Chapter Text
Joshua didn't know what made him do all this. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was heartbreak. Or maybe it was just the stubborn part of him that refused to let Jeonghan have the last word.
Jeonghan was his first everything. His first best friend since he came to Korea, the first person he ever fell in love with, his first kiss, the first to take his innocence, and inevitably, his first heartbreak. Joshua had thought they were forever, but life had other plans. A year after their breakup, he found out—through their common group of friends, of all things—that Jeonghan had moved on. Worse, he had gotten married.
Well, ‘hurt’ wasn’t quite the right word to describe what Joshua felt. It was something deeper, something raw and unspoken. Jeonghan, his best friend, had taken such a big step in his life without even telling him. That betrayal stung more than anything. And then, there was the other truth—Joshua still hadn’t moved on.
But Joshua Hong was nothing if not stubborn. If Jeonghan could make a statement by getting married, then Joshua could do the same. So that’s exactly what he did.
That was how he ended up with Choi Seungcheol, a man who was everything Joshua didn’t know he needed. Seungcheol was kind, thoughtful, and loving, yet when the doors were closed, he was an absolute beast in bed. He spoiled Joshua, treated him like he was something precious, and most importantly, he loved him. Being with Seungcheol made it easier for Joshua to let go of Jeonghan.
But just as he was finally settling into this new life, another bomb dropped.
Jeonghan’s so-called marriage? Just a rumor. He was never married. Never even engaged.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Joshua had Seungcheol now. He had moved on. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.
Until one night, when Seungcheol was abroad for business—because of course, his husband was ridiculously rich—and Joshua was home alone. That was when Jeonghan showed up at his doorstep, drunk.
Joshua’s fingers tightened around the doorknob as he stared at the man swaying in front of him. Jeonghan’s eyes were hazy, his lips parted as if he had a lot to say but didn’t know where to start.
“Shua…” Jeonghan’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it sent a shiver down Joshua’s spine. The way he said his name was familiar, too familiar, like they were still something to each other.
Joshua should have closed the door. Should have told him to leave. But he didn’t. Instead, he just stood there, frozen, as Jeonghan stepped closer.
"Didn't you say you're mine forever, Jisoo?" Jeonghan slurred, leaning against the doorframe as the rain dripped from his hair. His shirt was soaked through, clinging to his skin, but he didn’t seem to care. His sharp eyes, glazed over from alcohol, locked onto Joshua’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Not even a year after our breakup, and you got married?" Jeonghan let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "Did you feel nothing when we were together?"
Joshua tightened his grip on the doorknob, torn between shutting the door in his face and pulling him inside before he caught a cold. "You’re drunk," he stated, his voice calm but firm.
Jeonghan scoffed, swaying slightly. "So what? That doesn’t make what I said any less true." His smirk was lazy, but his tone wasn’t sad or broken—it was snarky, taunting, as if he was daring Joshua to react. As if he was enjoying this.
Joshua’s fingers curled against the doorframe, his jaw tightening. Jeonghan was drenched, yet he stood there like he owned the place, like he hadn’t just shown up uninvited after months of silence. The lazy smirk on his lips didn’t match the weight of his words, but Joshua knew better than to think Jeonghan was hurting. No, Jeonghan didn’t get hurt—he inflicted it.
"You’re standing in the rain just to say that?" Joshua asked, unimpressed.
Jeonghan took a step closer, forcing Joshua to either step back or let their bodies brush. He didn’t move. "You always did like playing hard to get," Jeonghan mused, tilting his head. "But tell me, Jisoo—" his voice dropped to a near whisper, "does he kiss you like I did?"
Joshua exhaled sharply through his nose. "Go home, Jeonghan."
Jeonghan chuckled, the sound warm despite the ice in his eyes. "Home?" His fingers grazed Joshua’s wrist, a fleeting touch, but enough to send a message. "I thought you were home."
Joshua gritted his teeth, but Jeonghan wasn’t done. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over Joshua’s ear. "Or did you forget how much you used to beg me to stay?"
Joshua’s breath hitched, but he refused to give Jeonghan the reaction he wanted. Instead, he exhaled slowly, stepping back just enough to put space between them. "You’re pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head.
Jeonghan only laughed, a low, amused sound that sent a chill down Joshua’s spine. "Am I?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. "Or are you just afraid that I still have power over you?"
Joshua clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "You don’t."
Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. "Then why haven’t you closed the door?"
Joshua faltered, and Jeonghan caught it immediately. His smirk widened, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against the doorframe. "You say you’ve moved on, Jisoo, but here you are—standing in front of me, listening to every word I say like it still matters to you." He leaned in again, close enough that Joshua could smell the faint mix of alcohol and Jeonghan’s expensive cologne. "Tell me, does he know that you still hesitate when it comes to me?"
Joshua’s breath came out unsteady. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."
Jeonghan clicked his tongue, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from Joshua’s forehead. "Don’t I?" His voice was soft, almost gentle, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—told a different story. "I know you, Jisoo. I know you better than he ever will."
Joshua swallowed hard, his resolve wavering for just a second—just long enough for Jeonghan to see it.
And Jeonghan, cocky as ever, smiled. "Still mine, after all."
Joshua's throat felt tight, his grip on the doorknob unsteady. He hated this—hated the way Jeonghan knew exactly which strings to pull, how to slip past his defenses with nothing more than a smirk and a whisper. He wanted to slam the door in his face, call Seungcheol and ask him to come back. He knew if he did, Seungcheol would drop everything and be here within the hour. He loved him that much.
And yet… a small part of him, the part he tried to bury, still ached for Jeonghan.
"You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?" Jeonghan’s voice was a purr, his fingers grazing Joshua’s wrist again, slower this time. "Your husband." The word rolled off his tongue like a taunt. "But tell me, Jisoo—does he make you feel the way I did?"
Joshua’s breath stuttered as Jeonghan took another step forward, backing him against the doorframe. His body was warm despite the rain, his damp clothes clinging to his skin in a way that was almost sinful. Joshua knew this game—he had played it before, fallen for it before. And yet, the way Jeonghan’s lips hovered near his jaw, just close enough to make his skin tingle, made it so damn hard to resist.
"Get out," Joshua whispered, but even to his own ears, it sounded weak.
Jeonghan chuckled, his breath hot against Joshua’s neck. "If you really wanted me gone, you would’ve pushed me away by now." His fingers trailed up Joshua’s forearm, featherlight, teasing. "Or are you waiting for me to remind you how good it used to be?"
Joshua shivered, his body betraying him. He hated himself for it. He missed Seungcheol, missed the warmth of his touch, the way he loved him without games, without manipulation. And yet, Jeonghan still had a hold on him, even now.
"Admit it," Jeonghan murmured, pressing closer, his lips just barely ghosting over Joshua’s skin. "You still want me."
Joshua closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Suddenly, the sound of Seungcheol’s car pulling up outside sent a jolt of panic through Joshua. His breath hitched. His pulse thundered. No, no, no—this can’t be happening.
His brain screamed at him to fix this before it was too late. Before Seungcheol stepped inside and saw Jeonghan standing here—too close, too familiar, too dangerous.
“Jeonghan, leave. Now,” Joshua hissed, voice shaking with urgency.
But Jeonghan? He just stood there, arms crossed, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t the reason Joshua’s entire world was about to implode.
Joshua, on the other hand, felt like he was about to pass out. His heart pounded as he heard the car door shut. The footsteps. The front door opening.
And then—
“Han?”
Joshua’s breath caught in his throat as Seungcheol’s face lit up. A smile—genuine, warm, familiar—spread across his face as he stepped forward, arms opening wide.
Joshua felt like the floor had just been ripped out from under him.
Jeonghan—his ex-best friend, his ex-lover—stepped into Seungcheol’s embrace like it was nothing. Like he belonged there.
“Took you long enough to meet your brother, Han,” Seungcheol chuckled as he pulled back, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
Joshua’s brain stopped working.
Brother?
Jeonghan just laughed, casual, easy—like he hadn’t just turned Joshua’s world upside down. “And you got married while I wasn’t there?” he teased.
Joshua stared.
His mind was a complete, tangled mess. Jeonghan. Seungcheol’s stepbrother. How? How? How had he not known this? How had this never come up? How had he been in love with Jeonghan—had his heart broken by Jeonghan—and then somehow ended up married to his stepbrother without ever knowing?
He was going to pass out. He was going to throw up. Or both.
Seungcheol let out a laugh, his cheeks tinged pink, before turning to Joshua and wrapping an arm around his waist. He kissed him softly, grounding him for a second—but it wasn’t enough.
“This is Jisoo, my lovely husband.” Seungcheol’s voice was filled with so much affection that Joshua almost felt worse. “Looks like you two have already introduced yourselves?”
Joshua could barely force his lips to move.
Jeonghan turned to him then—calm, composed, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
“Nah,” he said smoothly. “I was kinda drunk, and you know I don’t drive when I’m drunk. Your house was nearby, so I figured I’d crash here for the night.”
And then he delivered the final blow.
“I’m Yoon Jeonghan, your husband’s stepbrother.”
Joshua felt like he was free-falling into an abyss.
His ex-best friend. His ex-lover. And now—his husband’s stepbrother?
This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.
Jeonghan just stood there, unreadable but knowing, while Joshua struggled to remember how to breathe.
Joshua’s mind was blank. White noise filled his ears, drowning out whatever Seungcheol was saying next. His body felt frozen, trapped in some cruel, twisted reality where the past he had buried was now standing right in front of him—smirking.
Jeonghan. His Jeonghan. The boy he had once trusted more than anyone. The boy who had once kissed him breathless, held him close, whispered things that made him believe in forever—only to rip it all away without warning. And now, he was standing here as if none of it had ever happened. As if he was nothing more than Seungcheol’s stepbrother.
Fate had a sick sense of humor.
Seungcheol’s laughter pulled him back, warm and unsuspecting. “Well, I guess this is a small world, huh?”
Joshua could barely nod.
“Come on in, Han,” Seungcheol continued, already moving to grab an extra glass from the kitchen. “You must be exhausted. I’ll set up the guest room for you.”
Joshua’s breath caught. No. No, no, no. He’s staying? Here?
Before he could say anything, Jeonghan met his gaze, eyes dark with amusement. He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“Thanks, cheol,” Jeonghan said, his voice dripping with fake sincerity. “I’d love to stay.”
Joshua’s stomach twisted painfully.
Jeonghan had always been cruel in ways only he could understand. This wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t chance. It was him.
Joshua barely held it together as he helped Seungcheol set up the guest room. His hands moved on autopilot—fixing the pillows, pulling out extra blankets—anything to keep himself busy, to stop himself from thinking.
Jeonghan was here. In his home. In Seungcheol’s home.
The thought made his stomach churn.
The moment everything was in place, Joshua wasted no time slipping away. He muttered a soft goodnight and all but fled to their bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. His heart was still pounding in his chest. His mind wouldn’t stop spinning.
Seungcheol, of course, noticed his husband’s unusual silence. Joshua was never like this—never this distant, this quiet. But maybe he was just tired, Seungcheol reasoned. It had been a long day.
With that thought, he turned back to Jeonghan, who had just stepped out of the shower, damp hair sticking to his forehead. He looked exhausted, a towel hanging loosely around his neck as he padded over to the bed.
Seungcheol pocketed his hands, watching his stepbrother with a soft smile. “Get some rest. Mom already told me you’d be staying here, so I figured I’d set up the guest room. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Jeonghan returned the smile, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. He nodded, stretching his arms above his head before flopping onto the bed lazily. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow.”
Seungcheol turned to leave, but before he could step out, Jeonghan’s voice stopped him.
“By the way,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “congrats on finding such a pretty boy to marry.”
Seungcheol let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “He is, isn’t he?” His eyes softened at the thought of Joshua. “You’ll love him, Han. He’s the sweetest.”
Jeonghan hummed, his gaze flickering to the door Joshua had disappeared behind.
“Oh,” he murmured, voice almost too quiet to hear. “ I know .”
Seungcheol pushed open the bedroom door, expecting to find Joshua already curled up in bed. Instead, his husband was pacing—his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in that telltale sign of stress.
Seungcheol frowned. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
Joshua flinched slightly at the sound of his voice but didn’t answer. His mind was a mess—memories of Jeonghan, the weight of the past, the impossible situation he was now stuck in. But then Seungcheol was there, warm and steady, slipping his arms around Joshua’s waist and pulling him close.
“Talk to me,” Seungcheol murmured, pressing a soft kiss against the side of his neck. “You’ve been acting off all night.”
Joshua turned in his grip, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to feel the way he was feeling. He just needed—
He crashed his lips against Seungcheol’s, his fingers tangling into his husband’s hair as he pulled him in deeper. Seungcheol let out a surprised hum, but he didn’t hesitate to respond. His hands slid down Joshua’s back, gripping his waist as he pressed him flush against his body.
Joshua’s mind was hazy, fueled by frustration, by the desperate need to anchor himself in this—in Seungcheol. He nipped at his husband’s lower lip, earning a low groan, before Seungcheol took control, tilting Joshua’s head back as he deepened the kiss.
“Mm,” Seungcheol murmured between kisses, his fingers teasing under the hem of Joshua’s shirt. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s gotten into you tonight?”
Joshua just kissed him harder, backing them toward the bed. “Shut up,” he whispered, breathless.
Seungcheol smirked, letting Joshua push him down onto the mattress. “Yes, sir,” he teased.
And Joshua didn’t think. Not about Jeonghan, not about the past—only about the hands on his body and the lips claiming his own.
Seungcheol barely had time to react before Joshua straddled him, his hands gripping the front of Seungcheol’s shirt as he kissed him again—hard, needy, almost desperate. Seungcheol groaned into the kiss, his fingers digging into Joshua’s hips, feeling the way his husband’s body pressed against him, warm and eager.
Joshua wasn’t usually like this—at least, not this demanding. But tonight, there was something different. Something restless in the way he moved, in the way his lips refused to part from Seungcheol’s.
Seungcheol smirked against his mouth, tilting his head slightly to break the kiss just enough to speak. “Baby,” he murmured, voice husky, “you’re acting like you wanna devour me.”
Joshua didn’t answer. He just tugged at Seungcheol’s shirt, slipping his hands underneath, nails dragging up his toned stomach, making him shiver.
“Maybe I do,” Joshua finally whispered, his voice low, teasing.
Seungcheol groaned, his grip tightening. “Fuck,” he muttered, before flipping them over with ease, pinning Joshua beneath him.
Joshua gasped, but Seungcheol was already kissing him again, slower this time—deeper, more consuming. His hands roamed freely, pushing up Joshua’s shirt, fingers grazing heated skin, feeling every little shiver, every sharp inhale.
“Tell me what you want,” Seungcheol murmured against his lips, trailing soft kisses down his jaw, his throat. “Tell me why you’re so worked up tonight.”
Joshua let out a shaky breath, his hands sliding up Seungcheol’s arms, gripping his shoulders. “Just—” he swallowed hard, eyes dark with something Seungcheol couldn’t quite place. “Just you.”
Seungcheol’s heart pounded at the rawness in his voice. Whatever was bothering Joshua, whatever had made him this restless—he’d deal with it later. Right now, he’d give his husband exactly what he needed.
And if Joshua was trying to lose himself in him tonight, Seungcheol would make sure he succeeded.
“A-ahhh, Seungcheol!” Joshua moaned, his nails raking down his husband’s bare chest as he rode him, chasing something dangerous—desperation laced in every movement. His hips rolled, fast and eager, as if this could drown out the storm in his head.
Seungcheol groaned beneath him, his fingers digging into Joshua’s waist, trying to ground him. “Baby—”
“H-harder!” Joshua cut him off, voice breathy and uneven, his body aching to lose itself in pleasure instead of thinking.
Seungcheol exhaled sharply, his grip tightening. “You’ve already cum three times,” he murmured, concern flickering in his gaze despite how wrecked he looked.
Joshua froze for a moment, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Then, his lips curled into a small, almost mocking smirk.
“So… you want me to stop fucking you?” His voice was deceptively sweet, but the way he clenched around Seungcheol told another story.
Seungcheol’s eyes widened slightly—such a contrast to his usual authoritative nature. His breath stuttered, and suddenly, Joshua felt it. That shift. The moment Seungcheol lost control.
His husband shook his head frantically. “No, my love,” he rasped, hands gripping Joshua’s hips like his life depended on it. “Keep using my dick.”
Joshua hummed in satisfaction, leaning down to brush his lips against Seungcheol’s ear. “Good boy.”
And then he slammed himself down, pulling a strangled groan from Seungcheol’s lips.
Seungcheol bit down on Joshua’s collarbone, his teeth sinking into the flushed skin in a desperate attempt to muffle his moan. But it was useless—he was unraveling beneath Joshua, his body tensing as Joshua rode him with an almost reckless fervor, chasing something neither of them wanted to name.
“Fuck—Shua,” Seungcheol groaned, his hands tightening around Joshua’s hips, trying to ground himself, trying to breathe. But Joshua wasn’t letting up.
He was lost in it—lost in the heat, the desperation, the need to forget. His nails raked down Seungcheol’s chest, leaving faint red lines against the sweat-slick skin. His thighs burned from the effort, his body trembling, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
Seungcheol tilted his head up, his breath ragged as he met Joshua’s wild, dazed gaze. “Baby, slow down—”
Joshua shook his head, biting his lip hard enough to turn them red. “I don’t want to think,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I just want to feel.”
Seungcheol’s chest tightened at the words, at the sheer plea hidden beneath them. He exhaled sharply, shifting one hand up to cup the back of Joshua’s neck, pulling him down until their lips brushed.
“Then let me make you feel good,” he murmured before capturing Joshua’s mouth in a slow, claiming kiss.
Joshua whimpered, his resolve shattering as Seungcheol’s grip tightened, holding him close, grounding him in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with them.