

“Yes,” Yangyang breathed, the word tumbling out desperate and immediate. “Fuck, yes.”

They pressed even closer, bodies slotting together with a shared groan. Their cocks slid against each other - both hard and wet, trapped between their stomachs and the friction was electric. Yangyang’s hips jerked involuntarily, chasing it, the slick drag of skin on skin sending sparks up his spine. He felt like he might come just from this, the pressure building too fast, too good, his breath hitching in sharp little gasps.

Clumsy and aching with need, Yangyang kissed Ten again, messy and open-mouthed, whimpering softly into it as he rocked forward, seeking more.

The sounds he made were embarrassing and needy, but he couldn’t stop them; every slide of Ten’s length against his own pulled another broken noise from his throat.

He wanted to see. Wanted to touch. Yangyang pulled back just enough, chest heaving, eyes dark and pleading. “Can I...?” he started, voice trembling. “I want to look at you. Touch you.”

Ten’s eyes flared, dark and hungry. He didn’t answer with words, but instead he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow, and with deliberate slowness pulled the covers down between them.

The cool air rushed in, raising goosebumps on Yangyang’s skin, but then Ten was bared completely, sprawled back against the pillows, thighs parted just enough, cock curving up against his stomach.
Yangyang had never seen Ten like this. Not like this - open, unashamed, flushed with arousal, every inch of him on display in the soft moonlight spilling through the balcony doors. His skin glowed faintly, lean muscle shifting under smooth planes, the sharp cut of his hips leading down to...

Yangyang’s mouth went dry. Ten’s cock was beautiful - thick, flushed deep pink, curving slightly upward, the head slick and glistening. As Yangyang stared, transfixed, a fresh bead of precum welled at the tip, clear and obscene, then slowly slid down the shaft in a lazy trail that caught the light.

It was filthy. It was perfect. Yangyang’s own cock throbbed in response, leaking against the sheets, and he felt dizzy with how much he wanted.

Tentatively and reverently, Yangyang reached out. His finger brushed the head, and gathered warm slippery precum, spreading it in a slow circle over the sensitive tip.

Ten hissed sharply, head falling back against the pillow, throat exposed, hips twitching upward. “Fuck..”

“More?” Yangyang whispered, voice shaking with wonder and need.

Ten’s laugh was breathless, wrecked. “Please, yes...touch me.”

Yangyang tried to think what he liked, what felt good when he was alone and spat into his palm, the sound wet and intimate in the quiet room. He reached down again, fingers wrapping around Ten’s cock, encircling the hot, heavy length. The spit and precum mixed into slickness immediately, letting his hand glide smooth and easy as he started to stroke - slow at first, then firmer, twisting slightly over the head on every upstroke.

Ten’s reaction was instant.

“Fuck..fuck...” he groaned, voice breaking, hips bucking into Yangyang’s grip. “Oh my god, Yangyang..”

His abs tensed, thighs trembling, cock pulsing hot and alive in Yangyang’s hand. Every stroke pulled another ragged sound from Ten’s throat, his head thrown back, lips parted, completely undone. Yangyang watched, mesmerized, heart pounding, the wet sounds of his hand moving over Ten’s skin filling the room.

Ten’s breath stuttered, ragged and uneven, his hips rolling in small, helpless thrusts into Yangyang’s grip. Suddenly it wasn’t enough. Yangyang could feel it in the way Ten’s thighs tensed, the way his fingers dug into Yangyang’s arm like he was holding on for dear life.

As if he couldn’t take it anymore, Ten pushed up off the bed, strong and decisive. The covers were yanked away in one impatient motion and Ten threw a leg over Yangyang’s hips, straddling him in one fluid swing.

Yangyang gasped, startled, eyes wide, heart slamming against his ribs, but the surprise melted instantly when their bodies aligned again. Ten settled down, thighs bracketing his, and their cocks slid together, hot and slick, trapped between their stomachs. The friction was immediate and overwhelming.

Ten looked down at him, eyes blown dark, lips parted, chest rising fast. “Fuck, Yangyang...fuck,” he breathed, voice wrecked, reverent. “You’re so big.”

His hand moved between them, fingers wrapping around both their cocks, pressing them together side by side. Yangyang felt the heat of Ten’s length against his own. Ten’s cock throbbing, flushed and gorgeous, but his own was longer and thicker, just enough to make Ten’s breath catch, to make his eyes widen with raw hunger.

Ten stared down at where they were joined in his fist, awe flickering across his face, thumb sweeping over the head of Yangyang’s cock, like he couldn’t believe it. The difference wasn’t huge, but it was there. Enough to make Ten crave it, enough to make his hips twitch forward involuntarily.

He leaned down, mouth crashing into Yangyang’s in a kiss that was all heat and urgency. Tongues sliding, teeth grazing, breathless moans swallowed between them. Their bodies rocked together in slow, deliberate grinds, cocks rubbing slick and relentless, the wet drag sending sparks up Yangyang’s spine with every roll of Ten’s hips.

When Ten finally pulled back, sitting up again, chest glistening faintly with sweat, he looked down and froze.

Yangyang’s cock was soaked. Not just from spit or precum - there was a thick, glistening sheen coating the entire length, dripping down the shaft, pooling where their bodies met. It was obscene and filthy, the evidence of how desperately Yangyang wanted this.

Ten’s brows furrowed for a split second, confusion flickering. “Did you come?” he asked, voice low.

Yangyang shook his head frantically, cheeks burning, hips still shifting restlessly. “No...no..”

“Fuck, Yangyang,” Ten breathed, staring, transfixed. His thumb swiped through the mess, spreading it further, making Yangyang shudder. “Look how wet you are.”

“I just want you,” Yangyang whined, the words breaking out of him raw and pleading, like he couldn’t bear to wait another second. His hand moved without thinking - wrapping around both of them where Ten’s grip had loosened, fingers barely meeting around their combined thickness.

He set an urgent, desperate pace. Stroking fast, uncoordinated, slick sounds filling the room as his hand glided over both shafts, twisting clumsily over the heads. His hips bucked up into his own fist, chasing the pressure, the heat, the overwhelming slide of Ten’s cock against his.

Ten let him, then threw his head back with a broken gasp, throat exposed, hands braced on Yangyang’s chest as he surrendered completely. His thighs trembled, abs clenching with every frantic stroke, breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

Yangyang moaned, loud and unrestrained, the sound spilling out of him without shame. High, needy, broken noises that echoed off the walls, mingling with the wet slap of skin and the distant crash of waves outside. His whole body was wound tight, shaking, every nerve alight with the feel of Ten on top of him, the heat of their cocks pulsing together in his grip, the unbearable, perfect friction that was driving him out of his mind.

Ten’s control went first. His head was still thrown back, throat bared, the long line of it gleaming faintly with sweat in the lamplight. Every muscle in his thighs was pulled tight, trembling against Yangyang’s hips as he rode the frantic rhythm Yangyang set. The slick sounds of Yangyang’s hand - wet, fast and relentless - filled the room, mingling with Ten’s broken moans, higher now, edged with desperation.

“Yangyang...” Ten choked out, voice cracking. His abs clenched hard, cock pulsing wildly in Yangyang’s grip. “I’m..fuck, I’m...”

He didn’t finish. His hips snapped forward once, twice, and then he was coming - hard, sudden and beautiful. Thick pulses of cum spilled over Yangyang’s fist, streaking down his own shaft, painting his stomach and chest in hot, messy stripes.

Ten’s whole body shuddered violently, a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat as he rode it out, hips jerking helplessly into the tight circle of Yangyang’s fingers. His cock throbbed again and again, each spurt accompanied by a sharp gasp, his thighs clamping tighter around Yangyang’s sides like he was afraid to let go.

The sight of it and the feel of Ten coming undone above him, the warm wetness spreading over his skin, snapped something inside Yangyang.

He was already so close, teetering on the edge from the friction, the heat, the overwhelming reality of Ten losing himself like this. The moment Ten’s release slid over his cock, mixing with his own leaking mess, Yangyang’s breath caught on a high, desperate whine.

His hips bucked up hard, once, chasing the pressure, and then he was gone.

His orgasm crashed through him - sharp, blinding, unstoppable. His cock pulsed in his grip, thick ropes of cum shooting up between them, splattering Ten’s stomach, his chest, even reaching the underside of Ten’s jaw in one hot streak.

Yangyang’s entire body tried to arched off the bed, a loud, broken moan spilling from his lips as pleasure ripped through him in relentless waves. His thighs shook, toes curling into the sheets, every muscle locked tight as he spilled and spilled, the slick heat of their combined release making the slide between their bodies even wetter.
Ten watched him through half-lidded eyes, chest heaving, lips parted in awe as Yangyang fell apart beneath him. When the last shudder finally left Yangyang’s body, he collapsed back against the pillows, trembling, oversensitive, breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

They stayed like that. Ten still straddling him, both of them painted in each other, skin flushed and glistening, the air thick with the scent of salt and sex. Neither moved to separate. Neither wanted to.

“Wow,” Yangyang said, voice small and breathless, one hand flung over his eyes as if the sight of them both might be too much. “That was…well. That was something else.”

They were both still breathing hard, chests rising and falling in an uneven rhythm, skin flushed deep pink from collarbones to thighs. Satisfaction hummed low and lazy in Yangyang’s limbs, softening everything at the edges, but his heart still raced, thudding loud in his ears.

Ten laughed, low and fond, more than a little wrecked.
“One way to end a vacation, huh?”

He looked down the length of Yangyang’s body, eyes darkening again at the mess streaked across his chest and stomach - their combined release cooling slowly on their flushed skin. A slow, possessive smile curved his mouth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

Ten shifted, thighs still trembling faintly as he swung his leg back over Yangyang and stood up. His legs weren’t entirely steady; he had to catch himself on the edge of the bed for a second, laughing softly under his breath at his own unbalance.

He bent to snatch the towel he’d dropped on the floor earlier, still slightly damp from the shower and padded back to the bed.

Yangyang watched him, lazy and appreciative, eyes tracing the flex of Ten’s back, the shift of the muscles in his arms, the easy, unselfconscious way he moved naked in the lamplight.

God, he’s so hot, Yangyang thought, and felt the traitorous twitch of interest in his spent cock already, blood stirring again like it hadn’t just been wrung dry.

Ten knelt between Yangyang’s legs again, towel in hand, and started wiping him down with slow, careful strokes over his chest, his stomach, between his thighs. The fabric was cool against his skin, and Yangyang shivered, hips shifting involuntarily as Ten cleaned his cock with gentle thoroughness.

When Ten straightened to wipe himself down, dragging the towel over his own torso, Yangyang’s gaze followed greedily. Watching the slide of terrycloth over sharp collarbones, down the lean plane of his stomach, and over his now soft length.

Then Yangyang noticed it: a small streak of white just under Ten’s jaw, catching the light.
“Um,” he said, half-laughing already, cheeks warming. “Hyung…you’ve kinda got like some cum on your chin.”

Ten froze mid-wipe, eyes widening comically before he burst out laughing - bright, delighted, head tipping back. Yangyang joined him, the sound bubbling up helplessly and giddy between them.

Yangyang reached up without thinking, thumb brushing gently over the spot, wiping it away. His finger came away sticky, and Ten’s eyes darkened as he watched, something hungry flickering back to life.

Ten tossed the towel aside and leaned down slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on Yangyang’s as he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, lingering at the pulse point, then lower.

His lips brushed over one nipple, then the other, tongue flicking out just enough to make Yangyang gasp and arch. He continued down, tracing the line of Yangyang’s stomach, nosing at his sensitive skin still tingling.
When he reached Yangyang’s cock, which was already half-hard again, Ten paused, breath warm against it, watching it thicken further under his gaze.

Yangyang’s hands flew down instinctively, trying to cover himself, mortified at how quickly he was responding again.

“Hyung...”

“Don’t,” Ten murmured, voice low and soft. He caught Yangyang’s wrists gently, guiding them away and pinning them lightly to the sheets. “Baby…you’re gorgeous. Don’t ever hide from me.”

He kissed the sharp jut of Yangyang’s hipbone, then the soft skin of his inner thigh teasingly, before dragging his tongue in one long, slow lick up the underside of Yangyang’s cock, from base to tip.

Yangyang nearly short-circuited. His hips jerked hard off the bed, a sharp, broken “Fuck..oh fuck...” spilling from his lips as pleasure punched through him, hot and immediate. His cock filled completely under that single stroke, aching, leaking anew at the tip.

Ten pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes dark, lips wet, all beautiful devil and smiled like the cat that got the cream.

“We’re not done yet, are we?”

Yangyang whined, a desperate, needy sound he didn’t even try to hide and shook his head frantically.

“Please don’t stop.”

Ten leaned back down, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on Yangyang’s as his fingers wrapped around the base of Yangyang’s cock. He angled it toward his mouth, breath ghosting hot over the sensitive head, and then his tongue circled the tip in one slow, filthy swirl.
Yangyang was fucked. His hips jerked involuntarily again and a loud, broken moan tore out of him as Ten’s tongue flicked over the slit, pressing in just enough to taste the fresh bead of precum leaking there.

The sensation was sharp, electric, too much and not enough all at once. Yangyang’s cock twitched hard in Ten’s hand, throbbing against his palm, and he couldn’t control the sounds spilling from his throat - high, desperate, shameless.

Ten didn’t tease for long. He sank down, taking Yangyang fully into his mouth in one smooth slide, wet heat enveloping him, tight and perfect. He started sucking, bobbing up and down with steady rhythm, cheeks hollowing, tongue pressing flat against the underside on every upstroke.

Ten choke slightly when he tried to take more, throat fluttering around the head, and the vibration shot straight through Yangyang like lightning.
Ten pulled off with a wet pop, lips red and slick, smirking up at him.

“Fuck, Yangyang, you are big,” he said, voice hoarse, laughing breathlessly. “I can’t take you all down.”

“It’s good...it’s good, it’s okay,” Yangyang whimpered, hips still shifting restlessly, chasing the lost heat of Ten’s mouth.

Ten laughed again, low and fond.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going to stop.”

He didn’t. Instead he licked lower. Slow, deliberate stripes over Yangyang’s balls, sucking gently at the skin, tongue warm and wet and relentless. Yangyang’s legs fell open wider on instinct, wanton, thighs trembling as Ten moved even lower, tracing over his taint with the flat of his tongue.
Yangyang was gone, lost in another world, breath coming in shallow pants, every nerve singing. Ten paused just above his hole, breath hot against sensitive skin.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice rough but careful.

“Yes..yes...” Yangyang begged, hips tilting up without shame, desperate.

Ten hesitated for just a moment, breath warm against Yangyang’s sensitive skin, before he let his tongue make the lightest, tentative contact. He started with slow, careful licks - soft, exploratory sweeps that traced delicate circles around the rim, never pressing too hard. His movements were gentle, almost reverent, the wet heat of his tongue gliding in lazy, soothing patterns.

Gradually he grew a little bolder, flattening his tongue to make broad, unhurried strokes. Every so often he’d dip just the tip of his tongue inside, so Yangyang could feel the subtle, intimate flicker of it.
Yangyang’s whole body trembled. A broken, shaky moan tore from his throat, he’d never known anything could feel this overwhelming, this tender and filthy at once. His cock lay untouched against his stomach, leaking in slow, continuous pulses, twitching harder with every careful swirl of Ten’s tongue.

Ten’s own cock ached too, hard again, heavy between his thighs, brushing against the sheets as he shifted closer but he ignored it, focused entirely on driving Yangyang insane.

Ten stilled, raising his head, lips wet and shining. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, eyes flicking up to catch the way Yangyang’s chest heaved, the way his thighs still trembled from the aftershocks of Ten’s tongue.

Yangyang’s breath hitched, loud in the sudden quiet. He felt exposed, raw, like every nerve was still singing from the wet heat that had just been inside him. And then the words slipped out of his mouth, raw and unplanned.
“Want your cock,” he blurted, voice wrecked, and immediately flushed hot with embarrassment, turning his face into the pillow like he could hide from his own confession.

Ten let out a soft, surprised exhale, almost a laugh, but gentler, warmer. He didn’t move away. Instead he shifted higher, bracing himself on one elbow so he could look down at Yangyang properly, thumb brushing a soothing line along the shell of his ear.

“Mm,” Ten hummed, low and pleased, voice still a little rough. “You do, huh?” He dipped his head, pressing the lightest, lingering kiss to Yangyang’s flushed neck, right where the skin was damp with sweat. “That’s okay, baby. That’s more than okay.”

He stayed there for a moment, lips brushing skin, letting Yangyang feel the warmth of his breath, the reassurance of his closeness. Then he lifted his head again, expression shifting, serious now, calm, but eyes burning with something deep and careful.
“Hey,” he said softly, cupping Yangyang’s jaw with gentle fingers, coaxing his face back out of the pillow.

“Yangyang…look at me.” When their eyes met, Ten’s gaze was steady, tender. “What do you prefer baby? Top or bottom?”

Yangyang’s cheeks burned darker, eyes darting away. Ten smirked, leaning in close, voice teasing but warm.

“I just had my mouth on your ass. Come on, just tell me.”

Yangyang swallowed, breath shaky.

“I’ve…I’ve done both,” he admitted quietly. “I like both. But right now...” his voice dropped, barely a whisper, “...I really, really want you to fuck me.”

Ten’s grin turned sharp, wicked, pure devil.

“Well,” he said, voice low and rough, “you’re lucky I really, really like to top.”

“Yeah,” Yangyang breathed, cock twitching hard against his belly at the words, another bead of precum sliding down the shaft.

Ten’s eyes darkened, fixed on it, hungry all over again.

But suddenly Yangyang felt overwhelmed and his certainty flickered. His hips were still moving in small, needy circles, cock dragging slow and wet against Ten’s thigh, but his eyes dropped, suddenly unsure.

Ten noticed immediately. He stilled, hand cupping Yangyang’s jaw, thumb stroking gently over his cheekbone.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Yangyang bit his lip, grinding up again without meaning to, a helpless roll of his hips that made them both exhale shakily.

“It’s just…I don’t...erm…” His voice was small, breath hitching as he pressed up once more, seeking friction even through the nerves. “I just don’t have that much experience. I want it, but….”

His eyes shone, a little tearful, lashes wet. Another slow grind, involuntary, like his body refused to believe the doubt in his head.

Ten lowered himself until he was laid fully on top of Yangyang, chest to chest, hips slotted together, the weight grounding and warm. Their cocks slid against each other again, slick and sensitive, pulling a soft whimper from Yangyang’s throat even as Ten cradled his face in both hands.

“Talk to me,” Ten whispered, voice gentle, lips brushing Yangyang’s.
“It’s just…I know I dated Ye-jun for a while...but well the chemistry and timing wasn’t always there, so I’ve only like done this a few times,” he admitted, voice trembling, before adding.

“It’s embarrassing. I’m really not experienced at all.” A tear slipped free, sliding into his hairline. He arched up again, cock throbbing against Ten’s stomach, needy despite everything.

“And you’re...you’re you. You’re so hot, so sexy, and I’m just…me. I’m not sure I’m good at this.”

Ten groaned softly, forehead dropping to Yangyang’s. He ground back, slow and deliberate, rolling his hips so their cocks dragged together again in one long, filthy slide. Yangyang gasped, fingers clutching at Ten’s back.

“Listen to me,” Ten said, voice low and rough with want.

“You are so, so sexy. God, look what you do to me.” He thrust again, harder this time, letting Yangyang feel exactly how hard he was - how desperate and wrecked.

“I want you so badly, Yangyang. But we don’t have to have sex tonight. We can just do this..” Another grind, deep and slow, pulling a broken moan from them both. “..or whatever you want. I just want you.”

Yangyang’s breath caught. He remembered, vividly, the wet heat of Ten’s tongue on his hole, pressing inside. The memory alone made his body clench, cock leaking fresh against Ten’s skin.

“I want this,” he whispered, hips rocking up again, urgent now. “If you do too? I want to be connected to you...want you inside me.”

Ten groaned, deep, raw, almost pained and crashed their mouths together. The kiss was messy, desperate, tongues sliding, teeth grazing. Their cocks aligned perfectly between them, rubbing slick and relentless with every shift of their hips.

Ten’s hand trailed down Yangyang’s body - fingers dragging over his sensitive skin, tracing the line of his hip, dipping lower.

“I want it too,” he breathed against Yangyang’s lips. “Yangyang…I want to make love to you.”

“Yes,” Yangyang gasped, arching into the touch, legs falling open wider. “Yes, I want it. Please.”

Ten’s eyes widened for a second, the heat between them pausing just long enough for reality to slip in.

“Baby,” he said, voice low, almost apologetic, “we don’t have any lube. I don’t want to hurt you, not ever.”
Yangyang groaned, half-frustrated, half-mortified, and hid his face in the crook of his elbow for a moment. Then, quieter, shy:

“I…I brought some.”

Ten stilled. A slow, dark laugh rumbled out of him, rich and delighted.

“Oh my god,” he said, leaning down to nose along Yangyang’s jaw. “You came here planning to get fucked, didn’t you?”

Yangyang shook his head immediately, earnest even through the flush burning his cheeks.

“No..I mean, not like planning. I just…I wanted you. Always. Just in case, I don’t know. I like didn’t want anything to stop us if...if you ever…”

Ten’s laughter faded into something softer, deeper. He kissed Yangyang, swallowing the rest of the sentence.

“I want you too,” he whispered against Yangyang’s lips, voice trembling just slightly. “So, so much.”

He pulled back just enough to meet Yangyang’s eyes.

“I’m in love with you,” Ten said, simple and steady, like it was the easiest truth he’d ever spoken.

Yangyang’s breath caught.

“I love you too,” he answered, voice cracking on the words, tears pricking again, but happy ones this time.

Ten smiled, soft and wicked all at once.

“I also love your forward thinking,” he teased, nipping at Yangyang’s lower lip. “So where is this lube then, baby?”

Yangyang gestured vaguely toward his suitcase in the corner, cheeks still pink.

“Side pocket. Inside the toiletry bag. Zipped in the little mesh part at the back.”

Ten crawled off the bed, gloriously naked, and dug through the suitcase. It took a moment, the bottle was hidden well, tucked away like a secret hope and when he found it, he held it up triumphantly, grinning.

Yangyang lay there the whole time, sprawled against the pillows, legs loosely parted, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, watching Ten with absolute trust. Waiting. Open. His cock rested thick and flushed against his stomach, sticky at the tip, chest rising and falling in shallow, anticipatory breaths.

Ten felt it hit him like a wave. How much this moment meant, how much trust Yangyang was giving him. He’d never been this turned on in his life, never felt this kind of overwhelming want - protective and possessive and tender all at once. His hands were almost shaking as he crawled back onto the bed.

He knelt between Yangyang’s thighs again, unable to resist running one palm slowly up Yangyang’s body. Over his shin, the sensitive inside of his knee, along the trembling muscle of his thigh, across his hip, up the plane of his stomach, brushing a thumb over one nipple just to feel him shiver.

“Gonna prep you,” Ten murmured.

Yangyang answered without words - reaching for a pillow, sliding it beneath his own hips to tilt himself up, then letting his knees fall open wider, completely exposed. The trust in the gesture made Ten’s heart clench hard in his chest.

“Gonna make this so good for you, baby,” he promised, low and serious.

He clicked the cap open, warmed the lube between his fingers first, then leaned down to kiss Yangyang slow and deep while his slick hand slid lower.

One finger circled Yangyang’s rim gently at first, tracing the sensitive skin, spreading lube in slow, patient strokes until Yangyang was breathing harder against Ten’s mouth, hips tilting for more. Ten pressed in - slow and steady - watching Yangyang’s face the entire time as the tight heat took him to the first knuckle, then deeper.

Yangyang exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering shut, thighs trembling but staying open.

“Good?” Ten whispered.

“So good,” Yangyang breathed.

Ten worked carefully - slow thrusts, gentle twists, crooking his finger just right to brush that spot inside that made Yangyang’s back arch and a soft, broken moan spill out.

When Yangyang started rocking down to meet him, Ten added more lube, and then a second finger. Stretching, scissoring, opening him with steady patience.

Every sound Yangyang made - every gasp, every whimper, every clench around his fingers - went straight to Ten’s cock, but he ignored it, focused entirely on the way Yangyang’s body softened, yielded, started to chase the stretch instead of tense against it.

By the time he slid a third finger in, slick and easy, Yangyang was panting openly, head tossed back, cock leaking onto his stomach, hips rolling in small, needy circles.

“Please,” Yangyang whispered, voice wrecked. “I’m ready...please, hyung...”

Ten breathed deep, steadying himself. He squeezed a generous amount of lube into his palm, then set the bottle aside before settling between Yangyang’s spread thighs.

 

His hand wrapped around his own length, fingers curling firm around the base. The first slick glide of lube made him hiss softly through his teeth. Cool at first, then quickly turning into liquid heat as he stroked upward, slow and deliberate.

 

God, it felt good - too good. His cock jumped in his grip, thick and flushed dark, veins standing out. Every pass of his palm sent a fresh jolt of pleasure up his spine, sharp and greedy, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning out loud.

 

He was so fucking turned on. His pulse hammered in his ears, in his throat, in the heavy throb between his legs. He’d been hard for what felt like hours. Since the first tentative lick, since Yangyang’s wrecked little “want your cock” had hit him like a punch.

 

Ten’s breath came faster, shallow and uneven. He gave himself another long, twisting stroke, letting his thumb drag over the sensitive head, spreading the lube in a glossy sheen. His hips rocked forward into his own fist without meaning to, a helpless little thrust, and he let out a low, ragged sound - half laugh, half moan.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, eyes flicking up to Yangyang’s face. Yangyang was watching him, wide-eyed and flushed, lips parted, and the sight alone made Ten’s grip tighten, made his cock leak another bead of precum that mixed with the lube and slid down his shaft.

 

He forced his hand to still, chest heaving, because if he kept going he was going to come embarrassingly fast and ruin everything.

 

Yangyang lay open beneath him. Pillow propping his hips, legs spread wide, chest rising and falling in shallow, anticipatory breaths. His hole clenched slightly, glistening from Ten’s prep - ready.

 

Ten exhaled hard through his nose, trying to wrestle back some control, then leaned forward, bracing one hand beside Yangyang’s head, the other guiding his slick length down until the head rested against that tight, waiting heat.

“You sure?” Ten asked one last time, voice rough.

Yangyang nodded frantically, fingers twisting in the sheets.

“Yes, I need you.”

Ten leaned forward until their faces were close enough to share breath. Then circled the head of his lubed cock around Yangyang’s rim - the contact was electric.

Then slowly - agonizingly slowly - Ten pushed forward.

Ten pulled back so he could watch himself sink in, eyes fixed on where their bodies joined. Inch by inch, his cock disappeared into Yangyang’s tight heat. The rim stretched around him, pink and yielding, swallowing him with a grip that made Ten’s breath hitch sharply.

It was mesmerizing, intimate in a way that bordered on overwhelming: the slow glide, the faint resistance giving way to acceptance, lube easing the way but not dulling the raw sensation of being enveloped completely.

For Ten, it was exquisite. Yangyang’s body clutched him like a vice, hot and pulsing inside, every tiny shift sending waves of pleasure rippling up his spine. His thighs trembled with the effort of holding back, muscles taut, sweat beading at his temples. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating between them, as he bottomed out finally - hips flush against Yangyang’s ass, buried deep inside.

Yangyang gasped, back arching off the bed, eyes squeezing shut at the stretch. The fullness that bordered on too much but tipped perfectly into bliss. He felt every inch: the hot, rigid length splitting him open, pressing deep inside, brushing that spot that made stars burst behind his eyelids.

His walls fluttered around Ten, clenching involuntarily, pulling him deeper, the burn fading fast into a throbbing ache of want. His cock jerked and leaked against his stomach, untouched but twitching with every breath.

“So good,” Ten whispered, voice wrecked, forehead dropping to Yangyang’s as he held still, letting him adjust. “You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight. So perfect.”

Yangyang whimpered, hands coming up to clutch at Ten’s back, nails digging in just enough to ground them both.

“You too.....oh god, hyung, you’re....inside me....”

They stayed like that for a heartbeat, connected completely, breaths mingling in shaky pants. Then Ten started to move. Slow rolls of his hips at first, pulling out just a fraction before sinking back in, watching Yangyang’s face - the way his lips parted on a moan, brows furrowing in pleasure, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Yangyang wrapped his legs around Ten’s waist, heels digging into his back, urging him deeper, and Ten obliged - leaning down to capture his mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he ground in slow circles, pressing impossibly closer.

“I love you,” Ten murmured against his lips, hips snapping just a little harder now, the pleasure coiling tight in his belly. “Love feeling you like this - around me, taking me so well.”

Yangyang cried out softly, hands roaming Ten’s back, feeling the flex of muscle under sweat-damp skin. Every thrust sent sparks through him. The drag inside, the fullness, the way Ten filled him completely, body and soul. It was so good - too good - the intimacy wrapping around them was all consuming.

“More,” Yangyang said, the word ragged, pleading, spilling out like he couldn’t hold it in.

His hands scrambled to the backs of his own thighs, pulling his legs up and open until they rested on Ten’s shoulders. The shift folded him nearly in half, hips tilting higher, ass lifting off the pillow and the new angle let Ten sink even deeper, the head of his cock dragging hard over that spot inside with every thrust.

Ten groaned, low and broken, eyes dropping to watch himself disappear completely into Yangyang’s body. The sight was devastating: Yangyang stretched tight around him, flushed and wet, taking him so perfectly.

He pulled out slowly, nearly all the way out, until just the tip rested against Yangyang’s rim then slammed back in, hard and sudden. The force rocked Yangyang up the bed, headboard tapping softly against the wall, a sharp cry tearing from his throat.

“Yes...yes....” Yangyang gasped, nails digging into his own thighs to keep his legs in place. “Fuck me harder.....god, I want it...”

Ten’s control unraveled.

His thrusts turned erratic - deep, punishing snaps of his hips that drove him in to the hilt every time, skin slapping wetly against skin, the bed creaking beneath them. Sweat dripped from his temple onto Yangyang’s chest; his breath came in harsh pants, muscles in his back and thighs flexing with every brutal push. He could feel Yangyang clenching around him, hot and desperate, pulling him deeper like he couldn’t get enough.

Yangyang was beyond words now - just broken moans and whimpers, body trembling on the edge. He needed to come so badly it hurt, cock trapped between their stomachs, but at the same time he never wanted this to end. The pleasure was too good, too perfect, Ten filling him over and over, hitting that spot relentlessly until his vision blurred.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

His hand flew between them, wrapping around his own cock. Frantic, messy strokes, slick with precum and the remnants of their earlier release. He jerked himself fast and rough, hips bucking up to meet Ten’s thrusts and his own fist, chasing the climax that was already coiling white-hot at the base of his spine.

Ten watched him through dark, half-lidded eyes, jaw clenched tight. The sight of Yangyang touching himself - desperate and uninhibited - snapped the last thread of his restraint. His thrusts stuttered, hips grinding deep and erratic, cock swelling inside Yangyang’s heat.

They were both right there - teetering on the edge, trembling, so aroused it was almost painful, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

Ten’s thrusts were wild now. Erratic, deep, every snap of his hips driving him in with a force that shoved Yangyang higher up the bed. The angle was brutal: Yangyang folded beneath him, legs hooked over Ten’s shoulders, body bent in half, every thrust slamming right against that spot that made white-hot sparks explode behind his eyelids.

Yangyang’s hand flew over his own cock - frantic, slick strokes, wrist twisting hard around the head on every upstroke. Precum dripped over his fingers, mixing with the sweat on his stomach, the wet sounds of skin on skin filling the room alongside their ragged breaths and broken moans.

“Hyung....fuck...fuck...” Yangyang’s voice was high, desperate, cracking on every word. His walls clenched tight around Ten’s cock, pulling him deeper like his body couldn’t bear to let go. The pressure built unbearable, coiling low in his belly, thighs shaking, toes curling against Ten’s back. He was so close.

Ten felt it too - the tight, hot grip of Yangyang around him, the way he was clenching and pulsing, the sight of him jerking himself off so frantically beneath him. Ten’s control was gone. His hips stuttered, thrusts turning short and sharp, grinding deep and relentless, cock hardening even more inside Yangyang’s heat.

“Yangyang..baby...I’m..” Ten choked out, voice wrecked as he drove in one last time - hard, burying himself completely.

But Yangyang broke first. His hand stuttered over his cock, a strangled cry ripping from his throat as his orgasm crashed through him like a tidal wave. His whole body locked up. Back arching off the bed, legs trembling violently on Ten’s shoulders, walls spasming tight around Ten’s cock in rhythmic pulses.

Thick ropes of cum shot across his own stomach and chest, hot and messy, splattering up to his collarbone as he came untouched now, hand falling away in helpless shudders. The pleasure was blinding, overwhelming, every clench of his body milking Ten deeper, dragging him over the edge with him.

Ten followed instantly. The first spasm of Yangyang around him, snapped the last thread. Ten groaned low and guttural, hips jerking forward once more as he came hard, deep inside Yangyang.

His cock pulsed, spilling thick and hot, filling Yangyang in long, shuddering spurts that seemed to go on forever. The sensation was mindblowing. Yangyang’s walls gripped him through every wave, pulling every drop from him as Ten’s body shook, thighs trembling, breath punched out of him in sharp gasps.

They rode it out together - bodies locked, hips grinding in slow circles as the aftershocks rippled through them. Ten’s arms gave out; he collapsed forward, careful not to crush Yangyang, forehead pressed to Yangyang’s shoulder, both of them panting, slick with sweat and cum, hearts hammering against each other.

At the same time Yangyang’s legs slid down slowly from Ten’s shoulders, wrapping loosely around his waist instead, keeping him close. Ten stayed buried inside him, softening gently, neither of them willing to break the connection yet.

The room was quiet now except for their breathing, the distant crash of waves outside, and the soft, shaky sounds of them trying to catch their breath.

Ten lifted his head just enough to kiss Yangyang - slow, tender, lips trembling against his.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice raw.

Yangyang smiled, tears slipping free again - happy, overwhelmed, and utterly spent.

“I love you too,” he breathed back, fingers threading through Ten’s damp hair, holding him there like he never wanted to let go.

Neither of them wanted to move. Ten stayed buried deep inside Yangyang’s warmth, their bodies pressed so close it felt like they could fuse together. Yangyang’s legs stayed loosely wrapped around Ten’s waist, holding him there, as if letting go might break the spell.

But eventually, inevitably, Ten slipped free . His cock falling soft and wet from Yangyang’s body. A slow trickle of warmth followed, Ten’s cum leaking out, sliding down Yangyang’s sensitive skin.

The sensation was overwhelming: too much for Yangyang’s oversensitive nerves, making him twitch and gasp softly, but also achingly intimate - raw proof of what they’d just shared, marking him inside and out.

Ten leaned in for one more kiss. Tired, languid, lips barely moving, just breathing each other in. Then, with a quiet groan of effort, he rolled off to the side, collapsing half on his back, half against Yangyang’s shoulder.

He reached blindly down to the foot of the bed, fingers finding the discarded towel from earlier, slightly damp, but good enough. He dragged it up lazily and started wiping Yangyang down with slow, careful strokes over his chest and stomach first, cleaning away the dried streaks of his own release. When he moved lower, between Yangyang’s thighs, he was extra gentle - dabbing softly at his rim, mindful of how tender he must be.

Yangyang flinched just a little at the touch, a small hiss escaping through his teeth. Ten froze immediately.

“Sorry,” he murmured, voice soft and worried. “Was I too rough?”

Yangyang shook his head against the pillow, reaching down to cover Ten’s hand with his own.

“You weren’t,” he said quietly, eyes heavy-lidded but earnest. “You were perfect.” A pause, shy and sincere. “Thank you.”

Ten giggled - light, bubbly, impossibly happy, the sound bubbling up like he couldn’t contain it. He leaned in to press a kiss to Yangyang’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips.

“You really are the most amazing person I know, Liu Yangyang,” he whispered, voice thick with affection. “I should be on my knees thanking you - for trusting me, for letting me make love to you.”

Yangyang smiled, small and sleepy, warmth blooming in his chest all over again.

They finished cleaning each other in tired silence. Lazy swipes of the towel, gentle and familiar, until they were clean enough. Good enough. The towel got tossed somewhere toward the floor, forgotten.

Ten pulled the covers up over them both, sliding close until they were tangled together. Arms and legs intertwined, Yangyang’s head tucked under Ten’s chin, Ten’s hand splayed possessively over the small of his back. Their bodies fit like they were always meant to.

They kissed once more, soft, slow, barely more than a brush of lips, then settled into each other, breathing syncing, hearts slowing.

Yangyang laughed weakly, the sound soft and breathless against Ten’s collarbone. His body felt like liquid, heavy and loose under the covers, every muscle humming with satisfied exhaustion.

“So,” he murmured, voice hoarse from all the moaning, “if I had cried on the first night…we could’ve been doing this the whole damn week.”

Ten’s eyes snapped open, sparkling with mischief. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Yangyang with the smuggest grin imaginable.

“Oh, baby,” he drawled, dragging a lazy finger down Yangyang’s chest just to watch him shiver, “if we’d started on night one, I wouldn’t have let you out of bed. By day three you’d have been limping around Positano like a newborn foal, begging me for mercy.”

Yangyang’s mouth dropped open in mock outrage.

“Excuse me? I could’ve handled it!”

Ten snorted, leaning in until their noses brushed.

“Handled it? Sweetheart, I would’ve ruined you. Daily. Twice daily. Maybe a sneaky third time in the shower.”

 

Yangyang bit his lip, trying and failing to hide a grin.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

 

“Full of something else soon... hopefully,” Ten muttered under his breath, waggling his brows and running his hand over Yangyang’s soft cock in a slow, lazy stroke.

 

Yangyang swatted weakly at his chest, dissolving into giggles.

“Oh my god!”

 

Ten caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of it, eyes softening even as the teasing lingered.

 

The laughter faded into something quieter, breathier. Yangyang’s gaze dropped for a second, lashes fluttering, before he looked up again - shy, uncertain, voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Do you really want me like that?” he asked, cheeks already blooming pink again. “Like...me inside you?”

 

Ten tilted his head, thumb brushing over the pulse point on Yangyang’s wrist. His smile turned slow, warm, a little wicked.

 

“Baby,” he said, low and fond, “I’m verse, so yeah, if you want it too? I’m very interested in getting dicked down by that big cock of yours.”

 

Yangyang’s breath caught audibly. His face went from pink to full scarlet in record time, eyes widening like he couldn’t quite believe the words had just come out of Ten’s mouth.

 

He made a small, strangled sound, half embarrassment, half something else, and ducked his head, trying to hide against Ten’s shoulder.

 

But even as the blush burned hot across his chest, his cock gave a weak, valiant twitch against his stomach, already starting to thicken again despite the two orgasms he’d just had. It was ridiculous....impossible....and yet...

 

Ten noticed immediately, of course. His grin turned downright delighted.

 

“Aww,” he cooed, voice dripping with loving mischief as he slid his hand down to cup Yangyang gently, thumb tracing the sensitive underside in featherlight circles. “Look at you, hard again for me even after just coming twice. Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

 

Yangyang groaned into his neck, mortified but pressing closer anyway, hips shifting in tiny, helpless rocks.

 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, but there was no heat in it, just flustered affection.

 

Ten laughed softly, pressing kisses along his neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth.

“Never,” he murmured. “You’re too cute when you’re embarrassed. Makes me wanna keep you like this forever.”

Then he added quietly, “but seriously…worth the wait, right?”

Yangyang’s blush faded a little into a small, fond smile. He reached up, threading fingers through Ten’s messy hair.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Every stupid, pining second of it.”

Ten’s fingers began moving in slow, absent patterns along Yangyang’s spine, tracing lazy lines that made Yangyang’s eyelids grow heavier with every pass. The room was quiet now, just the hush of waves far below and the soft rhythm of their breathing syncing into one.

Yangyang’s head rested on Ten’s chest, ear pressed to the steady thump of his heart. He felt warm, boneless, utterly safe and like the world had finally stopped spinning too fast.

Ten’s voice came out of the darkness, low and drowsy, barely more than a murmur against Yangyang’s hair.

“Hey…you still awake?”

Yangyang hummed faintly, too tired for words, already slipping toward sleep.

Ten’s lips brushed his ear, words slurred with exhaustion but unmistakable.

“I meant it, you know…everything I said this week. Even the stupid jokes.” A pause, soft and fond. “The proposing thing…...I meant that too. One day.”

Yangyang heard it only halfway, the words floating soft and warm through the haze of sleep pulling at him. A sleepy smile curved his mouth, heart fluttering once, gentle and happy. He didn’t answer; he didn’t need to.

The ocean kept breathing outside and with Ten’s heartbeat under his cheek and the promise lingering in the air between them, Yangyang finally tipped over the edge into sleep - peaceful, certain, and loved beyond anything he ever dared hope for.