Archive of Our Own

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Interlude: Beomgyu

Seven Months Ago

When Beomgyu wakes up to his alarm blaring and an empty bed, he’s immediately concerned for his well-being. 

He wonders if he’s still dreaming, because there is no way he’s actually wishing his bed wasn’t empty. 

There’s no way he’s wishing that his one night stand—with stupidly pretty, sharp eyes and cute ears that stick out—was still in bed with him.

He doesn’t want a relationship. Honestly, he’s not sure if he’ll want a relationship ever again after Elijah. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever trust anyone again in the way that you should trust your partner. 

He’s not sure he even has it in him to be a good partner to anyone. 

Yet, his bed is empty, and even though it’s too warm under the sheets, he still wishes that long, lanky body was wrapped around him. 

He’s spent weeks worrying that his new roommate will probably be someone who is out to fuck with him—sent by Elijah—or could simply be a murderer; given he’s a complete stranger. And really, he’s starting to think the murderer route wouldn’t be that bad; at least then he’d be able to stop having flashbacks to pretty collarbones and plush, pouty lips and gentle, elegant hands.

He groans, sitting up and checking the time. It’s 7:58am, and he told Elijah that this person who is supposedly taking over his half of the rent needs to arrive at 8am sharp, because he has to work later, and he’s not looking to miss his shift waiting around for them. 

Unable to pull himself out of bed until the intercom box goes off, he has to nearly sprint to the door. His new roommate is five minutes late, and Beomgyu’s irritated, because not only is this person probably friends with Elijah, but he also couldn’t even show up on time. “Yeah?” He says into the box, allowing his annoyance to seep through. He cannot afford rent by himself, but he also doesn’t want this guy to think they’re going to be friends—he doesn’t trust anyone that is friends with Elijah.

The voice comes through crackly and barely audible. “Um—hey, I thin—” He cuts out, static filling the room. Beomgyu flinches at the sound. “—new roommate.” He got the gist of it and presses the unlock button, bending over to pet Bear, who is weaving through his legs and meowing loudly. “I’ll feed you in a minute,” he says to her, scratching behind her ears, “you’re going to take off and hide anyways, you won’t even have time to eat.”

In the back of his mind, he thinks he probably should’ve asked if his roommate needs help bringing stuff up. If he wasn’t worried about the roommates intentions, he would’ve. Hell, even if he was worried about his intentions, he probably would’ve if he woke up next to the warm body with cute moles and soft skin that was in his bed when he fell asleep. He probably would’ve been in a great mood, regardless of the situation.

But he didn’t—and he’s tired and grumpy.

On cue, Bear hears someone in the hallway and takes off, beelining for his room and probably diving into his closet. Shaking his head at her dramatics, Beomgyu turns and peeks through the blurry, cracked peephole and sees a figure with suitcases looking at his phone.

Let’s get this over with, he thinks to himself, swinging the door open. 

“Hey, do you need any he—Yeonjun?”

Unexpected, but not unwelcome, Yeonjun blinks at him in surprise, like he lives in the hallway and Beomgyu just interrupted him in his home. He doesn’t say a word, and Beomgyu’s eyebrows furrow. “Did you forget something?” He asks, feeling himself warm when memories of the night before flash through his mind. He hopes his new roommate takes a lifetime coming up the stairs, because he does not want to have to do an awkward introduction between the guy he hooked up with and his new roommate. “How’d you get in here? Did someone leave the door open again?” He asks, starting to ramble a bit with nerves. “Because I keep complaining to my landlord and he said he’s going to—”

Just noticing, Beomgyu’s eyes lock on the suitcases next to Yeonjun. Two big suitcases. 

There’s no way.

It can’t be.

And then it's twenty minutes later, and Beomgyu is not sure if it’s exhaustion or anxiety or disbelief that makes him immediately—and unsuccessfully—try to start blocking out everything that just happened. If he couldn’t hear Yeonjun puttering around in his new room, he’d maybe be able to convince himself that he just dreamt the fact that his one night stand just so happens to also be his new roommate. His one night stand that had been making him feel things that he was quite certain he’d never feel again.

He has no clue what to do, and he’s just standing there watching Yeonjun walk slowly around his new room. He can’t take it, turning on his heel and pulling out his phone as he heads to the kitchen. 

guys

you’ll never believe how fucked I am

A reply pops up while he’s still typing.

soup-bin: god what now

He huffs, ignoring the attitude and continuing to type his explanation.

last night I fucked this fine ass man

and this morning I find out

he’s my fine ass ROOMMATE. !!!

soup-bin: pretty boy from work?

soup-bin: he’s your roommate?!?

soup-bin: moving in together without a real date? damn you move quick

kaikai: pretty boy?

kaikai: I wasn’t at hyung’s work last night :(

soup-bin: I know, sweetheart

soup-bin: I would’ve said the prettiest boy in history if I was talking about you <3

tyunniepoo: it’s 8am 

tyunniepoo: can you wait until mid-morning at least before being a gross couple

Beomgyu agrees with Taehyun, and he’s typing a reply full of attitude when Yeonjun comes back into the room, jumping the shit out of him. He slams his phone down and hopes that he didn’t see any of what he was saying. 

He doesn’t reply to his friends again until he’s walking to work—after he’s thoroughly annoyed with his new roommate, who is somehow stupidly prettier in the daylight, and also somehow even more endearingly annoying than he experienced the night before. 

He’s thankful his friends don’t have a serious bone in their body, because their joking around makes him feel a little bit less stressed about the whole situation. Still though, they’re annoying as hell.

what if killed myself in front of all of you

soup-bin: bet

kaikai: don’t do that hyung I’d be sad :,(

tyunniepoo: but like how pretty is the boy 

tyunniepoo: can I have him if you die?

soup-bin: what was his name again?

were you dropped as a baby?

you met him barely twelve hours ago

you have the worst memory

you don’t need to know his name

and no tyun you don’t want him

super annoying

not even that hot

soup-bin: oh now he’s just straight up lying

Beomgyu—again—ignores Soobin.

tyunniepoo: well what are we supposed to call him?

hm.

you can call him….

tuesday night pretty boy

with a mole under his boob

soup-bin: that’s a mouthful

he was ;)

soup-bin has left the chat.

Beomgyu snorts, knowing Kai will add him back in a heartbeat.

He spends his entire shift thinking about that stupid, pretty boy and the mole under his boob.

Three Months Ago

Beomgyu wanted to study for finals, not be subjected to an intervention. 

“Kai, tell him it’s a bad idea,” Soobin demands of his boyfriend, arms crossed over his chest and sitting into one hip, full of attitude.

Kai—the loving, kind, and understanding boyfriend he is—ignores Soobin.

“Kai-yah!” 

Huffing, Kai looks up from his laptop. “Hyungie, we’re working on something,” he says sweetly, glancing up to Soobin. “Can we do this later?”

Soobin huffs back, stubborn. “No! We can’t! Because later someone is probably gonna go home and hop on the dick of the guy he has a big fat crush on—who he lives with, mind you—and pretend like none of it matters,” he rants, pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “Oh! And, reminder—that this certain someone does not do well with casual relationships and will sacrifice his own happiness for other people, even if it actively hurts him!”

Finally, Beomgyu looks up, feigning cluelessness. “Who are you talking about?”

But no matter how difficult Beomgyu is, Soobin can handle it—he has his whole life, and boy can he be even more difficult in retaliation. And ever since Beomgyu and Yeonjun admitted that they’d slept together again, Soobin has been trying to convince Beomgyu that he needs to do something about it. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t caught some serious feelings for Yeonjun hyung,” he insists, snapping Beomgyu’s laptop closed on his hands and ignoring his ow, Hyung, leaning down in his face and staring at him. “Do it!”

Beomgyu doesn’t do it. 

“See!”

Apparently giving up on getting their project done, Kai closes his laptop and grabs Soobin’s arm, dragging him away from Beomgyu and pulling him down to lean against him, Soobin’s back to his front against the arm of the couch. “Binnie, I think Beomgyu hyung can make his own decisions,” he says gently, already running a placating hand through Soobin’s hair. 

Beomgyu gestures towards Kai in a way that says see?

Soobin huffs again, but is finally relaxing with his boyfriend’s touch. If Beomgyu didn’t have a reputation to uphold, he’d look at them fondly. “I just… I’d hate to see you get hurt, Beomgyu-yah,” Soobin murmurs, poking his socked toe into Beomgyu’s thigh. “Or Yeonjun hyung either… I hate to compliment you in any way, but you finally brought home a good one!”

Beomgyu sends him a rude gesture. “I’m fine, Hyung,” he insists, lying through his teeth. He is most definitely not fine when it comes to anything having to do with him and Yeonjun. He most definitely has been going through mental gymnastics about the feelings he can’t seem to shake since the day they met. But what Soobin doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He can handle it himself. “Maybe I have a little crush, but it’s nothing. I’m going to go home for a few weeks and I won’t see him, so I’ll get over it. It’s nothing.”

Soobin’s eyes narrow. Kai’s eyebrows raise. He hates them both.

“I hate you both,” he says, smacking them with a pillow.

Kai shrieks obnoxiously. “Hey! What’d I do?”

Beomgyu gestures towards them wildly. “You’re too alike, you’re like… morphing into each other. It’s fucking weird,” he grumbles, starting to pack his bag. “You need to spend time apart, or something.”

Soobin grins—stupidly sweet—at Kai. “We’re just in love Gyu-ah,” he smirks, planting a wet kiss on Kai’s cheek. Beomgyu makes a loud gagging noise. “Which is something you could also experience if you admitted you have feelings for Yeonjun hyung!”

If anyone should stop spending time together, it’s probably Beomgyu and Soobin, because Beomgyu is starting to get a bit scared about how Soobin always seems to be able to read his mind. Yet, just because he can read his mind, doesn’t mean Beomgyu will admit it. “Okay, I gotta go—do you still have pizza in the fridge?” He asks, purposefully ignoring him. “I’m starving and Jjun is working overnight.”

Soobin puts on an obnoxious, high pitched voice. “Jjun is working overnight,” he says, in a horrible impression of Beomgyu. “Jjunie hyung said this… Yeonjjunie, can you pass me that pizza? Oh, no—you don’t have to feed me it, I can do it.” The impression won’t stop, despite Beomgyu's blatant ignoring. “Oh, you want to feed me? Because you’re definitely in love with me and we should both get our heads out of our asses and get together?”

“Yeah, there’s still pizza in there,” Kai calls, also ignoring Soobin’s dramatic, theatrical Beomgyu rant to answer the question. 

Beomgyu takes two slices of their leftover pizza, instead of just the one he’d normally take—payback for Soobin’s stupid, unrealistic fantasy. “I’ll see you in Seoul,” he calls as he’s leaving. 

He spends the commute home trying to convince himself Soobin is delusional. 

Because he hates when Soobin is right—and he’d never say it out loud, but too often, he is. 

Two Weeks Ago

Every time Beomgyu wakes up next to Yeonjun, he has to leave. 

He usually sleeps like a rock, and he usually sleeps in in the mornings, but every time he sleeps with Yeonjun, he wakes up early the next morning in a panic—it all feels too real, it’s too much, and he has to go back to his own room. It’s like his body knows he’s making a bad decision, and wakes him up so he can get himself out of it. 

Once he wakes up, he doesn’t trust himself to go back to sleep in Yeonjun’s arms and wake up to his cute, puffy morning face and not break down then and there.

And he wants to wake up to that cute, puffy morning face so badly. He wants to wake up with long limbs wrapped around him, or with his own limbs wrapped around that warm body. He wants to wake up and kiss each of the moles that dots across Yeonjun’s back to wake him up, and he wants to tell him everything he’s feeling.

But he can’t do that to himself, and he can’t do that to Yeonjun.

Especially the day after Valentine’s Day, when they spent the whole day together, and it felt really fucking real and way too fucking much. 

Beomgyu knows he needs to put an end to it—he needs to as soon as possible; hence why he goes to his own room when he wakes up. It’s ridiculous, because as he leaves the room, he notices Bear crawling onto the mattress, curling herself up on Yeonjun’s chest. 

And he’s stupidly jealous of his goddamn cat.

So really, he should probably thank Yeonjun for trying to pawn him off to the first person who shows interest in him, because it would be smart for him to ask the flirty barista out. It would force him to end things and move past it.

Instead though, it just hurt. 

He and Yeonjun spent Valentine’s Day together doing very couple-y things, and for those twelve or so hours, Beomgyu just pretended. 

He pretended it was real and Yeonjun was his and they were happy together and that he wouldn’t fuck everything up. He pretended that he wouldn’t doom their whole relationship if he tried to make it happen and he pretended that maybe he was good enough for Yeonjun.

And it’s very clear how much he was pretending when Yeonjun tries to get rid of him mere hours after he was inside him. Deep down, he knows it’s not fair of him to be upset that Yeonjun pointed out obvious flirting and encouraged him to go on a date with someone. Deep down, he knows that he agreed that they were just casual and he doesn’t have any right to be upset that the day before wasn’t real. 

But it still hurts.

It’s probably an obvious lie when he tells Yeonjun he’s busy for the day—he can’t bring himself to care; his chest aches.

He spends the day in bed, wishing he could be deserving of Yeonjun—wishing things were different and that they could work out. That it wasn’t a huge risk to even try to be together. That he could’ve turned around in that coffee shop—after Yeonjun paid for both of them—and said, why would I get someone’s number when this could be a date right now?

But those are just wishes, not reality. And Yeonjun changed everything for him; he can’t lose him.

So he spends the day in bed—aching and wallowing and missing someone that’s not at all his; someone that's a few yards away, just behind his closed door.  

He allows himself to hurt for the day. 

He’ll put the mask back on tomorrow.

Six Days Ago

The bathroom door slams closed behind him. “Hyung, you really should do something about that door,” Beomgyu says, looking at his phone as he rounds the corner. “It’s so aggressive when it closes. Can you fix the hinge or…” 

It’s the silence that makes him trail off, looking up. 

He expects Soobin to be with a customer, or maybe out back in the freezer, and he’s just been talking to no one. 

But Soobin’s right in front of him—he’s there and he heard and he’s still silent; glaring, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. 

“Jeez, who shit in your cereal?” Beomgyu eyes him, leaning against the back counter. Soobin hates when he goes behind the counter during work hours, but Beomgyu loves to pretend he forgot this rule. 

It’s obvious he’s not fucking around when he doesn’t take the time to berate Beomgyu for invading his space. “When were you going to tell me that something happened with you and Yeonjun hyung?” Soobin asks, accusatory.

Beomgyu’s stomach drops. He leans into the counter more, thankful it’s behind him, because he kind of feels like his knees might give out at the mention of Yeonjun’s name. “What do you mean? I did tell you that,” he laughs nervously, trying to appear casual. The way Soobin somehow glares harder but still stays silent makes him start to scramble. “I told you we had a fight and I needed to stay with you for a bit to give him space. I told you that!”

He’s talking a bit too loud now, and Soobin glances over at the customers in the corner, furrowing his brow further. He lowers his voice, pointing his finger like a scolding mother. “We’re talking about this later. You better be on the couch ready for a real, honest discussion once I close tonight, or else you’re sleeping on the streets.” And then he turns on his heel and greets a customer with a blinding smile. When he spins away to fill a cup with ice, Beomgyu gets an icy look, and knows he needs to be on that couch later if he wants to see the sun rise ever again.

Really, he knows Soobin would never kick him out. But he also knows that it’s rare that Soobin is this stern and this serious with him, and Beomgyuloves and respects his best friend too much to argue when he is this adamant.

So he’s on the couch when Soobin gets home, and he waits patiently while he showers off flour and sugar and eggs, and he listens while he lectures the hell out of him for running away from Yeonjun instead of attempting to fix things. 

As always, he turns soft after his lecturing. “I just want you happy, Gyu—you know that, right?” Beomgyu nods, sniffling. Soobin didn’t make him cry—he made himself cry, confronting the fact that he’s being the root of his own problems. “I wouldn’t tell you to go out on a limb for him if I didn’t think it was worth it,” Soobin says, patting his head fondly. “Yeonjun hyung adores you. He looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. You don’t need to be scared of letting him love you. You deserve that love.”

He only makes Beomgyu cry harder, with that. 

“Just ease back into things,” Soobin tells him, wiping his tears for him. “Apologize and fix what you messed up and then test the waters. With how torn up he looked today, I get the feeling that there's a lot going on in his heart too—it’s not just you struggling with this. Just be you, Gyu-ah. You love so big and so deep. Let yourself love him, and I promise no matter what happens, things will be better.”

Beomgyu sleeps in his own bed that night.

He hopes Yeonjun doesn’t notice the sweatshirt that was on his floor found its way across the hall.

Three Hours Ago

His eyes must show his fear when he joins the group again. 

“Did she threaten you?” Taehyun asks, nodding his head towards Caro’s retreating back. 

A weak laugh comes out of Beomgyu. “You could say that,” he breathes, shaking his head like he needs to reset himself after the conversation. “I deserved it, though. She told me I better not hurt Yeonjun again or she’ll kill me.”

Soobin snorts. “I wouldn’t put it past her—wouldn’t blame her either.”

“I mean, yeah, same—but hey!” Beomgyu whines sarcastically, smacking Soobin on the arm. “You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

Shrugging carelessly, Soobin’s face drops into a smirk. “As if I’d ever be in a situation again where I’d need to take sides—not with your lovesick ass,” he shoves Beomgyu back, making his face feel hot and his eyes roll. 

Still, he has to push his lips into a point to hide his smile.

His eyes find Yeonjun across the lobby, talking to parents and ruffling the hair of one of his students—and he can’t disagree with Soobin. 

He’ll do anything to make sure he doesn’t hurt Yeonjun again. He doesn’t care if he sounds like a self-help book when he’s talking to himself in his head. He’s going to be better. He’s going to heal and fix things and he’s going to keep Yeonjun by his side the whole time. 

There won’t be a world where Caro has to murder him—that’s very clear with the way warmth spreads over his entire body when Yeonjun starts walking over to them. “Ready to go?” Beomgyu asks, snatching the flowers back from Soobin and giving them to Yeonjun again. He spent twenty minutes picking out the perfect bouquet, and he wants everyone here to see that he got Yeonjun flowers and he was here to support him and he adores him more than anything. 

If he could, he’d kiss Yeonjun on the mouth right there, in front of everyone. At the very least, he’d lace their hands together and not let go. He’d follow behind Yeonjun while talking to all the parents and he’d be the doting, supportive partner. 

He can’t do that—not yet. But soon, maybe. 

The possibility is enough.

—

Seven months ago, Beomgyu was a stranger.

Three months ago, Beomgyu was a hope. A dream. 

Two weeks ago, he was a possibility.

Six days ago, a ghost.

Three hours ago, he was a maybe.

And now, Beomgyu’s forever.

He’s planted himself in Yeonjun’s lap, and his nicely styled hair is now a mess from relentless hands. He pulls back from their kiss, staring down at Yeonjun with that fond look he loves.

It feels somehow a thousand times better, now that he knows it means love.  

Yeonjun can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, reaching up to push a piece of hair out of Beomgyu’s eyes. “What?” He asks quietly in response to the staring, watching as Beomgyu searches his face with a quizzical—but still fond—expression.

His smile turns mischievous. “So… proposing? You’ve thought about marrying me?” Beomgyu asks, grinning widely down at him. His arms are resting on either side of his neck, and Yeonjun is quite certain he’ll be able to feel the warmth flooding through him at the question.

He has to break eye contact, looking down at his lap—which doesn't help with his flushing, because looking down only puts Beomgyu’s plush thighs with his own hands resting on them into his view. He has to move his gaze further to the side, focusing on the couch next to them—otherwise, he’s going to stare at the bulge that’s starting to form in Beomgyu’s jeans from their making out and wandering hands. 

He shrugs, trying to be casual. “I mean… yeah, of course,” he stammers, closing his eyes for a second, exasperated with himself; he’s not being chill about this. “I mean—it’s just… we already live together, you know?” He reasons, trying to not be too much and not sound like he hasn’t already planned their whole future together in his head a number of times. “We work so well together and I love you and I know it’s probably insane and way too soon to think about that stuff but it’s not like I’m actively planning our wedding or something, I just think—”

Beomgyu cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “Actively?” He raises his brows, and Yeonjun’s eyes widen, but Beomgyu just laughs. “My god, relax,” he giggles, eyes sparkling and bringing his hand to the side of Yeonjun’s face, cradling it. “It’s crossed my mind too, baby. Don’t worry.” Yeonjun’s stomach—and probably his dick, as well—twitches at the pet name and the fact that Beomgyu has thought about marrying him. “You’re such a fucking sap.”

Yeonjun blushes, but he can’t hold back his smile. “You like it,” he grins, leaning up to press his lips to Beomgyu’s throat.

A breathy sigh is let out above him. “I love it,” Beomgyu corrects, arms coming up to wrap around Yeonjun’s head, holding him tight to his neck as he tilts his head sideways, giving him more space to press his lips to.

And then Yeonjun’s kissing and licking and sucking at his skin and when his teeth drag across the space between Beomgyu’s neck and shoulder, the body in his lap grinds down. “Bedroom,” Beomgyu pants, grinding down again when Yeonjun moans into his neck. “Now.”

The groan Yeonjun lets out when a fist curls in his hair and tugs his mouth away makes him blush all over again. But Beomgyu simply pulls himself off his lap and holds his hand out, grinning down at him—and Yeonjun’s in love. 

They end up in Beomgyu’s room, and instantly Yeonjun gets pushed down on the bed, bouncing a little when he falls. Instead of climbing on after him, Beomgyu simply stares, looking at him with a gaze so heavy it makes Yeonjun shift—bashful under dark, sultry eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Hyung,” Beomgyu murmurs, shaking his head as he puts a knee on the bed, finally beginning to crawl over him, “so fucking pretty.”

Somehow blushing even more, Yeonjun ducks his head. “Just shut up and kiss me,” he demands with a grumble, using Beomgyu’s tie to yank him forward, pressing their lips together. Beomgyu makes a noise that’s somewhere between surprise and a whimper at the action, and it makes Yeonjun smirk into the kiss. “You just love being told what to do, don’t you baby?” He murmurs, lips finding his neck again, making his arms almost give out and dropping him down further, so he’s pressed into Yeonjun more.

Breathless, Beomgyu tilts his neck. Sometimes,” he muses, grinding himself down into Yeonjun, making them both let out a breathy moan. “I could say the same about you, though… you listen to everything I say.” His voice is smug and confident and it’s like he has no idea that his deep, knowing voice alone is a huge reason why Yeonjun would do anything for him. 

Beomgyu speaks, and Yeonjun does—it’s simple.

Letting his head drop back onto the pillows, Yeonjun looks up at him, dark, dilated eyes giving him goosebumps. He smiles easily. “Of course I do—I’m in love with you.”

Beomgyu’s face turns from dark and smirking to beyond soft in a heartbeat, and Yeonjun loves him. He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I love you,” he answers, leaning down to give him a soft kiss.

It’s sweet and gentle and lovely, and before long, it's not—it’s wet and messy and desperate and Beomgyu’s grinding down into him and Yeonjun can’t help it. “I wanna fuck you,” he moans on the lips against him, sliding his hand down to Beomgyu’s ass to squeeze and drag him forward. 

For some reason, this makes Beomgyu laugh against him, pulling back a little. He frowns, eyebrows narrowed. “What if I wanted to fuck you?” He smirks, punctuating his words with a slow, pointed grind of his hips. 

Bucking up into him, Yeonjun is in no place to argue. However, he wasn’t kidding when he said before that he really likes seeing that annoyed little look Beomgyu gives him when he pisses him off. “But baby,” he coos, squeezing at his ass and making the hips above him be the ones to jolt this time. Beomgyu’s flushed and his pupils are blown wide and he’s already glaring and Yeonjun wants to eat him. “I wanna.” 

Bringing his other hand around to squeeze at Beomgyu’s other ass cheek, the groan he lets out makes Yeonjun think he may have won—especially with the way Beomgyu lets him guide his hips down despite his glare, rutting their clothed cocks together—until a gentle kiss is pressed to his nose, and Beomgyu pulls back, smiling sweetly and stilling his hips. “Too bad,” he smiles, knowing and pointed and evil. 

Before Yeonjun can argue further, Beomgyu sits up on his knees, moving off him to pull at the knot in his tie, tossing it to the side of the bed and starting to work at the buttons of his shirt. Yeonjun—despite losing the argument with a huff—mirrors him and goes up on his knees as well, pushing Beomgyu’s hands away and starting to slowly undo each button for him. With each button undone, he presses kisses to the newly exposed skin of his chest and stomach, slow and wet. 

He knows he probably looks at least a bit pathetic with the way he ends up bent in half on his hands and knees, back arched as he mouths at the skin just above Beomgyu’s jeans, right at that faint little trail of hair—but he only feels stupidly pleased. Especially when he dips lower and mouths over where the bulge in denim is prominent.

Beomgyu groans, sliding a hand over Yeonjun’s spine slowly, pushing down slightly to make him arch more, then moving his hand over his ass and squeezing. “Fuck you’re pretty,” he moans, while Yeonjun mouths at him. Another squeeze to his ass, and then a smack—Yeonjun nearly tumbles forward into him, moaning loud and high against the wet spot he’s making on Beomgyu’s jeans. There’s a pause in the hand caressing him. “Hm? What’s this?” Beomgyu asks, rubbing and squeezing over where he spanked him. “You like that, don’t you Hyungie?”

Yeonjun moans against him again, arching his back as far as possible and wiggling his ass a bit, almost subconsciously. Another smack to his ass—another whimpered noise. Beomgyu chuckles, low and knowing while Yeonjun keeps mouthing at him through denim, letting out a frustrated whine when he can swear he feels Beomgyu pulsing through fabric; it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Want me to take these off?” Beomgyu coos, looking down as he removes a hand from Yeonjun’s ass to grab at the button of his jeans, getting a desperate nod in return. “Okay, sweetheart. How about you lay back for me?”

It probably should be embarrassing how quickly Yeonjun moves to fall backwards, but he stops the movement when Beomgyu’s hands reach out and grab at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off easily. When he does flop onto his back, fingers hook in his sweatpants and tug those off too, and a kiss is pressed to the inside of his thigh before Beomgyu settles on the bed next to him. Yeonjun moves to kiss him again, but Beomgyu rolls away, instead starting to rifle through his bedside table.

He takes too long. (It’s been maybe ten seconds.) 

Yeonjun is impatient. (Yeonjun is really fucking horny, and really fucking in love.)

Beomgyu is still digging in the drawer when Yeonjun has had enough, rolling to his side and sliding an arm around Beomgyu’s middle, attaching his lips to the side of his neck. He presses himself flush against the back of him, letting a hand slide over his stomach, dipping low and rubbing back and forth gently—right at the waistband of his boxers. His fingertips dip just under the fabric, and Beomgyu sucks in a sharp breath. “Jjunie,” he warns, the scolding a direct contrast to the way his back automatically arches, pressing his ass into Yeonjun’s front. He lets out a little chuckle that turns into a breathy moan when the hand at his stomach dips lower, palming over his cock. “You’re—ah—you’re awfully eager.”

Laughing against him, Yeonjun adores how he can see goosebumps spread over Beomgyu’s skin with the breath of air. “I want you,” he whines petulantly, biting down into the meat of his shoulder, making him let out a groan and buck his hips into his hand. “Please—can I touch you first?” He asks, whiny and breathy and pathetic. “Wanna touch you so bad, my Gyu-ah.”

A whimper comes out of Beomgyu’s throat as Yeonjun’s fingertips rub over the head of his covered cock, his ass grinding back again. He is most definitely not digging through his bedside table anymore, which makes Yeonjun think he might win this one. 

And then Beomgyu relaxes into the bed, still on his side. “Fuck,” he says in response, hands coming up to hook into the waistband of his boxers. “Yeah—yeah, of course.”

The second the layer of clothing is gone, Yeonjun’s hand finds his cock, spreading the precome that’s gathered on the head all over so the slide is easier. Still, he only moves his hand a few times before Beomgyu whines, grabbing at his wrist. The movement is so quick Yeonjun doesn’t even realize what’s happening until wet, silky warmth surrounds two of his fingers, the digits shoved into Beomgyu’s mouth by Beomgyu himself. 

Yeonjun lets out a long groan, hips bucking into Beomgyu’s ass and spurring a moan to bubble out of him as well, vibrating around his fingers. Sitting up on his elbow, Yeonjun looks down at him, awed. “You look perfect like this, baby,” he purrs, pressing down on Beomgyu’s tongue and watching his eyes flutter closed, groaning around him. Yeonjun watches a line of spit drip down his neck and he wants to lick it away with his own tongue. “You look so good with my fingers in your mouth.”

In his periphery, he sees Beomgyu’s hips jerk forward, more precome spurting from his tip. Moaning at the view, Yeonjun drags his fingers out of Beomgyu’s mouth and rubs the spit all over his cock, easing the slide. He’s ridiculously pleased with how it seems to take no time at all for him to get worked up, whining and moaning and pushing back against Yeonjun’s own stupidly hard, still covered cock, and constantly jerking up into his hand. 

It’s when Beomgyu’s back arches hard, grinding himself hard into the front of Yeonjun that he gets an idea—he really wants to be inside of him tonight; at least in some way, but he also wants Beomgyu to fuck him too. So, with his solution in mind, Yeonjun continues stroking him, mouthing at his neck and dragging his tongue over his earlobe, grinding himself forward here and there, until he knows Beomgyu’s close—and then he stops. 

He ignores the broken whine that results, Beomgyu’s hips jolting forward against nothing and he keeps his hand flat on Beomgyu’s thigh instead, shushing his frustrated noises sweetly. Knowing he’s pushing the limit of how much Beomgyu will take his teasing—especially since he already made it very clear he wants to fuck him—Yeonjun drags his hand away from where it traces up and down the outside of his leg teasingly and moves it underneath instead, hitching his thigh upward in one swift motion, making Beomgyu lean more to the side, almost on his stomach as his ass arches up and his cock rubs against the bed below him.

A loud whimper leaves Beomgyu’s throat at the action and Yeonjun’s hand is already on his ass—now more easily accessed and at the perfect angle for him to squeeze and kneed. He lets his fingers dip between his asscheeks, just near his hole. “Can Hyung finger you, baby?” He asks, squeezing over him again before dragging a finger over his hole lightly, making Beomgyu moan and push back against his touch in an instant. “I’ll still let you fuck me, but please, I wanna be inside you somehow,” he begs, pressing a light kiss to Beomgyu’s shoulder.

And really, the begging is totally unnecessary, considering Beomgyu’s already nodding, but Yeonjun’s mouth doesn’t stop. He’s aware how desperate he sounds, and he quite honestly doesn’t care a bit. “Wanna make you feel good, Beomie-yah, please—can I?” His teeth find his shoulder again with his words, and Beomgyu moans—loud and wet and broken—into the open air. 

His voice is already wrecked and a bit bratty when it comes out. “Well if you’re going to, get on with it,” Beomgyu snaps, choking back a noise of pleasure when a light finger brushes over his hole again. 

The attitude makes Yeonjun chuckle against him, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything in reply before Beomgyu’s diving forward, a hand back in his drawer and digging around frantically. “Oh—so you’re in a hurry now that the lube is for you,” Yeonjun teases, giving a smack to Beomgyu’s ass, which makes him groan and grind down into the bed in a way that makes it obvious it’s a noise of pleasure, not pain. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles, tossing the lube at Yeonjun over his shoulder haphazardly—it smacks him directly in the chest. 

“Ouch.” 

Beomgyu snorts. “Sorry,” he giggles, wiggling his ass towards Yeonjun as he complains, but still opens the lid. “You were the one begging—I thought if I didn’t hurry, you might start crying.”

His teasing makes Yeonjun let out an amused breath, warming up the gel in his hand. “Nah… tears? I can’t stroke your ego that much.” Beomgyu scoffs, but doesn’t answer, settling himself into the pillows more.

Just to tease, Yeonjun is quiet for a second, waiting for that impatient movement of Beomgyu’s hips again—it’s barely a few seconds before it comes, with a petulant noise this time; ass arching and wiggling back towards him, full of irritated eagerness. It makes Yeonjun let out a small chuckle.

Then, in one swift movement, he reaches down, finding Beomgyu’s hole and rubbing two fingers against him, punching a broken noise out of his throat. “Hyung,” he chokes, falling forward onto the bed more, hiking his own leg up further and arching, like he wants to open himself up for him as much as possible. 

Yeonjun simply rubs two fingers against him, feeling his hole flutter and clench in anticipation. He only dips the tips of his fingers in here and there, teasing to no end. Beomgyu’s voice is exasperated when it comes out this time. “Yeonjjunie,” he whines, pushing his ass backwards, which only makes Yeonjun pull his hand away. Beomgyu’s own hand flies backwards, reaching blindly for his wrist so he can tug him back. He gets pushed away. “C’mon,” he groans, grinding himself down on the bed, voice tight. “Put one in—put two in, for all I care; I can take it. Just fucking do somethi—nng.” 

His words are cut off with a moan as Yeonjun slides a finger in, twisting and curling it immediately. “What was that you said about begging?” Yeonjun asks smugly, dragging his teeth over the top of Beomgyu’s shoulder. 

A loud whine fills the room. “Shut. Up,” Beomgyu grits out, pushing himself back onto his finger. “Put another one in before I turn over and show you how it’s done.” 

The sharp demand of his words make Yeonjun’s own hips jerk forwards on their own accord, and Beomgyu lets air out of his nose knowingly. Yet, despite his tense tone, Yeonjun can see him visibly melt when he leans up to press a gentle, placating kiss on his shoulder. “Okay, baby,” Yeonjun purrs, trailing open mouthed kisses over the line of his shoulder—tender and sweet—as he pushes a second finger in, “anything for you.”

At the intrusion, the most beautiful noise leaves Beomgyu’s mouth, a mixture of a pleased hum and a moan. His back arches as Yeonjun presses his fingers in further, curling and scissoring them into him. Suddenly and unexpectantly, Beomgyu twists, dropping his head and shoulders back so he can angle his head towards Yeonjun. The movement catches his attention, dragging his gaze away from where his fingers are disappearing into him and moving to his face instead.

And God, does he take Yeonjun’s breath away. 

His pupils are blown wide, cheeks red and splotchy. His eyebrows are pinched a little in pleasure and his mouth is dropped open slightly, looking up at Yeonjun with wet eyes, looking incredibly satisfied. “Kiss?” He asks, sweet and gentle and pouting. 

Heart fluttering, the fond smile that comes across Yeonjun’s face is unavoidable. “I love you,” he says in answer, leaning down to press their lips together. Beomgyu gives a pleased little hum against him, kissing him soft and sweet until Yeonjun’s fingers curl in him, making him break away with a moan. “I love you so much,” Yeonjun says at the opportunity, diving back in and kissing him even harder, wet and open and messy this time. 

He curls his fingers again, pushing in further and finding that spot, rubbing against it and making Beomgyu break away from the kiss, moaning loud and wet into the open air. “Shit—I love you,” he whimpers, grinding himself back on Yeonjun’s fingers. His breathing is fast and heavy, and Yeonjun moves his lips to his jawline, kissing down it and moving to his neck, mouthing there as Beomgyu’s moans get louder and more consistent. 

Pulling back, Yeonjun props himself up on his elbow again to look down at him—he’s a vision. Yeonjun’s awed. 

He’s pinched eyebrows and wet lips and heaving breaths, consistently pushing his hips back onto Yeonjun’s fingers, meeting each thrust of his wrist. “Oh—Sweetheart,” Yeonjun murmurs, looking over him slowly, up and down the miles and miles of silky, honey skin. “You’re a mess.” 

Beomgyu whines, head dropping back to look up at Yeonjun—all big, wet eyes and pleading.

“You were all talk about wanting to fuck me, but here you are, falling apart so prettily on my fingers,” Yeonjun purrs, and Beomgyu moans, grinding himself back—deep and slow onto the fingers inside him. “You can’t resist, can you? You just love Hyung’s fingers so much. Don’t you, baby?”

In response, Beomgyu just whimpers—loud and broken—hips stuttering into the bed below him. Tutting, Yeonjun sits up more, pulling his fingers out for a second and making Beomgyu whine again at the loss, but he just shushes him gently. Reaching over to grab at his knee, he hikes it up even further, bringing it inwards more so he’s opened up more, and his cock isn’t rubbing on the bed. “I want you to come just on my fingers,” Yeonjun says, sweet but firm as he slides his hand back to Beomgyu’s ass, pressing into him once again. Arching back into him, Beomgyu makes a broken, frustrated noise, his hips jerking forward against nothing now that Yeonjun moved his leg. “You can do it, baby,” he encourages, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

The whine Beomgyu lets out is stubborn and pathetic. “Wanna fuck you,” he gripes, pitiful and bratty at the same time. 

Yeonjun chuckles, twisting his head up around him to press a placating kiss to his lips. “And you will… but I want to make you come first.”

Another impatient, petulant noise leaves Beomgyu’s throat, but it quickly morphs into a loud moan when Yeonjun hooks his fingers, rubbing them against his prostate. He arches back hard, moving far enough to rub his ass against Yeonjun’s covered cock. “Shit—baby,” Yeonjun moans at the contact, scooting forward and grinding himself against him, making his fingers push in further with the press of his hips. 

Beomgyu moans with him, pushing back onto his fingers and rubbing his ass against Yeonjun’s cock at the same time. “All this talk about marriage and babies… you move quick,” Beomgyu murmurs, teasing but still half moaned.

It makes Yeonjun giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. Beomgyu reaches up, wrapping an arm around his head and threading his fingers into his hair, tugging as he groans. The angle makes it so Beomgyu’s flexed bicep is directly in front of Yeonjun’s face. 

He takes the opportunity. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he chides, leaning over to bite at the flexed muscle of Beomgyu’s arm, making him squawk out a noise that’s somewhere between protest and pleasure. Yeonjun giggles. “You are my baby,” he clarifies, nibbling at the muscle even though the grip on his hair tightens in scolding.

Beomgyu laughs and whines simultaneously, breathing heavily. “You’re moving like we live in Utah, and—ah—we’re saving ourselves for marriage. Weddings and babies already?”

It’s ridiculous, and Yeonjun laughs for real; big and loud. “Oh, Beoms,” he coos, nuzzling his nose into his neck, “if that were the case, we’d already be married and you’d be pregnant by now.” He punctuates his words with a hard grind into Beomgyu’s ass, making him let out a wild, broken noise. 

“I don’t think that's how it works,” Beomgyu laughs breathily, dropping his shoulder into Yeonjun’s chest more, nuzzling his head back against his shoulder. He gives an evil little smirk up at him. “We’re running late on the typical Utah timeline anyways, Gramps.”

Scoffing, Yeonjun slides his other hand underneath him and moves his hand over Beomgyu’s stomach after pinching at his side in retaliation. “Guess I should get a baby in you soon, then,” he murmurs, pressing Beomgyu’s stomach back into him and grinding forward.

The moan that leaves Beomgyu’s mouth almost sounds surprised when it comes out, and the way he clenches around his fingers makes Yeonjun pause, picking his head up from where he’s been mouthing at his neck to look down at him. “Oh?” He questions, looking over rapidly reddening cheeks with a smirk. 

That pretty, flushed face scowls, and Yeonjun fucking loves him. “Shut up,” Beomgyu grits out, glaring.

“You’re blushing.”

“Your fingers are inside me.”

Yeonjun pulls his fingers out, rubbing up and down Beomgyu’s thigh instead. It makes him whine, and Yeonjun can’t stop smirking. “Hm… still blushing.”

Beomgyu’s eyes roll, cheeks dark. “You’re so weird, oh my god,” he whines, following Yeonjun’s gaze down lower.

In response, Yeonjun just shrugs, only half listening as he stares at Beomgyu’s thighs, squeezing at the area and getting a distracted with the feeling of smooth skin and strong muscle under his palms. He loves Beomgyu’s thighs—he wants to bite them. “I’m not weird—you made me like this,” he argues, remembering that Beomgyu was speaking before; he’s awfully distracted by the way the hard muscles under his hand flex when he curls his fingers inside Beomgyu. “You’re hot and sexy and beautiful and I love you—so obviously I’d totally put a baby in you, if I could.” He finishes the sentence with another grind of his hips forward, making Beomgyu let out a stifled noise that he was obviously trying—and failing—to pointedly hold back.

Shaking his head, Beomgyu rolls his eyes but his lips are twitching, and tips his head back, pressing a gentle kiss to Yeonjun’s lips. “You’re stupid,” he says between kisses, exasperated in the most fond way possible, “I love you.” 

And then he reaches back and starts tugging at Yeonjun’s boxers, pulling him out of them before he can even process what’s happening. “Where’s the lube?” Beomgyu asks, ignoring the way Yeonjun all but tumbles into the back of him, moaning loudly as a hand wraps around his length. 

“What are you—oh fuck,” Yeonjun moans, the dry feeling of Beomgyu’s hand almost uncomfortable, but still so, so good. “What are you doing?”

Beomgyu chuckles, deep and knowing. “You were looking at my thighs like they’re a chicken wing you want to devour,” he says, somehow finding the lube in the midst of it all and letting go of Yeonjun’s cock to squeeze some onto his hand. His voice is low and teasing and after being directly touched after waiting for so long, it makes Yeonjun want to crumble. 

Tilting his head back, Beomgyu presses a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, the sweetness of it a direct contrast to the words that follow. “How about I let you fuck my thighs, Hyungie?” He asks, gentle and charming and the tone not at all fitting with the words he’s saying.

The noise Yeonjun lets out in response is downright pathetic, his hips jolting forward against Beomgyu’s ass at the thought of it. 

There’s a pleased chuckle. “Thought you might like that,” Beomgyu hums knowingly, rearranging himself so he can spread the lube on the inside of his thighs, pressing them together while Yeonjun kicks off his boxers. 

He positions himself further down, so his hips are in line with Beomgyu’s thighs. Before anything, he slips his fingers back into his hole, making him let out a sharp, high pitched moan. “Shit—love your fingers,” Beomgyu whines, reaching back to grab Yeonjun’s cock. 

Yeonjun presses a kiss to his spine, gentle and full of feeling. “I love you.”

And then Beomgyu lifts his leg and slides Yeonjun’s cock between his thighs. 

Yeonjun absolutely chokes on air. 

“Oh, Jesus—fuck, Gyu-ah,” he moans out, pulling his hips back then pushing them forward again, looking down to watch himself slide through Beomgyu’s strong thighs. At the same time, he uses the momentum of his hips to guide his fingers forward, slipping a third in and twisting them, punching a moan out of Beomgyu.

With three fingers in him, he’s is a mess of whines and moans, but it doesn’t stop his mouth. “God, Hyung—you’re just so needy, aren’t you?” He taunts, grinding himself back on Yeonjun’s fingers and squeezing his thighs together tightly. It makes Yeonjun’s hips stutter. “You just wanted to fuck me so bad, you’ll take anything you can get, huh?” Moaning against his back, Yeonjun can do nothing but leave wet, open mouthed kisses up Beomgyu’s spine, slow and lazy—lost in the feeling. “I love it, though,” Beomgyu continues, breathy and deep, “I love how needy you are for me, even with your fingers inside of me. You’re always so good for me, Hyungie.”

And Beomgyu is clearly not wrong about how down fucking bad Yeonjun is, because those words alone almost send him over the edge, his hips stuttering as they thrust against his thighs. 

In no time, they’re both a mess, Yeonjun fucking himself between Beomgyu’s legs at the same pace that he fucks his fingers into him, pausing here and there to rub at that spot deep inside. Choked, broken noises leave Beomgyu’s throat over and over, and when the muscles of his thighs tense, it makes Yeonjun have to really focus on not coming then and there.

It’s clear that Beomgyu’s getting close when his thighs stop squeezing around Yeonjun as much, and his hips grind backwards against his hand messily, a never-ending sting of moans and whimpers filling the air. And as good as it feels for Yeonjun—fucking his cock between Beomgyu’s plush, smooth thighs—he’s not really focused on getting himself off at the moment. 

The whimpering, whining body next to him is far more important.

Pushing himself up on an elbow again, he scoots back up, letting his cock fall out of the warmth of Beomgyu’s legs and leaning up to see his face instead. “You close, baby?” He asks, pressing a gentle kiss where his jaw meets his neck. In response, Beomgyu whines, nodding and turning his head sideways, and Yeonjun knows he wants a kiss before he even has to ask. “I love you, my Beomgyu-yah,” he murmurs against his lips, feeling him clench around his fingers. “So pretty—can’t believe you're mine.”

At his words, Beomgyu’s body starts to lock up, and Yeonjun pulls back so he can look at him, seeing his eyes go hazy. Their gazes meet, and they were joking about marriage earlier, but god does Yeonjun want to spend forever with him. 

“Jjun,” Beomgyu whimpers, starting to shake.

Yeonjun smiles gently through his awe—he can’t help it. He’s so fucking happy. “Hyung’s got you, baby. Come for me.”

And he does.

Beomgyu’s whole body tenses, a prolonged, broken whine leaving his throat as he explodes all over his stomach and Yeonjun’s hand, their eyes locked together the whole time. A tear of pleasure falls down Beomgyu’s cheek and Yeonjun lurches forward, kissing him hard as he works him through his orgasm until he pulls away with a gasped breath and an overstimulated whine. 

Gently, Beomgyu pushes his hand away and collapses onto his back, breathing heavily and starting to giggle as lips get pressed all over his face. “My baby,” Yeonjun coos, leaving wet kisses all over his cheeks and forehead and nose. “My Beomgyu-yah, I love you so much.” 

His whines are not very believable, considering he is giggling up a storm. “Hyung,” Beomgyu gripes, shoving at his chest. “Okay, okay—god,” he complains, all fake annoyance. “I love you too, no need to attack me.”

“So you hate me?”

A pointed glare.

“Wow, you do hate me.”

The sound of Beomgyu’s hand smacking on his chest in annoyance cracks through the room; Yeonjun just giggles. Eyes rolling, Beomgyu shoves at him—making contact hard enough this time to push him onto his back, all while he grins fondly; doing a horrible job at pretending to be annoyed. 

As they giggle, Yeonjun tries to sit up so he can at least grab some tissues off the nightstand and wipe off Beomgyu’s stomach, but he gets pushed back into the mattress the second he moves. He scowls. “I’m gonna clean you off, baby,” he explains, trying to move yet again, but Beomgyu doesn’t budge, spreading his palm out on his chest, holding him down. 

And suddenly, the feeling of Beomgyu pressing him into the sheets makes Yeonjun’s dick twitch against his stomach. He swallows hard, taking a deep breath as he watches Beomgyu wave him off, leaning over and grabbing a tissue to wipe at himself haphazardly. He gently takes Yeonjun’s hand in his own and cleans it off as well before throwing the ball of dirty tissues towards his trashcan.

He misses—terribly. 

The wad of tissues lands at least two feet away, dropping to the middle of the floor.

Yeonjun snorts, lifting his arm like he’s shooting a basketball. “Three!” 

“Fuck off.” 

“No, really. You should take up basketball in your free—”

“Do you want to get off, or not?”

The room goes silent other than Yeonjun’s jaw clicking as it snaps closed.

“Thought so.”

With a knowing look that barely holds back his fond smile, Beomgyu turns to crawl over him, pressing their lips together. His stomach just barely brushes against Yeonjun’s cock and he whines, arching up. In a heartbeat, Beomgyu’s palm is on his hip, holding him down against the bed. Yeonjun whines again, trying to buck his hips up against the hold without success.

Moving to kiss down his jaw, the sound Beomgyu lets out goes straight to Yeonjun’s dick—it’s a satisfied, cocky chuckle, his head shaking knowingly as Yeonjun squirms. “Patience, my love,” Beomgyu murmurs against his jaw, making him shiver as he breathes out, warm air blowing over his throat. He leans to the side, sliding the tip of his tongue over Yeonjun’s earlobe, pulling another whine out of him. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” 

Nodding frantically, all Yeonjun can do is writhe underneath him while Beomgyu nibbles at his ear, flicking his tongue over his hoops and pressing little kisses to the sensitive skin around the area. Never in Yeonjun’s life has he had anyone treat such a non-sexual body part with so much attention, and have it feel so fucking good. It’s sensitive and teasing and he needs Beomgyu to do something more or he’s going to lose it.

It’s all so distracting that he doesn’t realize Beomgyu’s grip on his hip is gone, and suddenly there’s a hand at his chest instead, a single finger tracing lightly around his nipple—just close enough to make him squirm, but not enough to feel direct pleasure. Yeonjun moans loudly, hips jolting upwards but not reaching Beomgyu, as he’s positioned himself just out of reach. It makes him whine petualantly—long and drawn out.

At the noise, Beomgyu pulls back. “Something wrong?” He asks, head tilted innocently as he hovers over him. He’s wearing a silver chain necklace, and it’s dangling onto Yeonjun’s chest, cool and smooth. It makes him shiver. 

He’s so distracted by looking at it that it’s a surprise when just barely, the tip of Beomgyu’s finger rubs over his nipple, and he whines—loud and broken into the open air, arching upwards. “So sensitive,” Beomgyu murmurs, sounding awed.

Yeonjun’s breath is already shaky, and Beomgyu is barely touching him. “You’re a tease,” he grits out, whiny and exasperated but still full of pleasure. He can feel Beomgyu smile against the side of his neck, finally starting to kiss downwards. 

At the movement of his mouth going somewhere more promising, Yeonjun lets out a long, relieved sigh and relaxes into the pillows. He tilts his head down the second Beomgyu is in his eye line, watching him slow as he gets to the center of his chest, his ribs heaving in anticipation. 

Eyes flick up, and Yeonjun barely has a chance to think before one of his nipples is rolled between a finger and a thumb, making his back arch and a loud, aggressive moan leave his throat. Beomgyu hums, pleased at his reaction and trails his kisses from the center of his chest to the side, taking the other nipple in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around, flicking and nibbling as his hand pinches at the other. 

Yeonjun wails again, arching into Beomgyu’s mouth as both hands come down onto his head, holding him in place against his chest. He can feel the vibration of a chuckle against him, and all he can do is arch up, hips jerking towards nothing and whining pathetically when his cock doesn’t get the stimulation he wants.

Thankfully, Beomgyu shows him a bit of mercy, only making him moan and groan wildly for a minute or so before continuing to trail his kisses downwards, purposefully avoiding the space where Yeonjun’s cock is red and rock hard, resting on his stomach with precome pooling underneath. He scoots back, sitting on his knees to lean over and slide a pillow under Yeonjun’s back before looking him over questioningly. 

Yeonjun looks back, eyes narrowing under his staring. “What?” He asks, a little embarrassed at how Beomgyu seems to be studying his naked body, which is now practically propped up in front of him.

Beomgyu hums, like he’s thinking. “You’re a dancer,” he states, slowly tracing two of his fingers down Yeonjun’s leg, from his thigh to his calf. 

“Well, duh. I’m—”

Ignoring the attitude, Beomgyu interrupts. “You’re flexible,” he says—again, a statement, not a question. 

Yeonjun’s dick twitches against his stomach. Beomgyu notices. 

Slowly, he grabs another pillow, and Yeonjun lifts up again, letting him slide the second one under him, propping his ass up even more. 

And then—before he can question anything—a hand wraps around his ankle, bending up his leg. Yeonjun’s breath catches.

Beomgyu kisses his ankle and his calf, his shin and even the back of his knee—a spot that doesn’t know the sun well. It knows denim and cotton, it knows sweat and soap, but to the sun, it’s a stranger. The warmth of Beomgyu’s lips on his skin feels like the sun itself, gracing such an untouched part of him with the gentle, brushing heat of something even better than the sun. 

“I love you,” Beomgyu says against him, pressing love that is warmer than the sun to all of Yeonjun’s untouched parts. The bone of his ankle, his achilles tendon, the back of his knee. The space where his leg meets his hip, and even the inside of his wrist, when Yeonjun reaches down to put a hand in his hair.

Never in his life has Yeonjun been shown so much love, the affection pouring out of Beomgyu with every light but purposeful press of his lips. 

Never has he felt such gentle tenderness; such warm, sweet adoration.

“I love you too.”

If he says anything more, he might cry—he’s so overwhelmed with love, he might explode.

Taking his time, Beomgyu moves back downward, his kisses turning more wet and open mouthed as he bends Yeonjun’s knee back further and moves his lips over the inside of his thighs. He kisses and bites and licks and sucks until Yeonjun is near tears with want. “Gyu-ah, angel,” he pants out, squirming on the sheets as Beomgyu adds another hickey to the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Pausing at the pet name, Beomgyu’s eyes flick up, gaze heavy and cheeks pink. Yeonjun whines. “Touch me—please.”

Smiling against him, there’s a sparkle of mischief in Beomgyu’s eyes. He looks hungry. “Of course, pretty,” he coos, like he hadn’t just been teasing to no end. “There’s something I want to do—if you’re okay with it.” he says slowly, reaching back and grabbing Yeonjun’s other ankle, using it to bend his knee upward, matching the position of his other leg. 

Yeonjun blinks at him—waiting. He’s pretty sure he would do anything in the world for Beomgyu, so it’s kind of a silly question, but he keeps eye contact with him all the same, patiently waiting for him to speak. 

He waits long enough that Yeonjun starts to squirm a little, feeling a little exposed with his legs spread and bent up under Beomgyu’s hold. 

And then his head tilts, a dark, heavy look coming over his pretty features.

“Can I eat you out, Hyungie?” 

The room spins; like the mattress is floating in the ocean, and they’re stuck in a whirlpool.

Yeonjun is certain he’s blushing down to his toes. “I’m—you,” he starts to stammer, and he wants to die when his dick noticeably twitches against his stomach. He prays Beomgyu didn’t see.

“If you’re not comfortable, I won’t, but I—” Beomgyu starts, but Yeonjun doesn’t let him finish.

His words are rushed and stammered. “No! I mean—well I… it’s just,” he huffs, taking a deep breath and trying to get himself together. He closes his eyes for a second, collecting himself. When he opens them again, Beomgyu is simply looking up at him sweetly, blinking and curious and with a gentle smile on his face. Yeonjun loves him so much. “You don’t have to,” is what he settles on, nerves getting the best of him. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t want him to—because god, does he—but he’s only ever had two people do that with him. One was a hookup, and Yeonjun was quite certain he’d never have an orgasm like that again; that is, until he met Beomgyu. The other was his ex, and he was—for lack of a nicer way to put it—quite horrible at it. And he then proceeded to basically blame the fact that Yeonjun hadn’t had an orgasm from his subpar rimming skills on Yeonjun himself. Then, he never did it again—it was clear he wasn’t interested in learning to be better, and Yeonjun felt too guilty to bring it up, even if it wasn’t his fault. 

But looking down at Beomgyu between his thighs—eyes so dilated they look black—he wants him to, for sure. He just doesn’t want him to feel pressured; to feel like has to or that Yeonjun is expecting it, or something.

At the obviously nervous answer, Beomgyu’s head tilts—curious, but still tender. “I know I don’t have to, Jjun—I want to. That’s why I asked,” he says gently. He studies Yeonjun’s face, absently drawing patterns into the side of his ankle with his thumb, where he still has a hold on him. “Do you actually not want me to, or do you feel like I don’t want to, so you’re just saying that?” 

Shy, Yeonjun gives a small shrug. Beomgyu’s eyes drop into a tiny glare, but it’s truly so tender that it’s not even the slightest bit menacing. “I need you to tell me, Hyung,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Yeonjun’s knee. “Use your words, my pretty boy.”

It’s obvious that time—there’s no way Beomgyu doesn’t notice how Yeonjun’s dick twitches hard, precome dripping onto his stomach. He looks right at his cock; staring. Just long enough where Yeonjun starts to get wildly embarrassed. 

But when he looks up again—Christ. 

If Yeonjun thought he looked hungry before, Beomgyu is now a man starved.

Swallowing hard, he has to look away—he feels like he’s being hunted for sport; if being a chased, helpless little animal was the hottest thing in the world. “I mean—I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” he trails off, trying to drop his knees together, feeling exposed. He knows Beomgyu—he trusts Beomgyu—well enough to know he’s being genuine. He just sometimes has a hard time accepting nice things; especially because the one time his ex had attempted, he acted like he should win the Nobel Peace Prize for simply offering. 

Beomgyu brings a hand up to his knee, stopping him from closing his legs—it’s gentle, not holding hard enough that Yeonjun couldn’t close them if he really wanted to, but enough that he gets the message that Beomgyu is very serious about this, and really wants to do it. 

When he stops moving, Beomgyu lets go and reaches his hand up, lifting his chin so they make eye contact. His smile is so sweet, Yeonjun feels like he’s back on that mattress in the ocean—swirling and drifting and dizzy. 

A thumb rubs gently back and forth over his cheek, caressing his skin with so much care. Tapping on his mole, Beomgyu leans up and presses a soft kiss to his mouth. “I really want to do this,” he says after, meeting Yeonjun’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it for—god, I don’t even know how long; but especially today.” His ears redden at the admission and Yeonjun can tell it’s the truth. “There’s no feeling like I have to—because it’s partially selfish, honestly. Selfishly, I want to do this. I want to make you feel good,” he murmurs sweetly, cradling Yeonjun’s face. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t—obviously. But if it’s me you’re worried about… I promise you don’t need to worry. I want to, so bad.”

With Beomgyu’s genuinity, the ball of anxiety in Yeonjun’s chest unravels. I love you so much, he thinks, letting out a relieved sigh.

And then he remembers—he can say it now.

He moves his head to the side, letting himself shift in Beomgyu’s grasp and presses a kiss to the palm of his hand. “I love you,” he murmurs, trailing kisses all over his palm, even down onto his wrist. “I want you to.” He keeps kissing up to Beomgyu’s thumb, pressing the lightest kiss on the pad. 

And when he glances up, he’s quite certain he’s going to die young, and the cause will be the man in front of him. 

Because the way Beomgyu’s looking at him; it makes him feel like he’s been hit over the head with a comically large hammer. Like his skull is cartoonishly flattened on the top, and there are swirlies and stars circling his head, eyes turned to X’s. 

Beomgyu’s looking at him with so much love, and so much want—so much need—it’s heart-stopping.

Taking advantage of the thumb still on his lip, Beomgyu tightens the grip he has on his chin—so subtly Yeonjun probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if he didn’t feel like his entire body was on high alert; so, so sensitive. With the flexing of his hand, his thumb pushes on his lip the tiniest bit, and Yeonjun’s jaw opens in a heartbeat, making the tip of his thumb hit his bottom teeth. 

The groan that comes out of Beomgyu is absolutely destroyed. “Jjun,” he breathes out, heavy and anguished. Dark eyes watching his lips intently. Ever so slowly, he moves his thumb, pressing it into Yeonjun’s mouth. As soon as he’s entered just enough, lips close around it, tongue instantly swirling around and eyes fluttering closed. 

Beomgyu moans again, louder and even more broken, holding tighter to his chin. The grip makes Yeonjun moan low in his throat. “Fuck,” Beomgyu murmurs, moving his other fingers underneath Yeonjun’s jaw and tilting his head up, making his eyes open. “Look at you.”

His pupils are blown, mouth dropped open a little as he watches in awe. Yeonjun bobs his head forward around the thumb in his mouth, and the second their eyes meet, Beomgyu presses down on his tongue, making him moan around him, loud and vibrating. “My pretty baby,” Beomgyu muses, eyes locked on Yeonjun’s face, “wish you could see yourself like this—you’re so fucking beautiful, Hyung.”

Yeonjun knows his face is on fire under Beomgyu’s gaze and his words, but he swirls his tongue around him again needily, letting out a dissatisfied whine the digit slips from his mouth, dragged down over his lip and letting spit drool onto his chin. 

Slowly, Yeonjun’s chin still in his grip, Beomgyu lets his lip bounce up from underneath his touch, eyes focused on the movement. “I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he murmurs, so quiet it almost seems like it was just to himself; not even meant to be said out loud. It makes Yeonjun whine, feeling his cock twitch against his stomach.

And then Beomgyu’s diving forward and kissing him hard, murmuring I love you, I love you, I love you, against his lips and his neck and his stomach. He says the words against his hipbone and his thigh and it’s all wet and open-mouthed and teasing. Yeonjun is so fucking pleased and needy and desperate that he doesn’t even realize Beomgyu has maneuvered both of his knees backwards again until he suddenly licks a long, slow stripe over his hole.

Yeonjun wails.

Hands flying for purchase, one lands on Beomgyu’s head, the other twisting in the sheets below him. “Oh, Jesus—fuck,” he moans as his hole gets licked over again, Beomgyu prodding his tongue at the entrance and flicking it. Both of his palms are pressed into the back of Yeonjun’s knees, pushing his legs up so he can have better access. 

Yeonjun realizes this is why he was mentioning flexibility—and really, even if he wasn’t flexible, he would be letting Beomgyu push his legs back as far as they can go regardless, if it meant he got to feel like this. 

Part of him feels like maybe he should feel a little bit exposed; his knees pressed back into the mattress, completely spreading him open. But with the way Beomgyu won’t stop looking up at him through everything—eyes locked on his face—he can’t bring himself to think about anything other than how fucking good he feels.

It’s when Beomgyu’s tongue starts fucking into his entrance, getting him ready to start being stretched, does he pull back, wiping at his chin—already covered in his own spit. He’s between Yeonjun’s legs, biceps flexed to hold his legs down; bleary eyes and ruffled hair, red cheeks and a damp chin, breathing heavily. 

It’s the hottest fucking sight Yeonjun has ever seen. 

Smirking up at him, Beomgyu leans over to press a soft kiss to a mark left on his thigh—Yeonjun makes a mental note to not wear shorts to work anytime soon. “This still okay, Jjunie?” He asks sweetly, blinking up at him like he’s asking the weather—his casualness somehow makes it hotter.

Yeonjun gives a breathy laugh, chest still heaving. “Are you insane?” He asks, swallowing hard. He can’t stop staring at the wetness that’s still on Beomgyu’s chin—his own spit left over from his enthusiasm. “Yes. It’s very okay.”

Beomgyu pinches at his thigh in retaliation for the attitude, but kisses the spot he pinched right after. He’s smiling like he’s expecting to win an Olympic gold medal in eating ass, and when he leaves forwards and opens his mouth, letting his spit drip down onto Yeonjun’s hole—it’s already quite clear he’ll deserve that medal. 

Using two fingers to spread his spit around Yeonjun’s entrance, Beomgyu gives a little frown before looking to the side. “Been thinking about this all evening,” he murmurs, distracting Yeonjun from his actions as he rubs at his entrance, suddenly somehow obtaining the bottle of lube from wherever it ended up on the bottom of the bed, flipping it open.

Yeonjun hopes he doesn’t notice his hole clenching involuntarily—the way eyes flick there as Beomgyu spreads the lube on his fingers drowns that hope instantly. “Yeah?” Yeonjun prompts, trying to move past his blushing cheeks and wanting to know more—wanting to know every little detail about what Beomgyu thought about him; about them, before they were together.

Beomgyu nods. “Ever since I saw you… wait,” he stops, his voice changing from low and seductive to casual halfway through. His eyebrows furrow. “Do you think this is edible?” He asks, reaching back for the tube and bringing it up to his face, squinting at it with his lips dropped into a little pout of concentration. “We’re not going to have to call poison control if I get this in my mouth, right?”

It’s such a sudden question and so completely opposite of what was just happening that it makes Yeonjun bark out a laugh, loud and genuine. “I dunno, let me see,” he giggles, reaching for the tube. Beomgyu swats his hand away, still squinting at the ingredients and Yeonjun shakes his hand, wanting him to hand it over. “Babe, let Hyung look.” 

Giving in with his lips still in a pout, Beomgyu passes it to Yeonjun and looks at him expectantly, sitting up and leaning into his space to try to read it too. It’s upside down for him, so Yeonjun isn’t really sure why he’s even trying, but he’s not going to complain about him getting closer; he smells like vanilla and flowers and there’s a hint of Yeonjun’s own body wash from their closeness on his skin. The warmth of him radiates, and Yeonjun wishes he could glue all of their limbs together and have them never be apart.

When he finds that it’s fine, he hands it back to Beomgyu, and for a second, he’s overcome with the realization of how silly,  and how domestic, and how them the moment is. It makes him giggle.

Eyes darting up as he settles back between open legs, Beomgyu smiles. “What?” He grins, and Yeonjun giggles more—out of pure love this time, because Beomgyu is giggling and smiling at him, looking so sweet and so fond, even though he has no idea what’s going on. He’s simply giggling and smiling because Yeonjun is; and that makes Yeonjun’s chest feel like it’s going to downright explode.

“It’s just kind of ridiculous how you stopped in the middle of dirty talking for us to read a lube bottle,” Yeonjun laughs, shaking his head fondly. Reaching down, he pushes hair off Beomgyu's forehead, voice turning soft. “It’s stupid… and I think it was always supposed to be like this for us.”

Smiling even harder, Beomgyu’s head tilts playfully, and he leans over to press a kiss to Yeonjun’s thigh, slow and open-mouthed and wet. “Is this stupid?” He asks sarcastically, keeping eye contact as he nibbles at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, making him shiver. Eyes roll, but the tug Yeonjun gives to his hair is only partially scolding, and mostly an involuntary reaction to the heat flooding over him. 

Slowly, kisses start to trail upwards, and Beomgyu pushes one of Yeonjun’s legs back up, nudging the other with his shoulder. Yeonjun reaches down to hold it himself, pulling it up to match. 

Voice soft and sweet and so, so genuine, Beomgyu speaks again. “I was made to love you, I think,” he murmurs, placing one last kiss on his upper thigh. 

Tears prick at Yeonjun’s eyes with the words, and he pets Beomgyu’s head fondly. “Me too, darling. Always.”

And then two fingers are rubbing at his hole, one dipping in, and Yeonjun keens, back arching up off the pillows below him. 

It takes no time for Beomgyu to start talking again, in between prodding at Yeonjun’s hole with a finger and then two. Here and there, his tongue joins and then replaces when he takes his fingers out, switching between fingers and mouth and both in a way that makes Yeonjun see stars. “I loved your costume for the recital,” he murmurs in a moment where he’s pulled his face back, eyes flicking back and forth between Yeonjun’s face and where his fingers are opening him up. His head is resting against Yeonjun’s thigh, leaning down to add his tongue on and off.

“Y-yeah?” Is all Yeonjun can manage to reply, stammered around a moan. He swallows hard. “It was the crop top, wasn’t it?” He asks, trying to sound knowing and smug, but mostly sounding wrecked. Beomgyu is making him crumble already.

Peeling open his eyes, he looks down at him for the response. Beomgyu has picked his head up again, face covered with a sort of embarrassed, unsure expression. Unexpected, considering what he’s saying and doing. He clears his throat awkwardly—a direct contrast to his fingers that are rubbing on the inside of Yeonjun’s walls. “I mean—yeah, but…”

Yeonjun’s head tilts, his grin only fading for a second when he groans at a twist of Beomgyu’s fingers. “But?” He prompts, looking down expectantly at the beautiful red cheeks below him. Beomgyu won’t answer, breaking eye contact and curling his fingers up, pressing at his prostate and shocking a surprised moan out of him. It seems like a pointer action. Yeonjun narrows his eyes. “Don’t—ah—change the subject,” he chides through the pleasured making Beomgyu blush further.

Their gazes meet, and they stare at each other—Yeonjun prodding and curious, Beomgyu stubborn and pink. 

They stare and stare—both of them too hardheaded to give in. 

And then Yeonjun understands. 

Heat floods over his body and his face drops into a smirk as he reaches down to cup Beomgyu’s face, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “Did you like seeing Hyung in a skirt, Gyu-ah?” He asks sweetly—knowing and proud and a little bit maniacal. 

The color of Beomgyu’s cheeks is answer enough—red splotchiness goes all the way down his chest as his eyes go wide before looking away.

“You like that?” Yeonjun repeats, loving the feeling of the warmth of Beomgyu’s cheek against his palm. 

He’s blushing—hard.

Yeonjun fucking adores him.

Patient and open, Yeonjun waits, doing his best to hold back the insane grin that wants to cover his face. And slowly, the head in his hand nods, shy but hungry eyes looking up to him. The absolutely ravenous look in Beomgyu’s eyes—despite his blushing skin—makes Yeonjun completely unable to stop the absolutely thrilled smirk that covers his face. “I have a few, you know,” he murmurs, letting out a high noise as Beomgyu fingers curl in him, but still taking the time to brush a thumb over Beomgyu’s cheekbone, staring down at him with a look he can only imagine is just as starved. “Skirts, I mean. They’re longer ones but… you might still like them. I haven’t worn them in awhile—maybe I should?”

Beomgyu groans, low and wrecked, leaning in and pulling his fingers out, pressing his tongue inside of him in lieu of a reply. Yeonjun whines, long and drawn out as Beomgyu licks and sucks at him, fucking his tongue in and out. He leans over and bites at his asscheek, giving it enough attention to leave a mark. “Put one on,” he groans out, words muffled against skin as his fingers reenter, twisting and prodding and pushing his tongue alongside them.

“N-now?” Yeonjun chokes out, letting out an absolutely pathetic noise when Beomgyu rubs at his prostate and shoves his tongue in next to his fingers, making more precome spurt out of his untouched cock. Beomgyu pulls back, smirking, and Yeonjun scowls. “Absolutely not—I’m naked. I’m not putting anything on until you make me come.”

Beomgyu chuckles despite his snippy attitude, like he knows Yeonjun would probably do anything for him, if he said he wanted it. Sure, he’d probably make Beomgyu be the one to get up and go get a skirt for him, but he’d put it on if he really wanted it right that second. 

But Beomgyu just smiles knowingly, shaking his head. “You’re so bossy,” he snickers, prodding at Yeonjun’s prostate so he jolts, whimpering loudly—proving he has the upper hand. “Sometime though… I’m gonna eat you out while you wear one,” he insists, making Yeonjun groan loudly as he dives back in; three fingers and his tongue poking next to them. Yeonjun is pretty sure he is not going to make it. “You won’t be able to see me underneath it, but you’ll feel me.” Beomgyu punctuates his words with the curling of his fingers, rubbing at Yeonjun’s prostate over and over, making him wail. “Wanna fuck you with it on, too.” 

The combination of Beomgyu’s words and the fingers inside him are going to make Yeonjun go insane. “Oh my—shit, Gyu-ah, I need you in me,” he whines, starting to get frantic. He feels like he might die if Beomgyu isn’t inside of him soon. “Please—please, please, please,” he begs, voice coming out practically hysterical as he feels his orgasm building. 

Beomgyu ignores him and dives his head back down, moving his fingers faster, pressing on his prostate with every thrust, making sure to rub against it for a second each time. Yeonjun’s hands fly to his head, not sure if he’s trying to push him away so he doesn’t come, or pull him closer because of how good it feels. “Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna…” He trails off, unable to finish as a moan punches out of his throat.

Humming against him, Beomgyu clearly either thinks very highly of Yeonjun’s ability to hold back, or is truly just an absolute menace, because he fucks his three fingers in deeper, rhythmically pressing on his prostate each time, tongue right alongside them. 

“Gyu, really—I’m,” Yeonjun tries to get out, his orgasm approaching—fast. “I’m—shit—I’m gonna—”

Suddenly, Beomgyu’s free hand lets go of Yeonjun’s leg and comes down to his balls, massaging them in his palm—and that’s it.

Yeonjun absolutely screams, back arching up off the bed and writhing so hard Beomgyu has to drape his arm over his stomach, holding him in place as he writhes against his fingers and his tongue. He comes hard all over himself and on Beomgyu’s arm, vision going black. His ears are ringing and his entire body is twitching and he’s never felt so much at once in his life, hands tight in Beomgyu’s hair as he works him through the orgasm, fingers and tongue still moving with serious intent. 

Yeonjun can’t control the sounds coming out of him, and tears of pleasure squeeze out of his eyes. His vision clears after a second, and he looks down at Beomgyu, who is still moving his fingers and his tongue, eyes locked on Yeonjun’s face with such determination that the view makes him wail all over again, waves of pleasure still washing over him.

When the little jolts of overstimulation become too much to handle, Yeonjun whines and pushes on Beomgyu’s forehead lightly. He backs up instantly, stopping the movement of his fingers but keeping them inside. Yeonjun swallows hard, blinking down at him and still feeling dizzy. He has no clue how long they lay there—Yeonjun collapses against the bed and Beomgyu lays on his stomach, using Yeonjun’s thigh as a pillow. 

It isn’t until the little kisses that keep being left all over his thighs make him start to squirm again does he catch his breath. “Jesus—fuck,” Yeonjun heaves out, voice hoarse from all the noise he was making and his heavy breathing. 

Beomgyu gives a pleased little chuckle, smirking hard and wrapping his arm around Yeonjun’s bent leg, leaning on it and looking up at him with an expression that makes Yeonjun feel like he might come close to passing out again—it’s a look full of so much love and contentment it hurts; in the best way possible. 

Slowly sliding his fingers out, Beomgyu presses gentle kisses to his hipbone when he whines about the loss, using discarded boxers to clean off his fingers and arm and Yeonjun’s stomach. “Good?” He asks, the quirk of his lip making it obvious he knows the answer, given the way Yeonjun is still out of breath and his legs are still giving little jolts here and there. 

Unable to even bring himself to fake glare at Beomgyu’s teasing cockiness, Yeonjun waves a flippant hand that says, what do you think? Beomgyu giggles, pressing another soft kiss to his thigh. “I will wear a skirt any time you’d like, if that’s what I get out of it,” Yeonjun laughs breathlessly, “Jesus Christ, Gyu-ah. You’re insane.” 

Beomgyu reddens and drops his head shyly, as if he wasn’t just shoving his tongue inside him like his life depended on it. He presses another kiss on the thigh next to him, the motion making Yeonjun finally have the mind to notice the way his upper leg is absolutely littered with teeth marks and bruises from Beomgyu’s mouth. 

Even though he just had an orgasm not that long ago, he feels a twitch in his lower stomach at the sight. 

Beomgyu follows his gaze and his ears redden further, looking away. Yeonjun raises his brows teasingly. “Marking your territory?” He smirks, and Beomgyu blushes even more, smacking him on the thigh lightly.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, bashful and sweet. Pushing himself up, he presses his lips to Yeonjun’s placatingly—as if it’s necessary.

Giggling against him, Yeonjun smiles. “I don’t care,” he confesses, barely pulling away enough to speak. “I like it, honestly.” 

At the admission, Beomgyu’s hips stutter and he makes a small noise—and that’s when Yeonjun realizes he’s still very hard. “Oh, sweetheart,” he coos as he pulls back, reaching a hand down and wrapping it lightly around Beomgyu’s cock. “You’re so hard.”

A moan leaps out of Beomgyu’s mouth and his hips jerk forward, but he swats Yeonjun’s hand away. “I’m well aware, thanks,” he hisses, heaving out a shaky breath as he tries to compose himself. 

Yeonjun tuts, tilting his head and pouting a little, giving Beomgyu a pitying look—but in a teasing, almost condescending way; not malicious, but heated and mischievous. “I tried to tell you—you could’ve been inside me right now, if you stopped.”

He tries to reach for him again and Beomgyu grabs his wrist, pinning it to the bed. Yeonjun’s positive his dick twitches in interest this time, and he’s positive Beomgyu notices, with the way his face drops into a smirk. His eyes are dark, but with that little playful glimmer that Yeonjun loves—the one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Hyung. Behave,” he purrs, as he presses Yeonjun’s wrist further into the bed. 

And of course he knows, because instantly, Yeonjun whines—high and loud, arching up and feeling his cock already hardening again. Beomgyu’s grin is downright thrilled. “I still plan on fucking you, baby. Don’t worry,” he says sweetly, leaning down and pressing his lips to Yeonjun’s neck, soft and placating—as if he isn’t the direct reason for Yeonjun’s writhing and whimpers. “You can come again, can’t you?” He asks, biting down on his collarbone. 

Yeonjun’s hips stutter, giving a weak jerk upwards. He feels completely wrecked—totally fucked out—but still, he can feel himself getting harder. “Yes—please,” he whines, knowing it’s desperate and pathetic but not caring, because he feels like if he doesn’t get Beomgyu inside him soon, after all this time, he might die.

Shushing him gently, Beomgyu runs a hand over his side. “Okay, pretty—just relax,” he coos. And his mouth closes around his nipple.

The noise that comes out of Yeonjun is ruined, sensitive beyond belief and arching into him, whining and whimpering and squirming beneath him as his tongue flicks over the bud. “Gyu, Gyu,” he chants, one hand grabbing at Beomgyu’s head, the other twisting in the pillow above him. His entire body feels a hundred times more sensitive after his first orgasm, and he’s near tears in no time with Beomgyu swirling his nipple around in his mouth, pinching at the other with his hand.

It’s too much and it’s not enough. Yeonjuns a mess under his touch, writhing and jolting, making incoherent noises and almost losing it completely when Beomgyu starts to rut against his thigh gently, moaning against his chest. 

He really does lose it when Beomgyu pulls his head away from his chest with loud, suction noise of his lips and glances up, making eye contact through his long, pretty lashes with those big, pretty eyes. He sticks his tongue out slowly, then starts flicking it back and forth over Yeonjun’s nipple quickly, rubbing around the other one with his hand as he keeps eye contact. Yeonjun’s hips jerk up hard with a destroyed noise, making Beomgyu jolt and stutter out a surprised moan when he rubs against him. 

Yeonjun is downright begging in an instant—it’s not even begging, really, but commanding. “Beomgyu-yah,” he pants, hips jerking up into him, cutting himself off with a moan that is matched when their cocks rub together. His voice is wrecked but stern. “You need to get in me—now,” he demands, nails digging into Beomgyu’s shoulder blades.

Eyes widening at his tone, Beomgyu’s hips jolt down again—the movement very obviously uncontrollable with the way he whines out a broken sound, eyes closing. “Fuck,” he grits out, already patting around on the bed for the lube. “Yeah—okay baby, of course. Anything, for you.” 

He finds the lube and reaches back to the drawer, and Yeonjun knows what he’s going for. His voice comes out panicked and quite embarrassing, but he can’t stop it. “No,” he says quickly, grabbing Beomgyu’s wrist before he can even fully open the drawer. “Now—you need to be in me, now.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows furrow a bit at his petulance. “I know, Jjunie, I’m just gonna grab—”

Yeonjun cuts him off. “Have you slept with anyone since last time?”

Eyebrows narrow further, like it’s the dumbest question in the world. “No,” Beomgyu says, almost sounding disgusted at the thought. “I haven’t slept with anyone since the first time we were together… or, technically the second time, I guess.”

Even though something warm and fuzzy comes over Yeonjun at the words, he’s still scowling and petulant because Beomgyu is taking way too fucking long. He starts shoving at broad shoulders pointedly, pushing him back over him so their hips are aligned once again. “Then why the fuck are you not in me yet,” he grits out, lifting his hips so they’re closer to him, making their cocks brush together. 

Beomgyu whines at the contact—eyes wide and so dilated they’re nearly black. His voice is still careful when it comes out though. “You’re sure?” He asks sweetly, meeting Yeonjun’s eyes.

In the back of his mind, Yeonjun thinks it’s really sweet that Beomgyu is double checking. 

In the forefront of his mind, he thinks he might need to be put in a padded room if Beomgyu isn’t in him immediately. 

“Choi Beomgyu, if you’re not inside me in the next ten seconds, I swear to god I am going to—”

“Okay, okay,” Beomgyu laughs, making Yeonjun’s eyebrows furrow harder, “you’re so demanding.”

And Yeonjun is about to talk back again, but Beomgyu’s tip breeches inside of him and his mouth drops open, back arching up as he slowly slides in. 

It’s too much and not enough all at once—every nerve in him feels simultaneously satiated and unsatisfied. 

Beomgyu pauses merely halfway in, and Yeonjun whines, making him glance up with a worried look. “Sorry, should I wait?” He asks, the hand on Yeonjun’s hip rubbing gentle stripes back and forth over his skin. 

Yeonjun loves Beomgyu so much. He really does.

But he’s going to kill him if he doesn’t fuck him immediately. 

In one swift motion, he wraps his ankles around Beomgyu’s back and yanks him inwards, making him bottom out in one thrust that makes the both moan, loud and broken into the open air. 

Once recovered, Beomgyu lets out a breathy chuckle, and the smirk he gives Yeonjun makes his throbbing cock twitch against his stomach. “Alright then,” he grins, leaning down and pressing a wet, open-mouthed and quite frankly filthy kiss to Yeonjun’s mouth. “Understood, pretty.”

And then his hips pull back and start thrusting—hard and deep, barely pulling out halfway before thrusting back in. 

Yeonjun wails. He can’t control the noises coming out of him, a mix of whines and broken pleads and chants of Beomgyu’s name and baby and curses. He knows immediately he is not going to last long, and he can tell by the deep concentration on Beomgyu’s face that he isn’t going to either. 

Hands find his legs again, pushing them back up like they were before, Yeonjun’s knees just about hitting his shoulders as Beomgyu sits back, settling himself down on his calves so he’s upright and able to thrust forward easily, fast and deep. When he closes Yeonjun’s legs and brings them together, crossing them at the ankle and holding them up straight with a hand around both, it takes no time at all for Yeonjun to start wailing, his body already building up to try and come again. 

He wants to tell Beomgyu that he’s going to last—that he needs to come soon, and he is going to need him to jerk him off this time to make it happen, but he can’t speak. The only things coming from his mouth are whimpers and whines and eventually he’s just making sharp little noises of ah, ah, ah, at every thrust. 

Beomgyu looks to be in no better of a state, face pinched with restraint and mouth open in his own never-ending string of noises—groans and whimpers and swears alike. “So fucking good—you’re so perfect around me, Jjunie,” he grits out, his hips stuttering as Yeonjun feels himself clench around him. “So pretty… my pretty boy.”

If Yeonjun’s cock was being touched at all, that would’ve been it for him—but he can’t get quite there, and all he can do is thrash against the pillow, dizzy with pleasure and need. His eyes are blurry with tears of pleasure and he thinks he might be actually drooling with his head lolled to the side, completely fucked out and overstimulated in the best way possible.

When he gives a particularly pathetic wail, Beomgyu slows inside of him and removes his hands from his ankles, gently guiding his legs back down to either side of him. A hand then comes up to Yeonjun’s chin, turning it towards him and swiping a thumb over his cheek lightly—he probably was drooling, which should be embarrassing, but at the moment, he can’t bring himself to care. “You close, pretty?” Beomgyu asks sweetly, still thrusting, but gentle and unhurried now. Yeonjun whines every time. 

He nods frantically and feels tears fall out of his eyes—pleasured and desperate. His entire body feels like gasoline, ready to ignite with even a lick of flames. “Yes—fuck, yes baby, please,” he chants, frantic and finally regaining the ability remember how to move his arms, both of them flying up and grabbing the sides of Beomgyu’s face, tugging him down for a deep, messy kiss. “Touch me—please,” he begs against his lips, and it’s instant, the way Beomgyu listens and reaches down to wrap a light hand around him, squeezing over the head of his cock. 

Yeonjun lets out another one of those absolutely pained wails, and he’s quite certain he’s so fucked out he’s been sent to another dimension, because one second Beomgyu’s hand is on him, and in another second he’s added extra lube on his cock, and the slick slide of him in his hand is almost instantly too much. 

Starting to thrust again, Beomgyu moves his hips rhythmically and deep—not too fast but not too slow, each movement deep and hard and pushing on Yeonjun’s prostate. His orgasm starts to build in earnest—dragging but steadily rising. His nails dig into Beomgyu’s back, clawing for purchase.

“I fucking love you—so much,” Beomgyu grits out, pressing their lips together firmly, the kiss nothing but a mess of teeth and tongue and desire from both of them. He speaks against him, lips brushing together as they breathe into each other’s mouths. “I have for a while, I think—maybe from the start, if that’s possible.” Yeonjun whines, nodding in agreement but he can’t get words out. 

As Beomgyu pulls back, their eyes meet, and Yeonjun knows he understands without words—just by the look in his eyes. Reaching to hold his face, Yeonjun cradles him gently, and Beomgyu nuzzles into his palm, eyes fluttering closed and turning his head to press a kiss to his skin like Yeonjun did to him earlier. 

He lets his thumb trail upwards, lightly brushing over where Beomgyu’s long, pretty lashes rest on his cheekbones. “You’re the prettiest thing in the world,” Yeonjun murmurs, not meaning for it to be out loud—not even sure where he found his voice—but not regretting it one bit. 

Beomgyu’s eyes open at his words, and they soften tenfold, pink dusting his cheeks. His hips stutter, and his thrusts start to falter. He’s close. “I love you, Yeonjun-ah,” he murmurs, making eye contact again. “I’ve been falling for you for so long; I think the whole time. I fell for you a month ago and a week ago and yesterday and today. I’ll fall for you tomorrow too, and the next day and every day after.”

Yeonjun doesn’t realize he’s crying until Beomgyu leans on one arm to reach up and brush away the few droplets with his thumb, smiling down at him, soft and fond. His eyes are watery, and when Yeonjun’s face breaks into a smile at his gentle touch, Beomgyu’s eyes leak as well. 

“I love you so much, Beomgyu-yah,” he whispers, voice hoarse and wrecked. 

Hips stuttering, Beomgyu shoves himself forward, giving a little circle motion inside before pulling out again—Yeonjun sobs. “I’ve got you,” Beomgyu says to him, so gentle and in love. “You can do it, pretty.” His voice is so sweet and encouraging, and Yeonjun has never felt more pleasure in his life. 

They lock eyes, and the wrecked, desperate look on Beomgyu’s face is almost it for him. 

And then he speaks.

“Come with me, my Yeonjjunie. I wanna come with you, please.”  

It’s instant.

Yeonjun can’t control his mouth, a flood of wet moans and sobs and swears and Beomgyu’s name flood out of him and his cock weakly spurts again, pleasure coming over him like a tsunami, heavy and crashing. His hearing goes fuzzy and his back is arched and he’s shaking uncontrollably, and Beomgyu spills into him with a long, drawn out cry of pleasure that just makes him wail more. He grips onto Beomgyu’s nape and bicep so tightly it’s like he thinks he might float away if he doesn’t, feeling his cock pulse and spill inside of him. 

He feels out of his body, like he might actually turn to dust if he doesn’t hold Beomgyu close.

He pulls their foreheads together, and at some point his moans have turned into repeated chants of I love you, I love you, I love you, that continue until his lips are moving but no words even come out. 

It feels like forever as waves of pleasure crash over him, and eventually Beomgyu collapses on top of him, sweaty and sticky and Yeonjun couldn’t be more pleased, instantly wrapping his arms around him tightly. Light, tired kisses get pressed all over his face and all he can do is give breathy giggles until Beomgyu’s lips capture his, and they’re kissing—soft and sweet and lazy. 

Once they’re both feeling the grossness of their skin sticking to each other, they stumble to the bathroom. Yeonjun’s jaw drops when he looks in the mirror and sees the mascara and eyeliner from the recital that he never took off smudged like crazy under his eyes, and there's even a black tear mark streaked down his cheek. He turns to Beomgyu, wide eyed. “I look like this and you didn’t say anything?” He asks, incredulous.

Beomgyu pouts, eyebrows furrowing as he turns on the shower, letting it warm up. “What do you mean?”

“My makeup! I look like a raccoon!”

Shrugging, Beomgyu walks over, snaking a hand around him and squeezing his ass. “I thought it was hot,” he says casually, not doing very well hiding his smirk. “It looks like that cause I fucked you so good you cried.”

He’s incredibly proud of himself, and if Yeonjun didn’t just have two life-altering orgasms, he would probably get hard again just from the pleased, smug look Beomgyu is giving him. In retaliation, he lands a smack on his ass as he walks to the shower, making him squeak and send him the finger, but he still kisses Yeonjun sweetly under the spray of the shower, and tells him he loves him at least twenty times before the water gets turned off.

After, they’re in Yeonjun’s bed, under the covers playing with Bear, watching her attack the blanket monster created by their hands beneath the sheets. They giggle and kiss and Yeonjun has never been happier. 

Every new moment with Beomgyu feels like the happiest.

Leaning forward, he presses a gentle kiss on his forehead before pulling back, suddenly remembering something. His stomach drops. 

He clears his throat. “So…” He starts, making Beomgyu’s eyes dart to his with worry. But Yeonjun just smiles sheepishly. “Is now a bad time to tell you I forgot to do the dishes earlier?” 

Beomgyu's slightly anxious look turns to a glare. “I’m filing for divorce.”

“Divorce? We’re not married! We’re not even—”

Beomgyu cuts him off, eyebrows raised in challenge. “We’re not even what?”

Mouth snapping closed, Yeonjun blinks. 

Shit, he thinks, as Beomgyu glares at him, eyes narrowed. I fucked something up here, assuming we aren’t together now. Should I have assumed? Should I not have? Are we?

He gives an awkward laugh, trying to be casual. “Well, I mean… we didn’t like—formalize anything…” He trails off, scratching at his head awkwardly as he glances at Beomgyu. It’s stupid, but after everything they’ve been through, he wants some sort of formality.

Eyes search his face for a second, expression unreadable, and then Beomgyu huffs, sitting up from the bed and taking off out the door. 

Yeonjun’s stomach drops again. He definitely said something wrong. “Wait—Beomgyu-yah, I didn’t mean,” he stammers, picking Bear up off his lap so he can get up too, “I just didn’t know if you—”

His words fade away when he’s almost off the bed and Beomgyu walks back into the room, holding the bouquet he gave him earlier. His glare has turned to a slightly exasperated but still soft smile. He clears his throat. “Choi Yeonjun—I am very much in love with you and would really like to take you on very many dates,” he says, formally, like he’s announcing the arrival of the queen. The worry in Yeonjun’s stomach disappears in an instant, and he can’t help the grin that spreads over his face as Beomgyu continues, thrusting the flowers towards him. “Will you please be my boyfriend?”

Taking the bouquet, Yeonjun laughs, looking between the flowers and Beomgyu, who is waiting at the edge of the bed expectantly. He hums, like he has to think about it—just to be annoying. “Reusing the flowers you already got me?” He teases, unable to fully hide his grin. “Kinda cheap, don’t you think?”

The smirk on his face and the teasing gets him shoved back into the mattress, Beomgyu huffing as he climbs on top of him, scowling down at him with that sparkle in his eyes. “You know what? I take it back. I’m gonna go find a new boyfriend,” he says matter-of-factly, grabbing Yeonjun’s wrists the second they come up to his waist and pinning them down next to him. He’s got on that sweet little pissed off face that is truly more fond than anything—that one Yeonjun loves so much.

“How are you gonna explain to that new boyfriend that you’re straddling another man?”

Beomgyu scoffs, but a smile is fighting its way past his pout. “He’ll understand when he learns how annoying you are.”

Yeonjun just laughs—he is so in love. “I mean... as your actual boyfriend, I think it’s kind of like… my job to annoy you for the rest of our lives.”

Eyes lighting up at the word boyfriend, Beomgyu has already started leaning down, rolling his eyes. “And as your boyfriend, I’m telling you to shut the fuck up,” he smiles, then presses their lips together. 

Yeonjun kisses him, and he’s certain he’s meant to do this forever. 

When they pull apart, and Beomgyu rolls off of him, Yeonjun turns to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to stare; Beomgyu is too fucking pretty. He reaches out and pokes at his side to get his attention. “For the record—yes, I’ll be your boyfriend,” he says, giving a stupid little salute that makes Beomgyu roll his eyes, but his grin is blinding. “And I’ll kill anyone else who comes near you even thinking the word boyfriend. That’s reserved for me.”

Beomgyu laughs, clear and pure. “Oh, so now that we’re officially dating you reveal you have serial killer potential?”

“I prefer the term protective.”

“Psychotic.”

“Adoring.”

“Insane.”

“It’s crazy how bad you want me… like, all the time.”

Eyes roll, but they sparkle as Beomgyu’s head lolls towards him, grinning. “Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with me. It must be some sort of condition,” he smiles sweetly, but Yeonjun knows the sparkle in his eyes is mischief. “I should see a doctor. I can’t wait to be cured of it.”

Huffing, Yeonjun rolls on top of him, pinning him down the same way Beomgyu had him pinned minutes before. “That’s a lie—you like that condition way too much. It’s self-inflicted.”

Beomgyu’s smile is so bright, he could light the whole city. “I love it too much.”

Yeonjun leans down and kisses him—his boyfriend—and everything is right. 

—

It’s March 13th, and it’s Beomgyu’s birthday. 

Thankfully, Yeonjun planned most of the birthday plans before they got together, so he didn’t have any last minute boyfriend duties to do. It might be a little ridiculous that he was planning on doing all of these things for Beomgyu platonically, but at least now he can do it while openly telling him he loves him.

So it’s a relief Beomgyu sleeps like the dead, because it gives him ample time to slide out of the sheets and go to his own room to dig through his closet for all the birthday supplies he hid. 

They had decided they would mostly continue to live in their separate rooms—for now. Even though they both were well aware they love each other, they didn’t want to push anything too far too soon, and since they already live together, they figured having some sort of separation was healthy. Also, some days their schedules are so opposite that it’s simply much more convenient for them to not wake each other up at 5am after a night shift, or after midnight once the pub closes. 

However, given the fact that he and Beomgyu were up late the night before and far too tuckered out from the activities that kept them up late to move from the bed, Yeonjun awoke next to his boyfriend and had to sneak out of the room.

When Beomgyu finally wakes up though, it’s almost perfect timing. Yeonjun finished decorating the apartment with balloons and streamers and birthday signs, arranged all of the presents nicely on the island, and is almost done making breakfast. 

He knows of Beomgyu’s arrival in the kitchen when a gasp comes from behind him. “Hyung!” He croaks out, voice cracking with sleep. When Yeonjun turns, he’s met with sleepy eyes, a puffy nose, bedhead, and the sweetest smile on earth. “You didn’t have to do all this,” Beomgyu breathes out, blushing, clad in boxers and a t-shirt that was once Yeonjun’s, and he’s the most beautiful sight in the world, padding across the kitchen with socked feet. 

Yeonjun just smiles, putting the spatula down and turning down the stove before wrapping him up in a hug, pulling his sleep-warm body close. “Happy birthday baby,” he says in reply, squeezing him tight before pulling back to grab his face with both hands, pulling him into a deep, meaningful kiss. 

They only pull away when the sound of a balloon popping scares them both, and they turn towards the noise to see Bear taking off down the hallway, afraid of the sound that she most definitely caused by batting at the decorations. It sends them both into a fit of laughter, and Yeonjun has to begrudgingly pull away from his boyfriend to finish their meal, sending Beomgyu to go sit.

They eat together at the island, turned towards each other with their legs tangled together, knees knocking and skin brushing and syrup-flavored kisses shared, and then Yeonjun insists Beomgyu opens his presents. “I didn’t get anything huge because… well, we’re both broke, and I knew you’d be mad if I spent too much,” he explains as Beomgyu carefully rips through wrapping paper on the first present and nods, agreeing. “And we just started dating, so I didn’t want to do too much and have it be… I dunno—overbearing, or something.”

He’s ranting while Beomgyu pops open the box of the first present. Inside is an Italian charm bracelet, each little square charm picked out specifically by Yeonjun, finding a meaning behind each one. There’s a cat for Bear, a teddy bear because Yeonjun always associates them with Beomgyu. Both of their astrological symbols are there, a pride flag, and other various little things that are quintessentially Beomgyu. 

Yeonjun’s nervously over-explaining every charm, so focused on making sure all of them are explained well that he doesn’t even notice Beomgyu is tearing up until he’s quiet for too long, and Yeonjun finally looks up at his face. “Shit—is it too much?” He asks, worried. “Not enough? Should I get something different?”

Beomgyu shakes his head, a shaky laugh coming out of his mouth and a single tear falling down his cheek. “Jjunie, this is the nicest and most thoughtful thing anyone has ever gotten me… it’s perfect,” he insists, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Yeonjun’s lips, smiling into it. “You put so much thought into each piece. I love it. Thank you.” He slides it on his wrist immediately and Yeonjun’s cheeks hurt from smiling and his face feels hot and he loves Beomgyu, so much.

When he opens the other gift, he gasps, instantly smacking Yeonjun on the arm. “Hyung! You said you didn’t spend a lot!” He accuses, gently taking the vintage camera out of the box, looking at it in awe. It was something that the two of them saw months ago at a vintage store, and Beomgyu had been fawning over since—always bringing up how he wanted to buy it, and how cool the pictures would be. He even raved about how nice it would look displayed in his room, even when he wasn’t using it. 

Yeonjun went and bought it the day after they first saw it.

“I bargained with the guy at the store a little bit,” he says, accepting the excited press of Beomgyu’s lips on his. 

And it’s the truth, technically.

He did get the price down a little bit from what it was when he and Beomgyu first saw the camera—not by much though. 

However, Beomgyu certainly didn’t need to know what he spent, because then he would certainly scold Yeonjun for spending too much; even though he would spend his life savings on Beomgyu in a heartbeat.  

He laughs when kisses trail away from his mouth and starts spreading all over his face. “Thank you, I love you, thank you, I love you,” Beomgyu says between kisses, holding his face in both hands so he can’t escape the ticklish smack of lips all over. He can probably feel the heat of Yeonjun’s cheeks in his hands.

And then the kissing leads to more kissing—real kissing—which leads to wandering hands. The wandering hands then lead to Yeonjun on the floor between Beomgyu’s legs, giving him a different kind of birthday present. 

Afterwards they shower, and since Beomgyu had requested a relaxing day for his birthday, Yeonjun drags his mattress into the living room like they did on Valentine’s day. They spend most of the day watching movies and kissing and getting completely caught up in each other. 

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me,” Beomgyu says, warm and bare and curled up against Yeonjun’s chest. 

Letting out an embarrassed little chuckle, Yeonjun can’t stop his grin. “You give me too much credit,” he says, kissing Beomgyu on the forehead. 

His boyfriend pulls back, pouting at him. “No, I’m serious!” Beomgyu whines, sitting up on his elbow and poking him in the chest. 

But Yeonjun cannot take a compliment—especially from a flushed, naked Beomgyu. “I mean, you said I helped you a lot when I moved in here, but you were also in therapy,” he insists, brushing hair off Beomgyu’s forehead, still sweaty from their birthday celebrations. He presses a soft kiss to his nose. “You did that healing on your own, baby. Don’t give me that credit, it’s not fair to you.”

Beomgyu hums thoughtfully, tracing his finger across Yeonjun’s collarbone. “I mean, yeah… you’re right—in a way,” he nods, biting down on his lip, a bit shy. “I did do it myself, but you had a bigger part in it than I think you realize… without even knowing.”

Yeonjun tilts his head, not sure what to say. 

“Soobin and Kai and Taehyun… they were here all the time, watching over me. And not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do—of course—I just think… I dunno,” he trails off, looking to the ceiling as he finds the words. “I needed space. I needed to be given the space to learn how to heal on my own, but also be supported. I felt suffocated a little bit, with them here all the time. And not even in a bad way, because it was nice. I like being taken care of—but that’s just it… I let them hold me up when I needed to learn to stand on my own.”

Yeonjun nods, and tears prick his eyes. He’s not even sure why—maybe it’s love, or admiration, or because he’s proud of Beomgyu. He simply adores him, and he’s so thoughtful and strong and tender and genuine it overwhelms him. 

Beomgyu sniffles and Yeonjun sees his eyes are glassy too. “It was like… when you got here, you gave me that safe space I needed. You were there for me and you cared about me, but it wasn’t too much. You let me learn and be independent and grow, but you were also here when I needed you to be and when I needed to be picked up and set on the right track,” he explains, his voice soft and sweet and full of so much emotion. “You gave me a safe space to heal in. I needed that space, and you gave it to me so easily. You cared for me and noticed things and made me feel like someone who deserved happiness again. And you still do all those things—so thank you.”

And that’s why Beomgyu has to put a set of eye masks in the freezer and place them on Yeonjun’s puffy undereyes while they get ready to go out for his birthday dinner, because Beomgyu makes him cry with his sweet, genuine words. 

Later, when Beomgyu walks into his room all dressed for dinner, Yeonjun seriously considers cancelling on their friends and instead spending the entire evening absolutely ravaging his gorgeous boyfriend. He’s wearing a perfectly cropped black jacket with tiny cream colored pinstripes, a cream button up with the top few buttons undone, dark jeans and chunky loafers. His hair is pushed back off his forehead and he looks like he’s brushed some smokey eyeshadow around his eyes, giving his usually big, sweet brown eyes a dark, sultry look. 

Yeonjun wants to devour him. 

And he’s either clueless to or ignoring the way Yeonjun is staring at him like a rabid animal. “You’re really just always choosing favorites, aren’t you?” He says to Bear as he comes into the room, picking her up out of Yeonjun’s lap. She’s been curled up there while he’s been sitting at his desk, dabbing on a bit of makeup on his own face. 

Despite Beomgyu’s complaints about favorites, Bear instantly starts purring loudly and cuddles into his chest as he flips her over, cradling her like a baby. It’s only then that he finally acknowledges Yeonjun. “Close your mouth, Jjunie baby. You’re collecting dust,” he smirks, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on his lips—which makes it clear he was purposefully ignoring Yeonjun’s heavy stare and dropped jaw at the sight of him. 

Well, ignoring until he had the perfect opportunity to tease.

Yeonjun knows his ears are so red they’re nearly purple when Beomgyu pulls back, eyes sparkling with knowing. He feels dizzy with attraction. “You look gorgeous, Beomgyu-yah,” he breathes out, blinking up at him stupidly, in awe of his beauty. 

Beomgyu turns and plops Bear down on the bed and moves back towards him, his smirk turned a bit shy. “Thanks, Hyungie,” he murmurs, letting Yeonjun wrap an arm around his waist and tug him even closer, reaching down to squeeze his ass before pulling him into his lap, pressing a kiss to the bottom of his jaw as he giggles. “You look really good too.” His voice is breathy and he’s squirming from the way Yeonjun keeps leaving barely there, open mouthed kisses on his jaw and neck. 

Yeonjun is so fucking obsessed with him. He couldn’t be more in love.

He chose to wear a grey oversized blazer with dark grey pinstripes, matching slacks, and a black tank top. In the back of his mind, he thinks that he and Beomgyu probably look really good next to each other at the moment—matching enough in neutrals and pinstripes that it looks couple-y, but not matching too much, to the point where it looks cheesy. He wants to take a million pictures of them together so he can post them and brag about how he has the most attractive and sweet and perfect person in the world as his boyfriend.

And looking at Beomgyu in his lap, it makes the front of his mind be focused on how he thinks that he might have time to coax one more orgasm out of his boyfriend before their friends show up. So, he continues tracing his lips across Beomgyu’s throat, gently squeezing the muscles of his thigh under his palm and relishing in the weight of him on his lap.

The arm around his shoulders moves up, a hand threading into his hair and tugging, making him whine. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Beomgyu warns, pulling his head away from his neck. Yeonjun makes a petulant noise and Beomgyu glares down at him with no real mirth, pressing one more kiss to his lips before getting off his lap, leaving him pouting in his desk chair. 

Beomgyu is right, of course—their friends should be arriving any minute. But god forbid Yeonjun wants to please his super fucking hot boyfriend while he wears a super fucking hot outfit. And it’s his birthday, so he deserves a plethora of super fucking hot orgasms. 

Apparently Beomgyu is the responsible boyfriend today though, because he changes the subject easily, moving on so Yeonjun will stop pouting. “You know, Bear,” he says to the ball of fluff that has curled herself up on Yeonjun’s pillows, “you’re not supposed to choose a favorite parent. It’s mean.”

Yeonjun’s heart stutters so violently in his chest that his breath hitches. “Parent?” He repeats, shooting up from his desk and walking over to the bed, about to crawl on it towards where Beomgyu is sitting. The crazed look in his eyes must be prominent, because Beomgyu stands up quickly, moving towards the hall with the very obvious movement of someone avoiding their boyfriend. 

Yeonjun notices his red ears as he leaves, though.

He simply follows after him out into the kitchen. “Parent?” He repeats, right on Beomgyu’s tail.

Sighing dramatically, Beomgyu turns, stepping back again when Yeonjun steps closer, but he’s flush to the cupboards with nowhere to go. “Well, I mean… we both take care of her really, and she adores you…” He trails off, holding a hand out as Yeonjun continues getting closer with a smirk plastered on his face.

Even though Beomgyu’s hand is on his stomach like he’s going to push him away, it’s flat over his belly button, giving absolutely no pressure to the touch. It’s obvious it’s all for show as he lets him step closer, and in the kitchen light, Yeonjun can see his eyes are dark and dilated and fixated on his lips. He makes a mental note to grab the clear gloss he had just put on before he leaves. If it gets Beomgyu to stare at his lips like this, he will reapply all night. 

Since he’s leaning back against the counter, Beomgyu is just short enough for Yeonjun to smile down at him, knowing and wry. He reaches out, placing one hand on the counter next to Beomgyu’s hip. “If she chose a favorite parent, it would definitely be you,” he tells him, genuine and kind. He knows he might be playing dirty, using a sweet voice to distract Beomgyu from how close he’s getting, but he is telling the truth. “I gave her treats earlier, and she was in my room begging me for more. She only stopped when I put her in my lap and she fell asleep,” he admits, chuckling. His other hand finds Beomgyu’s hip. 

Eyes finally leave his lips. Beomgyu blinks, looking dazed. “Huh?”

Yeonjun can’t hold back his grin—he’s pretty sure Beomgyu hasn’t heard a word he’s said. And he’s not complaining. “So, I’m Bear’s dad? Daddy Jjunie?”

The hazy look in Beomgyu’s eyes turns to the fake glare Yeonjun adores. He starts leaning down as Beomgyu speaks. “How many times do I have to tell you to not call yoursel—”

“I’m here! Whoever is putting it in, take it out!”

The two of them jump away from each other like teenagers getting caught—like someone was actually putting it in, when they weren’t even kissing yet. They both whip their heads towards the door that just swung open, watching Soobin enter with his hands over his eyes, like he’s terrified of what he might see. 

He then proceeds to promptly run directly into the shoe rack, knocking over multiple pairs and swearing, dropping his hands to reach down and grab his shin, hopping up and down and whining. 

Kai is right behind him, shaking his head fondly as he holds onto Soobin’s forearm, making sure he doesn’t fall. “Hi Hyungs,” he calls sweetly, using the other hand to pat Soobin placatingly on the back as he continues to hop around in pain. “Happy birthday Beomgyu hyung!” He leaves his boyfriend to waddle over, pulling Beomgyu into a hug and tugging at his red ears from being caught teasingly, while Soobin follows behind. 

Instead of going for Beomgyu though, Soobin beelines towards Yeonjun and immediately tugs at the collar of his blazer. “The fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun smacks him away, as Soobin tries to… look down his shirt?

Shrugging, Soobin backs off and sits down at the island, apparently forgetting about what had before seemed to be a life-threatening injury—induced from the shoe rack—with the way he was acting. Now, it’s like it never happened. He’s more focused on staring at Yeonjun accusingly. “Just wanted to make sure you were decent for the birthday dinner,” he says, like Yeonjun is the crazy one for asking why he immediately tried to get a view of both of his nipples upon entering the apartment. “It’d be kind of embarrassing to go out with you guys having visible evidence all over that you’ve been fucking like rabbits for the past few days.” He waves a hand absently towards Beomgyu. “Kai-ya, check him.”

Beomgyu shoves Kai away before he can even think about moving closer—and it’s a good thing, because Yeonjun is quite certain there are a plethora of purple marks hidden just behind the open buttons of Beomgyu’s shirt. He almost said something to him before—when he noticed how few buttons he had done up, and thought about how if he bends over, at least one mark will most definitely be noticeable. 

But then he got distracted by the view of the pretty, honey-colored skin of Beomgyu’s chest that's littered with purple marks from his mouth, and the thought was lost. 

He’s just thankful Beomgyu didn’t want a pool party for his birthday. He didn’t need any more scolding than he already got.“Are we in high school? Christ, Hyung, I look like you mauled me!” He had whined at him earlier, inspecting his chest and shoulders in the mirror. 

Yeonjun didn’t feel that bad though, because he noticed the way Beomgyu trailed a finger over the ones on his collarbone while looking at them in the mirror when he thought Yeonjun wasn’t looking, a slightly awed look on his face.

He’s not sure Beomgyu has yet discovered the angry red scratch marks all over his back, though. Yeonjun got a gorgeous view of them first thing that morning while Beomgyu slept, and he knows whenever he comes across the picture Yeonjun took of them in his camera roll, he’s going to be ripped a new one.

He also knows that he won’t be shocked if Beomgyu secretly sends the picture to himself. 

Kai doesn’t reach for him though, thankfully. “They’re in the honeymoon stage, Hyung—leave them alone,” he says to Soobin gently, moving to run a hand over his back and pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard enough about you two freaks and your sex life in my lifetime to warrant you guys dealing with spotting a few hickies,” Beomgyu argues, gesturing an errant hand towards Soobin—who gasps dramatically. 

“So there is evidence!”

Yeonjun feels himself go red, but Beomgyu just shrugs, pressing his lips into a point. “I didn’t say that,” he says slyly, his tongue shoving into his cheek to hold back a near-manical grin that reveals everything he isn’t saying. His expression is so stupidly attractive—along with how fucking good he looks in his outfit, all done up for dinner—that Yeonjun feels like he might just die if he’s not close to him immediately.

He takes two big steps to move closer, turning to look at the other couple with the best innocent expression he can manage. It’s not easy when his entire body heats up as Beomgyu easily wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him into his side the second he’s close enough. He’s still smirking, too. “Plus—unless Hyung takes off his pants, you won’t find his evidence,” he says casually, along with a stupid, suggestive wiggle of his brows. He pinches at Yeonjun’s side, making him squeak and flush deep red as Kai laughs and Soobin makes loud gagging noises. 

It’s then—in the midst of the chaos—that Taehyun and Caro enter the apartment. 

Soobin turns to them instantly, looking for community. “They’re gross!” He exclaims, waving a hand towards Yeonjun and Beomgyu while looking at the newcomers expectantly. “They’re gross, right?”

Taehyun nods. Caro shakes her head. 

“They’re in the honeymoon stage!” Kai repeats, also looking to them for support.

Taehyun snorts. “They’ve literally always been like this,” he says, sounding like an exasperated mother of five. “They just thought we didn’t notice.”

Yeonjun and Beomgyu speak at the same time. “Have not!”

The entire room looks at them, similar stares of incredulity and exasperation on all of their faces. 

It probably doesn’t help that Yeonjun has taken advantage of Beomgyu’s hand around his waist, and is now fully leaning into him, head resting on his shoulder. 

Caro sighs, filling the silence. “It’s only going to get worse, now,” she gripes, patting Soobin on the shoulder comfortingly. 

He lets out another overdramatic sigh, dropping his head onto the counter with a groan. Beomgyu sends him the finger, and somehow, even with his head down, Soobin must know, because he sends it back at nearly the same time. 

Waiting until Soobin’s head comes back up, Beomgyu leans over and presses a wet, smacking kiss on Yeonjun’s cheek. 

Yeonjun’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, even through Soobin’s fake gagging noises.

They walk to the restaurant hand in hand, and Yeonjun gets introduced to some of Beomgyu’s school friends as his boyfriend. When Dylan—the hostess from Beomgyu’s job—arrives, she takes one look at their joined hands and says finally. 

Yeonjun can’t remember the last time he was this happy—probably sometime that very day, and definitely having to do with his boyfriend, but sitting next to Beomgyu at his birthday dinner as his boyfriend makes him beyond giddy.

The hit of dinner is when Caro and Beomgyu tell the story of Caro threatening him at the recital. Beomgyu’s eyes are wide and dramatic, and Caro is wiping away tears of laughter. “I thought she was gonna cut my balls off or something, I swear,” Beomgyu says dramatically, casually reaching up to hold the hand that Yeonjun has over his shoulder, lacing their fingers together. “She was like, if you fuck up again, I swear to god you’ll wake up on a mattress floating down the Hudson.”

Caro shrugs and sends Beomgyu an air kiss across the table. “And I’d do it again.”

Beomgyu just laughs, shrugging. “It was deserved—but it won’t be necessary, don’t worry,” he smiles, turning to Yeonjun. His eyes are sparkling and he’s grinning so fondly that Yeonjun can’t help but lean in right there, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. The table gives a mix of coos and groans and jeers and when Beomgyu grabs the side of his face and deepens the kiss just enough that it’s pushing the limit of what’s acceptable at the dinner table, Soobin bounces a roll off Beomgyu’s head. 

The laughter at the table does little to hide how bright red and flustered Yeonjun is when they pull apart, and how pleased and proud of himself Beomgyu is—despite the fact that he’s blushing all the way down to his chest, his lips pressed into that little V shape Yeonjun adores. His palm doesn’t leave Yeonjun’s thigh for the rest of dinner, and Yeonjun’s cheeks hurt from smiling.

Because it’s March 13th—Beomgyu’s birthday—and Yeonjun loves him.

It’s March 13th, and they’re surrounded by friends, their hands intertwined, and Yeonjun is quite certain he’s going to spend the rest of his life like this.

It’s March 13th, and Yeonjun couldn’t be happier and more in love.

—

With the arrival of April comes the blooming of Spring—windows open in the apartment to let in fresh air, puddles on the streets from rain, leaves coming back to the trees. 

It feels fitting. The city is coming back to life after a long, cold winter, and Yeonjun feels like he’s coming back to life too, while settling into this new relationship. 

And despite how happy he is, it’s not like everything is simple in a heartbeat.

They still bicker, and they’re still healing. They spend too much time together and then they spend not enough. They get insecure and they get overexcited. 

And Yeonjun couldn’t be happier. 

It’s easy with Beomgyu, and it isn’t—and he adores that. It shouldn’t be too easy, because then that would probably be a sign that he’s not doing enough. 

With love and community comes inconvenience. Loving someone means you care for them, and caring for them means you put in the effort for them, always.

Which is why even when Yeonjun finishes twelve hour shifts at the hospital and has final papers to work on, he’ll still go out of his way to stop and grab flowers for Beomgyu, because he knows he’s had a rough week. And it’s why even though Beomgyu’s had a rough week, Yeonjun comes home to dinner made, because Beomgyu knows he’s had a long shift, and will be too tired to cook. 

They work on themselves and they work on their relationship and they put in effort.

And they talk—a lot. 

They talk about their worries and their problems. About their wishes and their hopes. They talk about what they’re doing well and what they’re doing wrong. Yeonjun has never talked so much with anyone, let alone in a relationship. 

It’s hard—at first—being so open and vulnerable when he’s not used to letting anyone in that deep. But Beomgyu easily takes every piece of his soul and cradles it gently in his hands and he keeps it safe right inside his own chest. He’s sweet and understanding and smart and supportive and Yeonjun is certain he’ll do anything to overcome every hard moment if it means he gets to keep Beomgyu by his side.

When April 10th rolls around, Yeonjun wonders if a one month anniversary present is too much. Considering they live together, and how close they are in general, their relationship feels much longer than just a month, so he figures it’s probably fine. 

And he’s extra glad he got Beomgyu a present when he sees a familiar head of dark, fluffy hair and broad shoulders standing at the counter near Adeline’s desk, and he spots a bouquet of flowers at his side. 

Adeline is talking up a storm when Yeonjun walks up behind Beomgyu—because of course she is; she always is. “And so I told him, I said, if you don’t snatch that boy up, he’s going to be long gone,” she says conspiratorially, yet still loud enough for one of the other nurses in the storage closet behind her to let out a giggle at her dramatics. “I knew if he didn’t tell you how much he adores you, he’d regret—oh, if it isn’t the slowpoke himself!” She stops in the middle of the sentence when she notices Yeonjun sidle up next to Beomgyu, hand wrapping around his waist. 

He presses a kiss onto Beomgyu’s grinning cheek. “What did you call me? Slowpoke?” He asks Adeline, eyes narrowed playfully.

Beomgyu leans into him, grinning over at him with sparkling eyes. “Adeline was just telling me how long you’ve been whining and complaining about how obsessed with me you are,” he smirks, reaching up to tug at Yeonjun’s ears when they go red, flicking at his hoops.

“It wasn’t that long,” Yeonjun grumbles bashfully, squeezing at Beomgyu’s side to make him giggle. 

His response makes Adeline let out an incredulous noise. “Beomgyu, when did I first meet you?”

He shrugs. “I dunno… November, maybe?”

Turning to Yeonjun, Adeline makes a gesture that says, see? “Five months ago,” she states, eyebrows raised. “Do you consider five months a long time, Mr. Choi?”

Yeonjun just rolls his eyes, detaching himself from his boyfriend to move around the counter—but not without a purposeful slide of his palm over his lower back. He has to hold back a smirk when he sees Beomgyu shiver.

“Wait! These are for you,” Beomgyu calls, following him around the desk with the flowers. Yeonjun turns, and even though he’s already seen the bouquet, his grin gets uncontrollably wider. “Happy one month-iversary.”

Adeline coos while Yeonjun leans forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, and she wishes them both a happy anniversary when they’re leaving hand in hand. 

In the elevator down to the main floor, Yeonjun tells Beomgyu his present is at home, and he wishes he brought the customized guitar strap he got with him, because he’s impatient and is paranoid that he somehow got something wrong. He asked Kai three times if it would be good for Beomgyu’s guitar, and he double checked that the engraving of Beomgyu’s initials were correct before wrapping the present. He wants to give it to Beomgyu right then and there, but it’ll have to wait until they get home. 

When they get down onto the street, Beomgyu starts to tug him in the opposite direction of their apartment. “Part of your present… we’re going to right now,” he says, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Yeonjun stops on the sidewalk. “There’s more? Now? Babe, I’m in scrubs,” he whines, but he lets Beomgyu tug him anyway—because he’s a sucker.

“It doesn’t matter, don’t worry,” Beomgyu insists, turning down an unfamiliar block, “we don’t have time to go home, it ends soon.”

And that’s how they end up outside a building with a sign on the door that reads adoption event, the paper covered in cartoon cats. 

Yeonjun reads the sign, turning to Beomgyu in confusion. 

He just smiles, a little timid. “Do you wanna get Bear a sibling?” Beomgyu asks, pushing his lips into a point.

Jaw dropping, Yeonjun blinks, looking between the sign and Beomgyu again. Adopt a kitty that needs a home today! It reads, with the address the date. “Wh—really?” He stammers, eyes going wide. He loves Bear to death, but he can’t deny that he’s thought about getting a pet that could be theirs from the start. Even though they consider Bear both of theirs, it’s still something Yeonjun has thought about. 

And Bemogyu’s fully grinning at him now, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been wanting to get her a sibling for a while because she’s so playful, she’ll love it… and then I thought, maybe we could pick someone out together?” He says, sweet but still a little unsure. Yeonjun can tell he’s worried it’s too much. 

He presses a kiss to Beomgyu’s lips to reassure him. “Yes, oh my god—I’d love that,” he says, squeezing his hand to emphasize. 

“Yeah?” Beomgyu smiles—hesitation gone from his eyes. Yeonjun nods rapidly, making him giggle. “Let’s go find our new baby, then.”

They easily decide on an orange cat that instantly curls up to Yeonjun, purring up a storm. He’s a little bit wild like all orange cats are, and they’re certain Bear will love causing mischief with him. Beomgyu pays the adoption fee as Yeonjun’s present, and they’re set to pick him up the next day.  

They’re walking home hand in hand when Beomgyu hums. “Should we change his name?” He asks, tilting his head in thought. “The name they gave him—they said they didn’t know his name from the people that surrendered him, so it’s not like he’s even had that name for long. We could change it.”

Their new baby is currently named Chester, which is fine, but didn’t really go with Bear in the way that they were both imagining.

“He should match Bear,” Yeonjun says, swinging their hands happily. “Like, an animal.”

It’s quiet for a minute as they think.

“Dog?”

Yeonjun snorts. “You want to name a cat, Dog?”

Beomgyu shrugs, grinning stupidly. “It’s kinda funny,” he giggles, and Yeonjun giggles too, despite his fake eyeroll. 

“Stupid,” he murmurs, picking up their intertwined hands and pressing a kiss to the back of Beomgyu’s. “What about Fox?”

Head still tilted, a slow smile spreads across Beomgyu’s face. “Bear and Fox…” He hums, starting to nod. “That’s kind of perfect, actually. Because he’s orange too. You kind of look like a fox, with your eyes.”

Yeonjun smiles. “What do you mean, actually? Don’t sound so surprised!” He whines, picking up his leg closest to Beomgyu and bending it up to the side to playfully kick him on the butt as they wait for the light to turn. “It’s a good idea, ri—” 

His words get cut off when there's a yell from across the street.

Normally, the two of them are experts at ignoring screaming people—that skill comes with living in the city. But the way both of their heads whip towards the voice is telling; they both immediately know who it is. 

Because the voice is not ignorable. 

It’s Elijah across the street, yelling at someone. 

Their walk sign turns and neither of them move, staring at the scene on the other side of the road as people grumble and walk around them.

“That’s my fucking car, I’m right here!” Elijah yells at the tow truck driver, who is hooking his rig up to a car that’s parallel parked across the street. “Please, I’m here—I’ll move it, just don’t tow me.”

The man continues hooking up his car, saying something they can’t hear. 

Elijah groans. “Seriously? C’mon man, just do me a solid and—” His voice is cut off with the mechanical sound of the truck lifting his car. The man hands him a business card, then gets back in the tow truck without a second look. 

Elijah yells something else at him that they and he cannot hear, and then takes off down the street away from them, yelling into his phone—assumingly talking to someone at the company that just towed his car. 

Slowly, Yeonjun turns to Beomgyu, and Beomgyu is doing the exact same thing—slowly turning to him. They make eye contact for a split second, and Yeonjun worries that Beomgyu is going to be upset. 

But immediately, he notices the tiniest movement of his lips, and that little sparkle in his eyes, and at the exact same moment, they both burst out laughing. The light turns again and they walk hand in hand across the street, clutching at their stomachs. 

“Holy shit—that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Yeonjun giggles, watching the tow truck disappear down the road with Elijah’s car. 

Beomgyu wipes at his tears of laughter, stumbling down the road. “I cannot believe we just witnessed that… perfect anniversary event,” he smiles, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Yeonjun’s lips.

And he’s right—it is perfect. 

They’re laughing and holding hands and they just adopted a new cat together and they’re in love. It couldn’t be better.

Yeonjun loves Beomgyu. 

He knows Beomgyu, down to his core—better than he’s ever known anyone. 

Beomgyu who snores, and is picky. He’s annoying and overbearing and a million other things that could and almost did make them not work out. 

But there’s far more than something between them, and that’s what makes them work perfectly.

Because Beomgyu is thoughtful, and he’s gentle. He puts his heart into everything he does and he trusts Yeonjun to hold onto a piece of it, and keep it just for himself. 

Because Beomgyu loves Yeonjun too—he knows Yeonjun better than he even knows himself.

He loves Yeonjun, who forgets to do his dishes and is too loud in the morning before Beomgyu is awake. He loves Yeonjun, who is possessive and gets irritated quickly. Who has a bad habit of speaking before he thinks and giving too much of himself to things that don’t deserve his time, and forgetting to give himself the time he needs.

But Beomgyu loves him, and makes him want to be better. He helps him learn to be better, because he cares, so much. 

It’s April 10th, and Yeonjun couldn’t be happier that seven months ago, he was hit with some weird twist of fate where he slept with his new roommate the night before moving in with him. 

His new roommate, who he started falling for the second they met. 

It feels like a lifetime ago and it feels like yesterday.

He wouldn’t change a thing. 

Even if he could go back and tell past Yeonjun and past Beomgyu that they’d work it all out—that they should be more understanding of each other and to be more open and that they both feel the same—he wouldn’t. 

He’d let himself—he’d let them—figure it out. 

They would get there, and everything along the way would only make them better together. 

It’s April 10th, and Yeonjun can’t imagine a universe that doesn’t lead him to Beomgyu. It always comes back to him. 

There’s no universe where it doesn’t come back to them.