Archive of Our Own

YEONJUN

“Hyung, can I ask you for a favor?” Taehyun says in a very small voice, setting aside his notebook.

He’s curled up by Yeonjun’s pillows, his knees close to his chest. A smaller, meeker pose than Yeonjun has come to expect from him—although he had seemed a little subdued when they had spoken on the phone earlier today to plan their weekly study session. He’d perked up a bit after Yeonjun had picked him up, and mustered a smile to greet Yeonjun’s mother, but that smile had left him as soon as they’d reached the privacy of Yeonjun’s room.

He’s had a lot of quiet days recently. Less than he’d had in March, after the breakup, and less than in April, but more than in January. None of Yeonjun’s breakups have ever hurt like this, so he isn’t entirely sure how to help.

That’s how they’ve ended up here. If Taehyun wants someone to study with, Yeonjun will study with him. If Taehyun wants to just sit in silence, Yeonjun will accompany him. If he wants a distraction, Yeonjun can work with that, too. Taehyun’s a fun friend to hang out with.

“Sure. What is it?” Yeonjun asks. Taehyun doesn’t ask for favors often, and it’s Yeonjun’s duty to make sure he’s happy. Whatever Taehyun needs—it’s his first heartbreak, and Yeonjun knows a thing or two about heartbreak.

“You might be mad at me,” Taehyun says. He’s avoiding Yeonjun’s eyes, instead fidgeting with his hands in Yeonjun’s blankets. “It’s stupid.”

This is intriguing. Yeonjun doesn’t think he’s ever been really mad at Taehyun before—sure, they’ve had disagreements, but Taehyun’s an easy person to get along with. Yeonjun understands him better than almost anyone.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Yeonjun asks.

Taehyun shakes his head. “It’s selfish. And I—I don’t know why I thought of it.”

“You can ask me for things,” Yeonjun says. “I don’t care if it’s selfish. You’re my friend.”

It’s not that simple, but Taehyun will understand. They’ve made plenty of sacrifices for each other over the years, and devotion is a pillar of their friendship.

Taehyun hesitates. Yeonjun’s dying to know what possibly could have gotten him this worked up. He’s not usually so… insecure. “Are you sure?”

Yeonjun nods. It can’t possibly be anything bad, can it? “Of course.”

Taehyun stares at him. He edges closer to Yeonjun, his guard dropping. “Don’t think too much about this,” he says.

Yeonjun doesn’t have a chance to ask, “Think about what?” before Taehyun takes his face in hand and kisses him.

It takes Yeonjun a moment to register the sensations: the soft touch of Taehyun’s lips against his own, Taehyun’s hand steady against his jawbone, warm warm warm. And then—

Taehyun?

Yeonjun’s head snaps back. Taehyun freezes. His eyes are wide, darting back and forth, searching. Fearful, somehow, and it makes Yeonjun ache.

Yeonjun’s heart pounds. Taehyun is—his friend. Always his friend—Yeonjun has never thought of him as anything else. Definitely not a friend with any kind of benefits, either. Yeonjun kisses him all the time, but not like this. Nothing romantic, just simple affection.

But Taehyun’s one of the only gay men in their tiny town. It was one of the things that had allowed them to form such a close bond, despite their age gap—they have nobody else to rely on or find comfort in, and so they share their experiences with each other. Taehyun has always been off-limits, but so have the other boys Yeonjun’s age. He’s carefully trained himself to never let himself consider kissing the boys in his classes. No kissing, no dates, nothing else.

Yeonjun has had plenty of time to accept this part of his identity, and it’s even something he’s grown to feel proud of. At the same time, it’s not safe. Even now that he’s in college, surrounded by people who are at least more open-minded than his parents, he can’t let his guard down.

And yet—he’s curious. He’s never stopped being curious, quietly waiting for a moment that could be safe.

What is this? What am I doing?

This feels right. He doesn’t understand. I have to do this, but there’s nothing logical about it at all.

Yeonjun reaches for the hand that Taehyun had dropped, not quite brave enough to hold it. He curls his fingers around Taehyun’s hand, the way he always will when he’s urging Taehyun ahead in a conversation or wants to ask a question. He doesn’t have the strength to ask for it, not when his heart is beating so fast he can barely breathe, and the words won’t leave his mouth. He can’t ask. He can’t make it real.

Taehyun reads him like a book, though. His other hand creeps back up Yeonjun’s chest, landing on his shoulder. Fuck, fuck, what am I doing—

When Taehyun leans in again, Yeonjun is ready. He takes a deep breath, hoping to still the fluttering of his heart, to block out their surroundings and the expectations that come with it. He can’t let himself think at all, or this will be ruined, and the moment will be over and he can’t have whatever this—whatever this safe little bubble is. He closes his eyes.

Taehyun kisses him slowly, hesitant but with intention. When Yeonjun kisses back, Taehyun rewards him by tilting his head, seeking a better angle. It’s slow, cautious, but not chaste, either. Taehyun presses lightly on Yeonjun’s bottom lip with his teeth, traces it with his tongue.

Yeonjun has been kissed enough times to know that it’s different with every person, but he’s so perplexed that he can do nothing but fall against Taehyun. His limbs are flooded with a warm, tingly sensation, strangely addicting. By the time it occurs to him to properly match Taehyun’s enthusiasm—or to stop the kiss before it goes too far—Taehyun is pulling away.

“I’m gonna go home now,” Taehyun says, as though nothing had happened. “Thank you for letting me come by. We should do this again next week.”

Yeonjun looks at Taehyun blankly. Taehyun offers a nervous grin. “Hang out, I mean. If you’re not too busy with school.”

“Oh—oh, yeah, let’s do that,” Yeonjun says. His mind is stuck somewhere Taehyun is still holding him, the kiss a phantom sensation against his lips. “I shouldn’t be too busy, so….”

Taehyun’s back turns as he slides down from the bed, reaching for his bag. He grabs his discarded notebooks and shoves them inside it unceremoniously. “Right, sounds good.”

Yeonjun swallows. “Taehyun, I….”

What could he even say? He feels the need to say something. He can’t let Taehyun walk out his door without addressing the kiss.

“Remember what I said, hyung?” Taehyun asks, straightening up. His eyes meet Yeonjun’s, but Yeonjun can feel himself cowering.

Don’t think too much about this. There’s nothing to think about. There’s nothing there, nothing to be addressed in the first place. But why would Taehyun kiss him?

“See you next week,” Taehyun says. He tucks his phone into his pocket and shrugs his bag over his shoulder. 

And without any fuss, he opens Yeonjun’s bedroom door, stepping outside and gently closing it behind him. Yeonnjun stares at the spot he was standing in, as though that will somehow bring him back, with an explanation.

But Taehyun won’t be coming back. Yeonjun collapses against his pillows, his head spinning. Taehyun might be gone, but the memory is fresh—Yeonjun presses his fingers to his lips, trying to recall the sensation. It isn’t hard.

What’s wrong with you, Yeonjun?

“I wish I could have pets,” Yeonjun says as he scratches behind Hobak’s ears. Hobak purrs, a loud, warm rumbling sound. “Dad thinks it’s a waste of money. Mom doesn't like them. I want a dog, though. I’m so jealous.”

He’s jealous of Kai, too, who has probably never had less than five pets at a time, but he wouldn’t say that to Taehyun right now. Yeonjun had been lonely as a child, oftentimes the only one home, and he thinks that a pet would have helped. At least he can borrow Hobak for a little while when he’s with Taehyun.

“You should get one when you move out,” Taehyun says. He’d been lying next to Yeonjun, but he sits up so that he can rest his head on Yeonjun’s shoulder, clinging to him.

“Aww, do you want attention, too?” Yeonjun asks. He ruffles Taehyun’s hair, and Taehyun pushes his head against Yeonjun’s hand, unashamed. “Cutie.”

Now that he’s not on the receiving end of Yeonjun’s pats, Hobak jumps down from the bed. Yeonjun is a little offended. He feels like he’s being used.

Taehyun, at least, is easy to please. His eyes start to close as Yeonjun runs his fingers through his hair. He bleached it again recently, so the ends that were already a bright blonde are starting to feel dry, like hay. He’s been begging Yeonjun for help deciding what color he should dye it next.

Yeonjun is entirely unsuspecting until Taehyun mumbles, “Did you think about it?”

Yeonjun can’t help it; his hand snaps away. Taehyun lifts his head, concerned.

Taehyun’s words are vague, but Yeonjun instantly knows what he’s talking about. How could he not? It was just last week, and Yeonjun had tried so hard to put it out of his mind. There are so many reasons he can’t just forget.

Taehyun, asking for a favor—kissing him, and then leaving. That was all. Just a kiss. No conversation, no explanation, nothing more or less. Though confused, Yeonjun had let him. The first time he’d kissed someone without understanding why. The first time he’d ever kissed a boy.

For Taehyun, that part might not have been very special. For Yeonjun, it was the first time he’d ever gone further than imagining what it might be like. Now, he knows. He knows that it’s something he wants.

But… Taehyun?

How can he begin addressing  his feelings for Taehyun?

“You told me not to,” Yeonjun says. He whispers, even though nobody else is home. Taehyun’s parents may have been a little more keen on supervising Taehyun with Kai, but there’s no reason for them to suspect Yeonjun. Yeonjun would like to respect that boundary.

“But you did,” Taehyun says. He doesn’t sound upset.

They’ve talked a few times since last week, and nothing about Taehyun had seemed off to Yeonjun. Yeonjun had taken that as his cue to pretend nothing had happened—he’s not proud of it, because he should be the responsible one and sat them down to have a real conversation. But he’s not sure he wants to have that conversation. For now, he’s content to go along with Taehyun, and to move onto the next chapter.

Earlier today, Taehyun had asked Yeonjun to come over, to help him with his homework—which actually means keep me company, because usually Yeonjun is the one legitimately begging Taehyun for help. Taehyun isn’t even working on homework he’d requested Yeonjun hold him accountable for. He’d spent the afternoon rambling about a documentary he’s watching and retelling a conversation with one of his gym friends that Soobin claims to know. He’s back to his usual, bright self, nothing like the sad and jittery version of him that Yeonjun had been met with last week.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Yeonjun says. Asking for an explanation would be like opening Pandora’s box. He’s not sure he wants to know, even though a part of him is curious—just as it had been last week. There’s potential there, but not knowing what it could lead to is scary.

And yet. He’s so curious.

“I should,” Taehyun says. He glances away, then back at Yeonjun. “It was selfish. Um… I should have asked properly. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yeonjun says, reaching for one of Taehyun’s hands. “I didn’t think it was selfish.”

“I guess.” Taehyun shifts so that he’s sitting in front of Yeonjun, and Yeonjun finally gets a proper look at him. He seems slightly nervous, just like last week, and Yeonjun is so confused as to why he’d mentioned it in the first place.

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when he finally speaks again, it all comes spilling out. “I don’t want to think about him anymore. I thought that I… if I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to use you to get over him, but I wanted to have something without him. Something for me. I’ve never kissed anyone else.”

“I wouldn't recommend a rebound hookup,” Yeonjun says, stroking Taehyun’s hand with his thumb. Yeonjun has made that mistake, and he doesn’t want Taehyun to do the same. He knows that someone like Taehyun only would only feel regret, whatever temporary satisfaction he could glean by falling into another’s arms almost instantly dashed by a reminder of unwanted memories.

“We’re not hooking up, though. Right?” Taehyun asks.

It shouldn’t be a question. In absolutely no universe should it be a question. It’s only been two months since Taehyun and Kai broke up, but it’s been a hard two months. Yeonjun has been the shoulder to cry on for both of them. He’d never forgive himself if something real were to happen between him and Taehyun, because he knows how much it would hurt Kai. It would probably hurt Taehyun, too. Yeonjun knows that Taehyun hasn’t fully recovered.

“We’re just kissing,” Yeonjun says. That’s all it has to be.

Taehyun’s eyes flit down to Yeonjun’s lips. Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t notice. “Present tense kissing?”

“Well. Um. I—I like kissing,” Yeonjun stammers, feeling slightly ridiculous. “Kissing… it’s fun.”

“Did you like it with me?” Taehyun asks, bolder now.

Yeonjun nods. It’s the slightest hint of a nod, really, but that’s enough of an answer for Taehyun. He edges forward, into Yeonjun’s space, and Yeonjun doesn’t say anything. He leans against Taehyun’s pillows, tilts his head back. An invitation, as silent and effortless as the first time. Only now, it’s not as brief and chaste; Taehyun crawls right into Yeonjun’s lap, hovering over him, his knees on either side of Yeonjun. He holds Yeonjun’s face in both hands, not one. And this time, Yeonjun remembers to kiss back.

With permission granted, Taehyun doesn’t hesitate. He kisses Yeonjun slowly, carefully, but it's not out of hesitation—instead, he’s trying to tease. Yeonjun places his hands on Taehyun’s shoulders, bunching his hands in the fabric of his shirt, and kisses back more insistently.

Yeonjun hasn’t kissed anyone else in so long. He wasn’t lying; kissing is fun, especially with someone who knows exactly what they’re doing, who can learn to read Yeonjun’s reactions and to try to extract them again and again. Yeonjun has never thought about kissing Taehyun before, but it’s new and exciting. The feeling is addicting. There’s no reason for Yeonjun to be worried about kissing—his anxieties are in his head. This can be a part of him, too.

Taehyun sighs as Yeonjun deepens the kiss, pressing them closer. Even the slightest touches set Yeonjun on fire. It shouldn’t be like this, but it’s so good, and Yeonjun wants nothing more than to allow himself to be swept up in it.

Yeonjun parts his lips, and Taehyun’s tongue slides past them like he was waiting for it. Yeonjun nearly whimpers. He could try to stop this, before it gets too heated, but Taehyun makes a needy, keening noise when he hesitates. That answers all of Yeonjun’s questions.

He shifts into a more comfortable position, and suddenly their bodies are flush together. One of Yeonjun’s hands falls to Taehyun’s waist, and he doesn’t dare to slide it under Taehyun’s shirt, but his fingers toy with the hem. It’s difficult to concentrate on any one sensation. 

Taehyun presses their hips together, and Yeonjun realizes with a shock that he’s hard. He’d been conscious of himself, stubbornly trying to ignore it and hoping that Taehyun wouldn’t notice—but there’s no way Taehyun hasn’t felt it now. He whimpers, but Taehyun doesn’t seem concerned at all.

It’s exhilarating to think that Yeonjun could have this kind of effect on Taehyun. It’s so unexpected that he doesn’t know what to think. More than anything, he’s fascinated—but he doesn’t know if it’s something he should allow himself to think about beyond this.

“It’s good, right?” Taehyun asks breathlessly. Yeonjun can only nod, tugging him down for another kiss. He doesn’t want to stop, at least not yet. It’s so embarrassing to admit that he could probably get off like this. He can feel Taehyun’s smile.

Taehyun rolls their hips together again and Yeonjun gasps, his head falling back, smacking the headboard behind him. “Are you okay?” Taehyun whispers.

Yeonjun nods. One of Taehyun’s thumbs presses against his bottom lip. “Pretty,” Taehyun murmurs. “I knew you’d be good at this just by looking at you.”

Yeonjun doesn’t know what to say, so he kisses Taehyun again. Taehyun entertains him at first, but pulls back to press wet kisses to Yeonjun’s neck—under his jaw, down to his collarbones. He sucks lightly, not hard enough to bruise, but enough that Yeonjun shivers, coming apart in his arms.

“Taehyun-ah,” Yeonjun gasps, and Taehyun connects their lips again. He’s still grinding against Yeonjun insistently, and Yeonjun moans into the kiss. “T… Taehyun-ah, I—”

Yeonjun is so distracted that he almost misses it: the sound of a door opening in the distance. Taehyun immediately tenses up, and Yeonjun draws back quickly, his heart pounding.

“Um. My—my sister usually gets home at this time,” Taehyun says. He carefully extracts himself from Yeonjun, awkwardly sitting across from him again. His face is flushed, the rise and fall of his chest rapid. Wincing, Yeonjun pulls a pillow into his lap.

Taehyun slides off the bed so he can close his bedroom door, but the moment is already gone. He sighs as he returns to the bed, sitting on the edge next to Yeonjun. Yeonjun tries very hard not to look below his face. “Did you like it this time?” Taehyun asks quietly.

Yeonjun nods again. “But we… we can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” Taehyun says. “That’s okay.”

Yeonjun doesn’t know why he feels the need to say it. “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive….”

“You find me attractive?” Taehyun asks, eyebrows raised.

Yeonjun laughs, strained. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, for the record,” Taehyun says, “I find you attractive, too.”

Yeonjun absolutely cannot allow himself to think about what that means.

How many times has Taehyun done this exact same thing with Kai, on this same bed? The thought fills Yeonjun with a powerful sense of dread, and the kind of guilt that could bring him to his knees if he weren’t already sitting. He knows it’ll eat away at him.

He also knows that Taehyun had wanted it, but that Taehyun is hurting. He doesn’t have to say it for Yeonjun to know. Yeonjun doesn’t know if that’s the only reason Taehyun wanted to kiss him, but he doesn’t want Taehyun to have to linger on it.

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks, placing a hand on Taehyun’s knee.

Taehyun hesitates. “I’m getting better,” he says. He puts his hand over Yeonjun’s and squeezes gently, not quite meeting Yeonjun’s eyes. For now, Yeonjun thinks that better is enough.

Yeonjun lingers for a while even though it feels like his heart could beat out of his chest at any moment. He doesn’t want Taehyun to feel like he’d driven him away or made things awkward between them—and he hasn't. Yeonjun won’t let that happen. But his thoughts are racing, and he needs a space to process where he isn’t hyper-aware of Taehyun’s presence.

When he thinks he can’t take it anymore, he gives Taehyun a quick hug goodbye and makes up an excuse about how his mother needs him back home. It’s believable, because there are plenty of things that Yeonjun has had to miss recently because of his family situation, and it’s not incorrect although he feels guilty for leveraging this.

Taehyun looks at him with sad, doe-like eyes as he leaves, his hand lingering in Yeonjun’s grasp even as he pulls away. It doesn’t mean anything. Yeonjun knows why he’s doing all of this; he had been upright about needing comfort, and Yeonjun had let him use him for this purpose. He could have turned Taehyun away, but he didn’t. He didn’t need to kiss Taehyun, but he did.

It didn’t feel like need for Yeonjun. That’s what he told himself, at least. He told himself that he was just going along with what Taehyun wanted, that he didn’t mind if Taehyun used him. He didn’t think about why Taehyun had chosen him, or if it was weird that he had agreed, or if it was wrong that he had thought about it. None of that mattered because Taehyun said that it was okay.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. It was a one-time thing, a two-time thing, not a real thing at all. Not something for Yeonjun to miss, even though the lingering potential of it aches—potential that shouldn’t exist, that doesn’t really exist. Not something for Yeonjun’s thoughts to linger on, although he swears that his lips tingle all the way home. He doesn’t remember the last time he had been kissed so thoroughly—the last time someone had kissed him and he had felt wanted.

It’s not right to think that way, though. Taehyun doesn’t want him. Not like that.

The house is empty when Yeonjun returns home, no mom to greet him like usual. She’s meeting her lawyer today, a lawyer she can’t really afford. Yeonjun had only been at Taehyun’s apartment because he’d needed a distraction. He’d left campus as soon as his last class had ended, beating Taehyun home to his own home, a hastily-packed bag stored on the passenger seat of his car. He’s spent most of his time away from home since the start of the semester and had promised his mom that he would make an effort to be more present, only to find  out that she would be busy most of the weekend with meetings for work and with her lawyer. As often as she complained about not seeing her son, most of her time lately was dedicated to the career she was attempting to kickstart now that it seemed likely she would be losing her husband’s financial support.

Usually Yeonjun craves conversation with his parents, even though they rarely ever end well these days. Everything Yeonjun says is subject to criticism, even more so than his childhood. Today, he beelines straight to his bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time as though someone will sneak up on him if he doesn’t hurry.

He hardly spares a glance around his room as he dumps his belongings on the ground. Nobody goes into his room when he isn’t home. Occasionally, when he would spend more time away from home, his mother would come in to make sure everything was kept tidy and comfortable—a rare, quiet act of love. She’s too busy now. And he’s grown up.

Yeonjun flops on his bed and turns on his phone. He’d kept it tucked away in his pocket since he’d left Taehyun’s apartment, not exactly sure what he was expecting but expecting something anyway.

Yeonjun buries his face in his pillow, as if this will quell the surge of emotion that rises up in him. It doesn’t. Not at all.

The next best thing to do would be to go about his day normally, finishing up the activities that he had planned on doing tonight, if not for his afternoon with Taehyun totally skewing his headspace. What had even been important enough for him to do that he had had to leave Taehyun’s early? He can’t think of much that would be so compelling as to draw him away from Taehyun’s apartment, warm and full of love, a soft cat to curl in his lap, and Taehyun….

Yeonjun drags himself off his bed and heads into the bathroom instead. Anything to get moving, to focus on something that isn’t Taehyun’s text, left without a reply. Taehyun won’t be expecting a rapid response, so Yeonjun will reply later, when he can think.

Yeonjun turns on the shower to let the water heat up and begins tugging his clothes off. His eyes catch on himself in the mirror, and he jolts. His appearance is the same as always, but the uncertainty in his own posture startles him. He’s always been told that he’s a charismatic person, that people are drawn to him because of his confidence. He hadn’t always been this way. He’s good at faking it, but it’s never felt more like a façade than it does right now.

There isn’t anything for Yeonjun to think about, really. What he had done with Taehyun would never happen again. He had kissed Taehyun because Taehyun asked him to. He kissed a boy because that boy was his friend, and needed comfort. He had comfort to offer. It didn’t matter what Yeonjun needed.

Yeonjun steps into the shower and winces. He’d turned the water temperature too high. Scalding. He should be taking a cold shower, really, something to shock his system. Hot water isn’t quite the same. It washes over him and eases his aches and pains, and it feels like Yeonjun could stay here and just melt away under the spray, and then he wouldn’t have any thoughts anymore, nothing about…

Kissing a boy wasn’t that much different from kissing a girl, really. Not the first time or the second. The real difference was that Taehyun exuded a kind of confidence that Yeonjun’s ex-girlfriends never had, even the girls who had prior relationship experience. With them, Yeonjun was always expected to be the confident one, to make the first move. But Taehyun had been the one to crawl into his lap with no hesitation, to kiss him after only the briefest of confirmations that Yeonjun wanted this, too.

Yeonjun wasn’t supposed to think about it after the first time. But you did, Taehyun whispered, and he had. Did you like it with me?

Yeonjun ducks his head under the spray and warmth cascades from his scalp to his shoulders to his chest and pools in his belly.

Yeonjun wasn’t supposed to think about it. Taehyun wasn’t supposed to think about it either, but they both had.

The first time had been brief, innocent kisses. Just a suggestion. Nothing like today, with Taehyun sitting in his lap and grinding his hips in tight little circles, feeling Yeonjun’s hardness and leaning into him, totally unafraid.

It’s good, right?

Yeonjun groans and tips his forehead against the shower wall.

He wasn’t sure of who had been more petrified the first time, himself or Taehyun. Taehyun, terrified of rejection. Yeonjun, terrified of… well, Taehyun. He wasn’t terrified because Taehyun is his friend, he was terrified because he’s a boy. Yeonjun… likes boys. But he wasn’t supposed to think about them. He wasn’t supposed to kiss them, and then keep thinking about it.

Not that Taehyun had had any reservations about this. It had been the opposite for him, maybe. What reason would he have to fear kissing a boy? The only person he’d ever kissed was Kai, and that was the whole reason why he wanted to kiss Yeonjun. Another boy, and someone safe. Someone he found attractive, and he wasn’t afraid to say that either.

Pretty, Taehyun said. None of Yeonjun’s girlfriends had ever called him pretty before. I knew you’d be good at this just by looking at you.

It’s wrong. He shouldn’t. The whole point of taking a shower was to cool off, but now it’s as though every nerve in Yeonjun’s body is burning with a pleasant glow. He’s weak in the knees and his cock is aching and it’s wrong, but not wrong enough that Yeonjun stops himself from wrapping a hand around his cock and sighing with relief.

Touching himself is familiar. More familiar than having Taehyun on his lap, but even this had felt more natural than letting his exes touch him. He was always so unsure of himself, terrified that he wasn’t doing well, that he couldn’t please them. There hadn’t been any expectations with Taehyun. They’d each had their own reasons for the kiss, they had taken care of each other, but there wasn’t any pressure. No obligations, and there isn’t going to be a next time.

It can’t be wrong. Taehyun hadn’t told him not to think about it this time. They’d agreed that it couldn’t happen again, that what they’d done together, what it could have been, existed in its own sphere apart from everything else.

thinking of you, hyung

It can’t be wrong if Taehyun had all but given him explicit permission to do this. Neither of them had made any awkward excuses to spend a few minutes in the bathroom after they had parted. Yeonjun had kept the pillow in his lap, adamantly not giving in to the temptation of grinding his cock up into it, and Taehyun had curled up on the other side of the bed, obscuring his lap from view until he stood up to bid Yeonjun goodbye, the bulge in his pants long gone.

But of course it had come to this. The tension had never quite stopped simmering beneath Yeonjun’s skin. Whenever he touched himself next, the memory of Taehyun, tongue in Yeonjun’s mouth and cock pressed against Yeonjun’s, would be fresh. Not that Yeonjun ever fantasized much about his girlfriends, given how his relationships had ended. Sometimes when he was lonely, he missed it, though—the tightness, the wetness, the feeling of a warm body underneath him. Taehyun hadn’t given him that, but the words he’d whispered in Yeonjun’s ear had done just as much for him.

Words that had to have come from somewhere. Yeonjun fists his cock fast and tight, twisting around the head and squishing the tip between his fingers. He drags his other hand down his belly, between his legs, cupping his balls. He knows how to get himself off quickly, and that’s exactly what he’s looking for now—relief from his own terrible thoughts, the arousal that has been simmering in his belly since Taehyun had murmured, Did you think about it?

Fuck, maybe even since the first time he had asked for a favor. What else could Yeonjun have given him but this? Taehyun is more experienced with men but Yeonjun is older, wiser. Taehyun must have seen him as a protector, someone to take care of him, even as he sat in Yeonjun’s lap and grabbed his face and whimpered into his lips like he was begging for more. Sexy as hell, and even more sexy because Yeonjun knew that Taehyun had been thinking about it beforehand, just like he had.

Yeonjun can feel his climax building, just out of reach. He clenches his teeth shut, biting back the groan that threatens to escape his lips. He’s never been noisy on his own, but suddenly everything is too much, pleasure that bursts from every seam. He’s been on the edge for so long, and it’s so hot, and Taehyun’s words echo in his ears.

It’s good, right? I knew you’d be good at this just by looking at you.

Would Taehyun have wanted more, if the moment hadn’t been interrupted? Would he have kept squirming in Yeonjun’s lap, teasing him, or let him explore? Would he have let Yeonjun take off his clothes, see him, touch him?

Yeonjun throws his head back and bites his fist as jerks himself through his orgasm, spilling over the pristine tiles. The aftershocks wash over him in a flood of tingles that make his legs weak. He collapses against the slick shower wall, heaving deep breaths, hand still cradling his sensitive cock.

The heat subsides to a gentle, golden numbness as he catches his breath, thoughts racing as guilt crashes into him. He turns off the water as soon as it washes away the evidence, the harsh, lukewarm spray beating down uncomfortably on his skin.

He shouldn’t have done that. It’s the guiltiest kind of horny he’s ever been, and it won’t happen again. Even if Taehyun had wanted Yeonjun to think of him, even if this was a completely natural response to what they’d done, Yeonjun can’t get attached to Taehyun like that. He can’t. He won’t.

Taehyun isn’t his. No matter what he gave Yeonjun, no matter how new or exciting or even life-changing, it has to end here. He isn’t Kai’s, but he certainly isn’t Yeonjun’s.

“Hyung, why aren’t you listening to me?”

Beomgyu’s whine snaps Yeonjun from his thoughts. He blinks, his eyes refocusing on the half-finished study guide on his laptop. He hasn’t been paying attention for a while.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you should be paying attention to me instead,” Beomgyu continues. “Whatever it is can’t be that important.”

He drapes himself across the table, supporting his chin on his hand. His round puppy eyes are framed by long, dark hair, making him look even softer and more innocent than usual. It’s admittedly very difficult for Yeonjun to think about his coursework when Beomgyu’s right in front of him. His cheeks are so soft, and Yeonjun stifles the occasional urge to squish them and coo over him, the way he might a baby animal.

“Do you want me to fail my final exams?” Yeonjun scolds lightly. Beomgyu smiles, the tiny kind of smile that Yeonjun can tell he’s trying to hold back. “I pay attention to you all the time.”

“Not all the time,” Beomgyu corrects. “You’ve been so distracted these last few weeks.”

Yeonjun can’t deny it. There are a million things on his mind, most of them unrelated to Beomgyu, and he doesn’t even have time for himself. These library study sessions are just about the only way they can spend time together, with both of them struggling to stay on top of schoolwork as the semester continues.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” Yeonjun says, entirely sincere. Beomgyu pulling away from him because he thinks Yeonjun doesn’t want to prioritize him anymore is the absolute last thing he wants. The next few weeks will be difficult, but after finals….

“I’ll hold you to it,” Beomgyu grumbles. He blinks up at Yeonjun, his long, pretty eyelashes fluttering. It makes Yeonjun’s heart skip a beat. Beomgyu wants something—he can tell.

Oh, well. It can’t hurt to humor him when Yeonjun has already been distracted this afternoon. He’ll just accept the loss and try to make up for his delayed work when he returns home.

Besides, he’d much rather pay attention to Beomgyu. It’s why he keeps inviting Beomgyu to his study sessions even though he knows he’ll inevitably be distracted.

“Do you need help with anything?” Yeonjun asks. He cringes. It sounds too awkward and rehearsed.

“Well….” Beomgyu considers it. “You could read this over for me. I think it’s done, but I’m really sick of looking at it.”

“Anything you need,” Yeonjun says. Beomgyu clicks something on his laptop, and Yeonjun holds his hands out to take it, but Beomgyu rises from his seat. He rounds the table and seats himself comfortably on one of Yeonjun’s thighs instead, squeezing himself into the too-small chair.

“Here you go,” Beomgyu chirps, delicately resting the laptop on the table in front of them. Yeonjun’s heart begins to pound so fast that it hurts.

“Hey,” Yeonjun complains, shifting his legs. Beomgyu only makes himself more comfortable, leaning back against Yeonjun’s chest.

Yeonjun’s mind blanks out. Beomgyu fits a little too perfectly into his arms. Still too tall to be sitting in Yeonjun’s lap, but he’s still smaller, more delicate. When Yeonjun leans forward, he finds that Beomgyu’s hair smells faintly of vanilla.

Beomgyu is smiling again. Yeonjun can see it out of the corner of his eye, though he tries not to pay much attention to it. He must know what he’s doing to Yeonjun, and Yeonjun is absolutely powerless.

Regardless, Yeonjun has a task to complete. He pulls Beomgyu’s laptop closer and tries to focus on the words in front of him.  It’s a short essay on Renaissance-era chiaroscuro, which he knows absolutely nothing about, so all he can do is hunt for grammatical errors in an argument that might be completely wrong.

Even if Yeonjun understood the subject matter, though, he wouldn’t have been able to pay close enough attention to give a proper analysis. All he can focus on is the way Beomgyu’s hair tickles his cheek, the way his chest rises and falls, the way he’s begun playing with the fingers of Yeonjun’s free hand. It makes Yeonjun shiver, and he hates himself for it.

No getting distracted. Beomgyu wouldn’t be so bold in public if he had those feelings.

Yeonjun corrects a single missing comma and hurries to push the laptop back into Beomgyu’s hands. “I think it’s good. You’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, hyung,” Beomgyu mumbles. He doesn’t get up, though. Instead, he tucks his face against the side of Yeonjun’s head, nosing against his ear.

Vertigo. That’s the only way Yeonjun can describe it, and yet he doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows what it means to want, but he wants this with a ferocity that scares him. Selfish, selfish.

He nearly jumps when his phone begins to vibrate on the table. He reaches for it just before the vibration cuts out.

“Who is it?” Beomgyu asks. He’s still nuzzling Yeonjun’s ear.

“Kai,” Yeonjun says. He holds his phone up, and Beomgyu turns his head to look at it. Yeonjun swipes the notification open, his heart beginning to race for an entirely new reason.

A pang of guilt shoots through Yeonjun. He’s always kept in regular contact with Kai, but he can’t lie—he’s been distracted the last few weeks. Distracted by work and his classes, but also Kai’s ex-boyfriend, who Yeonjun tries to give an equal amount of attention to—although Taehyun has been a bit more demanding of attention as of late.

This is the part Yeonjun feels the worst about. Taehyun and Kai aren’t dating anymore, and they’re not getting back together, even though they have something of a tense friendship. It’s been nearly two months, but it’s still not right for Yeonjun to be involved with Taehyun. He should have called Kai to confess right away. He had a script prepared: Taehyun kissed me today. I didn’t mind it, but I don’t have feelings for him, so I promise nothing’s going to happen. I’d never do that to you.

Instead he’d stewed over his words for the entire week, until he’d seen Taehyun again, and things had escalated even further. He had to take responsibility, but how could he explain it now? Taehyun and I have been kissing, but I really don’t feel that way about him. It was just for fun, but it won’t happen again. We’re not going to date. I’m sorry.

Kai will be crushed. Yeonjun can’t hide the truth from him just to spare his heart, but he knows how upset Kai will be. He’ll hide his feelings, close himself off from Yeonjun, and Yeonjun will have to beg Soobin for information. Soobin would never break Kai’s trust, of course. Especially not to ease Yeonjun’s mind, when Yeonjun had been the one to shatter Taehyun and Kai’s fragile trust, carefully stitched together after their breakup.

Oh, God, what if this makes things even worse between Taehyun and Kai? Yeonjun isn’t entirely sure what Taehyun must have been thinking. He hasn’t dared to ask questions. He can try to explain that he’d only gone along with it because it had felt good, and he’d wanted to make Taehyun happy, but it all sounds like an excuse.

He has to fix this.

A text bubble appears as Kai types, and disappears a moment later. Another second, and his response finally comes through.

“He’s sad,” Beomgyu observes.

Yeonjun swallows. “He is.”

“I should talk to him, too,” Beomgyu says. He yawns, stretching, but still doesn’t leave Yeonjun’s lap. “I mean, I talk to him all the time, but I think he needs a little extra love.”

“Text him. That would make him really happy,” Yeonjun says. I’m the worst hyung ever. I really have to think of something special for Kai, and that won’t come close to fixing what I’ve done….

Why did I have to start this in the first place? His reasoning had seemed so sound when he’d had Taehyun in his arms. He’d been desperate and confused and maybe he understands those feelings, but he has an even bigger mess to clean up now.

“I’m gonna wait, like, ten minutes. That way he won’t catch on,” Beomgyu muses, and oh, Beomgyu. Beomgyu is another matter entirely.

“What are you doing?” comes a familiar, scandalized voice.

“Soobin-hyung,” Beomgyu says, turning so quickly that Yeonjun swears he hears his neck crack. “Yeonjun-hyung’s fixing my essay. I thought you were never coming.”

Soobin’s eyes rake down their entwined figures. Yeonjun finds himself growing hot. “I had a class,” he complains. He dumps his bag on the floor besides Beomgyu’s, and slumps in the chair Beomgyu had been sitting in before he’d decided Yeonjun’s lap was a better seat. “Want me to fail?”

“Yes,” Beomgyu said. “If it means you pay more attention to me.”

Soobin pretends to roll his eyes. “I thought about skipping. You know I hate that one.”

“That’s why you need to go to it,” Yeonjun says. “Even if you fail the tests, at least the rest of your work will be completed.”

Soobin sighs. “I should’ve dropped it. Found something easier. I haven’t even declared my major….”

“I’m sure it’ll still be useful,” Yeonjun says. “You work too hard. You didn’t need to take summer classes, too.”

He’d tried to persuade Soobin to find another class at the start of the semester, but he’s diligent to a fault—he doesn’t care whether he’s making the right choice for himself as long as he feels like he’s making the right choice in general. Yeonjun doubts he’ll be making that mistake again, though.

“If you’re going to skip a day, you should use it to do something fun,” Beomgyu says. “We should all do it together. Next week. You’ll have submitted your big project by then, right, hyung?”

Yeonjun nods. “Do you have something in mind?”

Beomgyu twists a loose string in his jeans around his fingers. “It’s getting warmer, so…. I’ve been thinking about taking the train just so that we can  see something different. Since we can’t go on a real trip. Then we can… I don’t know. Have lunch. Like a picnic? And we can watch all the dogs at the park….”

It’s been months since they’ve had the opportunity to go into the city—probably since last fall. The start of college was tumultuous for Soobin and Beomgyu, and neither of them are keen on paying for the train fee now that Yeonjun has a car. It’s the kind of outing they reserve for extra special occasions, even though it’s not really far from home. Everything seems exciting when their actual hometown is so empty.

“Let’s do it,” Yeonjun says. “One week from today?”

Beomgyu nods. “What do you think?”

“I’d love to,” Yeonjun says. “It’s a good time, actually. I’m not working or anything. And we could use a break.”

I could use a break. Maybe he wouldn’t be making such questionable decisions if he were less tired.

“Can we really?” Soobin asks, his face lighting up. “Please? 

“Are you sure you don’t have anything?” Beomgyu asks. He’s fidgeting again, a nervous habit. Why is he nervous?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re doing it,” Soobin says. “We’ll just skip the next day instead if it’s raining or something.”

On the table, Yeonjun’s phone vibrates again. “Should we bring Kai, too?”

Beomgyu’s hands still. “Actually… I… I was thinking it could be just us,” he says. “And we can do something with Kai later. And I’m going to steal just Kai. Because he’s my favorite, obviously.”

Yeonjun weaves his fingers between Beomgyu’s. “That’s cool with me. You deserve pampering, too.”

It’s almost like a date, but nothing like a date—this is how they’ve always been with each other. That won’t stop Yeonjun from thinking about it, though. Or wishing. Or from treating Beomgyu the way he would a partner.

“We haven’t done anything like this in a while,” Soobin says quietly, almost like he doesn’t really want Yeonjun or Beomgyu to hear, and that seals it for Yeonjun. Beomgyu is more demanding of attention, but Soobin won’t beg for it.

Why does everything have to be so complicated? Yeonjun has enough to sort out when it comes to Soobin and Beomgyu. No need to complicate things with Taehyun, too.