Archive of Our Own ^beta

6 MONTHS LATER

Yeonjun was sitting in the passenger seat of his own car, trying very hard to look like a supportive boyfriend and not like someone contemplating drafting a will.

“Hyung,” Soobin said carefully, both hands firmly on the steering wheel at ten and two, posture straight as if he were in an exam. “If you keep gripping the door like that, it’s going to come off.”

“I’m not gripping it,” Yeonjun replied immediately, shoulders stiff. “I’m just… resting my hand.”

From the back seat, Namjoon let out a low hum. “Resting implies relaxation.”

“I am relaxed,” Yeonjun insisted, though his knee had been bouncing for the past five minutes.

The car rolled forward a little too abruptly when Soobin released the brake, and both alphas inhaled at the same time. It wasn’t loud, but it was synchronized enough that Soobin noticed.

“You both need to stop doing that,” Soobin said, eyes still on the road. “It makes me nervous.”

“We’re not doing anything,” Yeonjun muttered.

“You gasped,” Soobin said.

“I did not gasp.”

“It was a controlled intake of air,” Namjoon corrected calmly, hands folded neatly in his lap despite the way his fingers were subtly tightening against each other.

Soobin exhaled slowly through his nose and focused on the lane ahead. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windshield, catching in his hair and warming the soft curve of his cheek. 

He looked serious, determined, almost stubborn in his concentration. Yeonjun tried not to think about the fact that this was his car. His car. The one he had washed personally the day before. The one he knew every sound of.

“You’re drifting slightly to the left,” Yeonjun said under his breath.

“I am not drifting,” Soobin replied, though he adjusted the wheel by a fraction.

Namjoon leaned forward just enough to see past Yeonjun’s shoulder. “Signal earlier next time.”

“I did signal!”

“Two seconds before turning is not early,” Namjoon replied evenly.

Soobin glanced at them briefly, unimpressed. “You both said you trusted me.”

“We do trust you,” Yeonjun said instantly.

“We absolutely do,” Namjoon added.

“So why do I feel like I’m being evaluated for a pilot’s license?”

“Because you are driving my car,” Yeonjun muttered.

Soobin’s lips twitched despite himself. “You offered.”

“I was being supportive.”

“You said, ‘It’s fine, I trust you, baby.’”

Namjoon’s eyebrows rose slightly in the rearview mirror. “Baby?”

Yeonjun stiffened. “Hyung.”

Soobin smiled without looking at him. “He calls me that all the time.”

“I do not call you that all the time.”

“You absolutely do.”

“Focus on the road,” Namjoon said, though there was the faintest hint of amusement in his tone now.

They approached a red light, and Soobin slowed carefully this time, pressing the brake with deliberate control. The stop was smoother than before, but Yeonjun still lifted a hand instinctively toward the dashboard as if protecting something invisible.

“Are you shielding the radio?” Soobin asked flatly.

“It’s sentimental,” Yeonjun replied.

Namjoon let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. “If you continue reacting like that, he will crash purely out of spite.”

“I would never,” Soobin said.

“You would,” Namjoon corrected gently.

Soobin paused for half a second. “Maybe.”

Yeonjun turned slowly to look at him. “That is not reassuring.”

The light turned green, and Soobin accelerated more smoothly this time. The car moved forward without jerking, steady and controlled. Yeonjun blinked, surprised despite himself.

“See?” Soobin said softly.

Yeonjun watched his profile as he checked the mirrors, jaw set in concentration. There was something steady about him now, something grounded that hadn’t been there a year ago. He wasn’t tense in the same way. He wasn’t bracing for impact. He was simply learning.

They turned onto a narrower street lined with parked cars. Soobin slowed appropriately, adjusting his speed without being told. Namjoon observed silently. Yeonjun’s knee kept bouncing.

“You’re shaking,” Soobin murmured.

“I’m not shaking.”

“You are vibrating.”

“I just care about you.”

The words softened the air in the car. Soobin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, even if his hands remained firm on the wheel. “I know,” he said quietly.

Namjoon cleared his throat gently. “Blind spot.”

“I checked,” Soobin replied.

“Check again,” Yeonjun added quickly.

Namjoon gave him a look through the mirror. “Let him breathe.”

“I am letting,” Yeonjun insisted.

“You are micromanaging.”

“It’s called safety.”

Soobin laughed under his breath, the sound warm and familiar. “You’re both impossible.”

They passed an empty parking space between two cars. Soobin slowed instinctively, eyes narrowing with focus.

“Don’t,” Yeonjun said immediately.

“Soobin,” Namjoon added, voice calm but firm.

“It’s part of the test,” Soobin replied, already positioning the car.

“With cones,” Yeonjun said faintly.

“With supervision,” Namjoon added.

“I have supervision,” Soobin replied pointedly, nodding toward the back seat.

Namjoon inhaled slowly but said nothing.

Soobin adjusted the wheel, checking mirrors carefully, reversing with measured movements. The car moved back gradually, not too fast, not too slow. Yeonjun held his breath without realizing it, his hand hovering uselessly near the gear shift as if he could influence physics through proximity alone. Namjoon’s hand rested lightly against the back of Yeonjun’s seat, tense but controlled.

Soobin corrected the angle once, then twice, each movement deliberate. His brow furrowed, lips pressed together in concentration. The car aligned between the two vehicles without scraping either side. He straightened the wheel, eased forward slightly, then adjusted backward one last time until the car sat centered in the space.

Silence filled the interior.

Soobin checked the mirrors again, then looked at the lines on either side. “I did it,” he said, a little breathless.

Yeonjun glanced left. Right. Nothing was damaged. Nothing was crooked. He turned slowly toward Soobin, disbelief fading into reluctant awe. “You did.”

Namjoon leaned back in his seat, finally releasing the tension in his shoulders. “Clean,” he said simply.

Soobin’s smile spread slowly, bright and proud in a way that made him look younger for a second. “You both doubted me.”

“We were cautious,” Yeonjun corrected weakly.

“You were dramatic.”

“I was emotionally invested.”

Namjoon opened the door and stepped out first, circling around the car to inspect it like a man evaluating a structural engineering project. Yeonjun watched him through the windshield.

“He’s checking for scratches,” Soobin whispered.

“He’s thorough,” Yeonjun replied.

Namjoon returned to the window on Soobin’s side, resting an arm casually on the door frame. “Good control. Smooth correction. Don’t rush the brake next time.”

Soobin’s expression softened at that. “Yes, sir.”

Namjoon nodded once, subtle but unmistakably proud.

Yeonjun watched the exchange quietly, something warm settling in his chest. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have been able to sit in this seat without scanning for danger. Six months ago, control meant protection. Now, control meant letting go of it.

He reached over without thinking and squeezed Soobin’s thigh gently. “You’re good,” he murmured, voice lower now, sincere. “Really good.”

Soobin glanced at him, eyes bright. “You trust me now?”

Yeonjun hesitated just long enough to be annoying. “I trust you.”

“So dramatic,” Soobin said softly, but he was smiling.

Then, Namjoon said he needed to make a call and got out the car.

Yeonjun stared at Soobin for a moment longer than necessary, watching the way pride softened his features, the way his shoulders finally relaxed now that the car was safely parked. The sunlight caught the curve of his smile, and something inside Yeonjun’s chest shifted unexpectedly, warm and sudden and overwhelming in the most familiar way.

“You’re staring again,” Soobin murmured, glancing sideways.

“I’m not staring,” Yeonjun said automatically, even as he leaned closer without fully deciding to.

“You are,” Soobin said, voice quieter now, amused but soft. “You always get this look when you’re proud of me.”

“I don’t—”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Instead, he moved.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t graceful, just instinct — Yeonjun reaching across the small space between them, one hand sliding to the side of Soobin’s neck as he leaned in and kissed him. It was quick at first, a soft press of lips that carried more emotion than intention, but Soobin melted into it immediately, surprised laughter escaping into the kiss before he leaned closer too, eyes slipping shut.

“Jun—” Soobin started, voice muffled.

Yeonjun kissed him again, slower this time, unable to stop the small smile pulling at his mouth. “You did so well,” he murmured against his lips, words barely audible.

The car door opened abruptly.

Namjoon’s voice cut through the moment with calm authority. “I am standing right here.”

Soobin jerked back immediately, cheeks flushing red as he covered his face with one hand. Yeonjun froze mid-motion, then slowly turned his head toward the open door where Namjoon stood, arms crossed, expression somewhere between exasperated and deeply amused.

“Really?” Namjoon said dryly. “In front of me?”

Yeonjun blinked once, then twice, and something mischievous sparked in his eyes before he could stop himself. “If only you knew the things we already did in this car.”

Soobin smacked his arm instantly. “Yeonjun!”

Namjoon closed his eyes briefly like a man summoning patience from another dimension. “I do not want to know. I do not need to know. And I absolutely did not raise my son to hear comments like that.”

“Yeah, but you also raise me,” Yeonjun pointed out weakly.

“That makes it worse,” Namjoon replied.

Soobin covered his face again, mortified. “Ignore him. He thinks he’s funny.”

“I am funny,” Yeonjun muttered.

“You’re embarrassing,” Soobin shot back, though his lips twitched.

Namjoon leaned slightly closer, voice firm but not unkind. “Separate. I would like to return home without witnessing further displays.”

Yeonjun lifted both hands defensively, though he was still smiling. “We were celebrating.”

“With your mouths?” Namjoon asked.

Soobin made a strangled noise. “Appa, please.”

Namjoon stepped back, gesturing toward the driver’s seat. “Start the car.”

Soobin inhaled slowly, visibly gathering himself before nodding. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.”

Yeonjun sat up straighter immediately, tension creeping back into his shoulders. “Wait, what do you mean, start the car?”

“We’re leaving,” Namjoon said simply.

“Yes,” Soobin added, reaching for the ignition. “And I have to reverse out.”

Yeonjun’s smile vanished. “Reverse.”

“Yes.”

“Out of this space.”

“Yes.”

“Between two cars.”

“Yes, Yeonjun,” Soobin said patiently, though amusement flickered in his voice.

Namjoon closed the passenger door and returned to the back seat, settling in with a calm that felt deeply suspicious.

The engine started.

Yeonjun’s hand immediately found the door handle again.

“I thought you trusted me,” Soobin said lightly.

“I do trust you,” Yeonjun replied quickly. “I just… also believe in being prepared.”

“For what?” Soobin asked.

“For… situations.”

Namjoon leaned forward slightly. “Check mirrors.”

“I’m checking,” Soobin replied, adjusting the rearview mirror, then the side mirrors, movements careful and deliberate. He placed the car in reverse, hands tightening on the wheel as he glanced back over his shoulder.

Yeonjun inhaled sharply.

“Soobin,” he said quietly, “watch the left side.”

“I am watching.”

“And the right.”

“I have mirrors.”

“You can still look.”

“I am looking.”

Namjoon cleared his throat. “Gentle brake control.”

“Yes, sir,” Soobin replied, trying not to laugh.

The car began to move backward slowly, inch by inch. Yeonjun’s foot pressed invisibly against the floor as if he had a second brake pedal hidden somewhere. His entire body leaned subtly with the movement of the car.

“You’re leaning,” Soobin said.

“I’m aligning my energy with the vehicle.”

“That is not a thing.”

“It is now.”

The car edged closer to the vehicle behind them. Yeonjun’s hand hovered near the dashboard again.

“You’re fine,” Soobin said softly.

“I know,” Yeonjun replied, though his voice betrayed him.

Namjoon watched silently, gaze sharp but calm, offering occasional quiet guidance. “Turn slightly. Good. Slow.”

Soobin adjusted the wheel, tongue pressing briefly against the inside of his cheek in concentration. The car straightened gradually as he eased it back further, leaving enough space between both cars without scraping either side.

Yeonjun exhaled slowly, not realizing he’d been holding his breath until that moment.

“You’re doing great,” he said quietly, sincerity threading through the nervousness.

Soobin smiled faintly, still focused. “I know.”

The car cleared the space successfully, and Soobin shifted into drive again, shoulders finally relaxing.

Silence filled the car for a beat before Yeonjun laughed under his breath, relief flooding his voice. “Okay. That was… actually impressive.”

Namjoon nodded once. “Improvement.”

Soobin’s grin spread slowly, pride glowing through it. “You both underestimated me.”

“We were cautious,” Yeonjun said.

“You were dramatic... again,” Soobin corrected.

“I was emotionally invested,” Yeonjun insisted.

Soobin shook his head fondly, pulling the car smoothly back into the lane.

Soobin merged back into the street with surprising smoothness, shoulders looser now, confidence settling into his posture like it had been waiting there all along. His hands stayed steady on the wheel, but there was a subtle shift in him — something lighter, something bold.

Yeonjun noticed immediately.

“You’re sitting differently,” he said suspiciously.

“I’m sitting normally.”

“No,” Yeonjun replied, narrowing his eyes slightly. “You’re sitting like someone who just succeeded and now thinks he’s invincible.”

From the back seat, Namjoon let out a quiet hum. “That is an accurate assessment.”

Soobin glanced at them both in the mirror, lips curling slowly. “I successfully parallel parked between two cars under extreme emotional harassment. I think I deserve a little confidence.”

“Confidence is fine,” Yeonjun said carefully. “Overconfidence is how documentaries start.”

Soobin snorted. “Relax.”

The car picked up speed slightly as they moved onto a wider road. Not recklessly fast, but faster than before. Fast enough that Yeonjun’s fingers curled back around the door handle instinctively.

“You’re accelerating,” Yeonjun said, trying to sound calm and failing.

“Yes. That is how driving works.”

“You were going thirty.”

“And now I’m going forty.”

“In a thirty-five zone,” Yeonjun pointed out.

Namjoon leaned forward slightly. “He’s within acceptable range.”

“You’re siding with him?” Yeonjun asked incredulously.

“I am observing,” Namjoon replied.

Soobin’s smile widened. “See? Appa trusts me.”

“I did not say that,” Namjoon corrected smoothly.

“You implied it.”

“I implied improvement.”

Yeonjun shifted in his seat, adjusting the air vent even though it didn’t need adjusting. “There’s no rush, you know. The road isn’t going anywhere.”

“So dramatic,” Soobin murmured again, clearly enjoying himself now. He changed lanes cleanly, checking mirrors with deliberate exaggeration just to make a point. “Look. Blind spot. Signal. Smooth turn. No one died.”

“That’s a very low standard,” Yeonjun replied.

“It’s a practical one.”

The engine hummed steadily beneath them, and Soobin rolled the window down slightly, letting a bit of wind slip inside. The late afternoon air carried the faint scent of city streets warming under sunlight. His hair shifted softly in the breeze, and he laughed quietly to himself, something free in the sound.

“You’re having too much fun,” Yeonjun said.

“I am having the appropriate amount of fun.”

Namjoon adjusted his seatbelt subtly. “Keep both hands on the wheel.”

“I have both hands on the wheel,” Soobin replied.

“You’re grinning too much,” Yeonjun added.

“Am I supposed to frown while driving?”

“It would be reassuring.”

Soobin glanced at him, eyes bright. “You’re not actually scared.”

“I am absolutely scared.”

“You survived worse,” Soobin teased softly.

Yeonjun’s expression shifted for half a second at that, something quieter passing through his eyes before he masked it with indignation. “That is not comparable.”

“I’m a very safe driver.”

“You just discovered reverse thirty seconds ago.”

Namjoon coughed lightly, hiding a smile. “Eyes on the road.”

They approached a slightly busier intersection, and Soobin navigated it with steady hands. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t jerk the wheel, didn’t slam the brake. The car moved cleanly through the turn.

Yeonjun blinked.

“…Okay.”

“What?” Soobin asked.

“That was… good.”

“I know.”

Namjoon nodded once. “Better spatial awareness.”

“You’re grading me,” Soobin said accusingly.

“I am monitoring.”

Yeonjun shifted again, glancing at the speedometer. “You can slow down a little.”

“I’m going the speed limit.”

“You’re emotionally exceeding it.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It should be.”

Soobin laughed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Yeonjun replied, voice softer now, “you’re driving my car.”

That earned him a quick look — something fond and knowing in Soobin’s expression. “You trust me.”

Yeonjun hesitated, then sighed dramatically. “I trust you.”

Namjoon watched the exchange quietly from the back seat, something satisfied in the way his posture finally relaxed fully against the seat.

They turned onto their familiar neighborhood street, lined with trees and parked cars. The pace naturally slowed as Soobin adjusted his speed appropriately, confidence still there but tempered now by familiarity.

“Home stretch,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself.

“I’m not going to crash in front of my own house,” Soobin said dryly.

“That would be humiliating.”

“Exactly.”

Namjoon glanced out the window. “Take it slow.”

“I am,” Soobin replied.

The house came into view at the end of the street, warm and familiar. Soobin’s grip tightened slightly, but not with panic — with focus. He signaled, eased the car toward the curb, and adjusted his angle carefully.

Yeonjun held his breath again.

“You’re leaning,” Soobin said without looking at him.

“I am aligning my energy again.”

“Stop aligning.”

The car moved closer to the curb. A slight adjustment of the wheel. A gentle press of the brake. No jerking. No scraping. No dramatic sounds of metal meeting concrete.

The car settled neatly into place.

Engine humming.

Still.

Soobin turned it off slowly, hands lingering on the wheel for a second longer before he exhaled.

“Well?” he asked quietly.

Yeonjun looked around as if expecting something to be wrong. Nothing was wrong. The car was straight. Close to the curb. Perfectly normal.

“…You parked in front of your own house,” Yeonjun said, as if it were a historic achievement.

“I did,” Soobin replied, pride threading through his voice.

Namjoon unbuckled his seatbelt calmly. “Acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” Soobin echoed.

“For today,” Namjoon clarified.

Yeonjun finally let go of the door handle, flexing his fingers as circulation returned. He turned fully toward Soobin, gaze softening despite himself. “You’re not allowed to get cocky about this.”

“I absolutely am.”

“You’re still on probation.”

Soobin’s smile widened. “You still look like you survived a war.”

“I did,” Yeonjun replied gravely. “I survived you.”

Namjoon opened the door. “Get out before he decides to test highway speeds.”

Yeonjun watched Soobin from the passenger seat, the earlier panic still lingering faintly in his chest but now tangled with something warmer, something dangerously close to pride.

“You can let go of the wheel,” Yeonjun murmured, voice softer now, teasing but gentle. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Soobin shot him a look, but there was a glow in his expression that hadn’t been there before. “You’re the one who looked like you were about to draft a will.”

“I was being cautious,” Yeonjun replied, opening the door and stepping out carefully, as if the ground itself might still betray him.

Namjoon exited from the back seat with far more composure, adjusting his jacket with quiet dignity. “It was acceptable,” he said, which, coming from him, might as well have been a standing ovation.

Soobin finally stepped out of the driver’s side, closing the door gently, very gently, pointedly gentle, and turning to face them with his chin slightly raised. “Acceptable?” he repeated.

“For today,” Namjoon replied, though there was no hiding the faint approval in his eyes.

Before Soobin could respond, the front door of the house opened.

Seokjin stepped out onto the driveway, sunlight catching in his hair as he shaded his eyes with one hand, gaze immediately landing on the three of them. His expression was bright with curiosity, lips already curling into a knowing smile. “Well?” he called out, voice warm. “Did my son survive his driving exam?”

Yeonjun placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “Your son survived. I, however, nearly did not.”

Soobin let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I am not dramatic,” Yeonjun insisted, walking toward Seokjin with exaggerated gravity. “You made an excellent decision staying home. I aged five years in the last thirty minutes.”

Seokjin’s laughter rang softly through the driveway as he descended the steps. “I knew it. That’s exactly why I didn’t go. I trust Soobin. I don’t trust the two of you reacting at the same time.”

Namjoon made a quiet sound of agreement.

Soobin crossed his arms. “I drove perfectly.”

“You improved,” Namjoon corrected calmly.

“I drove perfectly,” Soobin repeated.

Yeonjun turned toward Seokjin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “He reversed. Out of a tight space. Between two cars. And then he decided confidence meant speed.”

“I did not speed!” Soobin protested.

“You emotionally sped,” Yeonjun replied immediately.

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is to me.”

Seokjin stepped closer, looking Soobin over carefully, as if checking for any signs of distress, but all he found was flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “And?” he asked gently. “How did it feel?”

Soobin’s posture shifted slightly at that, bravado softening. “It felt… good,” he admitted. “I wasn’t scared.”

Yeonjun’s expression changed subtly at those words, the teasing fading just enough for something more sincere to surface.

“See?” Soobin added, glancing at him. “I told you.”

“You did,” Yeonjun conceded.

Without thinking too much about it, Yeonjun stepped forward and slid an arm around Soobin’s waist, pulling him in close. The movement was easy, familiar, natural in a way that spoke of months of comfort rather than careful hesitation. Soobin stumbled half a step before settling against him, rolling his eyes even as a smile tugged at his lips.

“Don’t act like you weren’t gripping the door handle like it insulted your ancestors,” Soobin muttered.

“I was stabilizing myself,” Yeonjun replied solemnly, then leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to Soobin’s cheek, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “You did really well,” he added, voice softer now, meant only for him but audible enough in the quiet driveway.

Soobin’s ears flushed pink immediately. “Jun,” he warned under his breath, though he didn’t move away.

Seokjin watched them with open fondness, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “You two are disgustingly affectionate.”

“You raised him like this,” Yeonjun said lightly.

“I did not raise him to kiss in the driveway,” Seokjin replied, though he was smiling.

Namjoon cleared his throat from a few steps behind them. “At least they waited until the car was off.”

Soobin groaned. “Appa.”

Yeonjun laughed quietly, tightening his hold for a second before finally releasing him, though his hand lingered at Soobin’s waist. He looked at Seokjin then, sincerity replacing the theatrics. “He really did well. Smooth corrections. Good spatial awareness. No panic.”

Soobin stared at him. “You were panicking.”

“I was internally panicking,” Yeonjun clarified. “That’s different.”

Seokjin’s gaze softened further at that. “I’m proud of you,” he said to Soobin, stepping closer to brush his fingers lightly against his son’s arm. “Learning something new isn’t easy. Especially when two alphas are hovering like anxious bodyguards.”

“I was supervising,” Namjoon corrected.

“You were hovering,” Seokjin replied sweetly.

Soobin laughed, the sound easy and unguarded. He looked between all three of them for a moment—his parents, steady and warm, and Yeonjun, still standing close enough that their shoulders brushed—and something in his expression quieted. 

Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just settled.

“I’m driving again tomorrow,” he announced suddenly.

Yeonjun blinked. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“With who?” Yeonjun asked cautiously.

“You,” Soobin said, smiling slowly.

Seokjin covered his mouth to hide a laugh. Namjoon looked vaguely entertained.

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes slightly. “You enjoy this too much.”

“You love it,” Soobin replied.

Yeonjun hesitated, then sighed, unable to fully suppress the fondness in his gaze. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I do.”

He was still standing close enough that his fingers brushed absently against the fabric at Soobin’s waist when he narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head. 

“Do I have the option to say no?” he asked, voice slow and suspicious, though there was already laughter hiding in the edges of it.

Soobin didn’t even hesitate. He turned fully toward him, expression calm in a way that was far too deliberate. “You did have that option,” he said thoughtfully, lifting his left hand just enough for the light to catch the simple band resting around his finger. “Right up until you put a ring on my finger.”

Namjoon let out a low, amused breath behind them.

Soobin continued, eyes bright. “Now the options don’t really exist anymore. We’re driving tomorrow.”

Yeonjun stared at him for a second, processing the audacity. “That’s not how relationships work.”

“That’s exactly how it works,” Soobin replied sweetly. “Commitment. Support. Shared experiences.”

“Shared?” Yeonjun repeated faintly. “It’s your foot on the gas.”

“And your hand on the door handle,” Soobin shot back.

Namjoon chuckled openly this time, the sound warm and unrestrained. He stepped forward, clapping Yeonjun lightly on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Hyung,” Yeonjun said weakly.

“You chose this,” Namjoon reminded him.

Seokjin tilted his head, watching the exchange with open delight. “Who did you pull after to be like this?” he asked Soobin, gesturing vaguely at the confident stance, the teasing tone, the shamelessness of it all.

All three of them turned to look at him at the same time.

Namjoon raised one eyebrow slowly.

Yeonjun blinked once.

Soobin’s lips parted in exaggerated disbelief.

Seokjin froze mid-smile, glancing between them. “What?”

“Appa,” Soobin said carefully, “who do you think I got it from?”

Namjoon folded his arms loosely, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You enjoy watching people panic.”

Seokjin gasped softly. “That is slander.”

Yeonjun pointed gently in his direction. “You once made Namjoon hyung believe you forgot your passport at the airport just to see his reaction.”

Seokjin looked entirely unrepentant. “He reacted very well.”

Namjoon exhaled, but there was no real irritation in it. “I aged ten years.”

“So did I today,” Yeonjun muttered.

Soobin leaned slightly into Yeonjun again, smiling lazily. “See? Family trait.”

Seokjin placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “I am being attacked in my own driveway.”

“You started it,” Namjoon replied calmly.

Yeonjun glanced down at Soobin’s hand again, at the ring glinting in the fading sunlight, and something about the sight softened his expression despite the ongoing teasing. He reached out instinctively, brushing his thumb lightly over Soobin’s knuckles before lacing their fingers together without comment.

“So tomorrow,” Soobin said lightly, squeezing his hand once. “Same time?”

Yeonjun sighed, but there was no real resistance left in him. “If I say no, you’ll just call me dramatic.”

“You are dramatic.”

“I am emotionally expressive.”

“You screamed when I adjusted the mirror.”

“It was sudden.”

Namjoon shook his head fondly. “You’ll survive.”

“I might not,” Yeonjun replied gravely.

Seokjin laughed softly and stepped backward toward the house, gesturing toward the open door. “Dinner is almost ready, and I refuse to let it burn while you four stand here debating driving philosophy.”

Soobin perked up immediately. “What did you make?”

“You’ll see,” Seokjin replied mysteriously.

“If it’s something complicated, I’m too emotionally exhausted from nearly dying,” Yeonjun added.

“You did not nearly die,” Soobin said firmly.

“You reversed out of a tight space.”

“And did it perfectly.”

Namjoon nodded once. “Acceptable.”

Soobin narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m going to make you both sit in the back seat next time.”

“That would require trust,” Yeonjun said quickly.

“You trust me,” Soobin replied, leaning closer, voice dropping just enough to make it intimate despite the driveway audience. “You said so.”

Yeonjun swallowed, gaze lingering on him for a beat longer than necessary. “I do,” he admitted quietly.

Seokjin watched them with that soft, knowing smile again before clapping his hands lightly. “Inside. Before I start charging rent for driveway affection.”

Soobin rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of Yeonjun’s hand as they walked toward the house together. Namjoon followed just behind them, steady and composed, and Seokjin held the door open, ushering them in like he always had.

As they crossed the threshold, the warmth of the house wrapped around them — familiar scents of cooking, soft lighting, the quiet hum of a place that had seen every version of them over the years.

Yeonjun glanced at Soobin once more before stepping inside fully, thumb brushing over the ring again without thinking.

“Tomorrow,” Soobin reminded him under his breath.

Yeonjun huffed softly. “I regret everything.”

“You don’t.”

He didn’t.

The room had settled into that comfortable late-night quiet, the kind that felt heavier in a good way, like the world outside had slowed down just enough for them to exist without urgency. The lamp near the bed cast a warm glow across the sheets, catching in the strands of Soobin’s hair as he shifted closer, propped slightly on one elbow while watching Yeonjun.

Yeonjun lay half on his back, half turned toward him, fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket as if organizing his thoughts through movement. There was a faint crease between his brows — not tension exactly, but the look he got when something mattered enough to sit heavy in his chest.

“I need to start looking for an apartment,” he said finally, the words coming out quieter than expected, gaze drifting briefly toward the ceiling before returning to Soobin’s face as if bracing for reaction.

Soobin blinked slowly, surprise flickering across his expression before he pushed himself up a little higher against the pillows. “An apartment,” he repeated, not questioning so much as testing the weight of the word, letting it settle between them. His fingers reached instinctively for Yeonjun’s wrist, thumb brushing over the pulse there. “That sounds… serious.”

Yeonjun huffed softly through his nose, one corner of his mouth lifting. “I mean, graduation is kind of serious,” he said, shifting slightly so their knees brushed under the blanket. “It feels weird saying it out loud. Like I’ve been waiting for this forever and suddenly it’s right there.”

Soobin’s hand stilled.

“Wait,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing just a little as realization clicked into place. “You’re actually graduating soon?”

Yeonjun gave him a look, amused but softer around the edges. “That tends to happen after several years of suffering, yes.”

“I know,” Soobin said quickly, though a small laugh escaped him. He dragged his gaze over Yeonjun’s face again, searching for something deeper under the teasing. “It just… feels sudden. Like I blinked and you went from complaining about assignments to talking about moving out.”

Yeonjun rolled onto his side fully now, facing him, elbow tucked under his head. “I didn’t want to make it a big dramatic announcement,” he admitted, voice quieter, fingers brushing along the back of Soobin’s hand as if grounding himself. “But I can’t stay at my parents’ place forever. I want to start building something that’s mine.”

Soobin watched him carefully, eyes softening. The word building lingered in the air, heavier than it sounded. He shifted closer without thinking, their foreheads almost touching now. “Are you excited?” he asked, tone gentle, searching.

Yeonjun hesitated, exhaling slowly as if choosing honesty over composure. “Yeah,” he said, fingers tightening slightly around Soobin’s. “And also a little terrified. Not in a bad way. Just… everything changing at once.”

Soobin tilted his head, studying him, then nudged their noses together lightly. “You’re not running away from anything,” he murmured. “You’re moving forward. That’s different.”

Yeonjun’s gaze softened instantly at that, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You sound like Namjoon hyung.”

“That’s rude,” Soobin replied, though his mouth curved faintly. His free hand moved to Yeonjun’s shoulder, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt absently. “What kind of place are you thinking about?”

“Somewhere small,” Yeonjun said, eyes drifting briefly as if picturing it. “Not too far from here. Good light. Enough space to breathe. Maybe a kitchen that doesn’t judge me.”

Soobin snorted softly. “Your current kitchen judges you?”

“My parents’ entire house judges me,” Yeonjun replied solemnly, then shifted closer, pressing their foreheads together. “I just… don’t want it to feel like I’m leaving this behind.”

His gaze flicked toward the room — toward the bed, the familiar walls, the quiet comfort of Soobin’s space — before returning to him.

Soobin’s expression softened immediately. He lifted a hand to cup the side of Yeonjun’s face, thumb brushing lightly along his cheekbone. “You’re not leaving me,” he said quietly, the certainty in his voice grounding rather than dramatic. “You’re just getting a new address.”

Yeonjun exhaled, tension easing slightly. “I know. I just don’t want to lose how easy this is. Showing up. Staying over. Existing here without thinking about distance.”

Soobin leaned closer until their noses brushed, a faint smile appearing. “Then find a place close enough that I can walk there.”

“You hate walking.”

“Then I’ll drive,” Soobin replied, eyes glinting with amusement.

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes immediately. “That was manipulative.”

“That was strategic.”

Yeonjun laughed quietly, the sound softer now, and slid an arm around Soobin’s waist, pulling him closer so their legs tangled under the blanket. The warmth between them felt familiar and steady, not urgent, just present.

“I’ve actually been looking already,” Yeonjun admitted after a moment, voice lower now, almost conspiratorial.

Soobin’s eyebrows lifted. “You have?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Yeonjun said quickly, though a sheepish smile crept in. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was real.”

“So it’s real now,” Soobin murmured, fingers tracing small circles against his shoulder.

Yeonjun nodded once, eyes steady. “Yeah. It is.”

Soobin stayed quiet for a moment after Yeonjun admitted he’d already been looking at apartments. His fingers kept tracing idle patterns against Yeonjun’s shoulder, but his gaze had shifted — not distant, just thoughtful. There was something careful forming behind his eyes, something that mattered enough to approach gently.

“Can I ask you something?” Soobin murmured, voice softer now, thumb slowing where it rested against Yeonjun’s collarbone.

Yeonjun watched him immediately, sensing the change in tone. “You always can.”

Soobin hesitated just long enough for it to feel real, not dramatic. His gaze dropped briefly to the ring on Yeonjun’s hand before lifting again. “When you picture it,” he said slowly, choosing his words, “do you see yourself living alone… or with someone?”

The air shifted.

Not heavy. Just intentional.

Yeonjun understood instantly. It showed in the way his expression softened, in the way his fingers stilled against Soobin’s waist. For a second he didn’t answer — not because he didn’t know, but because he wanted to answer it properly.

He pushed himself upright against the headboard, the movement deliberate rather than abrupt. “Come here,” he said quietly.

Soobin’s breath hitched faintly, but he obeyed without hesitation. Yeonjun’s hands slid to his hips, guiding him forward until Soobin was straddling his lap, knees resting on either side of his thighs. The blanket shifted around them as Soobin settled there, facing him fully, hands instinctively bracing against Yeonjun’s shoulders.

Up close like this, there was no room for half-truths.

Yeonjun lifted one hand and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from Soobin’s face, tucking it behind his ear with unhurried care. His thumb lingered briefly against the curve of Soobin’s cheek.

“You know I’d love that,” Yeonjun said quietly, gaze steady and open. “You know I’d want you there with me.”

Soobin searched his face carefully, as if checking for hesitation. “I don’t want to assume,” he murmured. “It’s your first place. I don’t want to just… insert myself.”

Yeonjun’s lips curved faintly at that, something fond and almost incredulous flickering in his eyes. “You’re not ‘inserting’ yourself,” he said, hands tightening gently at Soobin’s waist. “You’re part of my life. You always have been.”

Soobin’s fingers flexed slightly against his shoulders.

“I’d adore it if you moved in with me,” Yeonjun continued, voice low but steady, the kind of sincerity that didn’t need embellishment. “I’d wake up next to you every morning and pretend I’m not smug about it. I’d argue with you about dishes. I’d watch you steal my hoodies and complain that you’re cold.”

Soobin’s mouth twitched faintly. “I don’t steal your hoodies.”

“You absolutely do.”

“I borrow.”

“You never return them.”

“Because they look better on me.”

Yeonjun smiled at that, thumb brushing lightly along Soobin’s jaw before growing serious again. “You’re more than invited,” he said softly. “Always. That’s not even a question.”

The words settled warmly between them.

Soobin exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing, but something else lingered in his expression — something thoughtful, cautious. “But?”

Yeonjun gave him a look that said he knew exactly what he’d heard. “But,” he admitted gently, “your parents are not going to love the idea.”

Soobin let out a small breath that was half laugh, half resignation. “They’ll survive.”

“Will they?” Yeonjun asked, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “Namjoon hyung barely survived you reversing today.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Yeonjun murmured, brushing his thumb along the inside of Soobin’s wrist now, where his pulse fluttered faintly. “You’re their only son. They adore you. Moving out to live with your alpha is not going to be a small conversation.”

Soobin rolled his eyes lightly, though the faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “You say it like that on purpose.”

“Your alpha?” Yeonjun echoed, pretending innocence.

“You’re impossible,” Soobin muttered, but his hands slid from Yeonjun’s shoulders to rest loosely around his neck instead.

Yeonjun’s expression softened again. “I’m not saying no,” he added gently. “I’m not saying wait forever. I’m just saying… I don’t want you to feel rushed. I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave this house because I’m moving.”

Soobin studied him quietly, their foreheads almost touching now. “I wouldn’t be leaving because I have to,” he said softly. “I’d be leaving because I want to.”

Yeonjun’s breath caught faintly at that.

“But,” Soobin continued, thumb brushing slowly along the back of Yeonjun’s neck, “you’re right. They won’t like it. At first.”

“At first?” Yeonjun repeated.

“So we’ll ease them into it,” Soobin said, a small, determined smile appearing. “One sleepover at a time.”

“You already sleep over,” Yeonjun pointed out.

“Officially,” Soobin corrected.

Yeonjun laughed under his breath, then leaned forward just enough to press a slow, lingering kiss to Soobin’s lips. It wasn’t heated. It wasn’t urgent. It was deliberate — sealing something unspoken between them.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against Soobin’s again.

“If you want to move in with me one day,” Yeonjun murmured, voice low and sincere, “I’ll make space for you. Not just physically. In every way.”

Soobin’s throat tightened slightly at that, emotion flickering across his face before he masked it with a faint smile. “You already have,” he whispered.

Soobin didn’t say anything at first.

He just looked at Yeonjun.

Really looked — eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face like he was memorizing something that already lived inside him. The warmth between them had shifted during the conversation, turning quieter, heavier, threaded with something deeper than teasing.

Yeonjun could feel it in the way Soobin’s hands rested against his shoulders, in the way his breathing had slowed without him noticing.

Then Soobin leaned in.

The movement was slow enough that Yeonjun saw it coming, but gentle enough that it still caught him off guard. Their noses brushed first, breath mingling, warm and steady. Soobin paused there for half a second — not hesitating, just letting the closeness settle — and then his lips pressed softly against Yeonjun’s.

The kiss began almost shy.

Just a warm, careful pressure, slow and unhurried. Soobin’s mouth was soft, warm from the lingering heat of the room, and Yeonjun instinctively tightened his hold at his waist, fingertips pressing lightly through the fabric of his shirt. Their breaths synced without effort, slow inhales shared between them as if the world outside the room had faded completely.

Yeonjun tilted his head slightly, deepening the contact just enough to turn the kiss into something fuller. Soobin responded immediately, lips parting faintly, a quiet exhale escaping him that brushed across Yeonjun’s skin like a secret.

Their hands moved almost without thought.

Soobin’s fingers slid from Yeonjun’s shoulders to the back of his neck, threading lightly into his hair, not pulling — just holding him there, grounding him. Yeonjun’s hands shifted lower, spreading across Soobin’s back before settling firmly at his hips, guiding him closer until there was barely any space left between their bodies.

The kiss lingered.

Slow.

Intentional.

Each movement felt deliberate, like they were both tasting the moment rather than rushing through it. Yeonjun felt Soobin’s breathing change first — a little deeper, a little warmer — and when Soobin leaned forward more fully, pressing into him, the kiss naturally deepened, mouths moving together in a rhythm that felt both familiar and newly charged.

A faint sound slipped from Soobin’s throat when Yeonjun’s thumb brushed along his side, barely audible but enough to send a warm ripple through Yeonjun’s chest. He answered by kissing him again, slower this time, letting the pressure build rather than break.

“You’re thinking too much,” Soobin murmured softly against his lips, voice barely more than breath, though the teasing edge in it softened the intensity just enough.

“I always think too much,” Yeonjun whispered back, his words dissolving into another kiss before Soobin could respond.

Soobin smiled into it — Yeonjun could feel it — and shifted slightly on his lap, knees pressing more firmly into the mattress, hips settling more comfortably against him. The movement drew them closer without urgency, just a quiet escalation that felt inevitable rather than planned.

Their breathing grew warmer between kisses, pauses growing shorter as they kept returning to each other’s mouths. Yeonjun’s hand slid up along Soobin’s spine, slow and steady, fingers spreading against his back as if mapping him through touch. Soobin responded by leaning in further, tilting his head to change the angle, lips parting more openly now as the kiss deepened.

The room felt smaller.

Quieter.

The soft rustle of sheets beneath them mixed with the faint sound of shared breaths and the occasional quiet hum of contentment that escaped before either of them realized it.

Soobin pulled back just enough for their foreheads to rest together, eyes half-lidded, lips still brushing lightly with each exhale. “You’re staring again,” he murmured, voice softer now, touched with something warmer than teasing.

“I like looking at you,” Yeonjun replied without hesitation, thumb brushing gently along Soobin’s cheekbone before sliding down to trace the curve of his jaw.

Soobin’s eyes softened at that, something vulnerable flickering beneath the confidence. He leaned forward again before Yeonjun could say anything else, kissing him deeper this time — slower, more certain — hands tightening slightly in Yeonjun’s hair as if anchoring himself there.

The kiss lingered, stretching into something heavier, something that hinted at where the night might go without rushing toward it. Their breathing grew uneven, pauses between kisses filled with soft exhales and quiet laughter under their breath when they bumped noses or shifted too quickly.

Yeonjun’s fingers pressed gently into Soobin’s waist, drawing him closer again, and the warmth between them deepened into something unmistakably charged.

Soobin’s fingers tightened in Yeonjun’s hair, not pulling, just holding—like he was afraid the moment might slip away if he didn’t anchor himself to it.

The scent of him, warm and sweet with the barest hint of salt from the day’s lingering heat, filled the space between their mouths, thick enough that Yeonjun could taste it when he breathed in.

He hadn’t realized his hands had moved lower until he felt the dip of Soobin’s waist beneath his palms, the soft give of his shirt riding up just enough for skin to meet skin. Soobin shivered, just once, a full-body tremor that didn’t feel like hesitation—just sensation, sudden and bright.

Yeonjun pressed his thumb into the hollow beneath Soobin’s ribs, slow and deliberate, watching his eyelashes flutter at the touch.

Their kisses had slowed again, languid now, less about discovery and more about savoring—like neither of them wanted to miss a single shift in the other’s breathing, a single hitch in their pulse.

When Soobin exhaled against his mouth, it came out uneven, closer to a sigh than a breath, and Yeonjun chased it with his own lips, swallowing the sound before it could dissolve into the air between them.

The bed creaked softly beneath them as Soobin shifted, one knee sliding forward to bracket Yeonjun’s thigh, his weight settling more fully against him. The movement pressed them flush from chest to hips, and Yeonjun’s breath caught at the sudden heat of it, the way Soobin’s body yielded and held firm all at once.

He could feel the steady thrum of Soobin’s heartbeat where their torsos met, a rhythm he recognized as easily as his own. His hands slid up Soobin’s back beneath his shirt, fingers tracing the notches of his spine one by one, relearning the map of him like it was the first time all over again.

Soobin made a quiet, pleased noise against his lips, something between a hum and a whimper, and Yeonjun felt it vibrate through his own chest.

The sound unraveled something low in his stomach, warm and insistent, and he tilted his head to kiss him deeper, letting his tongue brush against Soobin’s bottom lip in a silent question.

Soobin answered without hesitation, mouth opening beneath his, and the heat between them flared suddenly brighter, tongues sliding together in a slow, wet glide that sent a shudder down Yeonjun’s spine.

He could feel Soobin’s fingers trembling where they curled against the nape of his neck, the way his breath hitched when Yeonjun’s teeth caught his lip gently—just enough to tease, not enough to hurt.

"Yeonjun," Soobin breathed, his voice ragged at the edges, and the way he said it—half plea, half sigh—made Yeonjun’s pulse stutter.

He kissed him again, swallowing the rest of his name, and Soobin arched into it, hips canting forward with a slow, deliberate roll that dragged a groan from Yeonjun’s throat.

The friction was maddening, heat building where their bodies met, and Yeonjun’s hands tightened instinctively on Soobin’s hips, holding him there for a second longer than necessary before letting him move again.

Yeonjun broke the kiss first, pulling back just enough to speak, his voice rough with restraint.

"Soobin, your parents are home." The words came out half-strangled, barely audible between their panting breaths. He could already feel the flush creeping up Soobin’s neck, the way his pulse jumped under Yeonjun’s fingertips where they still gripped his waist.

Soobin didn’t retreat.

Instead, he pressed closer, lips brushing Yeonjun’s jaw as he murmured, "I can be quiet." The promise curled warm and damp against his skin, and then Soobin rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, the friction drawing a sharp hiss from Yeonjun’s throat.

Yeonjun’s grip tightened reflexively, fingers digging into the soft fabric of Soobin’s shirt. "You..." He swallowed hard, head tipping back as Soobin’s mouth found the sensitive spot beneath his ear. "You’ve never been quiet a day in your life."

Soobin laughed—a breathless, hushed sound—and nipped at Yeonjun’s earlobe in retaliation. His hips didn’t stop moving, rocking forward in a rhythm that was maddeningly gentle, each shift sending heat pooling low in Yeonjun’s stomach.

The bed creaked faintly beneath them, barely audible over the rush of blood in Yeonjun’s ears.

"Then make me," Soobin whispered, and the challenge in his voice was enough to unravel the last threads of Yeonjun’s restraint.

Yeonjun kissed him harder—no hesitation now, no teasing—just heat and hunger as his hands slid down to grip Soobin’s ass, pulling him flush against him.

The movement was rougher than before, deliberate, fingers digging into the curve of him with a possessiveness that made Soobin gasp into his mouth. Yeonjun swallowed the sound, tongue sliding against his in a rhythm that matched the slow, insistent roll of Soobin’s hips against his own.

His thumb strayed lower, tracing the seam of Soobin’s sleep shorts until the fabric dipped just enough for the pad of his finger to brush—light, barely there—against the damp heat between his cheeks.

Soobin tensed, a sharp inhale catching in his throat, and Yeonjun broke the kiss just enough to murmur against his lips, voice dark with amusement and something deeper, hungrier.

"You’re already wet, aren’t you?"

Soobin’s breath hitched, his forehead dropping to Yeonjun’s shoulder as if he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. His fingers tightened in Yeonjun’s hair, not protesting, just grounding himself as Yeonjun’s touch lingered, pressing just a little firmer where the fabric clung damply to his skin.

"Shut up," Soobin muttered, but the tremor in his voice gave him away, the way his hips stuttered forward as if chasing the pressure.

Yeonjun laughed—low, breathless—and dragged his mouth along Soobin’s jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath his ear before whispering,

"You like it when I talk like that." It wasn’t a question. He knew the way Soobin’s breath quickened at the rough edge of his voice, the way his thighs tightened when Yeonjun let his Alpha instincts bleed through the careful restraint.

His finger circled again, slower now, teasing through the thin fabric, and Soobin’s entire body shuddered against him.

"Yeonjun—" Soobin’s voice cracked, halfway between a whine and a plea, and Yeonjun kissed him again before he could finish, swallowing the rest of his name as his hands tightened on Soobin’s hips, guiding him into a rhythm that was less teasing and more demanding.

The heat between them was palpable now, Soobin’s damp shorts clinging to his skin where they were pressed together, the scent of him thickening in the air—sweet and heady, unmistakable.

Yeonjun shifted without warning, hands tightening around Soobin’s waist as he rolled them in one smooth motion—sheets tangling beneath them, the mattress dipping under their combined weight—until Soobin was flat on his back, blinking up at him with lips still parted from the sudden movement.

Yeonjun hovered above him, knees bracketing his hips, one hand braced beside Soobin’s head while the other traced the hem of his shirt. His thumb brushed the bare sliver of skin just above Soobin’s waistband, warm and teasing.

“Let me take care of you,” Yeonjun murmured, voice rough with something deeper than affection. It wasn’t a request.

Soobin exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling beneath the fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t protest—just nodded, once, fingers curling into the sheets beside his head as Yeonjun’s hands slid upward.

The shirt lifted slowly, fabric dragging over heated skin, revealing inch after inch of flushed chest and trembling stomach. Yeonjun paused when the hem caught under Soobin’s arms, deliberately prolonging the moment before finally pulling it free and tossing it aside.

“God,” Yeonjun breathed, gaze dragging down Soobin’s body like he was seeing him for the first time. “You’re so fucking pretty.” His thumb traced the dip between Soobin’s collarbones, down the center of his chest, where a faint sheen of sweat glistened in the low light.

Soobin shivered, not from cold, but from the way Yeonjun looked at him, like he wanted to memorize every freckle, every hitch in his breathing.

His skin prickled under the attention, warmth pooling low in his stomach as Yeonjun leaned down, lips brushing the hollow of his throat.

Yeonjun’s lips trailed lower, brushing featherlight over the rapid flutter of Soobin’s pulse, down the slope of his sternum.

He paused when his mouth hovered just above Soobin’s left nipple, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive peak until it tightened under his attention. Soobin arched off the mattress with a gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets, but Yeonjun didn’t hurry, just pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the flushed skin beside it, teasing.

"Can I?" Yeonjun murmured against his chest, the words vibrating through skin still tingling from his touch. His thumb circled the neglected nipple lightly, watching the way Soobin’s stomach clenched at the barely-there pressure.

Soobin nodded, swallowing hard before finding his voice. "Yes" The word cracked halfway, and he cleared his throat, cheeks flushing darker. "Please."

Yeonjun exhaled sharply—half amusement, half something hotter—before closing his mouth over the stiff peak, sucking gently.

The noise Soobin made was muffled behind his own hand, his hips jerking off the bed as if chasing friction that wasn’t there.

Yeonjun hummed in approval, tongue flicking over the bud in slow, deliberate strokes before sealing his lips around it again, pulling just enough to draw another broken sound from Soobin’s throat.

The taste of him—salt and warmth—settled heavy on Yeonjun’s tongue as he switched sides, mouthing at the other nipple with the same unhurried attention. Soobin’s back bowed when Yeonjun’s teeth grazed him, just shy of sharp, his fingers finally releasing the sheets to tangle in Yeonjun’s hair instead.

Not guiding, just holding on—like he needed something to ground him against the slow, relentless drag of Yeonjun’s mouth.

Yeonjun’s lips traced a slow, deliberate path down Soobin’s torso, pausing to press a kiss to the frantic pulse at his hipbone, where the waistband of his sleeping shorts had slipped low.

The fabric was damp where it clung to Soobin’s skin—from sweat or something else, Yeonjun didn’t bother distinguishing—and the scent of him was intoxicating this close, warm and thick in the back of Yeonjun’s throat.

His fingers curled into the elastic hem, hooking there without pulling yet, and he glanced up, meeting Soobin’s blown-wide eyes. The question hung unspoken between them, heavy with intention.

Soobin bit his lip, nodding once, sharp, before his fingers tightened in Yeonjun’s hair—not pushing, just holding on—as Yeonjun dragged the shorts down his thighs in one slow tug.

The panties were a surprise every time.

Lace-edged and sinfully thin, black against the pale flush of Soobin’s skin, already soaked through where they clung to him. Yeonjun exhaled sharply, fingers tightening momentarily around Soobin’s knee before skimming up the inside of his thigh, relishing the way the muscles trembled under his touch.

Soobin’s fingers flexed in Yeonjun’s hair, not pulling, just anchoring himself as he swallowed hard. His voice came out breathless, uneven. “Your shirt.”

Yeonjun paused, lips hovering just above the damp lace stretched taut over Soobin’s hips. “Hmm?”

“Take it off.” Soobin’s throat worked around the words, his free hand twitching toward Yeonjun’s chest before falling back to the sheets. “I feel...” A sharp inhale as Yeonjun’s thumb traced the soaked fabric between his thighs. “too exposed like this.”

Yeonjun glanced up, the corner of his mouth tilting at the flush creeping down Soobin’s neck. His fingers lingered, pressing just enough to draw a shaky gasp before he leaned back on his knees, hands lifting to the hem of his own shirt.

The fabric peeled away slowly—deliberately—baring the lean lines of his stomach, the faint sheen of sweat along his collarbones. Soobin’s gaze tracked the movement, lips parting as Yeonjun tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it aside without breaking eye contact.

"Is that better?" Yeonjun murmured, his voice rough as he watched Soobin’s gaze flicker over his bare chest—lingering on the dip between his collarbones, the taut line of his stomach. His fingers flexed against the sheets, still warm from where Yeonjun’s shirt had been discarded moments ago.

Soobin swallowed, throat bobbing visibly. "Yeah," he breathed, the syllable catching halfway. His fingers twitched against the mattress like he wanted to reach out but hadn’t quite gathered the courage yet. "It’s—good."

Yeonjun hummed, low and approving, before sliding his palms back up Soobin’s trembling thighs. His thumbs traced idle circles into the sensitive skin just above his knees, relishing the way Soobin’s breath hitched at the touch. "You sure?" he teased, leaning down just enough for his lips to brush the damp lace still clinging to Soobin’s hips. "Because you’re still blushing like I’ve got you pinned in broad daylight."

Soobin groaned, half exasperation, half arousal, and tipped his head back against the pillow. His hips shifted restlessly beneath Yeonjun’s weight. "Just—shut up and touch me already."

Yeonjun’s fingers lingered against the damp lace, the heat radiating from Soobin’s skin almost dizzying. He traced the soaked fabric with deliberate slowness, watching the way Soobin’s stomach tensed beneath his touch.

“Is this okay?” Yeonjun murmured, voice thick with restraint. His thumb pressed just slightly against the fabric, enough to make Soobin’s hips jerk off the mattress with a muffled gasp.

Soobin’s fingers twisted in the sheets, knuckles whitening. “Yes,” he breathed, voice cracking on the syllable.

His thighs trembled when Yeonjun’s fingers curled into the lace, tugging it aside just enough to expose him fully, cock flushed and straining against his stomach, the slick shine of his arousal glistening in the low light.

Yeonjun exhaled sharply, the sight unraveling something hot and possessive low in his gut. H

is thumb brushed the sensitive skin of Soobin’s inner thigh, relishing the full-body shiver it elicited. “God, look at you,” he muttered, voice rough. His fingers slid higher, tracing the damp trail leading from Soobin’s entrance to where his cock curved against his stomach, already leaking.

Soobin whimpered—a soft, broken sound—when Yeonjun’s fingertip circled the base of his cock, barely applying pressure.

His hips canted forward instinctively, chasing the touch, but Yeonjun held him down with a firm hand on his hip. “Patience,” Yeonjun murmured, lips curling into a smirk as Soobin groaned in frustration.

He traced the length of him with agonizing slowness, fingertips skating over heated skin, pausing just below the head to swirl the gathered moisture there.

Soobin’s breath hitched, his back arching off the bed when Yeonjun finally wrapped his fingers around him properly, giving a slow, teasing stroke.

Yeonjun’s grip tightened just enough to draw a whimper from Soobin’s throat, his thumb swiping lazily over the slickness beading at the tip. “You’re so warm here,” he murmured, voice hushed like he was sharing a secret.

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the way Soobin’s body arched into each touch, the way his breath stuttered when Yeonjun’s palm brushed the sensitive underside of his cock.

“Every time I touch you, you feel like this—like you’ve been waiting for me.”

Soobin’s fingers scrabbled against the sheets, his hips lifting helplessly into the steady rhythm. “Yeonjun—” His voice cracked, throat working around the syllables as if they were too heavy to hold.

“I know,” Yeonjun soothed, leaning down to press a kiss to the trembling skin of Soobin’s inner thigh. His breath ghosted over damp lace, the scent of him thick and heady. “You don’t have to say anything.” His thumb circled the crown of Soobin’s cock, slow and teasing, watching the way his stomach clenched. “Just let me take care of you.”

Soobin whimpered, a sound that dissolved into a gasp when Yeonjun’s tongue darted out to trace the vein along his length, hot and fleeting.

He didn’t take him into his mouth.

Not yet.

He just let his lips brush the flushed skin in passing, each touch lighter than the last. “You’re so pretty like this,” Yeonjun murmured against him, fingers never stilling. “All spread out for me, trembling every time I touch you.”

A full-body shudder wracked Soobin’s frame, his toes curling into the sheets. His voice was wrecked when he managed to speak. “You—you talk too much.”

"And you love it" Yeonjun answers smirking.

Yeonjun's fingers curled into the damp lace still clinging to Soobin's hips, the fabric clinging stubbornly where it was.  With deliberate slowness, he peeled the panties down Soobin's thighs, letting the soaked material catch on his knees before finally slipping free and dropping onto the sheets.

The air between them felt charged—thick with heat and the scent of Soobin's arousal—as Yeonjun sat back on his heels, drinking in the sight of him fully exposed, flushed and trembling beneath his gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, Yeonjun shifted forward, lowering himself onto his stomach between Soobin’s spread legs.

The sheets were warm against his bare chest, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he settled in. His hands slid up the insides of Soobin’s thighs, fingertips tracing the sensitive skin there before gripping firmly, urging them wider.

Soobin’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching against the sheets like he wanted to reach for Yeonjun but wasn’t sure where to land.

Yeonjun hooked Soobin’s legs over his shoulders, the shift pulling him impossibly closer, and Soobin gasped at the sudden proximity—the heat of Yeonjun’s breath against his cock, the way his body yielded under the pressure of Yeonjun’s hands.

There was a heartbeat of hesitation, a suspended moment where Yeonjun simply looked at him, lips parted slightly, before he leaned in and closed his mouth around the head of Soobin’s cock in one slow, deliberate motion.

The sound Soobin made was raw, unfiltered—halfway between a whimper and a moan—his hips jerking up instinctively before Yeonjun pinned him down with a firm hand on his stomach. Yeonjun hummed around him, the vibration sending a full-body shudder through Soobin’s frame, his toes curling into the sheets.

Yeonjun took him deeper, tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock as he worked him in slow, wet drags.

The slick heat of his mouth was maddening, each pull coaxing another broken sound from Soobin’s throat, his fingers finally abandoning the sheets to tangle in Yeonjun’s hair—not guiding, just clinging, like he needed something to ground him against the relentless pleasure.

Yeonjun pulled off with a wet sound, lips glistening, and Soobin whined at the loss—high and desperate—his fingers tightening reflexively in Yeonjun’s hair.

Yeonjun chuckled, breath ghosting over the flushed skin of Soobin’s inner thigh as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below the curve of his balls.

“God, you’re dripping,” he murmured, the words vibrating against damp skin. His tongue traced the sensitive crease where thigh met pelvis, savoring the salt-slick taste of him, the way Soobin’s entire body shuddered at the touch.

“Yeonjun” Soobin’s voice cracked, hips lifting uselessly off the mattress, but Yeonjun pinned him down with a firm hand on his hip, nuzzling deeper into the heat of him.

The scent was overwhelming here—thick and sweet, clinging to the back of Yeonjun’s throat—and he groaned against Soobin’s skin, lips dragging lower, slower, until his breath ghosted over the twitching rim of him.

“Fuck,” Yeonjun breathed, nose brushing the damp curls between Soobin’s thighs. “You’re soaked.” His thumb pressed lightly against the flushed skin just beside Soobin’s hole, watching the way it made his hips jerk, the way his thighs trembled. “Can’t even wait for me to touch you properly, can you?”

Soobin made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, his fingers flexing in Yeonjun’s hair. “Please”

Yeonjun didn’t make him finish. He leaned in and licked a slow, deliberate stripe over Soobin’s hole, tongue pressing flat against the fluttering rim, and Soobin arched off the bed with a choked cry, his thighs clamping reflexively around Yeonjun’s head.

Yeonjun gripped his hips harder, holding him open, and did it again—slower this time, savoring the way Soobin’s body yielded under his tongue, the way his slick tasted even sweeter here, thick and heady on Yeonjun’s tongue.

Yeonjun’s tongue pressed deeper, relentless, the flat of it dragging against Soobin’s rim until the tension in his thighs gave way to trembling surrender.

Every muffled sound Soobin made—every choked gasp, every bitten-off moan—wound Yeonjun’s restraint tighter, his fingers digging bruises into Soobin’s hips as he licked into him with slow, deliberate strokes.

Soobin’s fingers tugged at Yeonjun’s hair, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “Ah fuck” His voice splintered when Yeonjun’s tongue circled his rim, teasing, before pushing inside again, just enough to make his back arch off the sheets.

The wet sound of it filled the room, obscene and delicious, and Yeonjun groaned against him, the vibration ripping another broken noise from Soobin’s throat.

Yeonjun pulled back just enough to speak, lips glistening. “You taste so good,” he murmured, voice rough. His thumb replaced his tongue, rubbing slow circles around Soobin’s rim, feeling the way it fluttered under the pressure. “Can’t get enough of you.”

Soobin whimpered, hips jerking forward helplessly, but Yeonjun held him down, his other hand sliding up to wrap around Soobin’s cock, stroking him in time with the teasing press of his thumb.

The dual sensation wrenched a sob from Soobin’s chest, his thighs trembling where they bracketed Yeonjun’s shoulders. “Yeonjun, I, please”

“Tell me,” Yeonjun urged, tightening his grip just slightly, thumb still working him open with slow, maddening circles. “What do you want?”

Soobin’s fingers twisted tighter in Yeonjun’s hair, his breath coming in ragged bursts as Yeonjun’s thumb pressed just inside him, slow and torturous.

“I want...” His voice fractured, hips jerking forward into the tight circle of Yeonjun’s fist, slick smearing over his knuckles. “I want you to fuck me.” The words tumbled out raw and unfiltered, his cheeks burning hotter than the rest of his body.

Yeonjun’s grip stilled for a heartbeat—just long enough for Soobin to feel the shudder that ran through him—before his thumb curled deeper, knuckle catching against Soobin’s rim in a way that made his vision blur.

“Yeah?” Yeonjun’s voice was dark, rough with something that wasn’t just arousal—something possessive, almost reverent. His free hand slid up Soobin’s thigh, fingers digging into the soft skin there. “Say it again.”

Soobin whimpered, his spine arching off the bed as Yeonjun’s thumb worked him open wider, the stretch just shy of too much.

“Fuck me,” he repeated, voice breaking on the syllables. His thighs trembled where they bracketed Yeonjun’s shoulders, toes curling into the sheets. “Please, Yeonjun, I need ..”

Yeonjun cut him off with a kiss, swallowing the rest of his plea as he leaned up over him, their bodies slotting together like they were made for it.

His tongue slid against Soobin’s, hot and demanding, and Soobin moaned into it, hands scrambling over Yeonjun’s bare shoulders, down the tense line of his back.

Yeonjun pulled back just enough to speak, lips brushing Soobin’s with each word. “You’re sure?” His fingers trailed lower, tracing the damp crease of Soobin’s thigh, teasing but not quite touching where he needed it most.

Soobin exhaled sharply, fingers tightening in Yeonjun's hair as he pressed their foreheads together.

"Don't—don't tease me now." His voice wavered between frustration and desperation, hips lifting off the mattress in search of friction that Yeonjun deliberately denied him. "I've never been more sure of anything."

Yeonjun watched the way Soobin's throat worked around the words, the way his pupils swallowed the warm brown of his irises—dark and endless.

A muscle jumped in Yeonjun's jaw as he dragged his fingers through the slick gathered between Soobin's thighs, gathering it on his fingertips before pressing two fingers against his entrance in one slow, unrelenting push.

Soobin's breath stuttered, his entire body tensing for a heartbeat before melting into the sheets, thighs falling open wider in silent invitation.

Yeonjun worked his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to make Soobin's back arch off the bed with a punched-out moan. "Fuck—"

"Tell me," Yeonjun murmured against the damp skin of Soobin's collarbone, lips brushing the rapid flutter of his pulse. His fingers scissored slowly, relishing the way Soobin's body yielded around him, hot and impossibly tight. "Tell me how bad you want it."

Soobin's nails scraped down Yeonjun's back, leaving faint, stinging trails in their wake. "Need you," he gasped, hips rolling down against Yeonjun's hand, chasing the pressure. "Need you inside me, please"

Soobin’s hands hooked onto the waistband of Yeonjun’s sleeping pants, fingers curling into the fabric with a hesitance that didn’t match the desperation in his voice.

The elastic stretched taut under his grip, the heat of Yeonjun’s skin bleeding through the thin material, and Soobin exhaled sharply—half frustration, half anticipation—as his thumbs brushed the jut of Yeonjun’s hipbones.

Yeonjun stilled above him, fingers pausing inside Soobin, breath hitching when Soobin tugged experimentally, the fabric slipping just enough to reveal the shadow of his pelvis.

“Impatient,” Yeonjun murmured, but his voice was rough, the word more accusation than admonishment. His lips traced the shell of Soobin’s ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “You could’ve just asked.”

Soobin huffed, nails scraping lightly against Yeonjun’s stomach as he dragged the pants lower, the fabric catching momentarily on the hard line of his cock before finally giving way.

The sight of him—flushed and leaking against his stomach—made Soobin’s throat go tight. He swallowed hard, fingers trembling where they lingered just above Yeonjun’s hips, suddenly unsure where to land.

Yeonjun caught his wrist, guiding Soobin’s hand down without breaking eye contact, their fingers tangling as they wrapped around him together.

The heat of him was dizzying, the weight solid and familiar in Soobin’s palm, and Yeonjun groaned when Soobin squeezed experimentally, his forehead dropping to Soobin’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” he breathed, hips jerking forward into the touch. “Just like that.”

Soobin’s other hand slid up Yeonjun’s back, tracing the tense line of his spine, fingers digging into the muscle there when Yeonjun’s fingers curled inside him again—deeper this time, deliberate.

The dual sensation wrenched a broken noise from Soobin’s throat, his hips lifting off the bed to chase the pressure, his grip tightening around Yeonjun in turn.

Soobin’s breath hitched as Yeonjun’s fingers twisted inside him, the stretch burning just right. He bit his lip, gaze flickering down to where Yeonjun’s cock strained against his stomach, flushed and leaking.

“If we had more time,” he murmured, voice rough, fingers tightening around Yeonjun’s wrist, “I’d...” His throat worked around the words, heat crawling up his neck. “I’d suck you.”

Yeonjun froze for half a second before laughing, the sound low and wrecked against Soobin’s collarbone. “

Christ,” he muttered, teeth grazing sweat-damp skin. “You’re gonna kill me one day.” His fingers slid free, slow and deliberate, and Soobin whined at the loss, hips lifting off the mattress in protest.

Yeonjun sat back on his heels, hands hooking into the waistband of his pants, and Soobin’s breath stuttered at the way the fabric clung stubbornly to his hips before finally giving way. The last barrier between them slid down Yeonjun’s thighs, pooling somewhere and then.... there was nothing.

Just Yeonjun, fully bare above him, skin flushed and eyes dark with want.

Soobin swallowed hard, gaze tracing the line of Yeonjun’s cock, the way it curved against his stomach, already wet at the tip. His fingers twitched against the sheets, torn between reaching out and gripping them tighter.

Yeonjun didn’t give him time to decide. He leaned forward, bracing one hand beside Soobin’s head, the other guiding himself between Soobin’s thighs with a slow, purposeful drag that made them both groan.

The blunt head of him caught against Soobin’s rim, pressing without pushing, and Soobin gasped, thighs falling open wider in silent invitation.

Yeonjun's breath hitched, fingers digging into the sheets on either side of Soobin's head as he hovered above him—close enough for their chests to brush with every ragged inhale, but not nearly close enough where it mattered most.

His cock pressed against Soobin's slicked entrance, the heat of him almost unbearable, yet he held himself back, eyes searching Soobin's face.

"Are you—"

Soobin didn't let him finish.

His foot—long and unfairly graceful—slid up Yeonjun's bare back, before pushing down without warning. The sudden pressure forced Yeonjun forward, the blunt head of his cock breaching Soobin in one sharp, perfect thrust, stealing the air from both their lungs.

Yeonjun barely caught himself before collapsing fully onto Soobin, his forearms trembling with the effort.

A strangled noise tore from his throat—half shock, half pleasure—as Soobin's body clenched around him, hot and impossibly tight.

"Fuck—"

Soobin gasped beneath him, fingers scrabbling at Yeonjun's shoulders, his head tipping back into the pillows. The stretch burned—just shy of too much—but the fullness was dizzying, his toes curling against Yeonjun's back where his foot still rested, anchoring them together.

Yeonjun's groan was ragged, forehead dropping to Soobin's collarbone as he fought to stay still, to give him time to adjust.

"You—" His voice fractured, hips twitching forward instinctively before he forced himself back. "You couldn't just say yes?"

Soobin’s laughter was breathless, strained—cut off when Yeonjun rolled his hips experimentally, dragging a moan from both of them. “Would you have listened?” His fingers traced the sweat-slick line of Yeonjun’s spine, nails scraping lightly.

Yeonjun’s answering growl vibrated against Soobin’s throat as he pressed deeper, slow and relentless, until their hips slotted together.

The stretch burned in the best way, Soobin’s body yielding perfectly around him, and Yeonjun exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tangling in the sheets beside Soobin’s head.

“Christ, you’re” His voice fractured when Soobin clenched around him, thighs tightening around Yeonjun’s hips. “You feel—”

Soobin cut him off with a roll of his hips, the movement deliberate, and Yeonjun’s forehead dropped to his shoulder with a groan. The friction was electric, the heat between them unbearable, and Yeonjun’s control frayed at the edges.

He pulled out almost completely, watching the way Soobin’s breath hitched—eyes fluttering shut—before driving back in with a snap of his hips that punched a ragged cry from Soobin’s throat.

Yeonjun's hips rolled forward in a slow, deliberate drag, each movement calculated to draw the sharpest gasp from Soobin’s parted lips.

The slide was effortless—Soobin’s body slick and yielding around him—but Yeonjun kept the pace agonizingly measured, his fingers flexing against the sheets as he watched every flicker of pleasure cross Soobin’s face.

The scent of them—hot and heady, mingled sweat and arousal—thickened the air between them. Yeonjun’s gaze dropped to the flushed skin of Soobin’s throat, where his scent gland pulsed visibly beneath the surface.

His mouth watered instinctively, alpha instincts flaring at the thought of marking, claiming, drowning in him.

"Can I—" Yeonjun’s voice was rough, his hips stuttering mid-thrust as Soobin clenched around him. He swallowed hard, fingertips brushing the sweat-damp hollow of Soobin’s throat. "Can I scent you?"

Soobin’s breath hitched, his fingers scrambling against Yeonjun’s shoulders. His nod was frantic, thighs tightening around Yeonjun’s waist as if to pull him closer still. "Yes, fuck yes"

Yeonjun didn’t hesitate.

He bent his head, lips brushing the curve of Soobin’s neck first—a teasing press of warmth—before his tongue dragged flat over the swollen gland. The taste burst across his tongue, sweet and sharp like citrus and something uniquely Soobin, and Yeonjun groaned against his skin, hips jerking forward involuntarily.

Soobin gasped, back arching off the bed, his fingers twisting in Yeonjun’s hair. "God, fuck Junie"

Yeonjun licked again, slower this time, relishing the way Soobin’s entire body shuddered beneath him.

His hips moved in tandem, each thrust deeper now, less controlled, driven by the primal need to take, to claim.

The scent of them mingled thick in the air—Yeonjun’s musk blending with Soobin’s sweetness until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

"Mine," Yeonjun growled against Soobin’s throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below his ear. The words weren’t possessive in the way of alphas who demanded submission—they were a plea, a reverence... a promise.

Soobin’s answering moan was wrecked, his hips lifting to meet Yeonjun’s thrusts with desperate urgency. "Yours, always"

Yeonjun’s mouth sealed over the gland properly then, sucking hard enough to bruise, and Soobin screamed, his body clamping down around Yeonjun in a vice-like grip.

The pleasure-pain of it crackled through them both, Yeonjun’s rhythm faltering as he fought the urge to knot him right then, to bury himself so deep neither of them could tell where their bodies separated.

Yeonjun felt it before he saw it—the telltale swell at the base of his cock, the tightness that shouldn’t be there.

Not now.

Not when his rut wasn’t due for weeks. His rhythm stuttered for half a second, just long enough for Soobin’s breath to hitch beneath him, fingers tightening in his hair.

He adjusted instinctively, angling his thrusts shallower, keeping the knot from pressing too insistently against Soonbin’s rim. The change was subtle, but Soobin had always been perceptive—had always known Yeonjun’s body almost better than his own.

“Why...” Soobin’s voice cracked, hips lifting to chase the depth Yeonjun was denying him. His thighs trembled where they bracketed Yeonjun’s waist, slick smearing between them. “Why aren’t you—”

Yeonjun silenced him with a kiss, swallowing the rest of the question. His lips were rough against Soobin’s, his control fraying at the edges as his knot pulsed, heavier now, more insistent. He could feel Soobin’s confusion in the way his fingers dug into Yeonjun’s shoulders, the way his breath hitched between kisses.

“You’re holding back,” Soobin accused when Yeonjun pulled away, his pupils blown wide. His hand slid between their bodies, fingers brushing the base of Yeonjun’s cock—and then he stilled. “Oh.”

Yeonjun’s breath came in ragged bursts against Soobin’s collarbone, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"I'm sorry," he gritted out, fingers digging into the sheets beside Soobin’s head. "Fuck, I didn’t—this shouldn’t be happening." His hips stuttered, the swollen base of his cock catching against Soobin’s rim before retreating again, careful not to push inside.

Soobin’s hands tightened around Yeonjun’s biceps, his nails biting crescents into sweat-slick skin. "Don’t," he gasped, hips lifting insistently. "Don’t stop."

Yeonjun groaned, forehead dropping to Soobin’s shoulder as he rocked shallowly, his knot pulsing against sensitive flesh without breaching.

"You’ve never—" His voice fractured, the words dissolving into a growl when Soobin clenched around him. "You don’t know what it’ll feel like."

"So show me." Soobin’s voice was raw, fingers scrambling up Yeonjun’s back to fist in his hair. He tugged, forcing Yeonjun’s gaze up to meet his own—eyes dark, unflinching. "I trust you."

Yeonjun shuddered, his restraint unraveling at the edges. He pressed a single, searing kiss to Soobin’s parted lips before pulling back just enough to watch his face.

"It’ll hurt," Yeonjun murmured against Soobin’s parted lips, voice rough with restraint. His hips stilled completely, the swollen base of his cock pressing insistently against Soobin’s rim without breaching. "We should’ve, fuck, we should’ve talked about this first."

Soobin’s fingers tightened in Yeonjun’s hair, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

"We should have," he admitted, voice cracking when Yeonjun’s knot pulsed against him. "But we didn’t." His thighs trembled where they bracketed Yeonjun’s waist, slick smearing between them. "And I still want it."

Yeonjun groaned, forehead dropping to Soobin’s shoulder. His entire body trembled with the effort of holding back, muscles taut beneath sweat-slick skin.

"It’s bigger," he ground out, teeth grazing Soobin’s collarbone. "Probably worse than just the cock." The words came out strained, half warning, half plea.

Soobin exhaled sharply, nails scraping down Yeonjun’s spine. "I know," he breathed, hips lifting in silent demand. His voice wavered, but his grip on Yeonjun’s shoulders was firm. "I still want you. All of you."

Yeonjun’s breath was ragged against Soobin’s collarbone, his forehead pressed to damp skin as he forced himself still. The swollen base of his cock pulsed against Soobin’s rim, slick smearing between them with every shallow thrust he couldn’t stop himself from making. His fingers dug into the sheets beside Soobin’s head, white-knuckled with restraint.

“Look at me,” Yeonjun ground out, voice rough.

Soobin’s lashes fluttered, his gaze focusing slowly on Yeonjun’s face—the furrow between his brows, the tension in his jaw, the way his pupils swallowed nearly all the dark of his irises.

“If I push in,” Yeonjun said, each word deliberate, “I can’t take it out until it deflates.” His hips jerked forward involuntarily, the blunt pressure of his knot catching against Soobin’s rim before retreating again. “No matter how much it hurts.” His throat worked around the next words, voice dropping lower. “Are you sure?”

Soobin’s breath hitched, fingers flexing against Yeonjun’s shoulders.

The stretch already burned—Yeonjun’s cock thick inside him—but the thought of taking more, of being stretched wider, sent a shiver down his spine.

Soobin’s fingers tightened in Yeonjun’s hair, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "I'm sure," he whispered, voice raw but unwavering. His thighs trembled where they bracketed Yeonjun’s waist, slick smearing between them, but his gaze never wavered. "I want all of you."

Yeonjun exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers flexing against the sheets before he reached for Soobin’s hands.

He caught both of them in his own, threading their fingers together tightly, pressing their joined hands into the mattress on either side of Soobin’s head.

The gesture was grounding—reassuring—a silent promise that he wouldn’t let go, not now, not ever.

"Look at me," Yeonjun murmured, voice rough with restraint. His thumbs traced the delicate bones of Soobin’s wrists, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath the skin. "Keep looking at me."

Soobin’s breath hitched, his grip tightening instinctively as Yeonjun shifted above him, their bodies aligning perfectly.

The swollen base of Yeonjun’s cock pressed insistently against his rim, the stretch already unbearable, and Soobin squeezed his eyes shut for half a second before forcing them open again, locking onto Yeonjun’s gaze.

Yeonjun didn’t look away. He held Soobin’s stare as he pressed forward, slow and relentless, the thickest part of him catching against Soobin’s rim before finally—finally—breaching.

Soobin's gasp was sharp, his entire body tensing beneath Yeonjun as the knot stretched him wider—too much, too fast—and his fingers clenched hard around Yeonjun’s, knuckles blanching white.

The burn was electric, searing up his spine, and for a heartbeat, his vision whited out at the edges. His thighs trembled where they bracketed Yeonjun’s hips, slick smearing between them, but he didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

Yeonjun froze above him, breath ragged against Soobin’s collarbone, his own muscles locked tight with restraint.

"Breathe," he gritted out, thumbs pressing soothing circles into Soobin’s wrists. "Just breathe."

Soobin sucked in a shuddering inhale, his lungs burning as much as the stretch between his thighs.

The fullness was dizzying, Yeonjun’s knot lodged deep inside him, pressing against places that made his stomach clench. He swallowed hard, forcing his body to relax inch by inch, his lashes fluttering when Yeonjun leaned down to press their foreheads together.

"Good," Yeonjun murmured, lips brushing Soobin’s with each word. His hips shifted minutely, testing, and Soobin whimpered at the drag, his nails biting into Yeonjun’s palms. "So good for me."

The praise curled warm in Soobin’s chest, mingling with the ache, and he arched up into Yeonjun’s next shallow thrust, chasing the pressure despite the burn. His body yielded gradually, adjusting to the stretch, and Yeonjun groaned when Soobin clenched around him, hot and tight.

Soobin’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around Yeonjun’s wrists.

“Wait—” The word was barely more than a whisper, strained and thin, and Yeonjun froze instantly, his entire body locking rigid above him. The knot pulsed inside Soobin, swollen and unyielding, and the stretch burned sharper now—too much, too deep.

A tear slipped from the corner of Soobin’s eye, trailing hot down his temple before disappearing into the damp mess of his hair.

Yeonjun’s breath was ragged against Soobin’s collarbone, his forehead pressed to sweat-slick skin.

He didn’t move—couldn’t move—not with the knot tying them together. His fingers flexed against Soobin’s wrists, thumbs brushing slow, soothing circles over the rapid flutter of his pulse.

“I know,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint. “I know, baby. Just breathe.”

Soobin exhaled shakily. The pain ebbed gradually, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache that radiated through his lower stomach.  He swallowed hard, blinking away the wetness clinging to his lashes, and focused on the weight of Yeonjun’s body above him—the heat of his skin, the steady pressure of his hands.

Yeonjun’s knot swelled further inside him, the stretch intensifying for a heartbeat before settling, and Soobin gasped, his back arching off the mattress.

The sensation was overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once—and his fingers scrambled against Yeonjun’s, before he moves his hand to Yeonjun's shoulder, holding there.

“Fuck,” Yeonjun gritted out, his forehead dropping to Soobin’s shoulder. His hips twitched forward instinctively before he forced himself still again, muscles trembling with the effort. “You’re—” His voice fractured, the words dissolving into a groan when Soobin clenched around him. “You’re taking it so well.”

The pain crested sharply—a white-hot sting that made Soobin's breath hitch—before ebbing all at once, dissolving into something else entirely. His body yielded suddenly, adjusting to the impossible stretch, and then—

Pleasure.

Thick and syrupy, it pooled low in his stomach, radiating outward in slow, rolling waves.

His vision blurred at the edges, his thighs trembling where they bracketed Yeonjun’s waist. The knot pulsed inside him, swollen and unyielding, pressing against places that made his toes curl.

"Junie—" Soobin gasped, fingers scrambling against Yeonjun’s shoulders.

The word fractured into a moan when Yeonjun rolled his hips experimentally, the movement shallow but deliberate, the knot dragging against oversensitive nerves.

Yeonjun groaned, forehead dropping to Soobin’s collarbone. "Feel good?" His voice was rough, lips brushing sweat-damp skin with each word.

Soobin’s response was swallowed by Yeonjun’s mouth—half gasp, half sob—as Yeonjun rocked into him again, the motion shallow but relentless. The knot held them locked together, every tiny shift sending sparks up Soobin’s spine, his body stretched impossibly full.

He clutched at Yeonjun’s shoulders, nails biting crescents into damp skin, his thighs trembling where they bracketed Yeonjun’s waist.

Yeonjun’s breath was ragged against Soobin’s throat, his lips tracing the frantic pulse there before murmuring,

"Look at me." Soobin forced his eyes open—lashes wet, vision blurred—to find Yeonjun’s gaze dark and unwavering. "I’ve got you," Yeonjun promised, voice rough. His thumbs brushed Soobin’s hipbones, pressing just shy of bruising, grounding him as he rolled his hips again.

The drag was exquisite—slow and deliberate—the knot catching against Soobin’s rim with each movement, pulling a broken noise from his throat.

His cock ached between them, neglected and flushed, but the pleasure coiled tight in his stomach overshadowed everything else.

Yeonjun’s rhythm faltered when Soobin clenched around him, his grip tightening reflexively on Soobin’s hips.

"Fuck," he gritted out, forehead dropping to Soobin’s shoulder. "You’re—" His voice cracked, hips stuttering forward helplessly. "You’re gonna make me come."

Soobin whimpered, fingers tangling in Yeonjun’s hair. "Do it," he breathed, arching into the next thrust. "I want—I want to feel it."

Yeonjun’s lips found Soobin’s throat again—hot, insistent—his tongue dragging flat over the swollen scent gland with deliberate pressure.

Soobin gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily, the movement dragging Yeonjun’s knot deeper inside him, and Yeonjun groaned against his skin, the vibration rippling through them both.

The scent burst across Yeonjun’s tongue—sweet, sharp, unmistakably Soobin—and he licked again, slower this time, savoring the way Soobin’s pulse fluttered wildly beneath his lips. His hips stuttered forward instinctively, the knot pressing insistently against Soobin’s rim, and Soobin keened, fingers twisting in Yeonjun’s hair to pull him closer still.

“Junie—” Soobin’s voice cracked, his thighs tightening around Yeonjun’s waist as he arched into the next shallow thrust.

The drag was exquisite, the knot catching against oversensitive nerves with each movement, and Soobin’s breath hitched, his body clenching around Yeonjun in a vice-like grip.

Yeonjun’s control snapped.

He bit down—not hard enough to mark, but enough to make Soobin cry out—before sucking hard on the scent gland, his hips driving forward in short, frantic thrusts. The pleasure coiled tight in his stomach, white-hot and unbearable, and then—

Yeonjun came with a ragged groan, his hips jerking forward as he spilled deep inside Soobin—hot and pulsing—the knot locking them together in perfect, shuddering stillness.

His mouth stayed sealed over Soobin's scent gland, tongue pressing flat against the swollen skin as his teeth grazed it possessively, not breaking contact even as his body arched taut above him.

The scent flooded his senses—citrus and musk and something indescribably Soobin, thick enough to drown in, and Yeonjun inhaled sharply through his nose, dizzy with it.

Soobin felt the wet heat spreading inside him, the rhythmic twitches of Yeonjun’s cock as he emptied himself, and his own thighs trembled violently around Yeonjun’s waist.

The stretch burned deliciously, the knot keeping every drop trapped deep within him, and his fingers scrabbled against Yeonjun’s sweat-slick back, nails biting crescents into his skin.

“Junie,” he gasped, voice wrecked, “Junie” The name spilled from his lips like a prayer, half-sobbed, half-chanted, as he arched up into the unrelenting pressure of Yeonjun’s body.

Yeonjun finally pulled his mouth away from Soobin’s throat—just enough to murmur against his damp skin—his breath hot and uneven.

“Come for me,” he ordered, voice rough with spent pleasure, lips brushing the flushed marks he’d left behind. His hand slid between their bodies, fingers wrapping around Soobin’s neglected cock, and Soobin’s entire body jerked at the contact—oversensitive, electric.

Yeonjun stroked him once, twice, thumb smearing the wetness gathered at the tip, and that was all it took.

Soobin came with a choked cry, his back bowing off the bed as pleasure crashed through him—white-hot and consuming—his release spilling over Yeonjun’s fingers and his own stomach in shuddering pulses.

The knot pressed impossibly deeper inside him with each contraction of his muscles, dragging the orgasm out until his vision blurred at the edges, his thighs shaking where they still clung to Yeonjun’s waist.

Yeonjun watched him unravel—eyes dark, lips parted—his breath coming in ragged bursts as Soobin’s body milked him through the last waves of his own release.

The room smelled of them—salt and sweat and the heady musk of sex—thick enough to taste, and Yeonjun exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to Soobin’s shoulder as the aftershocks rippled through them both.

Yeonjun stayed locked inside Soobin as his knot pulsed weakly—still swollen, still keeping them tied—but his weight shifted carefully, bracing on his forearms to relieve Soobin’s hips. His breath fanned hot against Soobin’s throat, lips brushing the bruised skin there absently, like he couldn’t stop touching even now.

Soobin whimpered when Yeonjun’s knot twitched inside him, the sensation oversensitive now, his thighs trembling where they still clung to Yeonjun’s waist.

He loosened his grip reluctantly, legs sliding bonelessly to the mattress, sticky with sweat and slick. His fingers flexed against Yeonjun’s back, not pushing, just feeling, tracing the raised lines his nails had left behind.

"Okay?" Yeonjun murmured against Soobin’s collarbone, voice rough and spent. His thumb brushed Soobin’s hipbone, feather-light, checking.

Soobin swallowed hard, nodding before he trusted his voice. "Yeah," he managed, the word cracking. His throat felt raw, from pleading, from crying out, and he licked his lips, tasting salt and the ghost of Yeonjun’s mouth. "Just… full."

Yeonjun huffed a laugh, breath warm against Soobin’s skin. "Yeah," he agreed, voice thick with something like wonder. He pressed a kiss to the hollow of Soobin’s throat before easing back just enough to meet his gaze. "You took it so well."

"Of course I did," Soobin murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them, still breathless and raw. His fingers traced idle circles against Yeonjun’s damp shoulder, avoiding his gaze. "It’s... mine."

The admission hung in the air, thick and undeniable, and then Soobin tensed beneath him, heat flooding his cheeks as the words registered fully. His mouth snapped shut, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

Yeonjun stilled above him, the knot between them pulsing weakly in reminder.

Then, slowly, his lips curved into a smile—warm, impossibly fond—before he ducked his head to press a kiss to Soobin’s collarbone.

"You’re right," Yeonjun agreed, voice rough with exhaustion and something softer, deeper. His thumb brushed Soobin’s hipbone, possessive even in its gentleness. "It is yours."

Soobin exhaled sharply, fingers tightening briefly in Yeonjun’s hair before he forced himself to relax again. The claim settled over him—heavy, intoxicating—and he swallowed hard, suddenly aware of every place their bodies were still joined, every mark left behind.

Soobin’s breath hitched as Yeonjun shifted slightly above him, the knot pulsing inside him with a fresh wave of discomfort-turned-pleasure. He swallowed hard, fingers flexing against Yeonjun’s shoulder.

"How long does it…?" He trailed off, voice hoarse, and Yeonjun stilled, brow furrowing as he processed the question.

"I don’t know," Yeonjun admitted after a beat, lips brushing Soobin’s collarbone absently. His voice was rough, spent. "Never done this before either."

Soobin blinked up at the ceiling, the haze of pleasure and exhaustion momentarily clearing.

"Right," he murmured, throat working around the word. "I forgot." The realization settled between them—new, fragile—and Soobin’s chest tightened inexplicably.

Yeonjun hummed, the sound vibrating against Soobin’s skin. His fingers traced idle patterns along Soobin’s ribs, grounding. "Guess we’re figuring it out together," he murmured, and the simplicity of it, the quiet certainty, made Soobin’s breath catch.

The bass throbbed low and steady through the floor, vibrating up through the metal legs of the bar stools and into Yeonjun’s spine. The club was drenched in shifting light — violet, blue, flashes of gold — cutting across bodies moving in slow, loose rhythms on the dance floor.

Yeonjun sat on one of the high bar stools, jacket discarded somewhere behind him, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal his forearms. One foot hooked casually on the rung of the stool, the other planted wide for balance.

Soobin stood between his knees.

Close.

Close enough that every shift of the music pressed their bodies fractionally nearer.

Yeonjun’s hands rested at Soobin’s waist, fingers spread possessively but not tight — thumbs brushing slow, absent patterns against the fabric of his shirt. The contact looked casual to anyone glancing their way.

It wasn’t.

Soobin leaned in slightly, one hand braced against the edge of the bar beside Yeonjun’s hip. The colored lights slid over his face, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the faint shine on his lower lip. He tilted his head just enough to speak close to Yeonjun’s ear, voice raised to cut through the music.

“You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes,” Soobin said, tone light but edged with something deliberate.

Yeonjun didn’t look away.

“I’ve been appreciating the view,” he replied, voice low, barely louder than necessary. His thumbs pressed a fraction firmer against Soobin’s waist as if to underline the point.

Soobin’s mouth twitched.

“Appreciating,” he repeated, leaning closer so their knees pressed more firmly against Yeonjun’s thighs. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Yeonjun’s gaze dropped slowly — not subtly — from Soobin’s eyes to his mouth, then lower, then back up again. The movement was unhurried, intentional.

“What would you call it?” he asked.

Soobin inhaled — slow, steady — but the breath lingered just a touch too long in his chest. “Possessive,” he said softly.

One of Yeonjun’s hands slid slightly higher, fingers splaying along the curve of Soobin’s side. Not grabbing. Just claiming space.

“You’re standing between my legs,” Yeonjun murmured, leaning forward until their faces were inches apart. “In a crowded club.”

“So?” Soobin tilted his head, eyes glinting under the lights. “You nervous?”

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh, the sound swallowed by the music. “About you?” His grip tightened almost imperceptibly. “Never.”

The bass shifted, heavier now. Soobin’s hips swayed faintly with the rhythm — not dancing exactly, just moving with it. The motion brushed him closer against Yeonjun, subtle but undeniable.

Yeonjun’s fingers flexed at his waist.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he said.

“Doing what?” Soobin’s voice was innocent. His body was not.

Yeonjun leaned in, lips hovering just beside Soobin’s ear. “Testing my patience.”

Soobin shivered — small, but real. His hand slid from the bar to Yeonjun’s shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric there as he steadied himself.

“I thought you liked a challenge,” Soobin said, breath warm against Yeonjun’s cheek.

Yeonjun pulled back just enough to look at him fully. The colored lights caught in his eyes, sharpening them.

“I like when you forget there’s anyone else in the room,” he said quietly.

Something in Soobin’s expression shifted at that — softened, deepened. He leaned forward again, this time without teasing distance, chest brushing against Yeonjun’s. His free hand settled at the back of Yeonjun’s neck, thumb resting just beneath his hairline.

“There isn’t,” Soobin replied, voice lower now, less playful. “Not for me.”

The music pounded. Bodies moved around them. Laughter burst from somewhere to their left.

But the space between them felt insulated.

Yeonjun’s hands slid slightly, fingers dipping under the hem of Soobin’s shirt just enough to feel warmth beneath. His thumbs traced slow arcs against bare skin, testing, feeling.

Soobin’s breath hitched faintly.

“You’re bold tonight,” Yeonjun observed, gaze darkening.

Soobin leaned in until their foreheads almost touched. “You’re the one who dragged me here,” he reminded him. “What did you expect?”

“I expected you to behave.”

Soobin smiled — slow, dangerous.

“You’ve never wanted that.”

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened just slightly at that, not in anger — in restraint. His hands shifted again, one sliding up the small of Soobin’s back, guiding him closer until there was no mistaking the tension between their bodies.

“Careful,” Yeonjun murmured.

“Or what?”

Yeonjun didn’t answer immediately. His thumb pressed into Soobin’s hip, just enough pressure to make the point physical instead of verbal. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against the corner of Soobin’s mouth — not a full kiss, just a promise of one.

Soobin exhaled softly.

“That’s unfair,” he muttered.

“You started it.”

“So finish it.”

Yeonjun’s eyes flickered — heat flashing unmistakably — but he held still, hands steady at Soobin’s waist.

“Not here,” he said quietly, though his voice carried something that suggested the word yet lingered unspoken at the end.

Soobin’s fingers tightened slightly at the back of his neck. He leaned in again, lips grazing Yeonjun’s this time — slow, deliberate, teasing. The kiss was brief, just enough to taste.

When he pulled back, his eyes were bright.

“You’re the one losing patience,” Soobin said softly.

Yeonjun’s hands flexed at his waist once more, drawing him closer again, voice dropping lower.

“Keep pushing,” he replied, gaze steady and heated. “And we’re leaving.”

The music surged around them.

Soobin smiled.

And didn’t step away.

“We’re leaving,” Yeonjun said, but the words didn’t come out abrupt. They came out low, deliberate, his hands firm at Soobin’s waist as he slowly slid off the bar stool, standing without breaking eye contact.

The shift in height changed the dynamic instantly. Soobin had to tilt his head up now, and the movement exposed the line of his throat under the club lights. Yeonjun noticed. Of course he did. 

His fingers tightened slightly at Soobin’s hips, thumbs pressing into the curve there as if testing whether Soobin would resist.

Soobin didn’t step back. Instead, his hands slid higher along Yeonjun’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “You sound very sure,” he murmured, voice softer now, less teasing but no less charged. “What if I’m not done?”

Yeonjun’s mouth curved faintly, but there was no humor in his eyes anymore — just heat held carefully in place. He leaned in, slow enough that Soobin felt the approach before the contact, until their bodies aligned fully, chest to chest. 

“You’ve been pushing me for the last twenty minutes,” he said quietly, breath brushing over Soobin’s lips. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Soobin’s lashes fluttered faintly, and he swallowed, but his fingers only tightened in response. “Maybe I like seeing how much it takes,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his mouth even as his pulse betrayed him.

Yeonjun exhaled through his nose, one hand sliding from Soobin’s waist to the small of his back, drawing him in closer until there was no air left between them. 

The music thudded around them, bodies moving, lights flashing, but the space they occupied felt insulated, narrowed to warmth and breath and the steady tension building under their skin. “You don’t want to find the edge in here,” Yeonjun murmured, his voice steady but lower now, threaded with warning that didn’t sound like restraint so much as promise.

Soobin’s gaze flickered down to Yeonjun’s mouth before lifting again, slower this time. “Then take me somewhere I can,” he whispered, and the words weren’t loud, but they landed heavy.

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened at that. 

His hand on Soobin’s back spread wider, fingers pressing firmly as if grounding himself before he leaned down and kissed him again — deeper this time, not teasing. Soobin responded immediately, rising onto the balls of his feet, hands sliding up to the back of Yeonjun’s neck, holding him there as the kiss lingered and deepened. 

The bass seemed to sync with their breathing, slow at first, then uneven as Yeonjun’s thumb traced a deliberate line along Soobin’s spine beneath his shirt.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in warm bursts. Yeonjun’s eyes stayed half-lidded, focused entirely on him. “You’re insane,” he said quietly, not accusing, just acknowledging.

“So are you,” Soobin replied, voice softer now, the earlier playfulness melting into something heavier.

Yeonjun’s hand slid back down to Soobin’s hip, grip firm but controlled. “Last chance,” he murmured, thumb pressing lightly into the curve there. “We stay, and I won’t be patient. We leave, and I still won’t be patient — just somewhere more private.”

Soobin let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though it trembled slightly at the edges. His fingers brushed through Yeonjun’s hair, smoothing it back from his forehead as he studied him. “You talk like you’re in control,” he said gently, lips hovering close to Yeonjun’s again. “But you’re just as affected.”

Yeonjun didn’t deny it. His grip tightened a fraction, enough to make the tension between them unmistakable. “I never said I wasn’t,” he replied, voice lower now, closer to a murmur against Soobin’s skin. “I said you should be careful.”

Soobin leaned in again, brushing his mouth slowly along Yeonjun’s jaw instead of answering, lingering just long enough to make the contact intentional. “Then don’t be,” he whispered.

Yeonjun’s breath caught — subtle, but real — and for a moment he just looked at him, as if deciding whether to hold back or give in fully to the pull between them. Then his hand slid down to lace with Soobin’s, fingers interlocking firmly as he stepped back, guiding him toward the exit without breaking that heated gaze.

“We’re leaving,” he said again, and this time it wasn’t a suggestion.

Yeonjun had just started guiding Soobin toward the exit, fingers threaded firmly through his, when another hand suddenly caught his arm.

Not rough.

Just determined enough to stop him.

“Absolutely not.”

Taehyun’s voice cut through the music with familiar dry authority, and Yeonjun turned, already sighing before he fully registered who it was. Taehyun stood there with one eyebrow raised, expression somewhere between unimpressed and deeply entertained, his drink dangling loosely from his fingers.

“If I have to stay here and watch those two,” Taehyun continued, tilting his head toward the dance floor, “then you two are not escaping early.”

Soobin blinked, still half caught in the charged haze between him and Yeonjun, but curiosity pulled his gaze toward where Taehyun nodded.

The dance floor was packed, bodies moving in waves under pulsing lights, but it didn’t take long to spot them.

Beomgyu was laughing — head tipped back slightly, hair damp from heat and movement — his back pressed firmly against Kai’s chest as they moved together with the rhythm. Kai’s hands rested low at Beomgyu’s hips, guiding him easily, confidently, their movements synced in a way that made it impossible to mistake the intimacy between them. Every shift of Beomgyu’s body was met instantly by Kai, like they shared a silent conversation no one else could hear.

Soobin’s mouth parted slightly as he watched, amusement and disbelief mixing together. “They’re not even trying to be subtle,” he murmured.

“They stopped trying an hour ago,” Taehyun replied dryly. “I have been emotionally suffering ever since.”

Yeonjun snorted quietly, though his hands remained firmly at Soobin’s waist, thumbs brushing slow circles as if reminding himself they had been about to leave. “You look fine,” he said.

“I am not fine,” Taehyun said, deadpan. “I have witnessed at least three moments that require therapy.”

Soobin laughed softly, still watching the dance floor. Beomgyu spun slightly in Kai’s hold, shoulders rolling back until he leaned fully into him again, the closeness unapologetic, easy. The sight made something warm settle in Soobin’s chest — familiar affection mixed with mild secondhand embarrassment.

“They look happy,” he said quietly.

“They look illegal,” Taehyun countered.

Yeonjun shifted behind Soobin, stepping closer again, his chest brushing lightly against his back as he followed Soobin’s gaze. His hands slid naturally back to Soobin’s hips, resting there like they belonged. “You wanted to see bold,” he murmured near Soobin’s ear. “There it is.”

Soobin exhaled softly, the earlier tension returning immediately at the feeling of Yeonjun so close again. He tilted his head slightly toward him. “You’re one to talk.”

Taehyun glanced between them, eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh no,” he said slowly, taking a step back as if bracing himself. “Absolutely not. Whatever energy is happening here, you two need to keep it contained.”

Yeonjun smirked faintly. “You’re the one who stopped us.”

“Yes,” Taehyun replied, lifting his glass. “Because misery loves company.”

Soobin laughed again, but when he turned back toward Yeonjun, the amusement in his eyes softened into something warmer, heavier. The music pulsed through them again, the crowd shifting, heat and movement closing around them like a living thing.

“You were trying to escape,” Taehyun added, voice lighter now. “Which means something interesting was about to happen, and I refuse to miss out on the consequences.”

“We were leaving,” Yeonjun said calmly, though his fingers tightened slightly at Soobin’s waist.

“Now you’re staying,” Taehyun replied.

Soobin raised an eyebrow at Yeonjun, a small teasing smile returning. “Seems like you’ve been outvoted.”

Yeonjun’s gaze lingered on him — slow, deliberate — before he leaned closer, lips hovering near Soobin’s ear. “You’re enjoying this too much,” he murmured.

“Maybe,” Soobin admitted quietly.

Behind them, the music surged louder again, and Beomgyu threw his head back laughing at something Kai said, completely unbothered by the crowd around them.

Taehyun sighed dramatically. “See? This is what I mean. If I have to endure this level of affection publicly, then you two are absolutely staying.”

Yeonjun exhaled slowly, but the corner of his mouth lifted anyway. His hands remained where they were, steady and warm, as he looked down at Soobin again. “Fine,” he said quietly. “We stay. For now.”

Soobin’s eyes flickered at the last two words.

For now.

Yeonjun watched the dance floor for a moment longer, eyes tracking the easy rhythm of bodies moving together, the shifting lights painting everything in flashes of color and shadow. His hands rested at Soobin’s waist again almost unconsciously, thumbs brushing slow arcs against his sides while Taehyun’s commentary faded into background noise.

Soobin shifted slightly under his touch, glancing back over his shoulder with a questioning look. “You’re quiet again,” he said, voice soft but curious, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly.

Yeonjun leaned closer instead of answering immediately, chest pressing lightly against Soobin’s back as he dipped his head toward his ear. His breath brushed warm against Soobin’s skin, deliberate enough to make him shiver.

“I want to dance,” Yeonjun murmured, voice low, almost lost beneath the music.

Soobin blinked in surprise, turning his head slightly. “You?” he asked, amusement flickering across his face. “Since when?”

“Since now,” Yeonjun replied, fingers tightening just enough at his waist to guide him forward. “Come on.”

The movement wasn’t forceful, just certain. Soobin let himself be led, laughter slipping out quietly as they moved through the crowd, the bass growing heavier the closer they got to the center of the dance floor. Bodies brushed against them, heat rising from every direction, lights flickering across Yeonjun’s face as he followed close behind.

When they found a small pocket of space, Soobin turned toward him instinctively, but Yeonjun’s hands slid to his hips again, gently guiding him around until Soobin’s back faced him instead.

The shift felt intimate.

Intentional.

Soobin inhaled sharply as Yeonjun stepped closer, chest pressing fully against his back now, one hand resting low at his waist while the other settled lightly along his side. The music pulsed through them, slow and heavy, and Soobin let himself move with it, hips swaying faintly at first before the rhythm took over.

Yeonjun followed easily, movements grounded and steady behind him. Every shift of Soobin’s body met quiet resistance from Yeonjun’s hands, guiding without controlling, matching without overpowering.

“So this is you dancing?” Soobin teased softly, tilting his head back just enough that his voice reached Yeonjun’s ear.

“You started it,” Yeonjun replied, voice rougher now, closer to a whisper.

Soobin laughed under his breath, but the sound softened quickly when Yeonjun’s grip tightened slightly at his waist, pulling him closer. Their bodies aligned more fully, movement syncing naturally as if they’d always known how to move together like this.

The crowd faded again.

Just heat.

Breath.

Music.

Soobin leaned back instinctively, shoulders resting lightly against Yeonjun’s chest, trusting the contact without thinking. His hands lifted slowly, one reaching back to curl into Yeonjun’s hair at the nape of his neck, the other sliding along Yeonjun’s arm where it rested against him.

Yeonjun exhaled slowly at the contact, lowering his head until his mouth hovered near Soobin’s ear again.

“You’re distracting,” he murmured.

“I thought you wanted to dance,” Soobin replied, though his voice came out softer now.

“I did,” Yeonjun said quietly. His hand shifted lower, fingers spreading along Soobin’s hip as they moved together with the rhythm. “I didn’t say I’d behave.”

Soobin swallowed, breath catching faintly as he rolled his hips with the music, testing the closeness between them. The movement drew a low exhale from Yeonjun, barely audible but unmistakable.

“You’re dangerous tonight,” Soobin said, smiling slightly.

“You’re worse,” Yeonjun answered, voice dropping lower as he leaned in closer. His lips brushed the edge of Soobin’s ear as he spoke, words warm and slow. “You know you’re hot, right?”

Soobin’s breath hitched.

Yeonjun’s hand tightened gently at his waist, holding him steady as he continued in a softer whisper, meant only for him. “You look incredible when you move like this.”

The compliment landed heavier than teasing. Soobin’s shoulders lifted slightly with a quiet inhale, body relaxing deeper into the rhythm as confidence replaced hesitation. He let himself move more fully now, slower, more deliberate, letting the music guide the motion of his hips while Yeonjun matched him from behind, close enough that every shift felt shared.

Around them, the crowd surged and moved, lights flashing across faces and skin, but the space between them remained intimate, almost private despite being surrounded by people.

Soobin tilted his head back slightly, lips brushing near Yeonjun’s jaw as he murmured, “You’re not helping.”

Yeonjun smiled against his skin, unseen but unmistakable. “I’m not trying to.”

Yeonjun’s hands shifted at Soobin’s waist, the change subtle at first — a firmer pressure, a clearer intention behind the touch. Instead of simply following the rhythm, he began guiding it, palms sliding slightly along Soobin’s hips to steer the movement, encouraging slower motions that matched the heavier beat vibrating through the floor.

Soobin noticed immediately.

His breath caught faintly, shoulders tensing for a fraction of a second before melting back into the contact. “You’re taking control now,” he murmured, voice barely audible beneath the music, head tilting back slightly as if inviting the closeness.

Yeonjun didn’t answer with words at first. He stepped closer instead, closing the remaining space between them until their bodies moved as one. His hand slid lower along Soobin’s side before settling firmly at his hip, guiding a slow roll of movement that felt deliberate, grounding.

“You’re reacting,” Yeonjun said quietly near his ear, the words almost lost against the music but warm enough to send a shiver down Soobin’s spine.

“So are you,” Soobin replied, though his voice softened when Yeonjun’s thumb pressed gently into the curve of his waist.

Yeonjun leaned down slowly, lips brushing against the side of Soobin’s neck in a lingering, careful kiss. The contact was light at first — just a warm press of skin — but he didn’t pull away immediately. His breath followed instead, warm and steady, sending goosebumps racing along Soobin’s shoulders.

Soobin’s hand reached back instinctively, fingers curling into Yeonjun’s hair as he tilted his head slightly to the side, exposing more of his neck without thinking. The movement drew a quiet hum from Yeonjun, almost involuntary.

“You’re dangerous tonight,” Yeonjun murmured against his skin, voice low and roughened by restraint.

“So you keep saying,” Soobin replied softly, though the words faltered when Yeonjun’s mouth returned to his neck, slower this time, a gentle drag of lips followed by a soft exhale that lingered just long enough to make Soobin’s breath hitch.

Yeonjun’s hands continued guiding the dance, pressing and releasing in rhythm with the music, drawing out slower movements that made the tension between them feel heavier, thicker. He didn’t rush; every shift felt measured, intentional, like he was savoring the way Soobin moved against him.

“You look incredible like this,” he whispered, lips barely grazing the shell of Soobin’s ear. “You know that, right?”

Soobin swallowed, a faint tremor running through him as he leaned back more fully into Yeonjun’s chest. “You keep saying things like that,” he said, voice softer now, tinged with nervous laughter that faded quickly under the weight of the moment.

“Because you need to hear them,” Yeonjun replied, pressing another slow kiss just below Soobin’s ear before letting his mouth hover there. “Because I like watching you forget everything else when you move.”

The crowd shifted around them, bodies brushing past, lights flickering across their faces, but the space between them remained intensely private. Soobin let himself follow the guidance of Yeonjun’s hands now, movements growing slower, more deliberate, hips rolling with the music as if answering an unspoken question.

His fingers tightened slightly in Yeonjun’s hair. “You’re not helping me stay calm,” he murmured.

“I’m not trying to,” Yeonjun admitted quietly, voice dipping lower as his hand slid along Soobin’s side again before settling back at his waist. “You started this.”

Soobin laughed under his breath, though the sound softened when Yeonjun’s lips brushed his neck again, lingering longer this time, breath warm and steady against his skin.

The tension between them thickened — not rushed, not frantic — just slowly building, grounded in familiarity and trust.

Yeonjun felt the shift before he consciously registered the reason.

It wasn’t the music — still heavy, still slow — nor the movement of Soobin against him, warm and familiar. It was something sharper, a subtle pull at the back of his instincts, the quiet prickle of awareness that made his hands tighten slightly at Soobin’s hips.

His gaze lifted.

Across the shifting crowd, through flashes of colored light, he caught it — another alpha watching.

Not openly threatening. Not aggressive.

Just looking.

Eyes lingering too long.

Tracking the slow sway of Soobin’s body, the curve of his shoulders, the way he leaned back against Yeonjun with unconscious trust.

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened faintly.

His hands slid more firmly along Soobin’s waist, thumbs pressing into his sides as he drew him closer, eliminating what little space remained between them. The movement looked natural within the rhythm of the dance, but the intent behind it sharpened, grounding.

Soobin noticed immediately.

“You changed,” he murmured softly, voice warm but curious as he tilted his head slightly back toward Yeonjun. “What happened?”

Yeonjun didn’t answer right away. Instead, he lowered his head, lips brushing slowly against the side of Soobin’s neck again — slower this time, more deliberate. The kiss lingered, warm and claiming without urgency, followed by a soft exhale against his skin.

“Nothing,” he said quietly, though the word carried more weight than it should have.

Soobin’s fingers tightened slightly where they rested in Yeonjun’s hair, sensing the shift beneath the calm tone. “You’re lying,” he said gently, amusement threading through his voice.

Yeonjun huffed a quiet breath against his neck, then leaned closer until his mouth hovered beside Soobin’s ear. “Someone’s watching you,” he murmured.

Soobin stilled for half a second, instinctively glancing toward the crowd, but Yeonjun’s hand slid up from his waist to guide his chin gently forward again.

“Don’t look,” Yeonjun said softly, voice low enough that it felt private despite the noise around them.

The words weren’t controlling — just grounded, protective.

Soobin’s lips curved faintly instead. “Jealous?”

Yeonjun’s hands tightened slightly at that, fingers spreading across his hips, holding him steady as he matched Soobin’s movement with the music. “Possessive,” he corrected quietly.

The word sent a small shiver through Soobin.

Yeonjun leaned down again, brushing another slow kiss along his neck, lingering longer this time before whispering, “You’re mine tonight.”

Not loud.

Not demanding.

Just certain.

Soobin exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing deeper into the contact, his movements slowing in response as the tension between them deepened. “I’m always yours,” he murmured back, voice soft but teasing at the edges.

Yeonjun’s breath caught faintly.

His hand slid lower along Soobin’s side again, guiding the movement of his hips more deliberately now, slower and closer. Every shift felt intentional, grounded in that quiet surge of instinct he was carefully holding in check.

“You have no idea what you look like right now,” Yeonjun whispered near his ear, voice rougher than before. “The way you move… the way you lean into me.”

Soobin swallowed, heat creeping along his neck as he let himself follow the guidance, hips rolling with the rhythm again, slower, heavier.

“You’re encouraging me,” he said softly.

“I always do,” Yeonjun replied, lips brushing lightly against his jaw this time before pulling back just enough to watch his reaction. His gaze softened again, though the edge of possessiveness lingered underneath.

Behind them, the watching alpha shifted away, attention drawn elsewhere, but Yeonjun didn’t relax immediately. Instead, he kept his hands steady at Soobin’s waist, anchoring him, praise slipping into his voice without hesitation.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured quietly. “And you forget how obvious it is.”

Soobin’s breath faltered again, shoulders lifting slightly before settling as he leaned back into Yeonjun more fully, trusting the hold, trusting the warmth behind the words.

The dance slowed between them — less about movement now, more about closeness.

More about feeling.

Yeonjun had just leaned in again, voice low near Soobin’s ear, hands still firm at his waist, when a sudden weight crashed into both of them from the side.

“Absolutely not.”

Beomgyu’s voice came with dramatic force as he flung himself between them — or at least attempted to — one arm looping around Soobin’s shoulders while the other pushed lightly at Yeonjun’s chest.

“You two need to calm down,” Beomgyu announced loudly, eyes wide with exaggerated offense. “This is a public space. There are innocent people here.”

Soobin laughed immediately, the tension breaking into something lighter as he tried to steady Beomgyu, who was half leaning on him like a dramatic cat. “You were literally grinding on Kai five minutes ago.”

“That was different,” Beomgyu replied without missing a beat. “That was romantic.”

Kai appeared just behind him, one hand settling automatically at Beomgyu’s waist to keep him from falling backward. The movement was instinctive, easy — fingers spreading along his hip like they belonged there.

“You jumped into them,” Kai said calmly, though the fond amusement in his eyes gave him away. “And you’re the one making a scene.”

Beomgyu glanced back over his shoulder at him. “You’re supposed to support me.”

“I am supporting you,” Kai replied, tightening his arm slightly around Beomgyu’s waist. “Physically.”

Taehyun arrived a second later, drink still in hand, expression deeply unimpressed as he took in the cluster of bodies. “I leave you alone for three minutes,” he said dryly, “and now it looks like a romantic intervention.”

Yeonjun exhaled a quiet laugh, his hands slipping from Soobin’s waist only enough to allow Beomgyu’s intrusion before settling back again — less overtly possessive now, but still present. “You’re the one who stopped us from leaving.”

Taehyun pointed accusingly at him. “Because if I have to watch those two cling to each other like barnacles,” he said, gesturing at Beomgyu and Kai, “then you don’t get to escape your own scandal.”

Kai raised an eyebrow slightly. “Barnacles?”

Beomgyu gasped dramatically. “We are elegant sea creatures.”

“You were hanging off my neck five minutes ago,” Kai said calmly.

“That was strategic affection,” Beomgyu replied.

Soobin laughed again, leaning slightly into Yeonjun’s side, still warm from the dance, cheeks faintly flushed under the lights. “You’re one to talk about public affection,” he teased.

Beomgyu squinted at him, then at Yeonjun, gaze narrowing with exaggerated suspicion. “You two look suspiciously smug.”

“We were dancing,” Yeonjun said simply.

“You were whispering,” Beomgyu countered immediately. “I saw lips near ears. That is illegal behavior in public spaces.”

Taehyun nodded solemnly. “I agree.”

“You were also whispering,” Soobin said, glancing at him.

“That was complaining,” Taehyun replied without hesitation.

Kai chuckled softly, the sound low and warm as he pulled Beomgyu closer against his side, chin brushing briefly against his hair. “Ignore them,” he murmured, though his eyes flicked knowingly toward Yeonjun. “You two look like you were having fun.”

Yeonjun smirked faintly but said nothing, his thumb tracing absent circles against Soobin’s hip.

Beomgyu noticed immediately.

“Oh my god,” he said, clutching his chest. “Look at the hand placement. I cannot deal with this level of tension.”

“You are literally attached to Kai,” Taehyun said flatly.

“That’s different,” Beomgyu insisted.

Kai leaned down slightly, murmuring something into Beomgyu’s ear that made him flush instantly before swatting at him lightly. The ease between them — teasing, physical, effortless — made it impossible to miss that they were very much a couple.

Soobin watched them with a soft smile before glancing back at Yeonjun, eyes bright.

“We’re not that bad,” he said quietly.

Yeonjun leaned closer, voice low enough that only Soobin heard. “We’re worse,” he murmured, amusement threading through the words.

Soobin’s laugh came out softer this time.

Around them, the music swelled again, lights flashing as the crowd shifted closer, pulling their group into its movement. Taehyun raised his drink in mock defeat, Beomgyu started arguing loudly about dance floor etiquette, and Kai kept one steady arm around him while rolling his eyes fondly.

The tension softened into warmth — friends close, music loud, bodies moving together without urgency.

And slowly, almost naturally, the scene faded into laughter and overlapping voices, the five of them still standing together under the shifting lights of the club as the night carried on around them.

The store smelled faintly of cedarwood and clean fabric, soft instrumental music playing overhead in a way that tried very hard to feel expensive. Racks of tailored suits lined the walls in precise rows — charcoal, navy, deep green — each one pressed to perfection beneath warm lighting that made everything look a little more polished than real life.

Yeonjun stepped inside first, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jacket, eyes scanning the display near the front. “This already feels intimidating,” he murmured, glancing sideways at Soobin. “Why does buying a suit feel like signing a contract?”

Soobin walked in after him, slower, gaze lingering on Yeonjun rather than the clothes. “Because you’re dramatic,” he said lightly, brushing his fingers against Yeonjun’s sleeve as he passed him. “It’s just fabric.”

“It’s graduation fabric,” Yeonjun corrected, exhaling slowly as he stepped further inside.

A sales associate appeared almost immediately.

She was polished — sleek hair, sharp blazer, smile practiced but not insincere. Her eyes landed on Yeonjun first and stayed there just a second longer than necessary before shifting professionally between both of them.

“Good afternoon,” she said warmly, though her posture angled slightly toward Yeonjun. “Looking for something specific?”

Yeonjun gave her a polite smile. “A suit. For a graduation party.”

“How exciting,” she replied, gaze flicking down his frame in a slow, assessing sweep before returning to his face. “You definitely have the build for a tailored fit.”

Soobin’s eyebrow lifted faintly.

Yeonjun nodded politely. “That’s the goal.”

“We just received a new collection that would suit you perfectly,” she continued, stepping closer — just enough that the scent of her perfume cut through the neutral air of the store. “Slim cut, structured shoulders. It would really highlight your proportions.”

Soobin folded his arms loosely, watching the exchange with quiet interest. Yeonjun, oblivious or simply unbothered, followed her toward a rack near the back.

“What color were you thinking?” she asked, brushing her fingers lightly along a navy blazer before glancing at him again. “Something classic? Or something that makes more of a statement?”

Yeonjun glanced at Soobin briefly, then back at her. “I haven’t decided yet.”

She smiled. “Well,” she said softly, stepping a fraction closer as she lifted a charcoal suit from the rack, “you could pull off almost anything.”

Soobin cleared his throat lightly.

Yeonjun glanced back at him, faint confusion crossing his expression before he noticed the look in Soobin’s eyes — not anger, not insecurity. Just awareness.

The sales associate continued smoothly. “Why don’t you try this one on? I can help with sizing.”

“I can help him,” Soobin said lightly, voice pleasant but firm as he stepped forward, hand resting casually at Yeonjun’s back.

The sales associate blinked, her smile tightening only slightly. “Of course,” she replied, though her eyes flicked to Soobin’s hand, then back to Yeonjun’s face. “But tailoring makes all the difference. We wouldn’t want anything… ill-fitting.”

Yeonjun took the suit from her hands, expression polite. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll try it on.”

“The fitting rooms are right this way,” she replied, stepping aside but not before her gaze lingered again, slow and deliberate.

As they walked toward the fitting area, Soobin leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You could pull off almost anything,” he repeated under his breath.

Yeonjun glanced at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Soobin replied sweetly, though his fingers pressed slightly firmer against Yeonjun’s back.

Inside the fitting room area, Yeonjun stepped behind the curtain, already loosening the buttons of his shirt. “You’re being weird,” he called out softly.

“Am I?” Soobin asked, leaning against the wall just outside, arms folded loosely. “Interesting.”

Yeonjun pulled the shirt off, replacing it with the crisp white dress shirt from the suit set before responding. “She was just doing her job.”

“Mm,” Soobin hummed, unconvinced.

The curtain shifted slightly as Yeonjun stepped out wearing the shirt and trousers, adjusting the waistband absently. The fabric fit him well — clean lines, tailored at the waist, shoulders sharp even without the blazer.

Soobin’s breath hitched faintly.

“Oh,” he said before he could stop himself.

Yeonjun looked up immediately, catching the change in tone. “Oh what?”

“You look…” Soobin paused, eyes traveling slowly over him in a way that mirrored the earlier sales associate’s gaze — but warmer, deeper. “Very good.”

Yeonjun’s lips curved faintly. “Better than ‘almost anything’?”

Before Soobin could respond, the sales associate reappeared, heels soft against the polished floor. “How does it feel?” she asked, stepping closer again, her attention landing squarely on Yeonjun.

“Comfortable,” Yeonjun replied.

She reached out without hesitation, fingers brushing lightly along his shoulder as she adjusted the seam. “The shoulders sit perfectly,” she murmured, smoothing the fabric down his arm. “You really do have ideal proportions.”

Soobin’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

He stepped forward, hand settling at Yeonjun’s waist now — deliberate and unmistakable.

“I agree,” Soobin said calmly, meeting her gaze with a soft but steady smile. “He does.”

The sales associate’s eyes flicked between them.

“And the graduation party,” she said lightly, adjusting the lapel of the blazer she’d brought over, “will definitely have people looking.”

Yeonjun chuckled awkwardly. “I hope for the right reasons.”

“I’m sure you won’t have trouble,” she replied, gaze lingering again.

Soobin’s fingers pressed gently into Yeonjun’s side, grounding but firm.

“He won’t,” Soobin said softly.

Yeonjun glanced down at him briefly, catching the subtle possessiveness in the touch.

The air shifted slightly.

Soobin’s hand remained lightly at Yeonjun’s waist even after the sales associate stepped back to grab another jacket, his fingers resting there almost unconsciously — warm, grounding, but just a little firmer than usual.

Yeonjun noticed.

Of course he did.

He glanced down briefly, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly, amused by the subtle possessiveness in the gesture. But beneath the amusement there was something softer — a quiet awareness of the tension behind it. He knew that look in Soobin’s eyes. Knew the way jealousy could creep in quietly, sour and uncomfortable even when it didn’t make sense.

And he hated the idea of Soobin feeling that way.

“You okay?” Yeonjun murmured under his breath, turning slightly toward him while pretending to adjust the sleeve of the shirt.

Soobin blinked, caught off guard. “I’m fine,” he said quickly, though his gaze flicked briefly toward the front of the store where the sales associate had disappeared. “You just… look very good.”

Yeonjun huffed a soft laugh. “That sounds like a compliment.”

“It is,” Soobin said, though his lips pressed together afterward, as if he’d said more than he meant to.

Yeonjun watched him for a second longer, then stepped closer — just enough that their shoulders brushed. “You’re jealous,” he said quietly, not accusing, just stating it gently.

Soobin sighed, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before lifting again. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “She’s just… very interested.”

Yeonjun’s expression softened immediately.

He reached out, fingers sliding lightly along Soobin’s wrist before lacing their hands together for a brief second — a quiet reassurance. “You know that doesn’t matter to me,” he said softly.

“I know,” Soobin replied quickly. “I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t like how it feels. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Yeonjun said gently, squeezing his hand once before letting go as footsteps approached from behind. “It’s just uncomfortable.”

Soobin nodded faintly, shoulders relaxing slightly.

The sales associate returned carrying another suit, darker than the first — deep black with a subtle sheen that caught the light.

“I thought this might suit you even better,” she said warmly, offering the blazer to Yeonjun. “More fitted, more… striking.”

Soobin tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he looked at it. Then he glanced at Yeonjun again, something shifting behind his gaze.

“Actually,” Soobin said lightly, stepping forward before Yeonjun could respond, “do you have something darker? Maybe more fitted at the waist.”

The sales associate paused, clearly surprised. “Of course,” she said after a moment, her smile professional but curious. “Something more tailored?”

“Yes,” Soobin replied calmly, gaze lingering on Yeonjun instead of her. “Something that makes him look…” He paused, eyes flicking slowly over Yeonjun’s frame. “…dangerous.”

Yeonjun blinked, then laughed softly under his breath.

The sales associate chuckled politely. “I think we can manage that,” she said before disappearing again.

As soon as she was gone, Yeonjun turned fully toward Soobin, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Dangerous?”

Soobin shrugged slightly, though a faint blush colored his cheeks. “You’re graduating. You should look unforgettable.”

“You’re just trying to outdo her,” Yeonjun teased gently.

Soobin’s lips curved despite himself. “Maybe.”

Yeonjun stepped closer again, lowering his voice. “You don’t have to compete,” he said softly. “You already win.”

The sincerity in his tone made Soobin’s expression soften, tension easing from his shoulders. He looked up at Yeonjun, eyes warmer now. “I know,” he said quietly. “It’s just… I like when you look like you’re mine.”

Yeonjun’s breath caught faintly at that.

He smiled slowly — softer this time, less teasing — and reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from Soobin’s face. “I always do,” he murmured.

The curtain behind them shifted as the sales associate returned with another suit, darker and sharply tailored. She handed it over with a knowing smile. “Let’s see if this one makes the right impression.”

Yeonjun took it, glancing at Soobin again before stepping back toward the fitting room. “Stay,” he said quietly, almost instinctively.

Soobin nodded, leaning against the wall as he watched him disappear behind the curtain, anticipation replacing the earlier tension.

The curtain shifted softly as Yeonjun stepped back out wearing the darker suit.

It fit differently.

Sharper.

The fabric hugged his shoulders more closely, tapering cleanly at the waist, the darker tone deepening the lines of his frame. The subtle sheen of the material caught the overhead lights just enough to make every movement look intentional, controlled.

Soobin’s breath caught before he could stop it.

“Oh,” he said quietly, eyes widening slightly as they traveled slowly from Yeonjun’s shoulders down to the tailored waist and back up again. “That one.”

Yeonjun’s lips curved faintly at the reaction, but before he could respond, the sales associate stepped closer, clearly pleased.

“I knew this would work,” she said warmly, circling him slowly with a practiced eye. Her gaze lingered again — longer this time — as she reached forward to smooth the lapel, fingers brushing lightly against his chest. “The structure is perfect for your proportions.”

Yeonjun stayed still, polite but neutral, hands at his sides while she adjusted the fabric.

“You should also consider trying different shirts underneath,” she continued, stepping closer again, voice softening slightly. “The right layer makes all the difference. I can help you button it properly if you’d like.”

Her hand lifted toward the front of the jacket as if preparing to undo it.

Yeonjun moved before she touched the buttons.

It wasn’t abrupt — just a subtle shift backward, enough to create a comfortable distance. His expression stayed warm, polite, but something firmer settled behind his eyes.

“That’s okay,” he said gently.

He turned his head slightly, gesturing toward Soobin with a small tilt of his chin.

“My omega can help me,” he added calmly.

The words landed softly but clearly.

Soobin froze for half a second, surprise flickering across his face before warmth rushed in behind it. The possessive edge that had lingered earlier softened immediately, replaced by something quieter — steadier.

The sales associate paused, smile still in place but tightening faintly at the edges. Her gaze shifted toward Soobin, taking him in more fully this time, noticing the way he had already stepped closer without realizing it.

“Of course,” she said smoothly, recovering quickly. “I’ll bring a few shirt options.”

She stepped away, heels clicking lightly against the floor as she disappeared toward another rack.

The moment she was out of earshot, Yeonjun exhaled softly.

Soobin stepped forward almost immediately, hands lifting to rest lightly against Yeonjun’s waist, fingertips brushing the fabric of the suit as if testing it. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” he murmured, though the small smile tugging at his mouth betrayed how much he liked it.

Yeonjun tilted his head slightly, watching him. “Like what?”

“My omega,” Soobin said, voice softer now.

Yeonjun’s expression warmed. “You are,” he replied simply, reaching up to adjust the collar absently. Then, quieter, “And I’d rather you help me than anyone else.”

Soobin’s shoulders relaxed visibly at that.

His hands slid higher, fingers brushing along the front of the jacket as he adjusted the lapels carefully, attention focused entirely on Yeonjun now. The earlier tension melted into something more intimate — quieter, more private despite being in the middle of a store.

“You look… unfair,” Soobin murmured, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Yeonjun smiled faintly. “Unfair?”

“Yes,” Soobin said, smoothing the front of the jacket again even though it didn’t need it. “Like you’re going to walk into that graduation party and make everyone stare.”

Yeonjun’s gaze softened at the hint of pride behind the words. “Only one person matters,” he said quietly.

Soobin swallowed.

Behind them, the sound of hangers sliding returned — the sales associate approaching again — but for a brief second longer, they stood close together, hands lingering against fabric and skin, the space between them warm and steady.

Yeonjun waited until the sales associate turned toward another rack before he moved.

His hand slipped around Soobin’s wrist — gentle but certain — and he tugged him lightly toward the fitting room.

“Soobin,” he murmured under his breath, already pulling the curtain aside.

“What—” Soobin started, laughing softly in surprise as he stumbled a step forward, disappearing behind the curtain with him. The space inside was small, warm from the overhead lighting, and suddenly very quiet compared to the open floor outside.

The curtain fell closed behind them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Yeonjun leaned back against the mirror, arms folding loosely across his chest as he looked at Soobin — really looked — the faint smile tugging at his mouth unmistakably teasing.

“You’re jealous,” he said softly.

Soobin’s eyes widened slightly. “I said I was a little—”

“A little,” Yeonjun repeated, amusement warm in his voice. He stepped closer, slow enough that Soobin had time to react but not enough to escape the proximity. “You started requesting darker suits like you were claiming territory.”

Soobin flushed faintly, crossing his arms defensively. “I was helping.”

“You were,” Yeonjun agreed easily. His tone softened, teasing fading into something gentler as he reached out, fingers brushing lightly along Soobin’s sleeve. “And it was cute.”

“Cute,” Soobin echoed, half offended, half amused.

Yeonjun smiled more openly now, hand sliding to rest lightly at Soobin’s waist. “You know I think it’s funny,” he admitted. Then quieter, more serious, “But I don’t like that you felt uncomfortable.”

Soobin’s expression shifted slightly at that — the defensiveness melting into something softer.

“I didn’t like how she looked at you,” he admitted finally, voice low. “Not because I think you’d do anything. I just… hate that feeling.”

Yeonjun nodded slowly, understanding settling deep in his gaze. He lifted one hand to cup the side of Soobin’s face, thumb brushing gently along his cheek.

“I know,” he said quietly. “Jealousy feels awful. It sits in your chest and makes everything sharp even when you know you’re safe.”

Soobin swallowed.

Yeonjun leaned closer, forehead brushing lightly against his. “You don’t have to compete with anyone,” he murmured. “There’s no competition. Not for me.”

Soobin exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing as the words settled.

“You’re the only one I want looking at me like that,” Yeonjun added softly.

The tension shifted.

Warmer now.

Quieter.

Soobin’s hands lifted instinctively, fingers settling against Yeonjun’s chest, smoothing over the fabric of the suit. “You look really good,” he murmured again, softer this time.

Yeonjun’s smile turned faintly mischievous. “You’ve said that three times.”

“I’m repeating myself because it’s true.”

Yeonjun laughed under his breath, leaning closer until their noses brushed lightly.

Outside, faint footsteps approached — the soft click of heels against the floor.

Yeonjun’s gaze flicked briefly toward the curtain.

He saw the shadow pause outside.

And then he turned back to Soobin.

Without another word, he closed the remaining distance and kissed him.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Not rushed, not hidden — just warm, certain pressure, one hand sliding to the back of Soobin’s neck while the other remained steady at his waist. The kiss deepened slightly, enough to make it unmistakably intimate without losing its softness.

Soobin melted into it almost instantly, fingers tightening lightly against Yeonjun’s jacket, breath hitching faintly as he leaned closer.

The curtain shifted slightly.

Yeonjun didn’t pull away.

Instead, he lingered — just long enough that anyone standing outside would have no doubt what they were seeing.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against Soobin’s, eyes warm.

“There,” he murmured softly, a hint of humor returning. “Clear enough?”

Soobin blinked, then laughed quietly, realization dawning. “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe,” Yeonjun admitted, smile soft but certain.

Outside, the sales associate cleared her throat politely, voice careful when she spoke. “I brought the shirts whenever you’re ready.”

Yeonjun glanced toward the curtain, then back at Soobin, thumb brushing lightly along his jaw.

“Ready?” he asked quietly.

Soobin nodded, smile lingering, earlier tension completely gone.

Yeonjun hesitated for half a second before unlocking the door.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice — but Soobin did.

“You’re nervous,” Soobin said softly, leaning slightly closer as the key turned in the lock, his shoulder brushing lightly against Yeonjun’s arm.

“I’m not nervous,” Yeonjun muttered, though the faint tension in his jaw betrayed him immediately. He pushed the door open and stepped aside, one hand lifting in a small gesture. “Go in.”

Soobin tilted his head, studying him for a second longer before stepping forward.

And then he stopped.

Not dramatically — just slowly, quietly — like the space pulled the breath out of him without warning.

The apartment opened wide in front of him, the entry leading into a large living area flooded with natural light from massive glass windows at the far end. To the right sat a deep sofa, two armchairs angled toward a sleek fireplace with a television mounted above it, the lines clean and modern but not cold. A low coffee table rested between them, empty but expectant, like it was waiting for life to happen around it.

Soobin stepped inside fully now, shoes soft against the floor, eyes moving slowly from one detail to the next.

“Yeonjun…” he said quietly, the word almost a breath.

Yeonjun closed the door behind them and leaned back against it for a second, watching him instead of the room. “It looks bigger when it’s empty,” he said, voice casual but softer at the edges. “I swear it felt less intimidating when I signed the lease.”

Soobin didn’t answer immediately. He walked forward instead, gaze drifting toward the hall area directly ahead — a small entry space that opened naturally into the rest of the apartment — and then further toward the dining table positioned right in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass.

Lights flickering on.

Movement far below.

“Oh,” Soobin murmured under his breath, stepping closer to the window. His reflection merged faintly with the skyline as he looked out. “You can see everything from here.”

Yeonjun walked up behind him slowly, stopping just close enough that their shoulders almost touched. “That’s what got me,” he admitted quietly. “I told myself I didn’t need the view. And then I saw it.”

Soobin turned slightly, glancing at him over his shoulder, eyes softer now. “You needed it,” he said simply.

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh. “That sounds expensive.”

“It sounds like you,” Soobin replied, smiling faintly.

He turned back toward the room, finally noticing the kitchen on the left — sleek counters, dark cabinetry, clean lines that still looked untouched. “You haven’t cooked here yet,” he said.

“I’ve boiled water,” Yeonjun defended lightly, stepping past him toward the living area. “That counts.”

Soobin laughed softly, following him. His gaze lingered on the sofa, the armchairs, the fireplace — each detail like a piece of Yeonjun he hadn’t seen before but somehow recognized anyway.

“This feels… calm,” he said after a moment.

Yeonjun paused mid-step, looking at him carefully. “Good calm?”

“Your calm,” Soobin corrected, stepping closer until they stood almost shoulder to shoulder again.

Yeonjun’s expression softened at that, something quiet settling behind his eyes. “I wanted you to see it first,” he said, voice lower now.

Soobin blinked. “Before your parents?”

“Before anyone,” Yeonjun replied, shrugging slightly like it wasn’t a big deal even though it clearly was. “You’re… part of it.”

The words lingered in the air between them.

Soobin’s hand lifted instinctively, fingers brushing lightly against the front of Yeonjun’s shirt as if grounding himself. “You chose all this alone?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said. Then, after a beat, “But I kept imagining where you’d stand.”

Soobin’s breath caught faintly.

He smiled slowly, warmth spreading across his face. “That’s dangerously sentimental for you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Yeonjun murmured, though the corner of his mouth lifted.

Soobin turned again, looking around with new eyes now, as if mapping himself into the space — the sofa, the kitchen, the windows.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, glancing back at Yeonjun, “this corner needs plants.”

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. “I knew it. You’re already redecorating.”

“I’m helping.”

“You’re claiming territory.”

Soobin grinned.

“Maybe.”

Yeonjun laughed softly, stepping closer until their shoulders brushed again, the apartment suddenly feeling less empty just because they were standing in it together.

Yeonjun let Soobin wander for a few more seconds, watching the way he moved through the living room like he was already placing himself inside it, before clearing his throat lightly.

“The bedrooms are upstairs,” he said, trying for casual and landing somewhere just shy of proud. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the staircase tucked along the wall near the entry hall. “There’s a main one. And two guest rooms.”

Soobin turned immediately, eyes flicking toward the stairs and then back to Yeonjun. “Guest rooms?” he repeated, one eyebrow lifting. “Listen to you.”

“It’s practical,” Yeonjun defended, already walking toward the staircase. “People visit.”

“Oh? People?” Soobin followed him up, steps soft against the wood. “Name three.”

Yeonjun huffed. “My parents.”

“That’s two.”

“You’re impossible.”

Soobin smiled faintly as he climbed behind him, gaze inevitably dropping for a second to the way the suit jacket hugged Yeonjun’s shoulders. “I prefer observant.”

The staircase opened into a wide landing with a railing that overlooked the living area below. From up there, the apartment felt even larger, the windows stretching high and open, the city glowing beyond them.

Soobin slowed as he reached the top, resting his hand lightly on the railing. “You can see everything from here too,” he murmured, voice softer now.

Yeonjun stopped a few steps ahead and turned to look at him instead of the view. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I liked that.”

He gestured toward the first door on the right. “That one’s a guest room.”

Soobin walked over and pushed it open gently.

The room was smaller than the living area but still spacious — pale walls, wide window, empty except for a temporary mattress and a folded blanket on the floor. Sunlight spilled across the wood flooring in long golden lines.

“It’s simple,” Yeonjun said from behind him. “I haven’t done anything with it yet.”

Soobin stepped inside slowly, glancing around before turning back toward him with a small smile. “It doesn’t feel empty,” he said.

“No?” Yeonjun leaned against the doorframe, arms folding loosely.

“It feels… waiting,” Soobin corrected, brushing his fingers lightly along the windowsill. “Like it knows something’s going to happen.”

Yeonjun’s lips curved faintly. “That’s dramatic.”

“You bought a two-story apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows.”

“Strategic,” Yeonjun replied automatically.

Soobin laughed softly and stepped back into the hall. “Show me the rest.”

Yeonjun moved to the second door across the landing. “This one’s the other guest room,” he said, pushing it open.

This room was slightly larger, angled differently to catch more of the skyline. The light hit it at a warmer angle, washing the space in soft amber tones.

Soobin walked in more slowly this time, turning once in place. “This one feels like it’s going to be the favorite.”

“Why?”

“Better light,” Soobin said simply, stepping closer to the window again. “You always choose light.”

Yeonjun watched him carefully. “You notice too much.”

“That’s your fault,” Soobin replied, glancing back over his shoulder. “You made me pay attention.”

The air between them shifted faintly at that — not heavy, just warm.

Yeonjun pushed off the doorframe and walked toward the last door at the end of the hall. His hand lingered on the handle for half a second before he opened it.

“And this is the main bedroom.”

The space beyond was larger, the ceiling slightly higher, the window spanning almost the entire far wall. The light filtered in softer here, diffused and calm. A simple bed frame stood centered against one wall, mattress already in place but sheets not yet fully set. A dresser sat near the corner, still mostly empty.

Soobin stepped in slowly.

This time, he didn’t speak immediately.

He walked toward the bed instead, fingers brushing lightly across the edge of the mattress as if testing its reality. The room felt quieter than the others — less like a placeholder and more like something intentional.

Yeonjun stayed near the doorway at first, watching him.

“What do you think?” he asked, voice lower now.

Soobin turned toward him gradually, eyes softer than before. “It feels like you,” he said again, but this time the words carried more weight.

Yeonjun stepped inside fully, letting the door rest open behind him. “That’s good, right?”

“It’s steady,” Soobin replied, walking closer until they stood only a step apart near the foot of the bed. “It’s… grown.”

Yeonjun’s mouth curved faintly. “Grown?”

“You’re not the same person you were two years ago,” Soobin said quietly, gaze drifting around the room once more before returning to him. “This place is you now.”

Yeonjun swallowed lightly at that, something in his expression softening. “I didn’t want it to feel temporary,” he admitted. “I wanted it to feel like I’m staying.”

Soobin’s eyes flickered at that word.

“Staying,” he repeated softly.

Yeonjun nodded once. “Yeah.”

Soobin lingered in the doorway of the main bedroom for another moment, gaze drifting slowly around the space before something mischievous flickered across his expression.

He turned suddenly and walked back into the hallway.

Yeonjun blinked. “Where are you going?”

“Making decisions,” Soobin replied calmly, already heading toward the second guest room. He pushed the door open again and stepped inside with exaggerated purpose, hands resting on his hips as he looked around like a very serious inspector.

Yeonjun followed more slowly, arms folding across his chest as he leaned against the frame, watching him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t like that tone.”

“This,” Soobin announced, turning in a slow circle like he was presenting a grand reveal, “will be my room.”

Yeonjun stared at him.

“…Your room,” he repeated flatly.

“Yes,” Soobin said, nodding seriously. “The light is better. Also, the energy feels correct.”

Yeonjun pushed himself off the doorframe, stepping inside, disbelief mixing with amusement. “You’re joking.”

“I’m absolutely not,” Soobin replied, though the slight upward curl at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. He walked toward the window, pretending to evaluate the view again. “I’ll need a plant here. And maybe a reading chair.”

Yeonjun stopped a step behind him, watching the performance unfold.

“There is not a single universe,” he said slowly, voice lowering with quiet certainty, “where you are sleeping in a guest room while I live here.”

Soobin glanced back at him, eyes bright with challenge. “Why not? Independence. Personal space. Emotional growth.”

Yeonjun snorted softly, closing the distance between them until they stood nearly shoulder to shoulder. “You already steal half my hoodies. Now you want a separate bedroom?”

“I don’t steal,” Soobin said defensively. “I relocate.”

Yeonjun’s hand slid lightly around his wrist, turning him gently until they faced each other fully. His expression softened, teasing fading into something warmer, steadier.

“You are not sleeping in here,” he repeated, quieter now.

Soobin tilted his head. “And if I insist?”

Yeonjun stepped closer, close enough that their toes almost touched, gaze steady and affectionate in a way that left little room for argument. “Then I’ll carry you back to the main bedroom every night,” he said simply.

Soobin’s breath hitched faintly despite himself.

“You’re dramatic,” he murmured.

“I’m honest,” Yeonjun replied, one hand settling lightly at Soobin’s waist, thumb brushing absent circles through the fabric of his shirt. “There’s no version of this where you’re here and not in my bed. With me.”

The words weren’t possessive in a heavy way — just certain, warm, grounded in something deeper than teasing.

Soobin’s smile softened slowly, gaze dropping briefly to Yeonjun’s hand before lifting again. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I am,” Yeonjun said quietly. “You think I chose a place like this without imagining you in it?”

Soobin blinked, the teasing slipping for a second.

“You imagined me here?” he asked softly.

Yeonjun shrugged faintly, suddenly looking almost shy despite the confidence in his words. “I imagined you everywhere,” he admitted, voice lower. “Complaining about where the plants go. Taking over the kitchen. Sitting by the windows at night.”

Soobin’s expression warmed visibly at that, something gentle settling behind his eyes. He leaned closer without thinking, shoulder brushing Yeonjun’s chest.

“You’re dangerously sentimental today,” he murmured.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Yeonjun replied.

Soobin laughed quietly, then stepped past him, walking back into the hallway again. “Fine,” he conceded lightly. “I’ll allow the main bedroom.”

“You’ll allow it?” Yeonjun echoed, following him immediately.

“Yes,” Soobin said, glancing back over his shoulder with a grin. “But only because you asked nicely.”

Yeonjun reached out, catching him gently by the waist before he could walk too far, pulling him back just enough that they almost collided.

“I didn’t ask,” he murmured.

Soobin raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“I informed.”

Soobin laughed again, the sound echoing softly through the still-empty hallway as they stood close together, the apartment feeling less empty with every shared word.

Soobin had just stepped back into the hallway when Yeonjun’s hand caught his wrist again.

Not to stop him.

Just enough to pull him closer.

The movement was gentle, but certain, guiding Soobin back toward him until their bodies nearly collided. Soobin laughed softly at first, still caught in the playful mood from their teasing, but the sound faded when Yeonjun didn’t let go immediately.

Their eyes met.

Something shifted.

The air between them warmed — the teasing softening into something quieter, heavier.

“You talk too much,” Yeonjun murmured, voice low but fond, one hand sliding from Soobin’s wrist to rest lightly at his waist.

“So do you,” Soobin replied, though his voice came out softer now, breath slower as he leaned in just slightly without realizing it.

Yeonjun didn’t answer with words.

He just leaned forward.

The kiss started slow — deliberate, unhurried — lips brushing softly before settling into a deeper warmth. His hand tightened gently at Soobin’s waist, drawing him closer, while his other hand lifted to the back of Soobin’s neck, thumb brushing lightly along his skin.

Soobin melted into it immediately, fingers curling instinctively into the front of Yeonjun’s shirt. The hallway felt smaller suddenly, quieter, the faint sounds of the city outside barely reaching them through the windows downstairs.

When Yeonjun pulled back, it wasn’t far. Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling.

“You can change anything,” Yeonjun murmured softly, voice still low from the kiss.

Soobin blinked, slightly dazed. “What?”

“The apartment,” Yeonjun clarified, eyes searching his face. “Furniture, colors, layout — whatever you want.”

Soobin frowned faintly, shaking his head. “No. It’s your place. I’m not going to just… rearrange your life.”

Yeonjun’s hand slid slowly along his side, grounding, steady. “It’s not just mine,” he said quietly. “Soobin,” Yeonjun continued, voice soft but firm when Soobin tried to protest again, “I want it to feel like you belong there.”

Soobin’s gaze softened slightly but he still shook his head. “I don’t even live here.”

“Not yet,” Yeonjun replied.

The words hung between them.

Soobin swallowed faintly.

Yeonjun leaned closer again, nose brushing lightly against his, gaze warm and serious now. “Even if you don’t move in right away,” he said gently, “I don’t want you feeling like a guest.”

“I wouldn’t,” Soobin said softly.

“You would,” Yeonjun replied quietly, a small knowing smile appearing. “You’d ask before touching anything. You’d apologize for moving a chair.”

Soobin huffed faintly, because he absolutely would.

Yeonjun’s thumb brushed along his jaw. “I want it to be ours,” he said simply. “Not because you have to live here tomorrow. Just… because you’re part of my life. And this is where my life is now.”

Soobin’s breath slowed, eyes flickering with something deeper — emotion, surprise, warmth all tangled together.

“You’re serious,” he murmured.

“I am,” Yeonjun said.

Silence settled between them for a moment, soft and heavy in the best way.

Soobin’s hands lifted slowly, resting against Yeonjun’s chest again, fingers smoothing absently over the fabric. “You’re really trying to make me cry in your new hallway,” he said quietly.

Yeonjun smiled faintly. “I thought you liked sentimental.”

“I like it when you pretend you’re not sentimental,” Soobin corrected.

Yeonjun laughed softly under his breath, leaning in to press another slow kiss against his lips — softer this time, more grounding than teasing.

When he pulled back, his hand remained at Soobin’s waist, holding him close.

“You belong here,” he murmured.

Soobin’s lips curved slowly, warmth spreading across his face as he leaned into him.

“Then I’m definitely changing the couch,” he said lightly.

Yeonjun groaned. “I knew this would happen.”

They walked back downstairs slowly, fingers still loosely intertwined, the echo of their footsteps softer now that the apartment didn’t feel quite as empty.

Soobin reached the last step first and immediately turned in a slow circle in the middle of the living room, hands resting on his hips as he surveyed the space again with new authority.

“It’s beautiful,” he said honestly, gaze sweeping from the sofa to the fireplace and then toward the wide windows. “Clean. Calm. Very you.” His lips curved slightly. “But it definitely needs color.”

Yeonjun laughed under his breath, leaning against the back of the sofa as he watched him. “I knew it.”

“You can’t just live in shades of charcoal forever,” Soobin continued, already walking toward the kitchen as if he was measuring things with his eyes. “We need plants. Maybe warmer lighting. Art.”

“We?” Yeonjun echoed, amused.

Soobin glanced back at him, completely unapologetic. “Yes. We.”

Yeonjun pushed off the sofa and walked closer, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You can do whatever you want,” he said lightly. “Change the couch. Paint the walls. Add twelve plants and name them.”

“I would never name twelve plants,” Soobin replied immediately, though his eyes sparkled. “Maybe five.”

Yeonjun smiled faintly, stopping just a step away from him near the kitchen counter. “It’s yours too.”

Soobin’s expression softened briefly at that, but then something else caught his attention. He tilted his head slightly, studying Yeonjun.

“Why three bedrooms?” he asked casually. “You could’ve gotten something smaller. It’s just you.”

Yeonjun froze.

It wasn’t dramatic — just subtle. His shoulders straightened slightly. His gaze dropped for half a second before returning to Soobin’s face.

“Well,” he began, clearing his throat lightly, “it made sense.”

“Mhm,” Soobin hummed, stepping closer, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “Explain.”

Yeonjun ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking far less composed than he had five seconds ago. “It’s… practical.”

“For what?” Soobin pressed gently.

Yeonjun hesitated.

Soobin noticed immediately.

“Yeonjun,” he said softly now, stepping into his space, one hand resting lightly against his chest. “What?”

Yeonjun exhaled slowly through his nose, then gave him a look that was half embarrassed, half resigned.

“If,” he started carefully, “you ever move in.”

Soobin blinked. “If?”

“When,” Yeonjun corrected quietly, the word firmer.

Soobin’s heart stuttered faintly at that.

“And,” Yeonjun continued, eyes flicking briefly toward the staircase as if the rooms upstairs could hear him, “if the apartment is… permanent for a while.”

“So?” Soobin prompted.

Yeonjun’s ears were visibly pink now.

“I thought maybe,” he said slowly, voice dropping just a little, “the guest rooms could be used.”

“Used how?” Soobin asked, though his voice had softened.

Yeonjun met his gaze finally.

“For kids.”

The word settled between them.

Soobin blinked.

“Whose kids?” he asked, almost instinctively.

Yeonjun’s mouth curved faintly despite the obvious nerves. “Ours,” he replied simply. “The ones we’ll have one day.”

Soobin stared at him.

The city hummed quietly outside the windows, the apartment suddenly feeling impossibly still.

“You… thought about that?” Soobin asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Yeonjun shrugged slightly, though his hands were no longer in his pockets — they’d moved to rest lightly at Soobin’s waist without him realizing. “I didn’t buy three bedrooms for storage,” he murmured.

Soobin’s breath felt uneven now, emotions rising too fast to fully sort through. “You planned children in your head before I even picked the couch color?”

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh, nervous but sincere. “I didn’t plan them. I just… didn’t want to pretend I don’t see that far ahead.”

Soobin’s fingers tightened slightly in the fabric of Yeonjun’s shirt.

“You see that far ahead?” he asked softly.

“I see you,” Yeonjun replied.

The answer was simple.

Not dramatic.

Just certain.

“If we’re here,” Yeonjun continued gently, “and we’re staying… I don’t want to build a life that stops at just me.”

Soobin’s eyes stung faintly.

“You’re talking about years from now,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun nodded. “Not tomorrow. Not next month. Just… someday.”

Soobin swallowed, stepping closer until there was no space between them at all.

“You really thought about our kids having those rooms upstairs?” he murmured, voice warm with disbelief.

Yeonjun’s lips curved into a softer smile. “I thought about you yelling at them not to run down the stairs.”

“I would never yell.”

“You absolutely would.”

Soobin laughed quietly despite the emotion sitting heavy in his chest.

“You’re unbelievable,” he whispered.

Yeonjun leaned in slightly, forehead brushing gently against Soobin’s. “I just didn’t want to pretend this is temporary,” he murmured. “You’re not temporary.”

The words sank deep.

Soobin’s arms slid around Yeonjun’s waist slowly, holding him closer, like he needed to anchor himself to something steady.

“You’re already planning our children’s bedrooms,” he said softly. “You’re insane.”

“Strategic,” Yeonjun corrected automatically.

Soobin smiled against his shoulder.

Soobin stayed close for a moment longer after Yeonjun’s words settled between them, his arms loosely around Yeonjun’s waist, cheek resting briefly against his shoulder like he needed a second to absorb everything.

Then, slowly, the tension shifted.

The seriousness softened.

His fingers curled lightly into the back of Yeonjun’s shirt as he pulled back just enough to look at him properly.

“You’re already planning our children,” he said quietly, eyes narrowing with playful disbelief. “And you didn’t even consult me.”

Yeonjun snorted softly, embarrassment still lingering in the faint pink of his ears. “I didn’t plan. I just… thought ahead.”

“That sounds like planning,” Soobin replied, tilting his head slightly. “Dangerous territory.”

Yeonjun’s hands slid to his waist again automatically, grounding and warm. “Okay, then you tell me,” he murmured. “How many?”

Soobin blinked. “How many what?”

“How many kids,” Yeonjun clarified, a faint smile creeping into his voice. “If we’re apparently discussing this now.”

Soobin laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. You went from ‘this is the living room’ to ‘future children’ in under five minutes.”

“It’s efficient,” Yeonjun said.

“It’s terrifying,” Soobin corrected, though his smile betrayed how much he liked it. He pulled away slightly, pacing slowly toward the sofa like he needed space to think, arms crossing loosely as he pretended to consider seriously. “Two,” he said finally.

“Two?” Yeonjun echoed, following him.

“Yes,” Soobin replied decisively. “Balanced. Manageable. Strategic.”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “You’re stealing my words now?”

“I learn from the best.”

Yeonjun leaned against the back of the couch, watching him carefully. “I was thinking three.”

Soobin turned immediately. “Three? Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Yeonjun laughed softly.

“Because you’re going to spoil them,” Soobin said, pointing accusingly at him. “And then I’ll have to be the responsible parent.”

“You already are,” Yeonjun teased.

Soobin rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Two is perfect.”

Yeonjun tilted his head, pretending to negotiate. “Two and a very persuasive third?”

“No.”

“Two and a surprise third?”

“Lord help me—”

Yeonjun laughed, stepping closer again until he stood right in front of him. “Fine,” he conceded lightly. “Two. But I get naming rights for one.”

“Absolutely not,” Soobin replied instantly, hands lifting to rest against Yeonjun’s chest like he needed leverage for this argument. “You would name them something dramatic.”

“I would name them something meaningful,” Yeonjun corrected, mock offended.

“So dramatic,” Soobin said again, smiling.

“What would you choose then?” Yeonjun asked, voice softening slightly as curiosity replaced teasing.

Soobin hesitated, eyes flicking away for a second like he was embarrassed by how real the conversation suddenly felt. “Something warm,” he said quietly. “Something that feels like… home.”

Yeonjun’s gaze softened instantly at that.

“You already sound like a parent,” he murmured.

“You started this,” Soobin pointed out.

Yeonjun smiled faintly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Soobin’s ear. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But I like hearing you say it.”

Soobin swallowed, then shook his head as if trying to shake off the softness before it became too overwhelming. “Okay,” he said firmly. “Rules. We each choose one name.”

“And the third hypothetical child?” Yeonjun asked innocently.

“There is no third hypothetical child.”

Yeonjun grinned.

“So stubborn,” he murmured.

“You love it.”

“I do.”

Soobin stepped closer again without thinking, hands settling at Yeonjun’s sides as they stood in the middle of the living room, the city lights glowing behind them through the massive windows.

“Also,” Soobin added, voice lowering slightly, teasing returning, “if we’re doing this, I refuse to be the only one waking up at night.”

“You assume I sleep?” Yeonjun said dryly.

“You will when we have children,” Soobin said.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It’s a promise.”

They both laughed softly, the sound filling the empty apartment in a way that made it feel suddenly lived-in.

Yeonjun pulled him closer by the waist, their foreheads brushing lightly as the conversation faded into smaller teasing — names thrown back and forth, absurd suggestions, quiet laughter, imagined scenarios that felt impossibly distant and yet strangely real.

Outside, the city continued moving, lights flickering on one by one as evening settled.

Inside, their voices softened.

Their laughter slowed.

And the future — half joke, half promise — lingered gently in the air as the moment faded into quiet warmth.