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Chapter Text

Seonghwa woke up to the pale morning light when his alarm went off. It was already 6:30AM and he felt weirdly rested despite the fact that he hadn't gotten much sleep. He blinked slowly, trying to shake away the sleepiness before freezing at the unfamiliar warmth pressing against his back and the foreign weight of an arm draped around him.

For a moment he didn’t move, and chest tightening, unsure if he was still dreaming — but the soft breath on the back of his neck and the faint brush of a thumb against his bare skin told him he definitely wasn’t.

Hongjoong was still lying behind him, their bodies fit together like they had been carved for each other. Both of them only in their underwear, skin against skin, and Seonghwa could feel every inch of him. He felt the heat of his thighs where their legs tangled together, the slow exhale ghosting across his shoulder and the burning of Hongjoong’s hand resting over the chain around his waist.

He would have thought Hongjoong was asleep if it weren’t for the thumb moving, grazing lazily over one of the tiny stars. Seonghwa’s lips parted as a small shiver ran through him.

Hongjoong was there. He was still holding him.

A breath he didn’t know he had been holding escaped him and he felt the tension slowly leave his body at the realization. He wanted to memorize everything: the quiet, the peace and the way it finally felt to finally wake up with someone he loved. With someone who loved him back just as much.

It was still strange to think that just hours ago he had been crying, heart aching from the distance between them. Now that ache had been replaced by the steady rise and fall of Hongjoong’s chest against his back.

For a long moment, Seonghwa just stayed there, enjoying the way Hongjoong’s thumb traced the stars. And in his chest, something deep and soft was blooming, something that felt way too big for his body.

“Joong…” he whispered, something barely audible.

A low hum vibrated against him and Hongjoong stirred behind him, tightening his hold like he could feel Seonghwa trying to think too much.

“Mmh,” Hongjoong answered sleepily. “I’m here, Bunny,” he added, voice still rough from the morning.

Seonghwa let himself melt into the touch and the words made his eyes sting again. He exhaled shakily, pressing back into him until there was no space left between them, feeling the warmth of Hongjoong’s chest against his spine.

“I missed you,” he breathed. “From the moment I left your apartment that day. And after, when we weren’t talking… even when we were. I missed you so much.”

Hongjoong pressed a long kiss to the nape of his neck, then another one to his shoulder. “I know,” he murmured softly against his skin. “But you won’t have to miss me anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”

Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered shut, and the tears came quietly this time. It took Hongjoong only a few seconds to notice. His thumb stilled where it had been tracing the stars before trailing up, brushing gently against Seonghwa’s cheek. The touch caught one of the tears before it could slip any further.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

Seonghwa hesitated, breath hitching. Slowly, he turned his head until his gaze met Hongjoong’s over his shoulder before turning entirely to face him. Hongjoong’s eyes’s softened as he reached up again to cradle Seonghwa’s face with his hand, thumb sweeping another tear.

“What’s this, baby?” he asked, voice low and rough in a way that always seemed to lit a fire in Seonghwa. “Why are you crying, hm?”

Seonghwa blinked, sending another tear down his cheek that Hongjoong caught this time too. “I just… didn’t think it would feel that good waking up next to someone.”

Hongjoong’s thumb kept moving slowly, tracing slow circles. “It’s supposed to feel good,” he stated softly.

The words made Seonghwa’s chest tighten again. “I know,” he breathed. “It just… doesn’t feel real yet.”

Hongjoong leaned in, pressing a kiss on his jaw. “It’s real, Bunny,” he said against his skin. “I’m here.”

Hongjoong’s hand slipped down, finding his waist again. Seonghwa’s lips turned into a small trembling smile, and he reached out, fingertips brushing the line of Hongjoong’s neck before trailing down to his chest, where the red carnation still bloomed om his skin. The tattoo was warm under his touch.

“You love me,” Seonghwa said, eyes locked onto the delicate ink.

He felt Hongjoong’s breath hitch, a small and quiet sound. “Yeah,” he confirmed softly. “I love you, Bunny.”

The hand on his waist tugged him closer, pulling him until he was flushed against Hongjoong’s body. Their foreheads brushed softly, and Seonghwa could feel the steady beat of Hongjoong’s hand against his palm.

“Say it again,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hongjoong smiled and it made his heart ache in the best way. “I love you,” he murmured again, pressing a kiss to the corner of Seonghwa’s mouth.

A slow, pleasant warmth spread through him like sunlight. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, catching Hongjoong’s lips in a soft kiss.

It deepened slowly, their mouth moving together in something that felt both new and familiar at the same time, as if they had meant to be doing that all along. Every gentle brush of Hongjoong’s lips made Seonghwa’s chest tighten in quiet disbelief — that he was here, that all of this was real and that nothing, not even himself, was standing between them anymore.

When they finally parted, it wasn’t by much and Seonghwa was grateful for it. The idea of not feeling his warmth made his stomach churn and he didn’t think he could stand being too far away from him now that they finally were together. Hongjoong’s hand trailed lower before coming to rest on his hip, fingers tracing small, idle patterns against his skin. The movement was gentle and careful, a shiver running through his body, and something in the way Hongjoong touched him made Seonghwa’s chest ache.

Hongjoong broke the silence, his voice low in the quiet between them. “I’m sorry, Bunny. I really am.”

Seonghwa’s brow furrowed faintly, his eyes snapping back to lock onto Hongjoong’s dark ones.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. For making you question what was real between us.”

The words twisted under Seonghwa’s skin before sinking deep into his chest, making his pulse quicken slightly. Seonghwa hadn’t expected an apology, hadn’t expected how soothing it would feel to hear those words now that he wasn’t angry at him anymore.

And now that he was thinking about it, he wasn’t sure he had really been angry at Hongjoong more than he had been trapped by his own damn insecurities.

Hongjoong’s thumb kept moving in slow, absent circles against his hip, grounding Seonghwa in the moment. “I never meant to hurt you,” he added quietly. “I just didn’t know how to tell you without risking losing you. But I swear Seonghwa…” His voice broke slightly. “I swear that me being nice wasn’t calculated. It was just me doing what I’d wanted to do all along.”

Seonghwa’s throat felt tight, and it worked trying to get the words out. The one he had wanted to say but had never dared because of the guilt twisting in his stomach.

“I know, Joongie.” The words came out barely above a whisper. “I’m not mad. Not anymore…”

He felt Hongjoong’s fingers still against his skin for a second, and the quiet breath he released made Seonghwa’s heart flutter. Seonghwa swallowed hard, trying to calm the tremor in his voice,

“I think I was just… hurt,” he admitted. “Because when I found out, all I could think about was that maybe you’d only started changing out of guilt. That you were just trying to make it easier for me to like you before telling me the truth. That you just did everything with a motive…”

Seonghwa paused for a moment, needing to catch a breath before spilling out what he had never told anyone but Wooyoung. Hongjoong stayed silent, and the feeling of his fingers rubbing on his hip gently and patiently, like a silent permission, was what gave him the strength to start talking again.

“I think… I think that’s what scared me the most,” he whispered. “That maybe you were just like the others.”

Hongjoong’s brows furrowed slightly in something that Seonghwa assumed must be confusion. He had never told Captain about his previous partners, so it would be the first time he would hear about Seonghwa’s love life.

Seonghwa’s chest tightened so much breathing felt suddenly hard. “Every person I’ve been with before… they said they loved me, but I don’t think they ever did. They liked how I looked, how it felt to say I was theirs. But it was never about me. It was about their ego, about them having something pretty to brag about.”

He swallowed again, eyes flickering down to where their body touched. “No one ever wanted to know me beyond that… beyond—” his eyes fluttered shut for a second, stomach twisting painfully, “I just thought maybe you were going to be the same. That the only reason you wanted me was because I was easy to look at.”

Hongjoong's only movement came from his thumb still drawing small circles on Seonghwa’s skin — the kind of touch that made him want to melt into him and never leave his embrace ever again. Seonghwa dipped his head, leaning impossibly close until his nose nestled in the crook of Hongjoong’s neck.

When he spoke, the words hummed low through Seonghwa’s body. “That’s not what this is, Bunny.”

His hand trailed slowly up from Seonghwa’s hip until it reached the back of his head, the path of it making him shiver. Then Hongjoong pressed his head closer into his neck. “I didn’t want you because you’re pretty,” Hongjoong breathed against his hair. “Yeah, you are—fuck, you’re gorgeous, baby. But that’s not what got me. Not even back then, when I saw you for the first time. It was the way you smiled. The way you laughed like nothing bad could ever break you.”

Seonghwa’s breath caught, and Hongjoong’s fingers slipped into the curls at the back of his head, twirling them with a tenderness that made Seonghwa sigh softly. He could stay like this forever, he thought. Drowning in the faint smell of cigarette and coffee lingering on Hongjoong’s skin, wrapped in his warmth, and in what it meant to be utterly and entirely his.

“You remember when I told you that you made me break my rules three times?” Hongjoong asked after a moment. “The day we… at the party.”

Seonghwa nodded slowly, his heart almost skipping a beat. He remembered it very vividly — how he had wanted to ask Hongjoong what he had meant by that. How he hadn’t, because the only thing he could think about was to get Hongjoong’s lips on his. On him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly against Hongjoong’s skin.

Hongjoong hummed, head leaning just enough to place a kiss on Seonghwa’s naked shoulder, making him shiver before his lips attached to the skin, sucking hard enough that a moan escaped his lips before he could swallow it back. “The first one was to never get a tattoo because of someone,” he murmured against his skin before pressing another kiss over the bruise Seonghwa knew would bloom there, hands tightening possessively in his hair. “And the second was to never drink again.”

Seonghwa’s breath hitched, the faint sting of the mark tangling with the warmth spreading low in his stomach. He loved the way Hongjoong made him feel, the way each touch could make him melt, sigh or writhe.

“You made me break the first one twice,” he added, lips still ghosting over the spot he had just kissed before.

Seonghwa’s hips buckled involuntarily, his half-hard bulge brushing against Hongjoong’s thigh made him release a quiet moan. Hongjoong chuckled low against his shoulder and the hand in his hair left to hook the back on his knee, tugging him closer against him.

The pressure was dizzying and he wanted more, but Seonghwa forced his scattered mind to form thoughts. Hongjoong had picked his curiosity, he knew he had gotten the carnation for him, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what other tattoo he could have gotten for Seonghwa?

Hongjoong must have felt the shift because his lips twitched into a small smile against Seonghwa’s skin. He nipped at the flesh there and Seonghwa’s breath caught when he felt the warm hand sliding higher, fingers pressing firmly into his inner thigh. His heart stuttered and his pulse quickened, but before he could say anything, Hongjoong spoke again, words almost reverent.

“The first time was the chrysanthemums,” he admitted, the words vibrating against him before the sensation was replaced by the wet of his mouth, sending another wave of shivers down his spine.

That made Seonghwa freeze, breath catching in his throat. “The one on your hands?” he asked, voice trembling enough to betray the flutter in his chest.

“Mmh.” Hongjoong hummed against his, thumb tracing patterns on his thigh. “They were my first tattoo. I got them the week I was finally told I could leave the company.”

He paused, his hand dragging up slowly until his palm splayed wide over the back of Seonghwa’s thigh. The heat made his breath catch and when Hongjoong’s fingers slipped just beneath the hem of his underwear, brushing lightly over the curve of his ass, another quiet moan escaped his lips before he could stop it and his hips twitched again, rubbing against Hongjoong.

“When I got them, I didn’t even know why, but I kept thinking of you. I just knew that smile of yours had gotten stuck in my head. You looked like someone who carried starlight inside him and didn’t even know it.” Hongjoong’s fingers flexed lightly were they rested and he moved so his nose could brush over the soft skin on his shoulder. “So I got it to remind me of that it felt like to see someone laugh without holding back.”

Seonghwa detached himself from Hongjoong neck, eyes flicking up to meet his. All he could do was stare, heart pounding so hard it hurt. He hadn’t expected himself to be tangled into something Hongjoong had carried with him for years. The idea that he had been there all along, even before they really were anything to each other, before Hongjoong had even known him as Starlight, made something in his chest twist in the most disarming and beautiful way.

He should have been tacken aback, maybe even told Hongjoong he was crazy for doing something like that. But none of it made it past his lips. Because deep down, Seonghwa loved it. He loved knowing he had been carved into Hongjoong’s skin, that Hongjoong had been his even before he had known him as Captain.

And that only made him crave Hongjoong more.

The heat in his lower stomach only curled tighter as his gaze dropped to Hongjoong’s mouth, and before he knew it, he moved. He leaned forward, closing the small gape between them until he was flush against Hongjoong.

“Bunny,” he murmured, voice rough with warning and want all at once.

Seonghwa didn’t answer, just tilted his chin up and his hand found Hongjoong’s split-dyed hair. His fingers tangled in the blond and black strands before pressing their lips together in a slow, lingering, and hungry kiss that left no room for doubt.

Hongjoong groaned softly into the kiss, and his fingers flexed, digging just enough into the swell of Seonghwa’s ass to make him moan against his lips.

Their kiss deepened, turning sloppier and it was all lips and breath. Seonghwa felt the press of Hongjoong’s tongue brush against his lips, and he parted his lips slightly, letting him lick and taste him until his lungs burned at the lack of oxygen. The hand on his ass dragged higher under his underwear, palm spreading wide as he pulled Seonghwa until he could feel Hongjoong’s hard cock on his own thigh.

A soft broken sound escaped Seonghwa when he felt the heat pressed against him through the thin fabric of their briefs. He moved, chasing the friction, and Hongjoong’s groan went straight to his lower stomach.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong breathed against his lips before catching them in another hungry kiss.

Seonghwa whimpered into him when Hongjoong’s hips rolled slowly, the drag against his already-hard length making his head spin. His fingers tightened in Hongjoong’s hair, keeping him close and chasing another kiss.

Before he could even beg, Hongjoong mouth found his again, kissing him harder, and the hand that had been gripping Seonghwa’s ass slipped free before moving higher, pushing the waistband of his underwear down until they were halfway to his thighs. Hongjoong’s hand slid lower again, gripping his hip firmly and aligning their cocks. Then, he guided him into a slow grind, their lengths rubbing together through the thin barrier of Hongjoong’s underwear and the friction sent shivers up his spine.

“Like that,” Hongjoong’s whispered against his mouth, his breath hot and uneven. “Fuck—nice and slow, Bunny.”

Seonghwa followed the rhythm mindlessly, hips rolling obediently in small desperate circles, his own breathing coming out in unsteady gasps. The sound of Seonghwa’s moans and Hongjoong’s groans filled the room, every stroke against his leaking cock building an unbearable heat in his until his body started trembling and Seonghwa started moaning desperately.

“Hongjoong—” he breathed, voice cracking slightly.

Hongjoong’s thumb pressed harder into his hip, his other hand finding the back of Seonghwa’s neck to keep him close. “It feels good, doesn’t it? You wanna come, baby?” he rasped.

Seonghwa nodded frantically, eyes wide and glassy with the overwhelming burn taking over his whole body. “Yes—please—please, I wanna come—”

Before he could move again, Hongjoong’s grip tightened, stopping his hips mid-movement. The lack of friction made Seonghwa whine, head tipping against Hongjoong, chest heaving.

“Yes, who?” Hongjoong ask, a commanding growl against his ear.

“Y-Yes, Captain,” Seonghwa gasped, the words breaking into a shaky moan.

A satisfied sound rumbled out of Hongjoong, and his hand loosened its hold, thumb brushing soothingly over the skin. “Good,” he murmured. “Now come and get what you need, Bunny.”

And god, he needed it. The second Hongjoong released him, Seonghwa’s hips started rolling again, chasing what he had been denied. The press of Hongjoong’s cock against his thigh only made it impossible to stay composed and the pressure built fast, moans spilling freely as he ground harder against Hongjoong’s thigh.

“Go on,” Hongjoong groaned, voice rough with a mix of arousal and pride. “That’s it, Bunny. Make yourself feel good for me.”

Seonghwa kept moving, hips rocking forward in fast and needy motions. The friction hit perfectly, the kind that stole his breath with every drag of his cock against the fabric.

“Fuck—” Seonghwa gasped before Hongjoong caught his mouth in a bruising kiss. It was filthy, all tongue and teeth swallowing every moan that spilled out of him like a starved man.

Hongjoong’s hand gripped his hip harder and Seonghwa cried out, knowing it would likely mark and that alone dragged him closer to the edge than it should have. Hongjoong kept him close, guiding every roll while their hips moved together. Seonghwa could barely breathe or think and everything narrowed to the taste of Hongjoong’s mouth, to the dazzling high he was still chasing.

“Captain—ah—” he tried, but the word broke apart as Hongjoong’s tongue slid into his mouth, deep and claiming, the sensation of the barbell grazing the wall only making him moan louder, begging for more. The kiss grew sloppier, wetter, and Seonghwa’s needy noises turned into quiet, shaking sobs of pleasure.

“Good, Bunny. So good,” Hongjoong rasped between kisses, breath burning against his lips. “That’s it. Let it happen.”

The world blurred and his whole body tensed, the pressure curling so tight it felt like he might combust. When it finally snapped, Seonghwa cried out against Hongjoong’s mouth, the sound swallowed by another kiss as heat spilled between them.

Hongjoong lips never left his — not when Seonghwa trembled, not when he gasped for air, not even when the other man guided his hips through the aftershocks until he had nothing left to give. He just kept kissing him, slowly now, until Seonghwa felt his body melt completely in Hongjoong’s tight embrace.

When it was over, Seonghwa stayed there, breathless and trembling, Hongjoong’s lips still brushing against his. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was their uneven breathing,

Then Hongjoong’s fingers started moving again, but gentler, tracing lazy circles over the chain at his waist. “Are you with me, pretty thing?” he murmured, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Seonghwa hummed faintly, still catching his breath. “Mmh… yeah.”

“Good,” Hongjoong whispered, pressing a kiss into his hair this time. “You did so good for me.”

The words made something in Seonghwa’s chest ache in that way only Hongjoong could cause. In a way that made him want to be ruined all over and over just so he could hear them again. He tilted his head up just enough for their lips to meet in another slow kiss, almost shy. Hongjoong smiled against his mouth, the hand on his waist coming up to cradle the back of his head.

“Beautiful,” Hongjoong breathed, barely audible. “Always so fucking perfect for me.”

Seonghwa’s breath caught again, warmth spreading in his chest as he leaned into the praise. He wanted to give it back, to hear Hongjoong lose his composure because of him.

So without breaking eye contact, he pushed Hongjoong so he would land on his back and moved slowly, sliding down his body until his cheek brushed the trail of his stomach leading below his navel. He heard Hongjoong’s breath hitched, his hand still resting in Seonghwa’s hair, but he didn’t stop him.

“Starlight…” The word came out dangerously low.

Seonghwa only glanced up, eyes glassy, lips already parted before lowering his head again, mouthing at the hard line of Hongjoong’s length. The air filled with a broken groan that made Seonghwa’s stomach twist with want all over again.

By the time Hongjoong came, fingers twisting in his hair, and cock so deep down his throat Seonghwa could feel him, the morning light had turned golden.

A little while later, when they were both clean and mostly dressed, Seonghwa stood in front of the stove wearing nothing but his underwear and Hongjoong’s t-shirt, the one he had left his apartment with the morning after the party. Since then, he had worn it more times than he’d ever admit. It had been a strange comfort during those weeks apart, when Seonghwa had asked for space he wasn’t even sure he had needed. He had clung to the piece of fabric like a lifeline, but now? Now he didn’t have to anymore.

Now he could finally breathe, like maybe life had put him through all of his insecurities just so Hongjoong could come and make them all go away. So that they could find each other.

The shirt was slightly oversized and slipped easily off one of his shoulders, exposing the sharp curve of his collarbone. The late morning light spilled from the kitchen window, and for the first time in a long while, Seonghwa felt complete.

The kitchen smelled of eggs and coffee when he heard the floorboards creak behind him. He turned his head slightly and his breath caught before he could stop it.

Hongjoong stood behind him, bare-chested, tattoos on full display and hair still slightly wet from the shower, black and blonde strands combed back from his face. He noticed some water droplets on the toned muscle of his stomach, lazily tracing a path down until the disappeared into the waistband of the sweatpants Seonghwa had let him borrow. The fabric was low on his hips, low enough for the head of the chinese dragon to peek out from beneath it.

Seonghwa’s mouth went dry and it took every ounce of willpower not to let the first thought that crossed his mind slip out — to ask Hongjoong to ruin him all over again right there against the counter.

“You’re going to burn that, pretty thing.”

Hongjoong’s voice took him out of the fantasy before his thoughts could spiral any further.

Seonghwa’s attention snapped back to the eggs, giving the pan a quick shake to make sure nothing was burning. Before he could turn back to Hongjoong, strong hands slid around his waist, pulling him back against the warmth of Hongjoong’s naked skin.

“Joong…” he started, words coming out breathy.

“Shh,” Hongjoong murmured, lips brushing the soft skin of Seonghwa’s shoulder where the shirt had slipped. “I just need to touch you.”

His palms spread wider, hands splaying low enough that he could feel them resting on the belly chain he had put back on after his shower. Hongjoong’s thumb found one of the tiny star through the fabric and traced it with a slow reverence.

The touch made Seonghwa shiver. He had imagined it many times before, the way it would feel to be claimed by Captain when they finally met, to be touched where he wore the symbol of that connection. But nothing he had pictured came close to how good it actually felt. Every drag of Hongjoong’s thumb sent heat curling low in his belly.

He could feel the possessiveness in the way Hongjoong held him, in the way he brushed over the chain just to remind them both that it was there, that Seonghwa only belonged to him.

Like Seonghwa would ever want to belong to anyone else.

Hongjoong’s lips followed the slope of Seonghwa’s shoulder, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the exposed skin. Each one lingered a little longer than the last until his breath came out uneven against Seonghwa’s neck.

“I could get used to his,” he breathed between kisses, the words rumbling out “having you like that with me every morning.”

Seonghwa’s lips parted, a small content sigh escaping him as his hand found its way to Hongjoong’s forearm, fingers curling softly there as he stirred the eggs.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa tried, the name slipping between a soft moan and a quiet giggle. “Now you’re really going to make me burn breakfast.”

“Then we’ll eat something else.” Hongjoong’s breath was hot against him, the vibration of his voice making Seonghwa shiver. “You taste better anyway.”

Seonghwa’s heart stuttered in his chest, and before he could come up with a reply, Hongjoong’s teeth grazed the junction where his neck met his shoulder, followed my another slow kiss that let Seonghwa feel the metal on Hongjoong’s tongue. That damn tongue piercing would be the death of him, and he prayed to everything he didn’t believe in that he would remain the only one allowed to feel it on his skin, in his mouth, for the rest of his life.

The pan hissed, the edges of the eggs turning brown just slightly. Seonghwa gave it another distracted shake, doing his best to focus on breakfast while Hongjoong remained close. Too close. The kind of close that made it impossible to think about anything but the man pressing kisses on the back of his neck.

He wasn’t used to this. To the steady rhythm of someone else’s heartbeat against his back. None of his past partners had ever stayed long enough for a morning like this, never eaten breakfast with him, never filled the small kitchen with warmth. He had never known what domesticity in a relationship felt like.

But now that he’d had a taste of it, he didn’t think he could ever go back. The thought of waking up without Hongjoong, of eating breakfast alone again made something in his chest twist in this sharp and unpleasant way.

He wanted to memorize all of it. The feeling of Hongjoong’s arm around him, warmth , the soft and lazy kisses he seemed incapable of stopping, much to Seonghwa’s enjoyment.

Hongjoong’s hands slid lower, fingers brushing the hem of the t-shirt before slipping beneath the fabric. His thumb stroked the bare skin just above the chain, leaving a slow, burning trail everywhere it touched.

“It’s my shirt,” Hongjoong stated, lips against his shoulder, the words low, almost amused but edged with something darker. With something that made Seonghwa’s body tremble and his heart skip a beat.

A small, guilty smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, it’s the one I borrowed. I also still have the clothes you lent me when I was soaking wet because of the rain that one time…” he said, eyes fixed on the pan even though his mind was miles away from breakfast.

Seonghwa felt the warmth of Hongjoong’s palm as he flattened it against his stomach. “You’ve been wearing it,” he said, not as a question so much as a realization. The words came out rough, close to something like a growl.

“Maybe… a few times,” he admitted softly. It definitely had been more than a few times, but Hongjoong didn’t need to know that.

Hongjoong’s lips trailed higher, his chest pressing flush against Seonghwa’s back as his breath ghosted over his ear. “You look good in my clothes, Bunny.” Seonghwa could hear the possessive smile in his voice, and it made him shiver.

Hongjoong’s nose traced the line of Seonghwa’s neck, and the tone of his voice pulled a memory back to the surface — the day he had borrowed Hongjoong’s clothes, and Captain had made him keep them on while he fucked himself. A shiver ran through his body at the reminiscence.

He hadn’t known why Captain had been so adamant on it, why he had sounded more wrecked than the other times when Seonghwa had moaned his name over and over. But now, it all made sense. It had been about possession, about knowing Seonghwa was falling apart wearing something that was his. And god, Seonghwa shouldn’t love that, not after his past relationships. He really shouldn’t.

But with Hongjoong? With Hongjoong he fucking did, and the chain he had been wearing around his waist for months was proof of it.

Seonghwa liked to belong. Liked to be owned. And Hongjoong? Seonghwa had the faintest, most dangerous feeling that he liked owning Seonghwa just as much. Not like the others had, not by showing him off or parading him around. But quietly, subtly, and in a way that was deeply theirs, meant for no one else to see and only for Seonghwa to feel.

Hongjoong’s mouth paused where it had traveled back to on his shoulder. “What are you thinking about, my pretty Starlight?” he murmured lazily.

Seonghwa hesitated, torn between telling him the truth and keeping it close to his chest. In the end, he only hummed softly, gaze still fixed on the eggs. “Just thinking about how lucky I am,” he said, barely above a whisper.

He would keep that truth for him just a little longer.

Hongjoong chuckled quietly against his skin, the sound as warm as the sun. “If anyone’s lucky, it’s me,” he said, pressing another slow kiss on Seonghwa’s shoulder.

His eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the warmth of his mouth on him. He really didn’t know how he was supposed to part with Hongjoong today, not when all he wanted was to stay wrapped in his arms. For the first time since opening the shop, the idea of being there felt almost comically unbearable.

By the time the food was ready, both of them sat around the small wooden kitchen table, two plates of steaming French toast and eggs and two mugs with freshly brewed coffee in front of them.

It still felt strange in the best way seeing Hongjoong here, sitting shirtless across from him in the morning light like he had always belonged in Seonghwa’s apartment. It would probably take a while to get used to, to undo the damage of what years of bad relationships had done to him. But as he looked at the vibrant red carnation inked on Hongjoong’s chest, he knew deep down that he would never be alone again.

They still managed to eat breakfast, or something that resembled it, between shared bites and soft laughter whenever Hongjoong leaned across the table to steal food from Seonghwa’s plate. Hongjoong picked up his purple and white mug after a while, examining the flowers on it, and Seonghwa told him all about how he had found it in a small shop not far from Seoul university, the kind of shop that smelled like burnt clay and only sold handmade stuff.

When the plates were completely empty and only the faint scent of coffee lingered in the air, Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, watching Hongjoong across the table, catching the curve of his smile as he drained the last of his coffee.

Something in his chest stirred and he stood before he could overthink it. His chair scraped against the floor, and when Hongjoong looked up at him with a curious tilt of his head, Seonghwa could only mumble a quick, “Just wait here,” before slipping into his bedroom.

His heart was already racing by the time he opened the top drawer of his dresser. Inside was the little thing he had been looking for — a simple silver star dangling from a black cord. He hadn’t worn it in years.

He untangled it gently, the metal cool against the warm of his fingers. It had always meant something to him back when he needed it the most. It had meant comfort and hope, but now, as he held it in his palm, it meant something else entirely. Mine.

When he came back to the kitchen, Hongjoong was still at the table, elbows resting on the wooden surface, eyes soft and questioning.

His brows lifted slightly. “What’s that?” he asked, while leaning back before turning on his chair to face Seonghwa directly.

Seonghwa swallowed, stepping closer until he stood between Hongjoong’s knees. “Something I’ve had for a while. I used to wear it all the time,” he said quietly.

He didn’t explain more and his fingers brushed against Hongjoong’s skin as he slipped it around his neck. The  black cord sat low against Hongjoong’s collarbones, the little star gleaming when Seonghwa adjusted it so it rested in the middle of his chest.

“It looks better on you,” Seonghwa breathed.

Hongjoong’s fingers slid to his waist, tugging him closer until he sat completely on his lap. “Are you marking me?” One of Hongjoong’s hands trailed up to cup his face.

Seonghwa hummed as his half-lidded eyes locked onto Hongjoong’s. “I’m wearing the chain, it’s only fair that you wear something too.”

Seonghwa’s gaze dropped to Hongjoong’s mouth before he could stop himself, and that was all it took for Hongjoong to close the small distance between them.

The kiss was slow, the kind that made his head spin and the time feel absolutely irrelevant. Hongjoong’s lips were soft, his breath warm against Seonghwa’s, and every press of his mouth felt like it was melting him. Seonghwa leaned into it, hands curling carefully in the fabric of Hongjoong’s shirt, heart stuttering.

When they finally parted, Hongjoong didn’t go far and his thumb brushed across Seonghwa’s lower lip, slowly and reverently. Seonghwa’s breath caught, his eyes still half-lidded as Hongjoong whispered, “Mine.”

Seonghwa didn’t feel the need to answer. He hoped the way he leaned back in, pressing another soft kiss to Hongjoong’s mouth, said everything for him.

They stayed like that for a while, sharing lazy morning kisses until it was finally time for Seonghwa to get ready to leave for work. Hongjoong told him he refused to let him go alone. He had a free day now anyway, he said, and the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Seonghwa didn’t argue, because truth was he wanted Hongjoong there with him just as much.

By the time he was ready, dressed in a soft cream sweater and light blue jeans, pink hair put up in a half pony-tail, Hongjoong was waiting by the door, keys in hand and toying with the piercing on his tongue. His hair was brushed back, the silver star around his neck resting on his t-shirt.

The sight of him like that almost undid him. He wanted to feel that barbell against his skin again, wanted to taste the rasp of Hongjoong’s breath when he groaned.

Hongjoong looked up at him then, and it felt like he could read every thought crossing Seonghwa’s mind and his lips curled into a slow knowing smirk. “Ready?”

Seonghwa nodded, though his throat felt tight. “Yeah.”

Hongjoong tilted his head, gaze softening. “Then let’s go, Bunny.”

He stretch out his hand, palm open and Seonghwa took it without hesitation before reaching for his bag and jacket.

A few minutes later, Seonghwa found himself sitting in the passenger seat of San’s car, the morning sun turning the everything gold around them as the city slowly stirred awake. Hongjoong drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on Seonghwa’s thigh, thumb drawing lazy patterns through the denim of his pants the entire way to Aurora Blooms.

Each slow brush of his thumb was enough to make Seonghwa’s chest twist, not because it was suggestive (even though it was), but because it was real. There was no screen, no secrets between them and no nicknames to hide behind. Just his hand, the warmth of it and the quiet knowledge of being loved so completely and to be able to love back so openly.

The ride didn’t last long, but Seonghwa almost wished it did. It was peaceful and he just couldn’t get enough of Hongjoong still resting on his leg like he couldn’t bare the thought of not touching him.

By the time they reached the shop, Hongjoong parked right outside. Seonghwa turned his head, only to find Hongjoong already looking at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to head home?” Seonghwa asked softly. “You should rest, Joong. You drove a long way in the middle of the night and you didn’t get much sleep.”

Hongjoong smiled. “Do you really think I could let you go now that I finally have you?”

The answer shouldn’t have made Seonghwa’s heart stutter that way, but it did. He loved how openly Hongjoong said the things he wanted Seonghwa to hear. Just like Captain always had.

That quiet and familiar pull settled between them again, and Hongjoong leaned across the console to press a soft kiss to Seonghwa’s lips.

“Let’s open your kingdom,” he declared, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips,

Inside, the shop was cool, and the scent of fresh stems lingered in the air. Seonghwa flicked the lights on, the soft, artificial glow spreading over rows of potted plants and vases waiting to be filled. He moved through the space like he always did, turning signs, checking the temperature in the cold room, but every few minutes he would catch sight of Hongjoong following behind, quietly helping.

He didn’t ask; he just did. He brought buckets from the back, carried out bundles of marigolds and tulips, arranged them in vases with a practiced ease that made Seonghwa smile fondly. Of course he was good at it. Hongjoong was an artist through and through, it shouldn’t have been a surprise for Seonghwa that he had such an eye for beauty, even when it came to flowers.

For a while, they stayed in a comfortable silence, Seonghwa trimming stems, and Hongjoong watching him like there was nowhere else he would rather be.

Seonghwa could feel Hongjoong’s gaze on him. It made him hyper-aware of every movement, of the way he leaned over the workbench, the way his sleeves brushed his wrists, the way a stray strand of hair tickled his cheek. He didn’t need to look to know Hongjoong’s expression. He could feel it.

He tried to ignore it, to focus on the flowers in front of him, but his chest still tightened at the thought that Hongjoong was there, in his space, being part of his morning like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When Seonghwa finally glanced up, Hongjoong was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, a soft smile on his lips.

“Don’t stop because of me,” Hongjoong mused. “You look beautiful when you work.”

The words sent a soft flush creeping up Seonghwa’s neck, and he ducked his head, pretending to inspect a tulip just to hide the smile threatening to give him away.

The shop had been busy during the two hours that it had been open, with a steady flow of customers walking in and out, the bell above the door never staying quiet for too long. Wooyoung had been supposed to open with him that morning, but Seonghwa had insisted he take the day off to follow San to Daegu, assuring him he would manage things on his own until Yunho and Yeosang came in for their shift.

Which made him even more grateful for Hongjoong’s presence.

Hongjoong had taken over the register without being asked. He handled each transaction quietly while Seonghwa helped customers with their different inquiries, his voice warm when he thanked them or handed over bouquets.

Every so often, Seonghwa caught himself looking at him, at the way the star around his neck reflected the light, the way his lips curved whenever Seonghwa’s eyes wandered his way. It was enough to make his heart flutter.

When the hour hand on clock was neared eleven, the bell above the door jingled again, and Seonghwa looked up from the counter just in time to see Yunho and Yeosang step inside, mid-conversation and laughing about something.

The laughter died almost immediately when they noticed Hongjoong behind the register, black and blond strands falling into his eyes as he handed a customer their change with a polite smile.

Seonghwa bit the inside of his cheek when he caught the quick glance Yunho and Yeosang exchanged. They knew Hongjoong and Seonghwa had become close, but not like this.

“Morning,” Seonghwa greeted quickly, pretending not to notice how Yunho’s gaze flicked from him to Hongjoong and back again.

“Uh—morning,” Yeosang said warily. “Did we… miss a memo in the group chat or something?”

Hongjoong looked up at that, a small smirk as he walked casually around the counter. “I’m just helping out,” he explained easily.

Yunho blinked in surprise, then turned to Seonghwa, eyebrows raised. “Helping Seonghwa out? At our shop? On a Saturday morning?”

Yeosang crossed his arms and squinted. “Pretty sure you were supposed to be in Daegu with San, weren’t you?”

Hongjoong looked up and smiled, catching his piercing between his teeth, and Seonghwa’s stomach sank. This was going to be fun to explain. Because neither Yunho nor Yeosang knew about Hongjoong being Captain and he didn’t even know where to begin.

“Yes, I was supposed to be in Daegu. But plans changed,” he said simply. Then he added, “Something more important came up.”

Seonghwa’s heart skipped a beat at the way Hongjoong said it so casually, and he swore he could hear the sound of Yeosang choking on his own breath.

Yunho looked at him, visibly confused. “Something more important than your tattoo convention?”

Hongjoong’s gaze flicked briefly to Seonghwa. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Yunho said slowly, crossing his arms. “I definitely feel like we’re missing something here.”

Seonghwa groaned quietly, rubbing his forehead. He would have to explain the situation with Hongjoong at some point anyway, so he might as well do it now and safe himself the trouble of having to answer his friends’ questions.

He took a slow breath and glanced toward Hongjoong, who was already watching him with that faint, reassuring smile. “Okay,” he began, turning back to Yunho and Yeosang. “You remember Captain, right?”

Both nodded immediately.

Yeosang raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Kind of hard to forget when you’ve been talking about him for the past two years.”

Seonghwa froze, lips parting. “I have not,” he said quickly.

Yunho gave him a look that said really? and from the corner of his eye, Seonghwa saw Hongjoong’s lip curl into an amused smile, his brow lifted just slightly.

The way he caught his tongue between his teeth didn’t help either.

Seonghwa’s stomach twisted in equal parts embarrassment and love. “Don’t give me that look,” he muttered, glaring at Hongjoong even though there wasn’t any bite in it.

Hongjoong hummed, clearly entertained, before pushing himself away from the counter and crossing the short distance between them.

Seonghwa barely had time to breathe before Hongjoong’s arms slipped around his waist from behind, drawing him back against the familiar warmth of his chest. He felt Hongjoong’s head come to rest on his shoulder, the soft exhale against his neck making his pulse race.

“I can’t help it.” Hongjoong’s voice was full of quiet amusement. His lips brushed the side of Seonghwa’s throat in a quick, lingering kiss that sent heat crawling up his neck.

Seonghwa’s breath caught, and if Yunho and Yeosang hadn’t been staring before, they definitely were now.

The silence that followed was almost comical. Yunho’s eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, and Yeosang’s mouth opened, closed, and then opened again like his brain was buffering.

Seonghwa sighed quietly. “Okay, before anyone says anything—”

“Oh I’m definitely saying something,” Yeosang cut in, voice raised an octave higher than usual. “Because this looks a lot like you guys are dating.”

Seonghwa winced. “Yeah. About that…” He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Hongjoong’s amused eyes before turning back to them.

“Well,” Seonghwa began, exhaling, “Hongjoong is Captain.”

The confession was met with absolute silence, followed by Yeosang’s stunned “You’re fucking kidding.”

Yunho blinked, pointing between them. “Wait—Captain Captain?”

Seonghwa’s face was burning now. “Yeah. That Captain.”

Yeosang blinked again. “Holy shit.”

Behind him, Hongjoong chuckled quietly, chin brushing Seonghwa’s shoulder as he murmured, “That’s one way to make an announcement.”

Seonghwa groaned, elbowing him lightly. “You’re not helping.”

Yunho’s eyes were still wide. “So you’re telling us that the mysterious guy you fell in love with online was literally next door this whole time?”

Yeosang let out a short, incredulous laugh. “This is wild. Like, truly drama level wild.”

Seonghwa bit back a smile, shoulders tense as Hongjoong’s arms tightened slightly around his waist. The warmth at his back was grounding, and for a moment, he let himself melt into the embrace.

“Believe me,” Seonghwa confessed, glancing down, “it wasn’t exactly simple for us.”

Yunho huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I can imagine.” He gestured vaguely toward them. “So what now? You two are… official?”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, but before he could get a single word out, Hongjoong’s voice came from behind him. “We are,” he stated.

The conviction in those two words hit harder than it should have. Seonghwa felt it down to his bones, the way Hongjoong said we, the unshakable certainty in it. Of course, this wasn’t news to him. He knew they were together now. But having him announcing it so proudly, in front of their friends, while his hands tightened just slightly over the chain at his waist, made something flutter deep inside him.

He turned his head slightly, catching another of Hongjoong’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. And god, it was so damn unfair how easily that smile could undo him.

Seonghwa sighed, forcing himself to look away before his brain could spiral any further. “Alright,” he declared, trying for composure. “That’s enough gawking for one lifetime. You two can clock in now and start working before I change my mind about hiring you in the first place.”

Yunho snorted, still looking vaguely shocked, while Yeosang mumbled something under his breath.

Hongjoong only chuckled quietly behind him, clearly amused, but thankfully didn’t add anything that would make Seonghwa combust on the spot.

The rest of Seonghwa's shift passed in a blur. Customers came and went, the faint smell of fresh clinging to Seonghwa’s hands as he worked on arrangements all afternoon. Hongjoong stayed with him in the backroom the whole time, sketchbook open, watching him work with that same quiet fondness that made Seonghwa’s heart stutter.

And through it all, whenever Seonghwa passed close enough, Hongjoong’s fingers would find a reason to brush against him. A hand on his back here, a small touch at his wrist there — as if to remind him silently that he was loved.

By the time the clock neared four, the shop had settled into something quiet. The last bouquet Seonghwa had arranged was already cooling with the others in the cold room, and Hongjoong was helping him gather the stems he had cut out. The air smelled like lavender. A soft, grounding scent that usually helped Seonghwa unwind after long days.

Only this time, he didn’t feel calm at all.

Every minute that ticked closer to the end of his shift stretched something tight inside his chest. The thought of already parting ways with Hongjoong felt wrong in a way Seonghwa couldn’t quite explain even if he tried. They had just found each other and he wasn’t ready for it to end, not yet.

He could have asked Hongjoong to follow him home again, he could have said it outright, but he didn’t want to sound clingy. He didn’t want Hongjoong to think he couldn’t go a few hours without him — even if that was exactly how he felt. So he didn’t say anything.

Hongjoong looked up just as Seonghwa reached for the trash bag, his voice cutting gently through Seonghwa’s spiraling thoughts. “Are you done for the day?”

Seonghwa hummed, nodding softly, even though part of him wanted to find another small task to justify staying. “Yunho and Yeosang are closing,” he said instead.

There was a pause before Hongjoong spoke again, and for a brief moment it felt like he knew what Seonghwa was thinking. “Come home with me, baby.”

Seonghwa’s heart stuttered and for a second, he forgot how to breathe. Hongjoong had asked it like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was, he wasn’t really sure.

He didn’t hesitate though. “Okay,” he answered softly.

Hongjoong smiled, a slow, knowing smile that made Seonghwa’s chest feel too full before he reached for his hand, threading their fingers together.

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and quiet touches. They ordered food, shared lazy conversations and promises over half-finished plates, and somewhere between a teasing remark and a kiss, Seonghwa forgot all about his worries.

It started with Hongjoong brushing his thumb over Seonghwa’s mouth and then the kiss that followed was anything but gentle. Hongjoong kissed him like he’d been starving, deep and hungry, until Seonghwa’s soft, needy sounds melted into the space between them.

By the time they reached the bedroom, Hongjoong’s mouth had already trailed down Seonghwa’s throat, his words low and reverent against his skin when he murmured,“Missed the way you feel, Bunny… I want you to fall apart for me.”

Seonghwa couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped him when Hongjoong’s hands found his waist, when his breath brushed over the chain resting against his stomach. His hips arching, seeking more.

“Always so perfect,” Hongjoong groaned. “Let me hear you, pretty thing.”

And Seonghwa was anything but silent — small, breathy noises that grew louder with every touch, with every slow drag of Hongjoong’s lips across his skin. When they both came, Seonghwa cried out Hongjoong’s name like it was the only word he could say.

They didn’t move apart more than to clean themselves after. Hongjoong’s hand stayed at his waist, tracing the stars of the chain lazily as he whispered sweet nothings until Seonghwa’s eyes grew heavy.

He fell asleep like that, warm and safe, with Hongjoong’s breath brushing against the back of his neck.

Eight months. That’s how long it had been since Hongjoong had shown up at his door after driving all the way back from Daegu. Many things had changed, like Seonghwa and Hongjoong dyeing their hair together — white for Seonghwa and black for Hongjoong — but a lot had stayed the same, like Seonghwa letting himself gravitate without restraint into Hongjoong’s orbit.

Sometimes, Seonghwa still couldn’t believe how easily life had rearranged itself around Hongjoong.

They spent most nights together now, except for the nights Hongjoong worked late at the parlor, which happened way too often to Seonghwa’s dismay. Those nights always felt longer, as if his entire being knew someone was missing. Some evenings, Hongjoong would show up at his apartment with takeout or groceries after work, and kiss him like he’d been gone for weeks instead of hours. Other evenings, it was Seonghwa who would head over to Hongjoong’s right after work.

Their days bled into each other in the softest ways with lazy mornings tangled in bedsheets and half-asleep kisses; Hongjoong holding Seonghwa while he cooked; Seonghwa bringing him coffee at the tattoo parlor. They had built a rhythm together that felt as natural as breathing did.

They argued, too. Often small things that only happened when two people loved each other enough to care. Sometimes bigger things like Hongjoong’s jealousy or Seonghwa inability to let things go. Hongjoong could be annoyingly stubborn and sharp-tongued, and Seonghwa could match him when he wanted to. But their fights always ended quietly, with a hand brushing over a knuckle, a whispered I’m sorry,  almost exclusively followed by Hongjoong’s mouth finding his in the dark. They never stayed angry at each other for long.

And then there were the flowers.

Hongjoong had made it their thing. Once a week (sometimes more when he was feeling sentimental or Seonghwa was feeling off) he would walk into Aurora Blooms, and tell Seonghwa he wanted a bouquet. He never said what kind (no roses though), just named what he wanted it to mean and just watched while Seonghwa chose the stems, trimmed them, wrapped them carefully in silver paper, and handed them over. Hongjoong would smile, slip the bouquet back into Seonghwa’s hands, and give that smile that always made him melt.

Seonghwa would roll his eyes every time, but he never failed to blush. And by now, everyone knew that when Hongjoong walked in, he was there for Seonghwa and Seonghwa only.

There were mornings when Seonghwa woke up to the slow brush of Hongjoong’s hand between his thighs, his lips soft and warm against the back of his neck, voice thick with sleep and want as he whispered, “Let me take care of you, Bunny.”

And he always did because Hongjoong knew Seonghwa’s body like the back of his hand.

He would take his time, pressing kisses down his neck and shoulder, spreading his legs with one firm hand, fingers slow and purposeful, curling just right until Seonghwa was panting into the pillow, already begging. There was never any rush, not when Hongjoong took him high and fucked him in that deep, and rough way. He would talk him through every second, praising him, telling him how good he was, how tight he felt, how perfect he looked like this, so ruined under him.

“So fucking good for me. Let me in, Starlight. Yeah, just like that…”

And Seonghwa would let go, every single time — moaning into the sheets, hips rocking back and overwhelmed by how good it felt. There were days he swore he could still feel Hongjoong’s cock inside him hours later, body marked in purple and red, used in the best way.

Seonghwa was always good for his Captain, well… most of the times.

Sometimes, when Seonghwa got too bold (teasing, or mouthing off just to get a reaction) Hongjoong would only raise a brow, smirk, and wait until they were alone.

And in those instances, Seonghwa wouldn’t speak much at all.

Hongjoong would press him down into the mattress, eyes dark with warning, mouth hot against his skin as he growled, “You wanted attention, baby? Now you’ve got it and you’re gonna take what I give you. And keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.”

And god, Seonghwa just loved him like that.

It never started rough, even when Seonghwa wished it did. It was always slow fingers that didn’t go deep enough, or long minutes of being held open and filled and played with, again and again, until he was panting against the pillow, hips twitching every time Hongjoong brushed his prostate and then pulled away, not letting him come.

“Not yet,” he would whisper, voice purposefully low and harsh to keep Seonghwa in his headspace. “You don’t come until I say. Be a good little slut for me.”

And Seonghwa would try to keep still, try not to whine every time Hongjoong pushed two or sometimes three thick and wet fingers back inside him, agonizingly slow. He would try not to arch when he finally replaced them with the blunt head of his cock and stayed there let it catch at the rim while Seonghwa whimpered and pushed back desperately for more.

But that was the point. That was the punishment.

And when Hongjoong finally fucked him properly, his hips snapping forward hard and fast, hand flat between his shoulder blades to keep him down, telling him to be quiet,  Seonghwa would break almost instantly.

“You don’t get to come yet,” he snarled, cock sliding mercilessly in and out. “You don’t get to do anything until I say. Understand?”

Seonghwa nodded through tears, fingers clutching the sheets, lips bitten raw to keep quiet as he was ruined all over again.

And later, when Hongjoong let him come, with a hand around his throat and the words “Come on, break for me, Bunny” growled into his ear, Seonghwa came so hard he saw stars. He was shaking in Hongjoong’s arms long after, body trembling with the aftershocks, skin marked up with bruises and bites in all the places he couldn’t hide.

And still, he felt safe and loved.

He wore the belly chain every day and Hongjoong never took off the silver star. A quiet reminder that they were both each other’s in each way that mattered.  But it was more than just a reminder.

Hongjoong touched the chain constantly, like he couldn’t help it. Sometimes in passing, when Seonghwa was cooking or folding laundry, fingers slipping beneath Seonghwa’s shirt just to brush against it. Other times his palm would press flat against Seonghwa’s stomach, thumb tracing the small stars while his other hand curled around his waist to hold him still.

During sex, it became something else entirely. Hongjoong would mouth along it, bite gently, hook his finger under it and tug until Seonghwa gasped. He would fuck him in front of a mirror with one hand gripping the belly chain and the other spreading him open, muttering things like “Look how fucking pretty you are in this. My perfect Starlight.”

But even outside of bed, when there was only love in his eyes, he still needed to touch it, to feel it.

And Seonghwa would let him.

Hongjoong spared no expenses when it came to him, just like he had promised him that time when they still were Captain and Starlight.

Seonghwa had never dated someone who could flash a black card without blinking, someone who casually reserved private terraces for dinner just because Seonghwa once said he liked the view, someone who would book concert tickets or art exhibits before Seonghwa even knew they existed. It still felt weird having someone spend so much money on him, but he had long stopped trying to refuse Hongjoong.

It never felt like Hongjoong was trying to impress him. He knew he just did things because he could, and because Seonghwa had smiled at something, and because it made Hongjoong’s eyes glint in that particular way when he saw Seonghwa opening the Millennium Falcon he had bought for their one hundredth day together.

And somehow, in between the lavish dinners and late-night takeout, they still went on small, domestic dates that made Seonghwa’s chest ache: things like hand-in-hand grocery shopping, sitting on the floor building LEGOs (Seonghwa built and Hongjoong complained), or sharing tteokboki by the Han river.

Big or small, it never mattered thought. What mattered was that Hongjoong always looked at him like he hung every single star in the night sky. And each time it made Seonghwa fall in love all over again.

The gifts never stopped, expensive or not.

Sometimes it was a black slick box left on the kitchen counter with a folded note: Wear this for me tonight, Bunny. Inside, delicate silk the color of moonlight, stitched with pearls. When Seonghwa had sent him a message to thank him, Hongjoong’s answer made him flush.

I want to fuck you in silk.

He wore it that night, just like Hongjoong had asked. The silk draped his frame, sheer and delicate. He was already trembling by the time Hongjoong pushed him back against the pillows, eyes blown wide and breath ragged.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he whispered, like he was seeing him for the first time. “You're so pretty. You make me insane…”

He didn’t take it off. No — he fucked him in it just like he said he would. He went slow at first, one hand gripping Seonghwa’s thigh to keep him open while the other slid between his legs and toyed with the pearl nestled against his hole.

Seonghwa moaned, back arching when Hongjoong’s cock pushed in, hot, thick and filling him all the way while he gasped into the sheets, overstimulated from the relentless thrusts and the filth of it all.

The silk was soaked by the time Hongjoong came, buried deep inside him with praise and his name slipping from his lips like a gospel.

There were getaways too, spontaneous weekends where Seonghwa would wake up to a message on his phone that read: We’re going away. Don’t pack anything. I’ve already taken care of it. And he had. The car, the hotel, Seonghwa’s replacement at the shop, the softest robe he had ever worn, and Hongjoong’s hand on his thigh the entire ride there.

He had never felt so wanted and so utterly and thoroughly spoiled.

The carnation had come later, one night at the parlor when Seonghwa had stayed waiting for Hongjoong to finish tidying the shop.

Seonghwa had been curled up on the worn couch, watching him clean his station, something warm and aching unfurling in his chest as he traced the lines of Hongjoong’s back with his eyes.

And then, quietly, “Can you give me one?”

Hongjoong had looked over his shoulder, brows rising. “A tattoo?”

Seonghwa nodded. “I want… I want my first to be from you.”

The expression that crossed  Hongjoong’s face made Seonghwa’s heart stutter in his chest.

“Are you sure?” he questioned, setting down his tools. His voice was gentler now. “That’s a big commitment, baby.”

“I’m sure,” Seonghwa affirmed, sitting up straighter. “Please… I want you to choose it.”

Hongjoong didn’t answer right away. He went still, his hands halfway to putting his tools away, eyes locked on Seonghwa’s, probably trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

He hadn’t expected that look, like he had just offered him something more precious than just his skin.

The small red carnation now bloomed on Seonghwa’s left hip, delicate and vibrant copy of Hongjoong’s. He had said it was only fitting that Seonghwa’s first tattoo should be a flower. The process had been slow, and deeply intimate. Hongjoong’s free hand had rested high on his thigh the entire time, his voice low in that reverent tone as he murmured praise. You’re doing so well… so perfect for me. When it was done, he had kissed Seonghwa softly and slowly everywhere the machine hadn’t touched.

Now, months later, Seonghwa still caught himself brushing his fingers over the healed flower whenever he undressed and Hongjoong touched it almost as possessively as he did the chain.

San had moved out from Hongjoong’s place around that time, trading his fancy room in the big apartment for a smaller one with Wooyoung.  Seonghwa had helped them unpack over an entire weekend, surrounded by  new half-built IKEA furniture and Wooyoung’s incessant commentary. He still used the room at Hongjoong’s to store whatever he hadn’t been able to bring, the room was locked and Seonghwa never pried. Watching San and Wooyoung together had made his heart ache in the best way, seeing what it looked like when people fit.

He and Hongjoong fit too, he thought. In all their ways.

It was early afternoon now, the hum of tattoo machines filling Pirate King Ink. Seonghwa sat beside San at his worktable, fingers curled lightly around the edge of the stool while Wooyoung lounged just behind him, scrolling through his phone with his feet up on a second chair.

San’s brows furrowed as he leaned over his iPad, looking over the design one last time. “So you’re a hundred percent sure this is what you want?” he asked, probably just to make sure.

Seonghwa nodded, lips curving faintly as his eyes rested once more over the sketch Hongjoong had unknowingly provided. “Positive.”

He had told Hongjoong weeks ago that he was considering getting the belly chain tattooed one day (not a lie). He had joked about getting tired of taking it off before showers (definitely a lie), how maybe he should just have it permanently inked instead.

Hongjoong had smirked and kissed his cheek, voice warm in his ear. “You’d look so fucking pretty with it tattooed on you, Bunny.” And that had made Seonghwa’s heart race in the best way.

When he started sketching the delicate jewelry, he hadn’t known then that Seonghwa had already been thinking about it for months, and with the response Hongjoong had given him that day, he thought his boyfriend would be happy to be the one tattooing it.

But when Seonghwa had asked Hongjoong if he would ink it on him, the other man had refused, saying that it was a big commitment and that Seonghwa might regret it later. Seonghwa had tried to argue, to tell him that he really wanted him to do it. But this was one of the few arguments he hadn’t managed to win, and Hongjoong hadn’t budged.

And now he was out of town for a full week guesting at a studio in Busan, which meant if Seonghwa wanted to pull this off, this was his only window.

The real chain was neatly tucked away in the pocket of his bag along with a polaroid he had asked Wooyoung to take — the chain resting on his naked waist for the last time. He had signed it Bunny, with a little heart doodled next to it.

Still, he kept reaching for it, forgetting it wasn’t there anymore. It was strange how naked he felt without it. It was like an important part of him had been stripped away. He didn’t know if it was because it had become his favorite thing to wear, or because Hongjoong touched it so often that the small weight around his waist had started to feel like his hand.

His fingers would slip under the hem of his shirt just to brush the chain, he would thumb the clasp lazily while they cuddled together on the couch, or mouth along it during sex, teeth grazing his skin, voice rough as he growled, “Mine.”

That was the real problem now.

Because once the tattoo was done, he was going to have to come up with a way to keep Hongjoong from touching his waist until it healed. And that alone felt like an impossible task.

“You’re sure you don’t want to get a small heart on your ankle or something?” Wooyoung teased lazily, glancing up from his phone.

Seonghwa groaned. “Don’t start again.”

“I still can’t believe you convinced me to do that,” San sighed, shaking his head slowly.

“I can already imagine the amount of chaos this is going to bring,” Wooyoung added, unhelpful as ever.

And as much as Seonghwa didn’t want to admit it, Wooyoung wasn’t wrong.

Hongjoong was scheduled to come home at the end of the week, which gave him six full days of healing, and six full days to figure out how to keep him distracted. He could fake being tired the first night, maybe. Or wear something looser to bed, pretend he didn’t want to be touched.

But Hongjoong knew his body like the back of his hand. He would suspect something was amiss the second Seonghwa would keep him from reaching for his waist.

His stomach twisted in apprehension — though he couldn’t tell if it was from doing something he didn’t know if Hongjoong would approve of, or if it was from knowing exactly how possessive Hongjoong could get when it came to Seonghwa. He could already hear the tone he would use when he found out. “You let someone else put their hands there?”

He half hoped that the fact Hongjoong had given Seonghwa his first tattoo two months ago and that the design was Hongjoong’s would help soften his the possessive side. But he wasn’t too optimistic on that.

Still, Seonghwa knew it had to be this way. Because this time, it was a gift. Something he wanted to give Hongjoong because despite what Hongjoong had told him, Seonghwa knew he wouldn’t regret it. He wanted to be his forever and this was his way to prove that commitment

“You’re not helping.” Seonghwa shot a glare to his best friend who was blissfully unaware.

“Relax, Hwa. He is going to love it,” Wooyoung assured him, eyes still glued to his screen like none of this was actually his problem.

“What are you even doing? I thought you were supposed to be here for moral support.”

Wooyoung finally looked up with a shit-eating grin that immediately made Seonghwa regret asking.

“Just browsing,” he said innocently, “Thought I’d look for a nice three-piece suit to wear to Sannie’s funeral. You know, when Hongjoong finds out he is the one who touched you.”

He was about to ask why Wooyoung was even looking at suits, because he was sure (almost) that it hadn’t anything to do with San’s funeral, when San came back with the stencil.

“Can we please not manifest my death? I’d like to make it through at least one more month,” he declared, gesturing for Seonghwa to take his shirt off.

“I’m going to be the one killing you if you don’t shut up,” Seonghwa mumbled to Wooyoung, though there wasn’t any bite behind the words.

“You love me,” Wooyoung sang, eyes already back on his phone.

“Not right now I don’t.”

San laughed quietly, shaking his head before checking the machine on his tray. “Alright, let’s get started before I change my mind.”

It didn’t hit him until he was lying down on the tattoo chair, shirt folded over the back of the chair, waistband lowered just above the carnation on his hip, just how much more exposed this felt.

His first tattoo had been nothing like this. It was tucked safely out of sight, in a place that only Hongjoong touched, that only Hongjoong saw. And Hongjoong had been there the whole time with one hand on his thigh, murmuring soft things while he was the one marking him.

He hadn’t realized how much those sweet nothings and Hongjoong’s presence had been soothing until San turned on the machine and a small shiver ran down his spine. Until he realized that this time there would be no one here to tell him how good he was. No hand to hold, or no warm eyes to meet his when the pain got a little too much.

Just Wooyoung, sitting in the chair besides him, supportive in the only way he knew how — by making sure he didn’t pass out, and by not saying anything that might make it worse.

“Ready?” San asked, gloves already on, needle prepped, and stencil settled on his skin.

Seonghwa nodded, settling his arms at his sides. His fingers curled into the edges of the table.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

The machine started with a soft buzz, and then came the first drag right along where the real chain used to rest.

Seonghwa’s breath hitched, and his body tensed slightly. It wasn’t unbearable but it was sharp in a way that made his whole body go still. Every muscle tight, spine rigid. He forced himself to breathe through it, counting in his head, blinking slowly as San moved along the line.

This was for him, he told himself, chest tight. To show him Hongjoong was his forever and the pain would be worth it.

Still, by the time they reached his spine, he felt sweat dripping on his forehead, white strands of hair clinging there as he clenched his jaw to keep from whimpering.

“Almost done, Hwa” San said softly, wiping the area clean. “Just a little bit more.”

Seonghwa nodded, not trusting his voice.

He had asked for this. He wanted this, he really did. But god, it hurt more than he expected. Not just physically, but the ache of doing it without him there. Wooyoung had tried to soothe him when the pain had become too sharp, but his words did nothing to ease him. So he just kept telling himself that it was his gift to Hongjoong, and repeated it over and over like a mantra until the buzz of the tattoo machine finally stopped for good.

When it was finally over, San put the machine down on his tray, and peeled off his gloves, stepping aside to give him space. The silence that followed was almost disorienting after the constant buzz that had filled the room for so long.

Seonghwa pushed himself up slowly from where he had been sitting for the past hour, body still trembling from the strain, and crossed to the mirror. For a moment he just stared at the faint redness, the swelling, and the thin lines that curved around his waist.

It was perfect.

It looked delicate, every star placed exactly where the real ones used to rest on his skin. And now Hongjoong’s design was etched into him forever.

He could already picture Hongjoong’s face when he saw it. He could see the surprise, the disbelief, and then that dark and hungry look he always gave him when he wanted to ruin him. At least that was the reaction he was hoping for.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung exclaimed from somewhere behind him. “Okay, wow. That’s actually gorgeous.”

Seonghwa looked up at him through the mirror, cheeks flushed pink. “You think so?”

“Think so?” Wooyoung scoffed, stepping closer to take a better look. “Hwa, he’s going to lose it. Like—speechless, can’t function, fuck-you-on-the-spot kind of lose it.”

Seonghwa groaned, half laughing. “Don’t put that image in my head right now.”

San stepped closer, glancing over the fresh tattoo before reaching for the wrap. “It looks really good,” he complimented. “ I think he’ll love it, even if he’s gonna hate me for it. Let’s cover it up.”

Seonghwa walked back to the chair and sat, letting San work his magic. The cool touch of the ointment made Seonghwa hiss softly. San worked carefully, smoothing the plastic around his waist. “Keep it clean, change the film after a few hours, no tight clothes for at least two days,” he reminded him.

Seonghwa almost smiled. “I know. You’re talking to someone who’s dating a tattoo artist, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” San said, making sure the wrapping stuck to the skin like it was supposed to. “He’s not here to nag you, so I guess it’s my job.”

When San stepped back, Seonghwa rose from the chair and reached for his t-shirt. The fabric brushed lightly over the fresh wrap, and he winced before adjusting it carefully. Then he pulled his bag closer and slipped a hand inside, finding the small polaroid he’d brought along, the one of his bare waist with the chain glinting softly against his skin for the last time

He turned it over between his fingers, thumb brushing the little heart he’d drawn next to Bunny, before crossing the room to Hongjoong’s station. Seonghwa pinned the photo to the wall above the clutter of sketches, right in the middle of Hongjoong’s latest drawings, where he would see it first thing when he came home. The small rectangle of white stood out like a secret gift among the dark pencil drawings.

He stepped back, took out his phone, and snapped a picture of Hongjoong’s workspace with his own little offering pinned inside it.

Seonghwa

[image attachment]

Left you a little something when I went to say hi to the boys.

Joongie

Fuck…

I kinda wanna come back right now…

Seonghwa

You still have six days left in Busan!

Joongie

Can you take a closer picture of the polaroid…? :)

Seonghwa

I already sent you a picture this morning…

You’ll have to wait to be back to see that one.

Joongie

send me another one tomorrow?

Seonghwa smiled, a twinge of guilt rising amongst all the excitement. He still sent a picture of his waist to Hongjoong on the mornings they weren’t together — which would be hard to do now that he had a tattoo and no chain anymore. But he had thought about that and yesterday evening, he had taken enough picture of his waist with different clothes on to cover the six remaining days until Hongjoong came back.

Seonghwa

Don’t worry, I will <3

Joongie

I already miss you, baby

Seonghwa

I really miss you too…

Call me tonight?

Joongie

You know I will my Starlight.

I love you

Seonghwa

I love you too, Joongie <3

That night, at 9:45PM, Hongjoong called, like he always did when he was away.

Seonghwa could sleep without him now, but Hongjoong never let a night pass without at least checking in. He knew how hard it was for Seonghwa when the apartment was quiet, when the other side of the bed stayed cool and empty. It was bearable on the nights Hongjoong worked late, because no matter how late he stayed at Pirate King Ink, he always came back to him. But it was harder when he didn’t come back at all.

So he called, every time he was out of town, without fail — a small ritual they both needed, one that was born from the silent calls from those nights when Seonghwa had needed space.

And just like then, Seonghwa drifted off to sleep with the warm sound of Hongjoong’s voice spilling softly from the speaker.

The next six days went slowly. Agonizingly slow, even.

Hongjoong was still in Busan, buried in guest appointments. Seonghwa had learned just how sought after his boyfriend was, it was almost impossible to book him without planning months in advance. Whenever he guest-spotted anywhere, people would drive three or four hours just to have one of his designs inked on them.

Seonghwa couldn’t help but feel proud. He knew how hard Hongjoong worked for this, how much of himself he poured into every single thing he did.

He still called every night though, always at 9:45PM, voice heavy from exhaustion. Sometimes he stayed on the line until Seonghwa feel asleep; other times he only managed to stay on the phone long enough to say that he loved him and missed him. On those nights, he never slept well, tossing and turning until the his eyes couldn’t do stay open anymore.

And every morning, before Seonghwa left for work, he sent him a picture — one for each day he was gone. He would carefully pick one from his camera roll, taken days before the tattoo, showing his waist and the small stars on the chain catching the light. Hongjoong would never guess it wasn’t there anymore.

Hongjoong never failed to respond, and he didn’t say it outright, but Seonghwa could tell from his replies that he was counting the days until he could touch him again. They didn’t have much time to text during the day because of Hongjoong’s hectic schedule, but sometimes he would get pictures of him, or of tattoo sketches scattered over whatever flat surface he was using to draw at the moment.

Seonghwa smiled at every message, even as guilt tugged lightly at his chest. He didn’t like tricking Hongjoong like that. And he knew he shot himself in the foot, he could have just told him the truth, but Seonghwa didn’t think it was something you should announce to your very possessive boyfriend over the phone.

In the meantime, he took care of the tattoo exactly the way Hongjoong had taught him after the first one. He washed it gently and put fresh ointment every so often. He was careful with what he wore, avoiding any clothes that might rub against the tender skin, and that meant dressing in loose top and make sure that the waistband of his pants was low enough.

By the fourth day, the redness had mostly faded, and the fine black lines had begun to settle beautifully on his skin. He would catch glimpses of it in the mirror sometimes, just before stepping into the shower, and it always made his heart race.

Every time he ran his hand over the band of healing skin, he thought of how Hongjoong would touch it. How his fingers would trace the stars he had himself drawn, how his voice would drop to that reverent tone he always used when he looked at Seonghwa like he was something to be worshipped. At least once he got over the fact that someone else had tattooed it on him, and touched his waist. Even if it was San.

By the sixth night, Seonghwa realized that the thought of that first touch made him more nervous than the pain of getting a tattoo ever had. The skin was still tender, but according to San, it was healing beautifully. He traced it very lightly with the tips of his fingers before answering Hongjoong’s call.

“Hey, Starlight” came the familiar voice, slightly muffled by traffic noise. “On my way out of Busan now.”

Seonghwa’s pulse quickened. “You are?”

“Mhm. I’ll probably get in late tonight, but I’ll still come by.”

He froze. He didn’t feel ready for it at all, because what if Hongjoong didn’t like it? “You don’t have to,” he said quickly, forcing a soft laugh as good as he could. “You’ll be tired. Just go home and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ve been gone a week,” Hongjoong said, an incredulous smile audible in his voice.  “You really want me to wait another night?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa lied.  “You sound exhausted,” Seonghwa countered softly. “And I have an early morning too, I’m opening. You’ll get here at what—eleven? midnight? Just sleep at your place and I’ll come tomorrow.”

There was a quiet laugh on the line, the kind that always made Seonghwa’s chest tighten. “You’re being weird,” Hongjoong said. “Usually you’re the one begging me to come over.”

“I don't beg,” Seonghwa muttered, pressing a hand over his stomach without thinking. The skin there still felt hot under his fingertips.

Hongjoong’s voice dropped, lazy and fond. “I just missed you.”

For a second, Seonghwa almost gave in. He could picture him so clearly: one hand on the steering wheel, hair a bit tousled, smiling into the phone. He wanted to tell him everything, to let him come home and touch him, to see the surprise on his face. But the tattoo still burned faintly, and the thought of Hongjoong not liking it made him wince.

“I miss you too, Joong. But, you will see me tomorrow,” he said finally, trying to sound light.

“Uh-huh.” Hongjoong’s tone was amused now, skeptical in that quiet way that meant he had decided to let it go for the moment. “Fine. But you’re coming straight up to my place when your shift is done.”

“Alright, I will come over as soon as I’m done.”

Hongjoong hummed. “You should go to bed, Bunny.”

“Will you be alright alone on the road so late?” Seonghwa asked, concern palpable in the way he spoke.

“Don’t worry, I took a nap earlier, so I won’t fall asleep driving,” Hongjoong assured softly.

“Drive safely! I love you.”

“I love you too, pretty thing.”

The line went silent. Seonghwa set the phone down on the nightstand and let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He pulled his shirt up just enough to check the dark ink on the healing skin. It was truly beautiful, he just hoped Hongjoong would like it just as much as he did.

The morning came quickly and sunlight filtered through the thin curtains as Seonghwa stirred awake. He lay still for a few minutes, listening to the quiet hum of the city outside.

He turned on his side, hissing softly when the fabric rubbed onto the still sensitive skin of his waist. The tattoo didn’t really hurt anymore, the ache had been replaced by a dull sting every time he moved too fast; like a small reminder that it was still there.

Seonghwa reached for his phone and looked at the glowing screen. No missed call. Just a message from Hongjoong sent at 11:13PM last night.

Joongie

I’m home safe

See you tomorrow, Bunny.

The words made his chest tighten, a mixture of warmth and anticipation tangling until he couldn’t tell them apart. He had missed Hongjoong so much. That week had been their longest time apart since they had started dating, and the longing had almost been unbearable. He couldn’t wait to see him — to feel his arms again, to taste his lips, and to drown in him until he couldn’t tell where he ended and where Hongjoong began.

But a small part of him was still apprehensive about the tattoo. Logically, he knew Hongjoong wouldn’t hate it, but there was that little voice in his head that wouldn’t shut up. The one that kept whispering that Hongjoong hadn’t wanted to tattoo the chain on him because he hadn’t been sure they would last.

It was ridiculous, really. Anyone who saw the way Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa knew he would never let anyone else have him.

Hongjoong wasn’t possessive in ways that made scenes or demanded attention. His possessiveness lived in the small things, the quiet gestured that said mine without ever needing say it.

It was in the way his hand always found Seonghwa’s waist when they were out, fingers pressing against the chain over the fabric. The way his thumb brushed the place where the small carnation tattoo was on his hip whenever someone’s eyes lingered a little too long. The way his voice dropped when he called him Bunny, or baby in public as a reminder that it was him who got to say it.

And when they were alone, it showed in other ways. In how Hongjoong liked to touch the chain beneath his clothes. In the soft possessive sounds he made against his skin, murmuring things that made him shiver, and in the bruises he left in places no one but Hongjoong could ever dream of touching.

The moments made Seonghwa feel wanted in a way that went deeper than lust, something that was akin to devotion. So he knew. He knew Hongjoong loved him, yet, the voice kept on whispering, quiet and persistent, as he got ready, on his way to Aurora Blooms and through the motions of opening the shop.

By midday, the voice had quieted. The shop was busy enough to keep his mind occupied and there was always a bouquet to arrange, a delivery to prepare, or a customer to guide through choosing flowers. It helped, having his hands full.

And each time his thoughts began to spiral again, Wooyoung was there, loud and impossible to ignore, keeping him steady and tethered to the moment.

By the time the clock brought him closer to the end of his shift, Seonghwa’s nerves were fraying again. He had redone the same bouquet twice, changed the water in the display vases, and still couldn’t stop glancing at the time every few minutes.

“Breathe,” Wooyoung said from beside him, hip bumping his gently.

Seonghwa sighed, not looking up from the flowers he was arranging. Again. “I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Yeosang called out without even glancing up from the register, his tone dry as ever.

Yunho chuckled from where he was sweeping near the back. “He’s been pacing since lunch. It’s kind of impressive, actually.”

Wooyoung grinned. “He’s nervous.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “Am not.”

“You are,” Wooyoung countered, laughing softly. “You’ve been anxious all week, Hwa. And don’t even try to deny it.”

“I just—” Seonghwa hesitated, hands stilling on the marigolds. “What if he doesn’t like it? What if it’s too much? What if the reason he didn’t want to tattoo it on me was because he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life with me and—”

“Hey.” Wooyoung’s voice cut through his rambling before it could gather momentum. “Stop. You’re spiraling again.”

Seonghwa blinked, breath coming out a little to fast. “I’m not—”

Wooyoung gave him a look that made Seonghwa cut himself off immediately.

“Yeah, okay.” Seonghwa sighed, shoulders sagging. “I am…”

“You know Hongjoong loves you more than anything in this world,” Wooyoung assured him softly. “You’re it for him, Hwa. You have no idea how much.”

A small frown formed on Seonghwa’s forehead, and for a second, it felt like Wooyoung knew something he didn’t.

But before he could dwell of the though, Yeosang added from behind the counter, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. “The only thing he might be upset about is knowing that someone else got to touch your waist. We all know how he feels about that.”

Both Yunho and Wooyoung nodded immediately at the statement, like it was common knowledge — which, honestly, it probably was. They had all seen the way Hongjoong made sure everyone knew not to touch Seonghwa there, especially when they were out clubbing.

The memory made warmth creep up Seonghwa’s neck. He could still feel the way Hongjoong’s hand would settle at his waist when someone got too close, fingers firm and pressing in just hard enough over the chain to make a point. The way he would lean in, voice low and rough against his ear, murmuring something that only Seonghwa could hear.

His stomach fluttered at the thought, nerves and fondness twisting there. And in this moment, Seonghwa wasn’t sure what he was anticipating more: the moment Hongjoong’s hand would find that spot again, or what his reaction would be when he realized the chain was missing.

The bell over the door chimed again, and Seonghwa looked up as a regular came in to pick up a pre-order. He greeted them with a polite smile, trying to pull himself back into the rhythm of work for the last half hour he had before his shift ended.

The air outside was warm, golden with late afternoon light spilling across the street when his shift was finally over. Pirate King Ink sat just next door, its windows still blacked out now to keep people from peeping inside. Beside it, half-hidden between the buildings, was the narrow side door that led up to Hongjoong’s apartment.

Seonghwa slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The stairwell smelled faintly of old paint, that same familiar and grounding air he had grown accustomed to during those past eight months. The hum of the street outside dulled to a murmur as he started walking up the steps, hand brushing along the railing to steady himself. His heart was beating too fast, each step bouncing off the walls of the narrow space.

At the top of the stairs, the short hallway stretched ahead, quiet except for the faint hum of Hongjoong’s music bleeding softly through the door. The silver key was already warm in his palm as he approached.

He paused just before the door, exhaling slowly. He’d been here a hundred times, but tonight, everything felt different and his skin tingled where the tattoo sat hidden, healed but still sensitive, a secret waiting to be revealed.

He could do this. He wanted this.

Drawing a slow breath, Seonghwa fit the key into the lock and turned it, stepping quietly inside.

The apartment was dim, lit only by the amber spill of sunset through the windows. It smelled like him. Like coffee, and faintly of cigarette. The sound of soft music drifted from somewhere deeper inside, probably from Hongjoong’s bedroom.

His bag slipped off his shoulder as he carefully took his shoes off by the door. Every part of the space was familiar: the two leather couches, the half-finished sketch on the glass table, the mug left by the windowsill. It felt like home, because Hongjoong was there.

He took a slow step forward, heart clenching in his chest at the quiet. For a second, he thought maybe Hongjoong had fallen asleep,  until he heard movement from down the hall.

A door opened, and then Hongjoong was there.

He looked beautiful in the kind of way that made Seonghwa’s pulse stutter; black hair still damp from a shower, falling over his forehead; a loose white t-shirt with a low neckline; eyes dark and tired but softening the instant they locked onto him.

“Hey, Bunny.”

The sound of his voice was like a breath after surfacing out of the cold water.

Seonghwa barely managed a step forward before Hongjoong reached him, crossing the living room in a few quick strides, one hand finding the back of Seonghwa’s neck, the other his hip like he couldn’t stand another second of distance.

The exhale that left Seonghwa was shaky, something between a sigh and a whimper. “Hi,” he whispered, fingers curling into Hongjoong’s shirt.

Hongjoong breathed him in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before catching his lips properly in a deep and desperate kiss, all teeth, tongue, and the ache of a week apart. Seonghwa melted against him instantly, hands sliding up his chest, the world narrowing to the press of Hongjoong’s lips and their heartbeats.

But then Hongjoong’s hand moved higher, settling at his waist and Seonghwa flinched, just barely, but enough that he knew the other man would notice.

And he did.

He felt Hongjoong freeze, before pulling back only a fraction, breath ragged against Seonghwa’s lips. “Hey, baby,” he murmured, searching his face, eyes filled with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Seonghwa said too quickly.

Hongjoong’s brow furrowed. He started to move his hand again, slowly this time, and Seonghwa winced once more, the soft sound catching between them.

Hongjoong went still. Seonghwa could feel the slight shift in the air, the way his touch changed from gentle to something more deliberate as his hand pressed a little firmer against his waist, searching for something Seonghwa knew he wouldn’t find.

And then he stopped. The warmth of Hongjoong’s palm was still there, but he could feel the exact moment Hongjoong realized what was missing. When he realized that the chain wasn’t there.

The silence stretched, thick enough to make both of them choke on it.

When Hongjoong finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “Where is it, Bunny?”

“I—” Seonghwa began, but the words stayed stuck in his throat.

Before he could get anything else out, Hongjoong’s hand fisted in the hem of his shirt and yanked it upward, the fabric dragging roughly against his skin, making him hiss.

“Joong—”

The rest of his protest died when the cool air hit the still-healing tattoo.

For a second, there was no sound, and no movement — just Hongjoong staring, eyes dark and unreadable as they traced the ink along his waist where the chain used to rest. His chain.

“Fuck,” he breathed roughly enough to make Seonghwa flinch. “You—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair, eyes glinting with something dark.

“Hongjoong—” Seonghwa tried again, but his throat felt tight. “It’s—”

“You got it fucking tattooed?” The words cracked, caught somewhere between disbelief and restraint, and Seonghwa’s stomach twisted, taking the edge in his voice for anger.

“I just wanted—”

“Shit.” Hongjoong’s jaw clenched hard, his chest rising and falling like he’d just been punched. “You can’t just—” He stopped, swallowing hard, hands flexing at his sides.

Seonghwa’s breath stuttered and his stomach dropped. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d—”

The rest never made it out as Hongjoong’s hand shot up, catching the back of his neck and dragging him forward until their mouths crashed together. The impact stole the air from Seonghwa’s lungs and the kiss was rough, desperate.

For a heartbeat, Seonghwa froze, brain still catching up to what was happening. He had thought Hongjoong was angry at him, and had braced himself for it — but this wasn’t anger. This was something else entirely, something he wasn’t sure he could even name.

Hongjoong’s teeth grazed his bottom lip, breath shuddering against his mouth. His hand tightened at Seonghwa’s waist, right above the fresh ink, the pressure making Seonghwa gasp into the kiss.

It was messy, hungry, and when Hongjoong finally tore himself away, Seonghwa’s head was spinning. He was breathless, lips swollen, and hands still tangled in Hongjoong’s shirt as he tried to catch his breath.

Hongjoong’s forehead rested against his, both of them breathing hard. When he spoke, his voice came out low and frayed at the edges.

“You have no idea what it takes me not to fuck you against that wall.”

The words hit Seonghwa like a shockwave, stealing what little air he had left in his lungs. His chest rose and fell too fast, his skin prickling where Hongjoong’s hand still hovered near his waist.

He swallowed hard. “You’re… you’re not mad?” he asked, the question breaking the quiet uncertainty between them.

For a moment, Hongjoong didn’t answer, lips still parted, and breath brushing against Seonghwa’s mouth. Then he huffed out a dark kind of chuckle that sent a shiver down Seonghwa’s spine.

“Oh, I’m mad,” he said finally, voice rough and dangerous in its calm. His thumb brushed lightly against Seonghwa’s side, right above the tattoo. “But not about the tattoo, pretty thing.”

Seonghwa’s pulse jumped at the look in Hongjoong’s eyes — the one that told him why he was mad without even needing words.

Before Seonghwa could speak, Hongjoong leaned in, his mouth finding the curve of his neck. The first touch of his lips was almost soft, but the heat behind it wasn’t; it carried a question, and a warning. Each slow drag of his mouth made Seonghwa tremble, made it hard to breathe and focus.

When Hongjoong spoke again, it was against his skin, the words muffled but clear. “Who touched you?”

Seonghwa’s lips parted, but nothing but a breath, a whimper came out, chased by the sharp pleasure that bloomed where Hongjoong’s mouth was. He couldn’t think, not with the way Hongjoong’s tongue flicked out to trace the edge of his pulse.

But the silence didn’t go unnoticed, and without warning, Hongjoong’s teeth sank into the skin of his neck, hard enough to make Seonghwa gasp. The sting blurred into the heat, and then Hongjoong was dragging his tongue over the mark he had made, the cool metal grazing against it.

“I asked you something, Bunny,” he murmured darkly.

Seonghwa hesitated again because he just couldn’t answer. Because everything was spinning, and because the heat curling through him made it impossible to form words.

That hesitation cost him. And in the next breath, Seonghwa was pinned, his back hitting the wall with a thud that knocked the air from his lungs. Hongjoong’s hand gripped his hip firmly, holding him in place, while his mouth found his throat again, rougher, and hungrier.

Seonghwa tilted his head to the side, breath catching as he bared his neck to him in surrender. Hongjoong didn’t waste it. He sank his teeth in harder this time, just above the collarbone, and Seonghwa let out a soft cry, thighs trembling.

“I won’t ask again,” Hongjoong growled against his skin, voice low and unsteady with want. “Who. Touched. You.”

Seonghwa whimpered again, eyes fluttering shut, his hands curling in the fabric of Hongjoong’s shirt not knowing what to hold onto. He felt unable to speak, the haze already pulling him under and narrowing the world to Hongjoong and the way he was claiming him.

The other man hummed against him, the sound rumbling like thunder through Seonghwa’s body, tongue dragging over the mark he had just made.

“It’s okay, baby,” Hongjoong murmured against his skin, voice laced with a blend of cruel sort of fondness and something far more dangerous. “If you don’t answer me… I’ll just have to fuck the truth out of you.”

His hand slid lower, slipping beneath the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt, fingers skimming dangerously close to the edge of the fresh ink; still, he didn’t touch it, just hovered enough to make Seonghwa squirm.

“Joong—” Seonghwa whispered, breath ragged.

“Shh,” Hongjoong said, nipping again at his throat, slower this time, deliberate. “You’ll talk when I say, and until then…” his voice dropped, dark with command, “you keep that pretty mouth shut.”

Hongjoong didn’t wait. His hands caught the hem of Seonghwa shirt and he felt the fabric hauling along his torso until it was yanked off completely. Then, Hongjoong’s fingers skimmed right over the inked skin, and Seonghwa sucked in a breath, already trembling.

And then Hongjoong touched it. It wasn’t rough, just a slow drag of his fingertips across the edge of the tattoo, light enough to make Seonghwa jolt and gasp.

“It’s still sore,” Hongjoong said darkly, eyes locked on his. “I can feel it. Your skin’s hot from it.” His palm spread flat again, pressing lightly over the healing ink. “You let someone else touch you here, Starlight.”

“I wanted to—” Seonghwa tried, but Hongjoong didn’t let him finish, teeth biting into the tender skin of his neck, probably to shut him up, he guessed.

“I don’t remember telling you could talk, Bunny,” Hongjoong snapped, but there wasn’t any real bite in it. But the way he said it made Seonghwa’s breath stutter. Hongjoong didn’t usually talk to him like that, but every time it did, it would make heat pool really low in his stomach.

“I should’ve been the one to do it,” he uttered, voice low, and thumb stroking just beside the edge of the tattoo.

Seonghwa whimpered at the touch, and at the heat curling through him. He wanted defend himself, to tell Hongjoong that it was his fault, that he wouldn’t had gone to San in the first place if he had just said yes when he had asked. But the haze dissolved both the words and his resolve. “You said no,” he whispered, words barely audible.

And he knew that was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth.

Hongjoong’s body suddenly pressed tightly against Seonghwa’s, trapping him with nowhere to go as his mouth smashed against his once more.

It wasn’t a kiss meant to be pretty. It was messy, Hongjoong forcing his tongue past his lips, licking hungrily into his mouth and swallowing the small broken sounds Seonghwa let out against him. It was dizzying, the haze rending him completely helpless in a way that felt almost blissful.

“What did I say about that fucking mouth, Bunny?” Hongjoong growled between kisses, voice soft but biting. His teeth caught Seonghwa’s lower lip, sucking it before biting down again.

He pressed his mouth against Seonghwa’s lips again.

Seonghwa gasped, moaning into the mess of tongue and heat, fingers clutching at Hongjoong’s shoulders just to keep himself from collapsing as Hongjoong ground his hips forward. He could feel Hongjoong’s cock straining in his pant as he pressed him harder into the wall.

“I think I need to remind you what happens when you don’t follow the rules, don’t you think, my pretty Starlight?” Hongjoong’s voice was deceptively soft, and Seonghwa knew it had nothing to do with kindness and everything to do with control, with stripping Seonghwa’s away from him.

And Seonghwa usually let him, because the dazed sensation fogging his brain made him compliant and obedient. But just now, it made Seonghwa want to test Hongjoong’s limits a little. So he nodded when he knew fully well the other man expected a verbal answer.

He was right, because Hongjoong didn’t seem satisfied and his hand shot up to Seonghwa’s jaw, holding his face still.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he started moving back helplessly against Hongjoong’s thigh, moaning high, his own hard length aching for friction.

Hongjoong broke their bodies apart, making Seonghwa whine, eyes snapping open when he couldn’t grind against him anymore. “Answer me, baby.” Hongjoong pinned his hips to the wall, denying him the friction he craved. “Yes who?”

Seonghwa’s eyes were heavy and half-lidded as his voice broke on the words Hongjoong wanted to hear. “Y-yes, Captain…”

Hongjoong hummed, satisfied, crushing his mouth back and finally letting him grind again against his thigh. Seonghwa moaned, needy and desperate, when he felt Hongjoong sucking on his tongue, kissing him until he was breathless and brainless. And god, he loved when Hongjoong kissed him stupid.

Seonghwa’s head thudded back against the wall, moaning high and desperate. He really wanted to be reminded of what happened when he didn’t behave, and he prayed whatever his boyfriend had planned, it came with Hongjoong’s cock shoved deep inside him.

Hongjoong broke their kiss and backed away, putting a firm hand on his head, pushing him down and forcing him onto his knees as he fisted a hand into his hair to keep him in place.

Well. Seonghwa didn’t mind if the reminder started with Hongjoong deep in his throat either — so long as his cock was somehow involved.

He dragged the zipper down, the sound sending shivers in Seonghwa’s spine. Hongjoong palmed himself roughly before wrapping a hand around his leaking cock. He groaned low when his gaze met Seonghwa, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

He stroked himself once, slowly, and pressed the leaking head against Seonghwa’s mouth, dragging it across his lips. Pre-cum smeared on the soft skin, slicking over the corners of his mouth.

Hongjoong’s hand tangled tighter in his hair, and the slight burn of it made Seonghwa whimper. “Open up, Bunny.”

He opened his mouth eagerly, but not enough for Hongjoong’s liking.

“Wider,” Hongjoong ordered, voice sharp with warning. “You’ve been talking too much, haven’t you, baby?”

Seonghwa whined softly, lips parting more, but it still wasn’t enough. A second later, Hongjoong’s fingers pressed into his cheeks, forcing his jaw open further.

“That’s better,” he said, gaze dark. “Now let’s fix that mouth of yours.”

Hongjoong pushed in the tip first, and Seonghwa sighed in relief, feeling the weight on his tongue as he shut his eyes to savor the taste of him. But it was a tease, because the next thrust didn’t come gently. He drove in without warning, forcing him to take it deep.

Seonghwa gagged around him, hands braced against his own thighs, but he didn’t pull back.

His free hand slid to Seonghwa’s throat, squeezing just enough to make him moan low around him. “Look at me, Bunny. Look at me when I’m feeding you my cock.”

Seonghwa’s eyes snapped open, eyes glassy and half-lidded, but he kept them on Hongjoong like he was told, moaning around the length stretching his throat, forcing him to breathe through his nose.

“Mmh, that’s it.” Hongjoong’s voice was rough, breath hissing out through his teeth as he stroke Seonghwa’s cheek almost too softly for what was happening. “All I needed was to stuff your mouth full for you to shut up, wasn’t it?”

The words made Seonghwa whimper around him again, throat fluttering as he blinked up, drool already slicking his lips.

Hongjoong hadn’t even started fucking into him properly yet, and he already felt wrecked, cock twitching untouched in his pants, head dizzy from the weight in his mouth and the agonizing stillness of it. His eyes burned from how wide they were stretched open, from the effort of keeping still, obedient, just how Hongjoong liked him.

Hongjoong didn’t move, instead he just stayed there — thick and heavy in his mouth, holding him in place with the fist still tight in his hair.

Then he adjusted his grip, tilting his head back just enough to angle him further. Seonghwa shivered at how easily Hongjoong knew how to make him take more.

“I knew you’d look so pretty with that tattoo, Starlight…”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through him, and then Hongjoong’s thumb dragged across the corner of his mouth smearing spit down his cheek.

“That fucking tattoo.”

Hongjoong pulled back slightly then rolled his hips forward slowly, shoving deeper and making Seonghwa gag again, throat clenching helplessly around the cock in his mouth.

“All for me, right?” he coaxed, voice dangerously low and reverent at the same time.

Seonghwa couldn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His whole body was already screaming yes.

His knees trembled on the floor, thighs aching, but he didn’t even think to move, not when he could feel Hongjoong’s gaze reminding him exactly who he belonged to.

Then he smiled, breath coming in shallow. “It was San, wasn’t it?”

The question made Seonghwa’s pulse race, and his throat tightened again, a choked noise escaping him. He tried to nod, but the hand in his hair and the cock down his throat held him exactly where he was; full, silent and absolutely unable to do anything but take it.

“Oh, baby,” Hongjoong sighed. “Right. You can’t answer like this, can you?”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping lower, darker. “It’s okay though, I already know it’s him. I’d recognize those lines anywhere.”

Seonghwa’s vision blurred as another choked moan slipped free, throat convulsing around Hongjoong’s cock.

“Of course it was him,” Hongjoong murmured, almost to himself now, as he gave another small sharp thrust with his hips.

Seonghwa whimpered when the blunt head of Hongjoong’s length hit the back of his throat.

“And he got to touch you there.” A pause. “Where only I can touch you, right, baby?”

The hand in his hair didn’t move, didn’t ease. If anything, the grip felt firmer now, and Seonghwa only wanted more. He wanted to be owned so completely, wanted Hongjoong to fuck the brattiness out if him. Like he always did.

“We can’t have that now, can we?” he almost purred, eyes dark as his other hand found purchase alongside the one already fisting Seonghwa’s hair.

And then Hongjoong’s hips started moving again. It was shallow at first, just enough to make Seonghwa gag quietly around him. But soon, the rhythm changed, growing rougher.

The first real thrust made Seonghwa choke. The second drew a broken, helpless sound from his throat. The third made his eyes roll back, jaw stretching wide, spit started slicking his chin, spilling down his jaw as Hongjoong fucked into his mouth harder.

He couldn’t move. Or think. His hands still on his thighs, nails digging into his own skin through the fabric of his pants as the other man used him.

Above him, Hongjoong was breathless, fucking into his throat with a punishing control. Like he had all the time in the world to ruin him.

“You want this,” he growled, voice ragged. “I know you do. You love being on your knees for me, don’t you?”

Seonghwa tried to moan, to nod, but he couldn’t, whole body too busy surrendering.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong hissed softly, almost reverent. “Look at you… fucking beautiful. On your knees, drooling and choking so pretty on my cock.” He slammed in deep enough to make his vision blur at the edges. “Take it. Take all of it for me.”

And he did. God, he did.

His grip in Seonghwa’s hair was brutal, and when he started thrusting properly again, harder, and deeper, Seonghwa could do nothing but take it.

Each push of his cock down Seonghwa’s throat made him gag, eyes watering until tears started slipping down his cheeks. His lungs burned from how long he had to go without air, but he didn’t tell Hongjoong to stop. Because he didn’t want him to.

His knees were trembling beneath him. His jaw ached, and his cock throbbed untouched and leaking in his pants, so hard it felt like he might lose it from this alone.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong hissed, his voice wrecked and ragged. “You look so fucking good like this. So fucking good for me.”

He gave one more thrust, this time deep enough to make Seonghwa choke again, and then he stilled, fully buried.

Seonghwa whimpered around him, throat fluttering, lashes damp with tears as he blinked up, desperate. And then finally, Hongjoong pulled back just enough to let him breathe.

The air hit his lungs fast, and his head tipped forward, chest heaving, spit trailing from his swollen lips, mixing with the tears already smeared down his cheeks.

“Shh,” Hongjoong hushed, cupping his jaw almost gently now. His thumb dragged over the mess on Seonghwa’s face, smearing it without care. “That’s my perfect baby. Taking me so fucking well.”

Seonghwa moaned brokenly, trying to keep his eyes open, to stay present as the haze started to envelope him completely.

And as he was about to take another breath, Hongjoong shoved back in with a low growl, rougher this time. His cock hit deep, and Seonghwa gagged again, the sound swallowed immediately by the next thrust. Hongjoong set a punishing rhythm, using his mouth, and his throat.

“Shit, Bunny,” he groaned. “You were made for this.”

The broken noise Seonghwa released at the praise had Hongjoong’s expression shift to something hungry and satisfied, and he released his hair only to lock both hands on either side of Seonghwa’s head. His thumbs dragged slowly across Seonghwa’s wet cheekbones, wiping the falling tears away almost gently as his hips shoved forward again, burying his cock even deeper down Seonghwa’s throat.

“Fuck, yes—” he groaned, watching another tear slip free as he pushed slowly in and out, his thumbs still stroking Seonghwa’s cheekbones, every tear belonging to him.

And they did. All of Seonghwa belonged to him.

“Look at me, Bunny. That’s it—fuck, keep those eyes open.” He pulled back just long enough for Seonghwa to gasp wetly, then slammed in again. And again. “So pretty—shit. Keep crying like that for me, baby, yeah.”

Hongjoong groaned above him, hips jerking harder. Each thrust was rougher now, messier and Seonghwa knew it was because he liked to feel him fall apart around him. Seonghwa took it all, throat stretching, and body trembling as he couldn’t barely remember anything else except the way Hongjoong’s half-lidded eyes locked onto his.

He could feel the way Hongjoong buried himself further in every time, thrusting past the burn just to feel the squeeze of his throat, to watch him struggle and take it anyway.

The rhythm was brutal, and relentless, until Seonghwa couldn’t tell where his moans ended and his gags began. The world narrowed to the salty taste of him, and the soft, wrecked groans slipping out of Hongjoong’s mouth.

Then his pace stuttered just slightly. And Seonghwa knew.

The next thrust came in sharper and deeper, forcing his head flush to Hongjoong’s skin, nose pressed tight against his pelvis, and there was no room to breathe; just the full weight of the length down his throat, stretching him wide.

“Swallow it all, Bunny.”

The words barely registered before he felt it something thick and hot spilling deep. Seonghwa gagged around it, throat tightening instinctively, but he didn’t even try pulling back. He swallowed eagerly and as fast as he could, tears spilling freely down his cheeks now, the mess coating his lips and chin as he worked his throat around the still hard and pulsing cock.

“That’s it, baby,” Hongjoong groaned, hips twitching shallowly. “Drink me down.”

Seonghwa moaned, a faint, wrecked sound, as his lungs screamed, but all he could feel was how good it felt to be used like this. To be filled, to be trusted to take all of it.

“Fuck—so good, choking on me,” Hongjoong rasped.

One of Hongjoong’s hand slid down to his throat, thumb pressing firmly over the bulge there, and Seonghwa’s eyes rolled back. He didn’t need air. He didn’t need anything but this.

“My pretty Starlight,” he heard, words distant but still cutting through the haze.

Seonghwa didn’t know how long he stayed kneeling, mouth open, throat raw and burning, breath stuttering in and out through his nose. But then a hand threaded gently into his hair.

There was no tugging this time, no holding him down. The hand was just resting there, warm and soothing.

“So perfect,” Hongjoong whispered, thumb brushing softly across his temple. “You did so well for me, Bunny.”

The words sank deep, even through the fog, and Seonghwa exhaled shakily. He couldn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. He leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as he melted forward.

He felt Hongjoong ease his cock carefully out from his mouth, letting Seonghwa breathe fully again. Spit and cum clung to his lips, cooling on his chin, and his throat ached with every swallow. But none of that mattered, because all he felt was the warm palm stroking softly through his hair.

Hongjoong crouched in front of him a moment later, one hand braced under his chin to tip his head up, the other still threading through his hair. He swiped the mess from Seonghwa’s swollen lips with his thumb.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice low, but steadier now. “Are you still with me?”

Seonghwa blinked at him, slowly, dazed but focused. His pupils were wide, his breathing a little shaky but he managed a nod, humming weakly. “Mmh.”

Hongjoong’s eyes stayed on him for a long moment, assessing him. Then his voice dropped lower.

“Can you stand for me, Starlight?”

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed slightly. His knees were sore from kneeling on the floor, but he nodded again. “Yeah,” he whispered.

Hongjoong smiled.

“That’s my baby,” he said, words soaked in pride. “Taking your punishment so well.”

Seonghwa’s lip trembled. His whole body was still trembling, but he wasn’t cold — just warm and floaty.

“Come here.” Hongjoong’s hands found his shoulders and gently guided him upright.

Seonghwa stood, and as soon as he was on his feet, he swayed into Hongjoong’s chest, head dropping against him and hands weakling clutching at his shirt. Not because he couldn’t hold himself, but because he needed to breathe him in, the smell of coffee and cigarette keeping him tethered.

“You did so well,” Hongjoong murmured, his lips near Seonghwa’s ear. He felt Hongjoong’s hand slide down to the small of his back. “But I’m not done with you yet. Can you take more for me, baby?” his voice was low and careful, like he wasn’t sure how much he could push him.

Seonghwa let out a soft, breathy sound, something barely audible, but he nodded. “More…”

Hongjoong hummed, satisfied and kissed the side of his head. “Good. So good for me,” he whispered, voice smooth like velvet. “My pretty thing.”

Hongjoong didn’t say anything else. He just moved, guiding Seonghwa with one hand at his back.

They passed through the bedroom, the world quiet except for the soft sound of their breathing. Seonghwa followed without hesitation. His knees still ached from the floor, his throat was raw, but all he could feel was how steady Hongjoong’s presence made him feel, how much he ached to be filled again.

The bathroom door clicked open, and warm light spilled out as they stepped inside. The marble counter stretched along the far wall, sleek and cold . Hongjoong let go of him just long enough to get some items he didn’t pay attention to from the other room. Then he stepped up close again, palm smoothing down Seonghwa’s spine.

“Come here,” he said, voice soft but commanding.

Seonghwa obeyed, already moving with him.

Hongjoong’s hand flattened between his shoulder blades, guiding him forward with gentle pressure until his thighs touched the counter’s edge.

“Bend over,” he ordered. “Hands flat. Legs apart.”

The coldness of the marble seeped through Seonghwa’s skin as he leaned down, exhaling shakily. His palms spread against the counter, his breath fogging faintly over the mirror in front of him. He could see himself in the glass, all flushed, eyes still half-lidded. And behind him, Hongjoong stood with a hand still on his back, holding him down.

His cock throbbed, leaking where it pressed against his underwear, the fabric tight against him. His thighs trembled, hips rocking slightly, the need to finally feel Hongjoong’s fullness clawing at his spine.

“Captain…” he called breathlessly, barely holding together. “I—need…”

“I know you do, baby,” Hongjoong cooed, leaning over him, chest to Seonghwa’s back, and his cock ground slowly against the curve of his ass through the fabric of their jeans.

“I can see how much you need it.”

Seonghwa whimpered.

“Shh,” Hongjoong hushed, his lips brushing over the nape of Seonghwa’s neck as his arms caged him in against the counter. “No more whining, Bunny. Be good. You want my cock, don't you?” His body rolled forward, grinding against him again.

Seonghwa gasped softly, hips twitching and chasing for more.

“I know you do,” Hongjoong said again, and Seonghwa felt the smile in his voice, felt it pressed into his skin. “But you’re not getting it.” He licked a slow stripe up his spine, making him shiver. Then he added, voice darker at his ear. “Not yet. And the only word I want to hear from that pretty mouth is my name when I fuck you stupid with my tongue and my fingers.”

“I—” Seonghwa moaned.

“Ah ah.” Hongjoong warned against his neck. “What did I just say?”

Seonghwa choked back the next word, biting down on his lower lip.

“That’s much better, baby.”

Then he stepped back, and Seonghwa felt the loss instantly before the sudden tug of fabric sent a shiver through him. Hongjoong yanked his pants and underwear down in one swift pull, leaving him bare and exposed, cock aching and leaking.

Then he heard a soft thump. And when Seonghwa felt warmth at the backs of his thighs, he knew Hongjoong had knelt down behind him.

Rough palms slid over his ass, slow, and greedy, before gripping hard and spreading him open. Then pain bloomed as sharp teeth sank into the curve of one cheek.

He cried out, thighs trembling, breath stuttering at the unexpected pain.

“Joong—fuck—” The whimper was high and broken.

Hongjoong’s latched onto the spot he had bitten, sucking deep until Seonghwa felt the bruise throb under his skin. Then he moved to the other side, slower this time, and Seonghwa moaned shamelessly, forehead pressed to the marble, eyes fluttering.

“Already crying for me,” Hongjoong murmured, soft and satisfied; and it made Seonghwa shiver. Warm lips dragged slowly across the inside of his thigh, before teeth sank in again. Another bruise bloomed under his skin, and another helpless whimper slipped free from his throat. He could feel Hongjoong biting his way higher, leaving wet heat and ache behind with every mark until his whole body trembled.

Only then did Hongjoong’s mouth return to his center. His breath ghosted hot over the sensitive skin there, and then he felt a slow, drag up over his hole, tongue wet and firm. But it was the press of metal that made Seonghwa jolt.

His whole body stuttered, and a broken moan tore out of him as his knees nearly gave. The cool flick of Hongjoong’s tongue piercing against his most sensitive spot sent sparks up his spine, and he tried to find purchase onto the smooth surface, but there was nothing for him to grip.

“Hongjoong—” His voice pitched high, desperate already. His hips twitched against the counter, chasing friction. “Please—please—”

But the warmth vanished, and Seonghwa gasped, the cold air brushing too fast where he had just been touched, the loss like a slap. Then fingers moved from his ass to grip his hips, tight enough to still him, and Hongjoong’s breath ghosted against the curve of his ass.

“What did I say about speaking?” The words came out too calm. And they sliced straight through the haze in Seonghwa’s head.

His pulse tripped as he bit his lip hard and nodded, his hands curling into fists against the marble.

“You wanna be good for me, don’t you?” Hongjoong’s voice was closer now, lips brushing slowly over the skin he had just abandoned. “Then keep quiet, baby.”

Seonghwa trembled, fighting the urge to cry out when he felt the smooth glide of Hongjoong’s tongue piercing drag down the inside of his thigh.

Then Hongjoong murmured against his skin, “If I hear a word that’s not my name…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to because the implication made Seonghwa whimper.

“Good,” Hongjoong praised low, voice like velvet and sin, and Seonghwa’s whole body melted under it.

Then he felt the heat again,  tongue dragging back up right over his entrance, and this time, the cool steel of the piercing caught and flicked against his rim. Hongjoong hummed low, tongue circling lazily, almost taunting.

He pulled back just enough to spit, the sound sharp in the echo of the tiled room. Seonghwa barely had any time to catch his breath before Hongjoong’s tongue returned and licked a slow stripe over him again.

Then Hongjoong pressed in for the first time, tongue breaching past the tight ring with a slow push.

Seonghwa wailed, forehead knocking against the counter, the cold seeping into his skin as his eyes squeezed shut from the overwhelming sensation. He gasped, shaking, then forced his eyes open again, lashes wet from unshed tears and breath ragged against the marble.

“J-Joong—ah—” His voice cracked, breaking into a whimper. His thighs trembled, spreading wider as if begging for more.

Hongjoong groaned low, tongue thrusting deeper, working him open with obscene, wet sounds that. The stretch burned but he couldn’t stop shaking from how good it felt.

Hands gripped his ass again, callous fingers dragging before settling, thumbs pressing into the flesh so hard they would probably leave bruises. Seonghwa gasped when he was spread wider, exposed and wrecked.

Then he pulled out, the barbell grazing against his wall and Seonghwa didn’t even have the time to mourn the loss before the sharp pain came, teeth sinking deep into the already sensitive skin of his ass. He cried out, the sound strangled. And before the pain could fade, Hongjoong was back on him; tongue shoving back inside, deeper.

Hongjoong’s tongue fucked into him in relentless strokes, the piercing catching every time it dragged back. Seonghwa’s fingers slipped on the marble, hips rocking back helplessly, pressure building rapidly in his gut as each thrust hit just right.

He was close. So close. Too close.

But he didn’t want to come like this. He wanted Hongjoong’s cock, wanted to be filled until he couldn’t think. His thighs trembled from holding back, muscles locking tight as he panted against the counter.

And Hongjoong noticed — of course he did. A low chuckle ghosted over his skin as he pulled back, leaving him empty.

“Don’t fight it,” Hongjoong murmured, lips pressed right against the flushed skin of his ass. “I know you’re gonna come just like this,” he cooed. “From nothing but my tongue.”

Seonghwa moaned, spine arching when the tongue was back, deeper, fucking him open with wet punishing thrusts that made his breath catch. His hips ground against Hongjoong’s face, as his body twisted in vain to hold off the inevitable.

Then the piercing flicked perfectly inside him, and that was all it took for him to break completely.

His orgasm slammed into him, his vision whiting out as he cried out Hongjoong’s name over and over, cock spilling hot between the the cold marble and his stomach.

His thighs trembled violently, but Hongjoong didn’t stop, and he kept fucking him through it, groaning as if he could drink down every spasm, every clench, savoring how ruined he was.

When Seonghwa collapsed completely against the counter, chest heaving, Hongjoong finally pulled back, lips wet and glistening. He pressed a kiss over a bruised cheek before speaking again, calm as ever.

“Count it, baby.”

“One,” Seonghwa sobbed out, voice hoarse.

“That’s right.” His voice came low and steady, almost casual as he dragged a hand over Seonghwa’s ass, spreading him wider.

“You’re not getting my cock yet, Bunny,” Hongjoong murmured, and Seonghwa shivered.

Then he felt Hongjoong’s fingers reach between his stomach and the counter, dragging through the mess Seonghwa had just spilled across the marble.

“You’re gonna take my fingers first,” Hongjoong said, voice dark as he brought them to Seonghwa’s hole, smearing his own cum there. The tip of one finger pressed in. “And you’ll break on them.”

Seonghwa let out a needy, and desperate whine as Hongjoong’s finger kept pushing in slowly, slick with Seonghwa’s own cum; then his teeth sank into Seonghwa’s skin at the same time.

Seonghwa cried out, the pain and pleasure tangling together, his body jolting forward before Hongjoong’s hand on his hip forced him still.

“Please—ah—” The plea barely made it out, more breath than anything else.

Hongjoong hummed, the sound vibrating through him as he sucked over the bite, hard, until the sting flared. Then his finger pushed deeper, curling inside him, and Seonghwa sobbed against the counter, trembling.

He was being fucked with his own cum while Hongjoong marked him as his, and he couldn’t decide if it was filthy or perfect. Maybe both. Probably both.

“Quiet, Bunny,” he murmured against the bruise, soft but cruel.

Hongjoong pulled the finger out slowly, and Seonghwa whimpered at the loss, clenching down around nothing. His whole body felt too empty.

Then he felt it Hongjoong’s fingers slicking through the mess between his body and the marble again.

Seonghwa moaned in desperation.

“So messy for me,” Hongjoong murmured low, pleased. “Let’s use some more, hmm?”

The next thing Seonghwa felt was slick fingers spreading him again, and this time, when the first returned into the heat of his hole, it didn’t come alone.

Two fingers pressed in together and his body seized up, his forehead knocking against the counter. And just as they started to breach, Hongjoong’s teeth bit the other side of his ass, hard.

“Fuck—ah—Joong—” Seonghwa cried out, his whole body stuttering from the sharp bite, and the burning stretch.

He felt the the bite blooming beneath his skin as the two fingers pushed in deeper, stretching him wide. He couldn’t tell if the heat flooding him was from pain or pleasure.

The second finger forced him open, slowly and relentlessly as he shoved them knuckle-deep. Seonghwa trembled, thighs shaking as he tried not to collapse. The feeling was unbearable, and perfect at the same time.

“So fucking tight,” Hongjoong groaned against the bruise, his lips brushing over the mark like he was proud of it. “You feel that, baby?”

The fingers started to move, thrusting and curling slow and deep, making Seonghwa gasp breathlessly.

“There we go,” Hongjoong cooed, voice still cruelly soft. “Breaking so pretty on just my fingers.”

Seonghwa whimpered, pushing back against the fingers inside him, his cock fully hard and leaking again.

Hongjoong drew his fingers back and pushed in again, harder this time. Then again, deeper. And again, rougher.

Seonghwa’s moan broke open as Hongjoong fucked his fingers into him, fast, hitting that spot again and again until sparks fired in his spine.

“Captain—ah—fuck—” he gasped, forehead pressed hard to the marble, fingers scrabbling uselessly for something to hold on to that he couldn’t find.

“That’s it,” Hongjoong said low, the sound vibrating right against the bite he’d left on his skin. “Take it.”

Each pump of his fingers knocked a choked sound from Seonghwa’s throat. He could feel how soaked he was, he could hear the obscene wet sounds every time Hongjoong’s fingers bottomed out inside him, thrusting his own cum in and out.

His thighs shook violently, hips rocking back, greedy for every thrust. The stretch, the pressure, and the burn were overwhelming, and he wanted more.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty thing” Hongjoong growled, curling his fingers just right and driving them in faster. “You’re gonna come just like this, baby.”

Seonghwa cried out, voice cracking, and his body unraveling fast under the relentless pace. “No—don’t wanna come…” Seonghwa lied.

His protest was slurred, barely coherent, his knees buckling as pleasure clawed up his spine. But he couldn’t stop it, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight it — Hongjoong was fucking him too hard, and too deep, his fingers hitting that spot again and again.

“Don’t want to? Oh, my sweet Starlight, do you think you have a choice?” He pressed in harder, twisting until Seonghwa wailed. “You’ll come on my fingers, baby. Because I fucking say so.”

Seonghwa shook his head, gasping, his body clenching as he tried to resist, hips jerking back even as he fought.

Hongjoong stood up, leaning over Seonghwa and pressing him flush against the cold surface until he couldn’t move.

“So fucking stubborn, Bunny,” he murmured there, fingers never slowing, fucking him relentlessly. “Fight it all you want, it doesn’t matter.”

The fingers shoved deeper, rough and unrelenting, and Seonghwa choked on another sob, back arching. His cock throbbed untouched, leaking helplessly against the counter. He was going to break again, he could feel his body clenching down on Hongjoong’s fingers.

“Fuck, listen to you,” Hongjoong whispered, voice shaking with control before he bit hard into Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Crying for cock… but you’ll break for me, Bunny. Won’t you?”

Seonghwa shook his head again, still trying to hold on, muscles straining as if that could stop him from going over the edge. But he was shaking too hard now, his rim clenching harder around Hongjoong, begging for release.

“Be good,” he breathed into his ear, soft but commanding. “Be good for your Captain.”

Everything suddenly snapped. Seonghwa shattered around his fingers with a sob as his orgasm hit him like a wave crashing down. His vision blurred, and his whole body seized, choking on pleasure until he couldn’t breathe. He came untouched for the second time, cock spilling against the counter again, his whole body twitching with every pulse.

Hongjoong didn’t stop. He fucked him through it, relentless, groaning low as if he felt it too, drawing out each flutter and clench by curling his fingers.

When Seonghwa came down, chest heaving, Hongjoong finally slowed, dragging his fingers out agonizingly slow. He kissed a trail of soft kisses down his spine, voice steady.

“How many, Bunny?”

Seonghwa sobbed, tears streaking down his face as he whispered, “T-two.”

Hongjoong hummed, satisfied, against his skin.

Hongjoong dragged him up onto the sink, forcing Seonghwa onto his back. The cold marble and his own cum pressed against his spine.

Seonghwa’s voice broke out, hoarse, desperate. “Joong—Hongjoong—”

Hongjoong only smirked, sinking to his knees between Seonghwa’s legs again. He dragged Seonghwa’s thighs up until they rested against his chest, holding him wide and helpless.

“I know you need my cock. And you’ve been so patient, Bunny. So good,” he praised. “But this is a punishment.”

Seonghwa’s breath hitched, his voice breaking as he tried to answer. “Captain—ah!!—”

But his words cut off in a choked cry as Hongjoong shoved his tongue inside without warning, fucking him open with wet, relentless thrusts. Seonghwa’s head snapped back, a wrecked moan tearing out of him. “Fuck—Joong—yes, please—”

Hongjoong chuckled low against his skin, the sound dark and pleased as he started fucking him open again. He drove his tongue deep, curling and thrusting in filthy rhythm, his piercing scraping deliciously against his walls. His nose nudged against Seonghwa as his tongue pushed in again and again, relentless.

Seonghwa clawed at the edge of the sink, knuckles white, his voice breaking into high, desperate cries. “Joong—ah—deeper, fuck—yes—” His hips rocked helplessly, grinding down against Hongjoong’s face like he couldn’t take it fast enough, like his body already knew he would break again for him.

Hongjoong groaned into him, the vibration making Seonghwa wail louder. His grip on Seonghwa’s thighs only tightened, holding him open, keeping him wide no matter how hard he squirmed as he worked his tongue in and out.

Seonghwa’s voice climbed higher and higher, babbling broken pleas, hips jerking, body locking up as the edge crept close.

And just when he was about to break, Hongjoong pulled away.

Seonghwa whined, back arching off the sink, cock twitching, untouched and dripping across his stomach. “No—no, please, Joong—please, I need it—”

Hongjoong’s answer was his teeth marking the soft skin of Seonghwa’s inner thigh this time. He bit down hard, holding until Seonghwa screamed, the sharp pain splintering through the denied pleasure. Then he sucked until it sting, before licking over it.

“Not yet, Bunny,” he murmured against the mark, voice soft, cruel in its calmness.

Hongjoong didn’t give him a chance to breathe. As soon as the burn of the first bite faded, he shoved Seonghwa’s thighs wide again, burying his face back between them. His tongue pressed flat against Seonghwa’s rim, barbell catching as he licked in slow, filthy circles before plunging deep, thrusting deep.

He curled his tongue inside, twisting, then pulled back to lap broad strokes over the sensitive rim, teasing it with wet, obscene drags. Every few thrusts he groaned low into him, the vibration making Seonghwa’s whole body jolt.

Seonghwa’s hands curled tight around the edge of the sink, knuckles white, his voice wrecked. “Yes—Captain, please—” His hips rolled desperately, grinding down on Hongjoong’s face, chasing every filthy thrust of his tongue.

Hongjoong’s grip bruised tighter on his legs, holding him spread as his tongue drove in mercilessly. He flicked quick, and sharp strokes against the rim, then pushed deep again, fucking him open until Seonghwa’s almost scream from the pleasure and overstimulation.

“Joong—ah—” he cried out.

And just when he was about to shatter again, Hongjoong pulled away a second time.

Seonghwa’s body twitched as he whimpered from the denial, frustration ripping out of him.

Hongjoong stayed silent as he bit into the tender skin just below the last bruise, another mark joining the ones already there. He bit hard, sucking until Seonghwa sobbed and shook beneath him.

When he finally lifted his head, he said soft, but mocking, “You sound so desperate now, Starlight. Where’s that fight you had before, mmh?”

Seonghwa’s voice broke, ruined and desperate. “It’s gone—please, I’ll be good, I swear—just let me come, Captain—please—”

Hongjoong hummed. “My pretty Starlight… Did you finally realize that I’m the one deciding when you break—” He shoved his tongue in deep, making Seonghwa moan before pulling it out again. “—and when you don’t?”

Seonghwa whimpered, nodding frantically, tears streaking down his face.

“Good,” Hongjoong murmured, satisfied, his tone steady but dark. “Now break for your Captain.”

Hongjoong’s tongue drove back in mercilessly, thrusting fast and deep, each wet push bringing him closer to what he so desperately wanted. His legs trembled violently in Hongjoong’s grip, pinned tight against his chest.

Seonghwa’s voice broke apart, high and hoarse, words tumbling over each other. “Please, Captain—please, let me cum, let me cum—please—” His back arched off the cold surface, hips grinding helplessly against Hongjoong’s face.

Hongjoong groaned into him, the sound vibrating through his body, and that was all it took. He screamed, spilling hot across his stomach and chest as his body seized tight around Hongjoong’s tongue.

“Fuck—yes, yes—Joong!” The words blurred into cries, frantic and desperate, as he begged him to keep going.

And to his relief, he did just that.

Hongjoong held him, tongue still fucking him through every spasm until Seonghwa was shaking, wrecked and sobbing, cum smeared across his abdomen. Only then did he slow, finally pulling back.

Then came the soft kisses — one over each and every bruise Hongjoong had left on his thighs and ass. His tongue dragged slowly over every one, soothing where he had devoured.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out almost gentle. “Come on, baby, what comes after two?”

Seonghwa sobbed out, voice broken beyond recognition, “T-Three.”

“That’s right. You took your punishment so good, Starlight.”

Then he felt strong hands grabbing him and dragging him forward, manhandling him down off the sink. He whimpered, stumbling, barely able to hold himself up before he was turned and shoved forward again, his chest hitting the marble counter with a wet sound, cum smearing against his skin.

His knees nearly buckled, but Hongjoong’s hand held him firmly at the nape of his neck, forcing him to bend.

He heard the slick sound of lube, and it made his whole body tense in anticipation. He barely had time to brace, his body still trembling from three orgasms before it happened. Without warning, Hongjoong slammed into him in one brutal thrust, the stretch sudden and overwhelming as he bottomed out.

Seonghwa cried out, back arching hard, the burn and fullness hitting all at once, in a violent and dizzying storm. The cold marble scraped his chest and he couldn’t breathe for a second, couldn’t think as everything eclipsed by the thick, aching throb of Hongjoong buried deep inside him.

He kept him there, grinding deep, groaning low into his ear. One hand slid around Seonghwa’s throat, hauling him upright, forcing his eyes up to the mirror in front of them.

“Is that what you wanted, Bunny?” Hongjoong teased, his voice rough with restraint. His hips rolled again, grinding from behind as his grip at Seonghwa’s throat held him upright in front of the mirror. “My cock so deep you can’t even fucking think?”

His gaze met the mirror and shattered.

He looked absolutely ruined — cheeks flushed, lips red and parted, tears streaking down his face. His chest heaved, skin damp, and his own cum was still smeared across his stomach. And behind him, Hongjoong was fully clothed, holding him like he owned him. His hand at Seonghwa’s throat, his cock buried deep, his eyes locked on the reflection.

Seonghwa tried to look away, but Hongjoong’s hand tightened slightly.

“Keep your eyes open, baby. Look how pretty you are like this.”

His eyes locked onto Hongjoong’s again through the reflection, wide and broken as he nodded frantically. “Please fuck me—fuck me, Captain—”

“Yeah?” Hongjoong rasped, voice low against his ear. “Then take my cock, Bunny.”

Seonghwa cried out as Hongjoong pulled back and slammed in, the first thrust knocking the breath out of him.

Each thrust after was brutal, Hongjoong rutting into him. Every stroke forced him forward, only for Hongjoong to drag him back by the throat again, fucking him deeper and harder. The sound of skin slapping, and breathless moans filled the room.

Every time Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered shut, the pressure tightened around his throat until they snapped back open.

“Look at me, Bunny,” Hongjoong ordered, voice soft but unyielding. “You see that?” Hongjoong growled, forcing Seonghwa to look at the mirror again. “See what I do to you?”

Seonghwa sobbed, eyes never leaving the mirror. “Yes—fuck, yes, please—don’t stop—”

Seonghwa’s body shook with every savage drive of Hongjoong’s cock, tears blurring his vision. His gaze stayed locked on Hongjoong’s in the mirror, eyes half-lidded as he watched the way Hongjoong’s face twisted with pleasure, lip caught between his teeth as he fucked him mercilessly open.

“That’s it, Starlight.” Hongjoong’s eyes burned into his through the reflection, his thrusts relentless. “Eyes on me. Can you see it, baby? Can you see how good you look around my cock?”

Seonghwa moaned helplessly, his knees buckling under the weight of it all—Hongjoong’s voice, his cock, the brutal stretch, the image of them in the mirror. He was going to fall apart again. He could feel it in the way his stomach clenched, in the way his cock throbbed where it hung untouched between them, leaking freely against the counter.

Hongjoong only adjusted, sliding his arm under Seonghwa’s and curling it up until his hand closed tight around his throat again. His forearm pressed across Seonghwa’s chest, holding him steady, pinning him upright even as his body gave out.

His tears ran hot down his face, and his cries echoed into the room as he begged Hongjoong to fuck him harder.

“Harder—please—Captain—fuck, please,” he sobbed, voice wrecked, slurred through tears.

“Again,” Hongjoong growled behind him, cock driving in deep, every thrust brutal and perfectly placed against his prostate. “Say it again.”

Seonghwa obeyed without thinking. “Please, fuck me—harder, harder—please—” The words poured mindlessly out of him.

And Hongjoong gave it to him — harder and deeper.

Hongjoong’s reflection was wild, his lip caught between his teeth as he groaned through clenched jaws. “God Bunny, fuck—you feel so good—” His hand at Seonghwa’s throat forced his head back so their eyes stayed locked in the mirror.

Hongjoong’s grip there tightened. “You gonna come for me again, pretty thing?” Hongjoong groaned, hips snapping harder, his voice rough against his ear. “Gonna come just from your Captain’s cock this time?”

Seonghwa sobbed, his head falling back helplessly. “I—I don’t know—” he choked out, breath hitching on a cry as Hongjoong fucked into him harder. “It’s so—so much—”

But it wasn’t. Not really. Because his body was already unraveling, hole clenching tightly around the thick length of Hongjoong’s cock. He could feel himself getting closer, the pressure in his belly curling so tight it almost hurt, his cock aching, still completely untouched.

“I think you do,” Hongjoong growled, pounding him open without mercy.

Seonghwa’s vision blurred. His mouth dropped open but no words came, only high, desperate sounds as the pleasure increased so fast, he couldn’t hold it back.

Hongjoong hummed, against Seonghwa’s ear, voice low and rough as his hips kept driving in and out. “Come on, baby. Show me how perfect you are for me.”

And Seonghwa’s body obeyed instantly, shattering on the word. His scream ripped through the room, raw and broken, as a dry orgasm seized him whole. His muscles squeezed around Hongjoong, every sob breaking into pleas as his body gave out completely.

“That’s it—fuck, look at you. Coming just because I told you to,” Hongjoong groaned, fucking him through every spasm. His hand squeezed tighter at Seonghwa’s throat, keeping his eyes wide and locked in the mirror. “So fucking gorgeous when you break for me—mine, all mine—”

Seonghwa sobbed his Captain’s name over and over, body trembling, ruined, while Hongjoong drove into him harder, chasing his own release now.

When it hit, Hongjoong groaned, voice tearing out low against him. “Fuck—Bunny—so good for me—letting me stuff you full—” His thrusts went ragged, grinding deep as he spilled inside, clutching Seonghwa tighter against him. “That’s it, Starlight. Take all of it.”

Their reflection burned back at them in the mirror —  Seonghwa’s tear-streaked face, eyes wide and broken, and Hongjoong’s wild gaze fixed on him as he filled him to the brim.

He stayed buried deep, chest flush to Seonghwa’s back. Slowly, Hongjoong eased his grip, sliding his hand from Seonghwa’s throat up to cup his face, his thumb gently brushing away the tears still rolling down his cheek. “So, so good for me. My Bunny. My Starlight,” he whispered softly.

“Yours.” Seonghwa’s lips curved into a weak, ruined smile, tears still spilling down his cheeks as Hongjoong pressed small kisses along the side of his neck, eyes never leaving Seonghwa’s through the mirror.

“You’re so gorgeous like that, Bunny,” Hongjoong marveled, catching another tear with his thumb.

Seonghwa only whimpered in answer, leaning into his touch, pressing his cheek harder against Hongjoong’s palm.

Seonghwa couldn’t really move, not with the ache in his thighs and the tremor still running through him. Not with Hongjoong still deep inside him, keeping him full.

They stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing together.

Then he felt the soft press of lips against his shoulder, and then another, just under the curve of his neck.

“So perfect,” Hongjoong breathed, his arms wrapped around him tighter, pulling Seonghwa back against his chest.

Then, he slowly, carefully, slid out of him. Seonghwa whimpered at the sudden emptiness, hips twitching, and Hongjoong shushed him softly.

“Shh, I know, baby” he murmured, brushing his hand over Seonghwa’s stomach. “You were so good for me.”

The next kiss landed at the nape of his neck. Then another next to it, softer, and it felt like he was trying to press apologies into his skin for all the roughness he had just put Seonghwa through.

Seonghwa’s knees almost gave out, but Hongjoong caught him before he could sway too far. “I’ve got you,” he said gently. “Let me take care of you, pretty thing.”

Seonghwa didn’t resist when Hongjoong guided him. He just let himself lean back into the touch, trusting him to hold him steady,  because he always did, especially when he had been harsh with him.

They moved slowly together, Hongjoong’s hands never leaving him while the other reached for a towel, gently pressing it to Seonghwa’s inner thighs to wipe away the mess already starting to drip down. He was careful, whispering soft apologies even though Seonghwa hadn’t winced once.

The cool air made him shiver. Hongjoong noticed immediately and reached for a bathrobe hanging close, draping it over Seonghwa’s shoulders before sitting him down on the armchair in the corner.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asked again, crouching in front of him, hands smoothing over his thighs.

Seonghwa blinked down at him. His voice was soft when he answered, “Yeah…” He paused for a second, before adding, “I’m okay. I liked it.”

Hongjoong’s hand cupped his face, and he smiled fondly as a thumb brush along his cheekbone. “I know you did, baby.”

Seonghwa’s cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head.

Hongjoong chuckled before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s get you in the shower. Then I’ll clean you up, and we’ll get into bed. You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.”

Seonghwa nodded slowly, letting the bathrobe slip tighter around his body as Hongjoong stood and offered his hand. He took it without hesitation, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

The lights were dimmed now, the water now running gently behind the glass. Hongjoong reached in first, adjusting the temperature before stepping back and helping Seonghwa out of the robe. He was gentle with every movement, like unwrapping something precious and Seonghwa let him, skin flushing. Then he watched as Hongjoong made quick work of his own clothes.

The steam hit first, warm and soothing, as they stepped inside together. Hongjoong didn’t rush, he just held him, one hand on his back, the other wetting a soft cloth and running it carefully down Seonghwa’s chest, his stomach, his thighs, removing the traces of what they had just done. He was very careful not to run it on the healing ink at his waist.

When they stepped out, towels were already waiting, and Hongjoong dried him with the same quiet focus, wrapping him in warmth before leading him toward the bed.

He didn’t let go of his hand, not even as he knelt to open the drawer and pull out a clean pair of briefs and an oversized t-shirt. “Arms up,” he said gently, and Seonghwa obeyed, letting the fabric slide down over his shoulders. Then Hongjoong knelt again, helping him step into the briefs before tugging them into place, hands lingering at his hips for a moment.

When it was Hongjoong’s turn, he dressed quickly in boxers and a worn tee — never straying too far.

Then, without a word, he crossed to the bathroom again. Seonghwa watched him go, muscles still aching in the best way. When Hongjoong came back holding a small tube of ointment, Seonghwa’s chest tightened at the implication.

“We need to take care of it,” Hongjoong murmured, voice low. “Can’t have it healing wrong.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, and Seonghwa shifted instinctively, legs parting slightly to let him come closer. He peeled up the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt gently, revealing the tattoo inked above his waistband, fine and delicate lines tracing the curve of the belly chain he had always worn.

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered there for a second, reverent. Then he leaned in and kissed the skin just above it.

Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat.

“You look so fucking gorgeous with it,” Hongjoong marveled, voice think with reverence.

Seonghwa flushed as Hongjoong’s fingers started smoothing ointment over the skin with precision, careful not to press too hard.

When he finished, he tugged the shirt back down and looked up at him. “There,” he said softly. “All taken care of.”

Seonghwa didn’t say anything at first, just feeling the rest of his haze slipping away. Then he just reached out, hand cupping Hongjoong’s jaw as he leaned in and kissed him slowly, lips barely moving.

Hongjoong kissed him back just as softly, his hands resting on Seonghwa’s thighs where he knelt between them, thumbs brushing random patterns over the bare skin.

When they pulled apart, his forehead stayed pressed against Seonghwa’s, close enough that Seonghwa could still feel his breath against his lips. The world felt very small like that, just the two of them and the faint thud of Seonghwa’s heart in his chest that just wouldn’t settle.

Seonghwa didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He only breathed, chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm, like if he stayed still enough, he could make this moment last a little longer.

Then Hongjoong’s thumbs brushed softly along the inside of his thighs, and he looked at Seonghwa as if he was about the say something, but wasn’t sure he could.

“I want you to move in,” he said finally, voice low and unwavering. “Here. With me.”

Seonghwa’s breath caught. He blinked at him, lips still tingling from the kiss, his heart stumbling in his chest. From everything he had thought Hongjoong would say, move in with me hadn’t even made the list.

The words echoed in his head, louder than the sound of his pulse. He just looked at him, stunned, and caught completely off guard.

And maybe that silence lasted too long, because something in Hongjoong’s expression shifted slightly as he searched his face for something. Then his thumbs stilled, and his gaze dropped for the first time all night.

“But—you don’t have to say yes,” Hongjoong added quickly, the words rushing out quieter. “If you’d rather find someplace new together or just—if it’s too fast—”

“Joong…”

Hongjoong’s eyes flicked back up to meet his, wide and uncertain now.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he added. “I can wait. I wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything—I just…”

His voice trailed, and Seonghwa could see the effort it took to finish the thought — the way Hongjoong’s throat worked, the way his thumbs hadn’t started moving again from where they rested against Seonghwa’s inner thighs.

“We’re always together, and you already have a key so I thought… I just thought maybe…”

Seonghwa didn’t let him finish. He leaned forward and pulled Hongjoong firmly into a kiss, with no hesitation whatsoever. He felt Hongjoong inhale sharply against his mouth, startled at first, before melting into it like that was the answer he had been waiting for.

The moment stretched, Hongjoong’s hands tightening just slightly on his thighs, and when they finally parted, Seonghwa kept him close, resting their foreheads together.

“I want to,” he breathed, between them. “I want to live with you.”

Hongjoong let out a breath that sounded like relief and their foreheads stayed pressed together until Hongjoong nudged their noses softly.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

The sound of it made something warm twist in Seonghwa’s chest. He could hear the hope in it, and it made him want to close the distance all over again.

He smiled, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned forward to kiss him again, like a life long promise sealed with lips.

“Yeah,” he said softly when they parted. “Let’s move in together, Joongie.”

Seonghwa didn’t bring much when he moved in.

A few suitcases, his toiletries and boxes full of LEGO carefully packed in bubble wrap. The rest had either been sold or trashed when everyone had helped him pack the week before the move-in date.

Now it was official, and Hongjoong was standing barefoot in the middle of the apartment in a faded black t-shirt, watching Seonghwa set his last box down with that look again. The one that softened his face as if he still couldn’t believe Seonghwa was really moving in.

“It feels different,” Seonghwa said quietly, glancing around the living room. Everything looked the same, really. Nothing had changed at all, and still it felt like everything had.

Hongjoong tilted his head slightly. “Good different?”

Seonghwa nodded, looking at him fondly. “Yeah. Really good.”

Hongjoong’s mouth twitched like he was about to say something else, probably something stupid or too fond, but the words never made it out.

“Oh my God, are you guys eye-fucking already?” Wooyoung’s voice cut in, loud and deeply offended. “Can you at least wait until after we eat the damn pizzas we carried all the way up here for you?”

Seonghwa startled slightly and turned just as the front door opened wider. Wooyoung was the first through, balancing five pizza boxes in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other like he’d walked in on a crime. Behind him, the others followed — San, Yunho, Mingi, Jongho, and Yeosang, all carrying something: more food, the last bag of cleaning supplies, a stray pillow Seonghwa forgot, even the dumb lavender-scented candles Wooyoung had insisted on grabbing from his old apartment “because they smell expensive.”

“I knew you’d start acting married the second you unpacked,” Wooyoung muttered dramatically as he dropped the boxes onto the kitchen counter. “Let the record show I called it.”

“You also said they’d move in together within two months,” Mingi chimed in.

“And that they were secretly already married,” Yeosang added helpfully.

“I have layers. A lot of them,” Wooyoung sniffed, already prying open a pizza box. “Anyway, congrats on moving in. Don’t have loud sex while we’re still here.”

Seonghwa flushed instantly.

That evening, they all ate the pizzas on the floor of the living room because the table was still cluttered with unboxed stuff and no one wanted to sit crowded around the fancy kitchen island. Seonghwa’s legs were slung over Hongjoong’s lap now, chuckling fondly as Yunho recounted the story of how he finally asked Mingi out the week prior.

Home. Even with the chaos, even with the teasing, even with Wooyoung randomly assigning sub-genders from something he had called omegaverse to every one and Yeosang telling Mingi over he definitely wasn’t an alpha — this was home now.

And Seonghwa had never felt more certain about anything in his life.

Later that night, his toothbrush found its spot beside Hongjoong’s in the cup by the sink. His phone charged on the nightstand that had always been there, but now belonged to him.

A new rhythm settled in quickly, the rhythm of two people that were always meant to be together.

They started splitting chores without talking about it. Hongjoong always took the trash out and Seonghwa wiped down the counters and cooked. Groceries done together, Hongjoong trailing behind him in the aisles just to slip a hand into his back pocket. Even laundry became something sacred, folding clothes side by side, stealing kisses in between. Hongjoong observed him fold their clothes with perfect corners once and asked, deadpan, “Do you iron your socks too?”

Seonghwa threw a pillow at him.

Some nights, Seonghwa stayed up waiting for Hongjoong to finish tattoo appointments that ran too long so they could go to bed together. Other nights, he woke up with Hongjoong sitting beside him on the couch, running a hand through his hair until Seonghwa blinked up at him, not remembering falling asleep in front of the TV at all.

And then there were the mornings. God, the mornings. Seonghwa in Hongjoong's oversized t-shirts and messy white hair, mumbling half-formed complaints about the floor being cold. And Hongjoong watching him like he was something holy, pressed against the kitchen counter with a mug between his hands and no intention of pretending he wasn’t staring at him.

There was always coffee. Made exactly how Seonghwa liked it.

Sometimes, Seonghwa would catch himself watching Hongjoong with quiet disbelief. Brushing his teeth. Walking around shirtless shirtless. Sitting on the couch sketching something while absentmindedly running a hand over Seonghwa’s thigh like he couldn’t bear not to be touching him. And Seonghwa wanted to be touched just as much.

The sex was different now. Not just because they had privacy or more time, because they’d always had that. It was because now it was done in their home.

The first time Hongjoong fucked him in their bed, he had whispered, “Fuck, I love seeing you fall apart on our bed,” against Seonghwa’s throat, and it had made him whimper. His hips had been slow, pressing Seonghwa into the mattress with each deep stroke. And every time Hongjoong said it — our bed, our couch, our home — it made something in Seonghwa’s chest come undone.

And he said it often, like he knew the effect it had on him. He said it right before pinning him against the couch cushions, fucking him so deep Seonghwa couldn’t think; only moan and cry out and take it just the way Hongjoong wanted it. He whispered it while spooning him in bed at night, cock still thick, tucked inside from the last round, his hand lazily stroking over the tattoo on Seonghwa’s waist until they both fell asleep.

That tattoo had become Hongjoong’s favorite thing.

He touched it like it was sacred, just like he did the chain before it. His fingers always found their way there.  He dragged his tongue and mouth on it during foreplay, held him tight there during sex. Outside of it, he would pull up Seonghwa’s top just to trace the lines, like it still stunned him to see it there. The belly chain that had once been gold was now black and permanent, resting just above Seonghwa’s waistband, and Hongjoong worshipped it like it made Seonghwa undeniably his.

And Seonghwa would burn for him every time.

But not everything was always nice and soft. Because Hongjoong was still possessive, and Seonghwa… Seonghwa had learned he could be jealous, even more so now that they were living together. Sometimes his insecurities would come back together with that voice whispering that maybe Hongjoong would find someone else soon; someone more interesting and more beautiful than him.

He didn’t mean to pout.

But when the pretty bartender laughed a little too hard at something Hongjoong said, tossing her hair and leaning in, Seonghwa’s chest tightened before he could stop it.

It was stupid. It was stupid, because he trusted Hongjoong. He really did. And Hongjoong had barely looked at her anyway, he had just been asking about the drink menu; but that didn’t matter when Seonghwa’s stomach was already twisting with that too-familiar doubt. The one that told him in that vicious tone that he wasn’t interesting enough. That maybe Hongjoong would get tired of him. That maybe someone funnier, flirtier, less him was just one laugh away.

He didn’t mean to pout. But he found himself doing it anyway—arms crossed loosely, lip caught between his teeth, a sulky little wrinkle in his brow as he leaned against the bar and let his gaze flick away. He didn’t say anything. He just went quiet. And Hongjoong noticed instantly.

He always did, because he knew Seonghwa better than anyone else.

When Hongjoong’s hand landed on his lower back, Seonghwa didn’t flinch, but he didn’t lean into it the way he usually did either.

“What’s wrong, Bunny?” Hongjoong murmured, close to his ear voice low and dangerous like he already knew the answer but was waiting for Seonghwa to spit it out.

“Nothing,” Seonghwa said, too quickly, eyes fixed on the shelves of bottles in front of them.

“Mmh.” Hongjoong hummed like he didn’t believe that for a second. His hand slid lower, until it rested just above the waistband of Seonghwa’s jeans. On the tattoo. “You’re sure?”

Seonghwa still said nothing.

And maybe that silence was answer enough, because Hongjoong leaned in, just enough for his breath to ghost over his neck. “Do you need a reminder, Bunny,” he whispered, voice dark and full of heat. “Do you need me to show you who you belong to?”

That was all it took to get a reaction out of him. Seonghwa’s breath caught, lips parting slightly as he finally glanced at him.

And Hongjoong smirked. “Let’s go home.”

By the time the front door shut behind them, he was still sulking.

“Oh,” Hongjoong had said, voice soft, but dangerous. “You still want my attention, pretty thing?”

Seonghwa’s pulse stuttered, but he didn’t take the bait.

“Were you jealous?”

Still no answer.

“Let me fuck it out of you.” Hongjoong said, stepping close, crowding him against the wall.

Seonghwa eyes widened with need.

By the time he was bent over the arm of the couch, Hongjoong’s voice was a low growl in his ear, one hand gripping his waist hard enough to bruise while the other slipped under the waistband of his underwear. “I’m yours,” he had whispered, breath hot against his back before planting open-mouthed kisses there. “You know that, don’t you, Starlight? I’ll burn the fucking world down just to see you smile.”

And right then, Seonghwa wanted him to, just to see the look on the slutty bartender’s face when she realized she never had any chance in the first place.

Seonghwa came twice before Hongjoong even took his cock out. And when he did, when he finally pushed inside, it was all filthy praise and possessive groans, fucking him senseless until Seonghwa was crying his name into the cushions.

One afternoon, a few weeks before their first year anniversary, he found himself lingering outside San’s old bedroom. The door was still locked, like it always was, and something about that fact stuck with him more than usual.

He reached for the handle only to remember it would never open.

He had asked once, during the first week after he had moved, and Hongjoong had just said San still had things stored in there and it was a mess. It hadn’t seemed important at the time.

It didn’t now, either. Not really.

So Seonghwa let go of the handle and turned away, thinking only briefly about how long San had been gone, before brushing the thought aside.

There were better things to think about. Their anniversary was just around the corner and Seonghwa could barely believe it had almost been a whole year since Hongjoong had driven back from Daegu just to hold him.

Seonghwa hadn’t meant to sulk. He really hadn’t.

Hongjoong’s guest spot was important, and he knew that. The tattoo studio that had invited him was one of the best in the country, and a collaboration like that could open so many doors for him. Hongjoong had explained it all so gently, so carefully, the week before, his thumb brushing over Seonghwa’s cheek when he promised, “We’ll celebrate next week, Bunny. I’ll make it up to you.”

And Seonghwa had smiled. He had said of course. He had meant it, too.

But now, sitting in the passenger seat of Wooyoung’s car with a paper cup of half-finished bubble tea and a dull ache in his chest, he couldn’t stop the intrusive feelings he had tried to suppress the whole week.

It was their first anniversary. A full year since Hongjoong had told him he wanted forever, that he wanted to marry him one day — and he wasn’t even here. Hongjoong had given him his black card before leaving, telling him to go shopping with Wooyoung and buy himself whatever his heart wanted. Seonghwa had taken the card reluctantly, not having the heart to tell him that he didn’t give a damn about some expensive bag or jewelry. He just wanted his Hongjoong.

“Stop pouting, Hwa” Wooyoung said beside him, tapping the straw against his drink.

“I’m not pouting,” Seonghwa mumbled, staring out the window.

He definitely was pouting. He missed already missed Hongjoong, and Wooyoung had dragged him out, and despite his loud protests, his best friend had not taken no for an answer.

“You know you can't bullshit me.”

Seonghwa sighed, sinking deeper into his seat. “I’m fine, Woo.”

“You’re not fine,” Wooyoung said, rolling his eyes. “You’re sad, which, fine, I get it — but I can’t let you mope around today.”

“I’m not moping,” Seonghwa shot back, half-annoyed.

“You’re literally moping right now.”

“I’m sitting.”

“You’re sitting and moping,” Wooyoung corrected, side-eyeing him before taking a sip of his drink.

Seonghwa turned to him, brows knitting. “Can’t I just miss him?”

“You can,” Wooyoung said, gentler now. “But maybe you can also let yourself have a day that’s not just about missing him. You guys are literally together all the time. You know Hongjoong is going to make it up to you tenfold, right?”

Seonghwa exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping to the condensation sliding down his cup. “I know,” he said quietly. “It’s just—our first anniversary. I thought we’d…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Wooyoung leaned back in his seat with a faint sigh. “You’re allowed to be disappointed, you know. Doesn’t make you ungrateful.”

“I’m not,” Seonghwa said quickly. “I’m happy for him, I really am. It’s just… stupid, I guess.”

“It’s not stupid,” Wooyoung said, tone softening. “You’re in love. Being a little pathetic comes with the package.”

That got the smallest smile out of Seonghwa, even if it was fleeting. “You’re the worst.”

“I’ve been called worse by people who don’t pout half as prettily as you do,” Wooyoung replied, grinning as he reached over to nudge Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Now come on,” he added, parking the car outside a café. “You’re coming inside, we’re getting cake, and you’re going to let me distract you before I die of secondhand sadness. Got it?”

Seonghwa blinked at him. “Cake?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You like cake. I like cake. Problem solved.”

“I don’t feel like cake.”

“Tough,” Wooyoung said, already out of the car. “Get your sulky ass out. Hongjoong’s not the only one who loves you.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes but followed him anyway, the corners of his mouth tugging upward despite himself. The café was small and warm, full of quiet chatter and the smell of vanilla pastries. Wooyoung ordered for both of them, chatting idly while Seonghwa drifted in and out of the conversation, still half lost in thought.

The whole afternoon went like that — Wooyoung dragging him from one small distraction to the next. Lunch, a walk through the park, a stop at the department store where Wooyoung pretended to cry over the price of a pair of shoes from his favorite designer. Every time Seonghwa tried to go home, Wooyoung found a reason to stall him.

And Seonghwa didn’t catch it. Not at first.

He just thought Wooyoung was being extra clingy, or maybe trying too hard to cheer him up. But when they had spent two hours going from shop to shop, and Wooyoung still hadn’t mentioned driving him home, something in Seonghwa’s chest clenched.

He turned to look at him, suspicion flickering across his face. “Why are you being so weird?”

Wooyoung almost choked on his bagel. “Weird? Me?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa said flatly. “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“I’m literally being normal.” Wooyoung said, hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “Look I’m trying to be a good friend.”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes. “Woo—”

But Wooyoung cut him off with a grin. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you home. But at least buy something cute to wear first?”

Seonghwa frowned, confused. “Why would I? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Because it’s your anniversary,” Wooyoung said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Even if he’s not here, you should at least dress for yourself. Come on, let’s pick out a pretty outfit that will make you feel better and I promise to drive you back home after.”

Seonghwa sighed but nodded, not wanting to argue anymore. “Fine.”

He thought back about Hongjoong’s words from this morning, and even if hadn’t planned on using the card, he guessed that a little shopping couldn’t hurt him more than his absence did.

The store Wooyoung dragged him into was one of those places that was all glass, soft music, and assistants who spoke in whispers. The kind of boutique where you didn’t ask for the price because if you had to, then you already couldn’t afford it.

“Trust me,” he said, already scanning the racks like he  already knew what he was looking for. “You need something that says I’m hot and my boyfriend should regret missing tonight.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Liar,” Wooyoung said, not even glancing back as he pulled a hanger free. “Try this.”

The outfit didn’t look like much on the hanger. It was black on black, and looked boring at first sight, but when Seonghwa took it from him, he paused. The cropped blazer was cut in a wrap style that tied at the back, and Seonghwa could guess it would reveal a hint of skin when paired with the high-waisted, wide-leg trousers.

“I don’t know…” he said quietly.

Wooyoung waved a hand. “Just try it on. Trust me.”

Inside the fitting room, Seonghwa slipped into the clothes one piece at a time. The trousers slid up his hips easily, settling perfectly right under his waist, and when he tied the blazer with the straps at the back, it was open enough to reveal the delicate lines of his fully healed tattoo.

When he looked up, the mirror didn’t show the sulking version of himself he had been all day. It showed someone composed and impossible beautiful. He turned once, watching the fabric move and fall, and the glimpse of skin whenever he shifted slightly.

He could almost hear it now, that low hum of approval Hongjoong made whenever Seonghwa got dressed up for him. Whenever he wanted to ruin him.

He would lose his mind, Seonghwa thought before he could stop himself.

When he stepped out, Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“That’s—” he waved his hands helplessly, “—criminally hot. Like, actually dangerous.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but the heat crawled up his neck anyway.

“You’re wearing that home,” Wooyoung declared with no room for argument.

But Seonghwa argued anyway. “What? No—”

“Yes. It’s your anniversary, you’re wearing that home.” He took Seonghwa’s old clothes and shoved them into one of his own shopping bags before he could argue. “Let the universe know you’re taken.”

Seonghwa sighed, but the fight in him was already gone. When he glanced at his reflection again, with the jacket perfectly fitted, starry chain tattooed at his waist, and trousers flowing like shadow around his legs — he had to admit: it did make him feel better.

He didn’t say it out loud, but the thought bloomed quietly in his mind as he pulled out the black card at the counter. If Hongjoong were here, they would probably be going out to dinner right now.

Seonghwa shook his head, trying to push the thoughts out as he smiled to the woman handing him a receipt he didn’t even bother himself to look at as he shoved it into one of the shopping bags Wooyoung was holding.

By the time Wooyoung finally dropped him off, it was already dark. He climbed out after thanking his best friend for keeping him company today. Even if he had been sulky, Seonghwa had really appreciated him going out of his way to make him think of something else.

Seonghwa stood in the quiet hallway for a moment after the car disappeared, the sound of his own sigh echoing softly in the still air. He tried not to feel disappointed, he really did. But as he unlocked the door and stepped inside, the weight of Hongjoong’s absence hit him full force.

The apartment was dark and silent. He dropped his keys into the bowl by the door and toed took his shoes off, his chest tightening all over again. The air still smelled faintly like Hongjoong’s cologne, even though he had been gone since this morning. And that’s what undid him.

He had told himself he wouldn’t cry, but the first tears slipped down before he could stop it, and other followed soon after. He crossed the hall slowly, fingertips brushing along the wall, toward the living room. His throat felt thick as he reached for the light switch.

The moment the light flicked on, he froze.

There were flowers. Everywhere.

LEGO flowers. They were on the floor, on the coffee table, lining the shelves and the window sill, in glass jars and vases, across the rug. There were hundreds of them. Maybe more. Roses, tulips, daisies, wildflowers. And for a second, Seonghwa forgot how to breathe, tears still running down his face.

He took a slow step forward, eyes wide, a hand covering his mouth, not really understanding what he was looking at. His chest ached with something that wasn’t sadness anymore.

And then he saw it. In the middle of the living room, hundreds, maybe thousands of small bricks were carefully arranged across the floor, forming a question in bright, colorful shapes:

Marry me?

The air left him in a surprised, broken sob, and his hands trembled. He didn’t even hear Hongjoong at first. Not until the sound of something behind him made him turn.

And when he did, Hongjoong was there, down on one knee.

For a heartbeat, Seonghwa thought his mind was playing tricks on him, that maybe he had finally snapped from missing him so much. But then Hongjoong smiled. That soft, uneven smile that always made Seonghwa’s chest tighten.

“Joong…” Seonghwa’s voice cracked, barely more than a breath. “What—”

“I’m sorry I lied, Bunny. I wasn’t in Busan,” Hongjoong said quietly. “I refused that guest spot months ago.”

The words slammed into his chest, stealing almost all the air out of his lungs.

“Wooyoung and the boys helped — I owe them my life.” Hongjoong went on, his voice trembling despite the faint smile tugging at his mouth.

Seonghwa let out a shaky, broken laugh, tears still sleeping freely down his face, but not for the same reason they had started in the first place.

His eyes swept over the room again: the floor, the shelves, the endless bloom of LEGO flowers, and then back to Hongjoong, to the small velvet box in his hand displaying a delicate golden ring, crowned by a deep blue sapphire at its centered, and encircled by smaller diamonds that glimmered that stars.

“Y-you… you hate LEGO,” he whispered, voice thick with tears.

“I do,” Hongjoong said, a quiet laugh escaping him. “I really do. But I love you more, Starlight.”

That did it, the tears fell faster now, hot streaks against Seonghwa’s flushed cheeks that didn’t seem to end.

“I’ve been building these since the week we started dating,” he said softly. “Every time you thought I was working late. I’ve been storing them in San’s old room, that’s why it was locked.”

Seonghwa’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His throat hurt too much to speak.

Hongjoong drew a shaky breath. “I know this isn’t grand or perfect,” he said softly, voice catching on every word. “But I wanted you to have something I made with my own hands. Every stupid little flower… they’re all the nights I spent thinking about how lucky I am that you’re mine. About how lucky I am that you gave me another chance.”

Seonghwa’s heart clenched painfully, and as his vision blurred again, and all he could see was Hongjoong, his trembling smile, and the glint in his eyes.

“I meant it, you know,” Hongjoong went on. “When I told you I wanted to marry you one day. I meant it in every language I know, in every version of who I am. I want to wake up next to you as your husband every morning for the rest of my life.”

Seonghwa couldn’t hold back the sob that broke from his chest, and his knees hit the floor before he even realized he was moving, tears slipping down his face in messy, trembling waves.

“Yes,” he breathed, voice breaking. “Yes, Joong. I want to marry you.”

Hongjoong let out a sound that was something between a laugh and a gasp that seemed like pure relief before setting the ring carefully on Seonghwa’s finger with shaking hands.

Then Hongjoong’s hand came up to his cheek, thumb brushing away the tears there. “Come here, baby” he murmured.

The world tilted upside down as Hongjoong leaned in, his forehead resting against Seonghwa’s for a moment before closing the last inch between them.

The kiss wasn’t careful, it was trembling and real, mouths meeting in the middle of a broken laugh. Their teeth bumped; Hongjoong’s breath hitched against his lips and he could feel the smile there, trembling and soft, before it melted into something deeper.

Hongjoong kissed him again, slower this time, lips dragging and parting just enough for Seonghwa to breathe him in. His fingers slid into Seonghwa’s hair, some strands still damp and clinging to his face from the tears, tilting his head to get closer, to taste more of him. It was messy, tender, and mixed with devotion, awe, relief, and a quiet kind of worship pressed into the shape of Seonghwa’s mouth.

When they finally broke apart, their noses brushed. Seonghwa’s breath shook, his body trembling.

“I love you,” Hongjoong whispered, the words so close they vibrated against Seonghwa’s lips.

“I love you too,” Seonghwa whispered back, voice wrecked and full of something he couldn’t even name.

Around them, the LEGO garden glimmered under the light — one built from thousand tiny pieces by hand, by patience, and by a love so strong nothing would ever be able to shatter it.