Archive of Our Own

Yeonjun doesn't often have regrets, but tonight they seem endless.

How silly.

His initial plan was to have a rare fun night out, maybe wake up in a stranger's bed, then come home and pretend nothing happened, but at least his body would feel better than it had in ages.

Yet Yeonjun is alone, surrounded by club goers at the very least a decade younger than he is, and it's a hard way to find out that alcohol tolerance doesn't necessarily get better as one ages.

His head is pounding, exacerbated by the loud music and strobe lights. He runs to the nearest bathroom and barges into one of the empty stalls, heaving as he fights off the nausea. He hadn't drank that much in years, and being in a heavy crowd of drunk people gets overwhelming after a while.

Yeonjun misses his son.

He'd spent over twenty years working himself to the bone to raise his beloved son, he should be having fun now that said child is all grown with a stable job. He should be catching up with everything he missed out on in his youth, because he had a baby at an age that people would balk at nowadays.

And yet.

He wants home. He wants Soobin.

He thought he might sneak off for a quick fuck when his son is out for a three-day business trip, naively desiring to get the kind of pleasure he used to avoid because he had a child to raise. He had forgotten that exposing your physical vulnerabilities to a complete stranger requires no small amount of mental fortitude.

Yeonjun feels out of place in his new clothes and old bones, feeling something not unlike a child playing dress-up, pretending to be someone he thought he'd outgrown since his transition.

A tall stranger had approached him. It isn't often that anyone can be taller than Yeonjun that it immediately attracted him, but when he got down to offering, Yeonjun only felt sick, hastily making up excuses about his friend calling him and bolting out of there. He had come alone. Only Beomgyu knows he's here, and that's because he's Yeonjun's emergency contact.

"Choi Yeonjun?"

"Who is it?" Yeonjun blinks at the back of the stall door blearily.

The voice is achingly familiar, almost hesitant in the way the stranger pronounces Yeonjun's name, but in his heavily inebriated state, he can barely gather the energy to compute who it is.

"I'm here to bring you home, okay?"

Yeonjun nods, unassuming toward the soft voice. He does like being helped and doted on, especially by his son. His son is so helpful. He misses his son.

He opens the door with trembling hands, but barely gets to see who's behind it when he's shoved inside again, gathered in an embrace so tight it slightly suffocates.

"Oh god. You're okay, you're okay." The man breathes out in relief. "I was so worried when you didn't pick up my calls."

With the voice and the figure being so close, Yeonjun finally recognizes him, happiness filling him from the topmost strand of his hair down to his toes.

"My husband," he gasps, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes without his permission. "Where have you been?"

His husband stills, freezing with Yeonjun in his hold. He pulls back with a frown. Yeonjun can't see him clearly under the dim lights of the bathroom stall, but he knows that a face so beautiful shouldn't be making such negative expressions.

"I'm not—"

"I missed you," he murmurs with a pout, he can't help but be childish and needy in the presence of the man who loves him. "Didn't you miss me, too?"

Yeonjun reaches up to smooth out the wrinkle between his husband's brows, then lovingly traces the slope of his nose. His husband relaxes under his gentle ministrations, playfully nipping at the tip of Yeonjun's finger.

"Of course I missed you." He sighs, pulling Yeonjun closer with his arms around his waist. "Now let's go home, alright?"

Yeonjun pouts further. "No pet names? Are you mad at me?"

He stands on his tiptoes and presses a wet kiss to his lover's throat. His husband's perfume smells different, but not unfamiliar. His usual minty scent has been replaced with a strong note of citrus. Yeonjun finds that he likes it.

"What, of course I'm not mad." He chokes. Yeonjun hides a smirk on his soft skin.

"I know a way to improve your mood," he continues, gazing up at his husband through his lashes coquettishly.

He giggles at his lover's look of awe, growing wetter in his pants. Yeonjun rubs his thighs together, allowing the inseam of his jeans to push against his cunt, prompting a delicious tingle along his folds.

Yeonjun's husband isn't wearing his usual sleepwear, but a black leather jacket. He must be in a rush because he was so worried, going straight here from work, he didn't even have time to change. The insides of Yeonjun's chest warms at the thought. He runs a palm down the other man's chest with intent and delights in the shiver it elicited.

He pulls away from his husband's grip, switching them around while ignoring the sounds of confusion coming from the other man.

Yeonjun sets his back flat against the door and spreads his legs, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down until they're level with his ankles, exposing his lower half to the cold air. To hell with the dirty floor, Yeonjun's too desperate to get fucked, too wet to care.

"Fuck, you weren't wearing underwear?"

There's a gasp, and something—though Yeonjun can't pinpoint why—seems to shift in the air. It grows heavy, and the presence of his husband seems more intimidating than before. He seems bigger, taller, shadows surrounding him like a lurking beast, waiting to sink his claws into his prey.

Yeonjun wants to be devoured.

His cunt twitches from the sudden exposure and the ravenous stare of his husband, zeroing on his pussy. Yeonjun decides to do him a favour and reaches two fingers downwards to spreads his leaking, wet folds. Bare and ready for the taking. An offering to the monster.

"Please."

A beat of silence. Yeonjun holds his breath.

Yeonjun's husband drops to his knees.

Like a man possessed, he wastes no time connecting his plump mouth with Yeonjun's cunt, large hands grasping frantically at his thighs. Yeonjun's knees goes weak when he starts to work on him, tongue flattened along Yeonjun's labia, then probing further, swirling around his clit. The invasive tongue continues its ministrations until Yeonjun goes pliant, whiny and needy as his man wolfs down on him like he's been starved and Yeonjun is the first bite of meat.

Slick trickles continuously down Yeonjun's hole at the sight. Such lovely man between his thighs, worshipping him. Yeonjun no longer needs anything else, all his desires have been fulfilled.

"Ah—ah, like that—" Yeonjun brings up a hand to bite into, keeping his moans from leaking through the stall.

A finger follows afterwards, circling around Yeonjun’s hole carefully, as if making sure he’s produced enough slick, right before slipping in. It’s long and slender, curling along his walls as the mouth continues to eat out Yeonjun.

Yeonjun's knees buckle, hands quickly grasping at his husband's hair to keep himself upright. It pulls a groan from him, the vibration going straight to Yeonjun's pussy, drawing out pleasure after pleasure.

Another finger is added, then another, and soon his husband is pumping into him with vigour, knuckle-deep as he stretches him out with his long digits, skin drenched from Yeonjun's juices. Yeonjun has given up trying to stay upright, merely holding on by the sheer force of the grip his lover has on him.

"Mmm—more, more, more," he whines, "you're so good to me, baby."

Yeonjun feels heat coil in his lower belly, and weakly reaches for his husband's wrist with one hand, ceasing his movements as the other hand pulls his lover's head back and away from his cunt. Under the lights, his husband's eyes are dark and glassy, almost unseeing, like he'd gone and gotten himself high simply from the juices that came out of Yeonjun.

Silly man. Yeonjun giggles at the wrecked sight, and stares down some more at his husband's pretty face. His gentle beast.

"Thank you, my love," he whispers, not unlike a prayer. He wishes they're close enough for their noses to touch. "But I want to come with you inside me."

His beast shudders, grip somehow tightening, nails sinking into the skin of Yeonjun's thighs. He's sure it will leave indents after this. Yeonjun doesn't mind, he never did. He loves the marks left behind by his lover, a sign that he belongs to someone. That someone so stunning wants him bad enough to mark him.

His husband straightens up and presses his forehead to Yeonjun's hipbone with a sigh, almost reverent.

"Aren't you afraid I'll be greedy?" He murmurs. Then, nearly inaudible, "Now you've done it. I'll never be the same again."

"What are you muttering about, baby?" Yeonjun slides his hands down from his hair to his cheek and jaw, tipping his head up. "What greed? When I'm all yours for the taking?"

His husband exhales shakily as he stands, mindful of Yeonjun's state, and helps him chuck off the rest of his jeans from his ankles.

Yeonjun whimpers once his man is at full height, leaning over Yeonjun as he makes quick work of his belt, freeing his large cock from the confines of his pants and boxers. It slaps against his stomach, precum leaking from the cockhead down to his balls, heavy and taut against the fabric of his boxers. Yeonjun's mouth goes dry. That could fill him up for days.

"Hold on to me, okay?"

Yeonjun lets out a surprised yelp as he's hoisted up by the back of his thighs, arms and legs automatically circling around his husband's shoulders and waist in an attempt to steady himself, ankles locking on the small of his back.

"Good, like that." His lover praises, pressing a quick kiss to his temple as he adjusts Yeonjun further, flattening his back against the door again. Yeonjun's heart soars from the affirmation.

He's so big, wide shoulders and large frame covering Yeonjun entirely. Yeonjun bites down on his bottom lip to keep himself from whimpering.

His lovely beast lines up the head of his cock into Yeonjun's entrance, and something inside of Yeonjun spills, like a pot boiling over.

"Please, please, baby—" he gasps out, on edge with anticipation, the beat of his heart marching like a war drum inside of his chest. He wants this beautiful man so badly, so desperately.

Yeonjun genuinely believes he’s being split apart as the head of his cock starts to push in, the girth stretching his walls enough to burn despite the cautious preparation his husband had made him go through.

His lover fucks as desperately as he had eaten him out, not giving Yeonjun time to adjust to his size, immediately folding him and pounding into him with reckless abandon, balls slapping against his skin in quick thrusts. The obscene squelch of his husband's cock going in and out of Yeonjun's sopping wet cunt only serves to arouse him further, only rivalled by the sound of his own wanton moans and his lover's grunts.

“Ah—ah, baby, you're so—so good to me—oh, oh, fuck.” He cries, rocking back against the door from the sheer force of his husband's thrusts, toes curling every time his cock brushes over Yeonjun's sweet spot.

“Come here." He gasps, dragging him impossibly closer. His bangs have stuck to his forehead from sweat, curtaining his dark eyes as he gazes wide-eyed and hungry at Yeonjun. "Don't leave me unkissed, mmh—"

That seems to incite something within him.

His starving beast meets him halfway for an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss, somehow gaining a more brutal pace, knocking the breath out of Yeonjun's lungs every time he sinks his fat cock into him.

Yeonjun doesn't know how long it's been—whether it's a second or an eternity—he knows that he doesn't want it to stop, doesn't want to slip from this embrace and the pleasure it brings.

He comes first, high from lust, and his husband soon follows; coming with a groan, face buried into the crook of Yeonjun's neck, holding him upright through aftershocks as his cock twitches against Yeonjun's walls, continuously spilling his thick seed into Yeonjun. It fills him up and overflows, slipping between their connected heat and drips to the floor, probably onto Yeonjun's discarded jeans.

"I'll clean it up," Yeonjun murmurs when his husband gently lowers him, slightly dazed.

"What?"

Yeonjun doesn't deign him with an answer, sliding down to the floor and gathering whatever's left of his energy to grab his husband's cock. He ignores his lover's gasp and tugs his cock up softly. He starts by mouthing at his balls, slurping at the undried spent that's spilled down there, before moving up to run his tongue along the veiny underside, collecting the spent in his mouth as he cleans him up like a devoted dog, all over his shaft and even his cum-soaked pubes.

Yeonjun could feel his husband shiver through the entire ordeal, small whimpers occasionally escaping him. Yeonjun looks up at him from where he's kneeling and opens his mouth, showing off all the cum he collected on his tongue—relishes in the way his husband's gaze darkens—and swallows.

His husband breathes out, shaky, "You're going to be the death of me."

Yeonjun gives his most charming smile, throwing his arms out. "Now, help."

Soon, he allows his husband to manhandle him, cleaning and dressing him up as best as he could, the bones of his arms and legs feeling more like they're made out of jellies than anything solid.

"My knight in a leather jacket," he giggles when his husband sweeps him off his feet to carry him bridal style. Yeonjun nuzzles to his chest, euphoric and sleepy from the post-orgasm haze.

"We should have another baby, don't you think?" He mumbles absentmindedly. "Soobin might get lonely if we keep leaving him alone like this. Let's go home, hmm?"

For some reason, his husband tenses, but Yeonjun is too exhausted to pay it any mind. He will ask him about it later.

For now, sleep overtakes him.

—

Yeonjun wakes up with a gasp.

He sits and tries to catch his breath, clutching at his chest to regulate his breathing. Yeonjun blinks and gradually assesses his surroundings. He's in his own bed, wearing clean pyjamas, and his body is sore in a way it hasn't felt in years.

He lowers his blanket and slowly lifts up his shorts for confirmation.

Deep crescent indents.

So it wasn't a dream.

Did a stranger take advantage of him in his drunken state? Could it be the man he rejected before running off? He was the only one who could've possibly known Yeonjun's name, the only plausible option. Yeonjun's memories are hazy at best. He can barely make out the features of the stranger, and wonders which part convinced him that it was his late husband last night. Was it the height? The voice?

The humiliation shrouds over him like a dark cloud. He had mistaken a stranger for his dead husband and even offered himself like a whore to said stranger. He buries his face in his hands and sighs.

His throat feels tight. He hates admitting it, as he hates admitting defeat toward everything else: the worse thing about last night is the fact that he barely feels violated. Even now. It had been good, further amplified by the fact that Yeonjun hasn't had a cock inside of him in ages, and he'd been inebriated enough to believe it was his husband.

There's pitter patter from the hallway, the sound growing closer as it approaches Yeonjun's bedroom door. Yeonjun looks up when the door finally cracks open, just slightly.

"Mom, you awake?"

Soobin's head pop through the door, a single tuft of black hair sticking up from his head like a particularly stubborn leaf.

"Soobin-ah!" Yeonjun calls, momentarily drawn from his musings, automatically breaking into a smile at the sight of his only son. "When did you get home?"

"Around uhh—" he pouts, brows furrowing, "—three or four, I think? We finished early and I thought I'd take an earlier train."

It was. Yeonjun had expected him to come home later today.

"And did you—" Heat crawls up Yeonjun's neck as shame overtakes him, "—did you see me? Was I already in bed?"

Yeonjun hopes it's true, that maybe he had somehow called Beomgyu and gotten him to help. That would spare him the embarrassment. No son should see his parent in such state.

Soobin, to Yeonjun's dismay, shakes his head, but his expression otherwise remain unchanged. Neutral and unaffected as always. "I found you passed out on the couch. You reeked of alcohol, not gonna lie, so I changed you before carrying you here. Hope you don't mind." His nose scrunches cutely. "Did Beomgyu-samchon make any weird bets? You blacked out, mom."

"Ah, no. I don't mind, and he didn't. My tolerance isn't as strong." Yeonjun sends a gentle smile his way to reassure him, despite the slight twinge of embarrassment at Soobin witnessing him like that. He can't stand to make him worry. "Thank you, baby."

"Lu-lunch is almost d-done." Soobin stutters suddenly, the tips of his ears going red. Yeonjun smiles, he's probably grown shy about that pet name since he's considered himself a full blown adult now.

Soobin hurriedly walks off, but his voice still carries through the hallway. "I also got you some stuff from the trip. You should probably take a shower first, though!"

Yeonjun frowns, lifting up his arms to sniff at himself.

To his dismay, he agrees.

—

Yeonjun doesn't shy from vanity.

He went through hell to get to where he is. His hair, his face, his body—all results of his hard work, the people who loves him, and none from his god-fearing parents. He takes unflinching pride in himself.

He takes pride in what comes out of him: such as his son, his Soobin, his best and only example. The little angel sent to him by the heavens. His darling Soobin, the baby he carried, the boy he raised, and now the man taking over the house.

Soobin shoots him a dimpled smile over the counter as he chops up vegetables for their dinner, dashing in his silly Kiss The Cook apron that he bought online on a discount. He's so handsome it makes Yeonjun's heart clench, a stunning replica of his late father. The only and remaining piece left of him.

Yeonjun can't believe such a wonderful child came out of him.

Yeonjun sits idly on the table, legs crossed. He watches Soobin with adoration, spoilt and sated. His son is home, there's nothing else he can ask for.

"You would have gotten along well with him." He says, unthinking.

The events from a few days ago, having the visage of his late husband appear so vividly, has made him somewhat nostalgic. Yeonjun rarely brings him up, or ever, because there's no way for Soobin to understand the longing for someone he never even met.

Soobin is a devastating dead ringer for his father, but Yeonjun is all he knows, so Yeonjun keeps his grief to himself; just in case his selfless son gets the brilliant idea of becoming more like his father just to appease Yeonjun.

Yeonjun only has one picture of his husband on display in the house, the one before his death, taken when Soobin was still a baby. Beomgyu keeps the rest for him, keeping him safe from being haunted by his loss. It's easier to face grief when it's not staring right back at you on the four walls of your own home.

Soobin pauses, ceasing all movement.

Yeonjun straightens up in his seat. "What's wrong?"

"Do you still love him?" Soobin sounds small, like he's still the child who'd climb into Yeonjun's bed to hide from thunderstorms.

"That's a difficult question." Yeonjun hums, tapping his fingers against the table. "It's not that I stopped, it's just that it has grown in another direction."

Because Yeonjun can only love memories, now, weighing them against his palms as he imagines different futures and outcomes that could have been. Sometimes, when he's feeling particularly amused, he'd imagine scenarios of them divorcing, maybe fighting custody over Soobin. It was something unimaginable when he was younger, but now, having lived two more decades with the knowledge that his lover no longer walks the earth, he figures it probably would've been a better alternative.

"So you still love him?" Soobin presses.

"Not the way I used to." Yeonjun smiles ruefully. "Why are you grilling me about this anyway? Get back to our dinner already. I'm hungry."

"Just curious." Soobin shrugs and goes back to cooking.

Yeonjun huffs. Somehow, he had unintentionally soured the mood. Soobin had probably expected a different answer, maybe he had expected Yeonjun to make a grand speech about true love and undying devotion.

His phone vibrates with a string of notifications.

At last.

Yeonjun had been expecting Beomgyu's explanation to make sense of that night, because when he'd unlocked his phone that noon he'd found no outgoing or incoming call logs to Beomgyu. Not even a single text asking for assistance. He briefly remembers passing out, there's no way he could've recited his complete address to the stranger, let alone get all the way to the couch.

Yeonjun opens the messages, and the ground is swept off his feet.

Gyu

wdym (17.29)

i didnt do anything i just knew u got home safe bc soob texted (17.30)

u passed out bruh. ur kid found u (17.31)

didnt his calls come in tho (17.31)

he said he called you like 10 times before coming to me (17.31)

i'm ngl hyung id disown myself if my twins saw me like that. what were u thinkin (17.32)

Yeonjun's breathing has gone erratic, eyes getting more and more blurry by the second as the panic starts to settle in his chest, narrowing his world into the barrage of questions that's invading his head.

"Bin-ah, I'm—I'm gonna pickup a call for a bit." Yeonjun stammers out, swiftly exiting the kitchen without sparing his son another glance, keeping his head low. Nevertheless, he can feel Soobin's eyes on him, following him as he turns the corner of the hallway.

"Pick up, pick up." He hisses as soon as he enters his room, waiting for the call to connect.

"Kids, hold on—wait, wait, let me talk to your Yeonjun-samchon a bit. Yo, hyung? You there?"

Yeonjun scrambles to the corner of his room, crouching between his bed and the wall. He can hear the ruckus from the other side, Beomgyu's twins are yelling about the things they're still missing; Kai, Beomgyu's husband, reminding them to hurry up.

They're going on their yearly family trip. Yeonjun and Soobin used to come with them, up until Soobin graduated from university, got a job, and no longer has semester breaks. They still try to come when they can, whenever Soobin is available to take a leave.

Yeonjun chews on his bottom lip. "Beomgyu, I'm so sorry for interrupting."

"Eh, it's alright, hyung. What d'you need?"

"I just—I need to ask. I didn't text you at all? It wasn't you who brought me home?"

"Huh? Nope. Soobin was the one who found you." Beomgyu's confusion is palpable even through the phone. Yeonjun's breath caught in his throat. "I helped him book the early ticket an' all 'cause he wanted to surprise you."

Beomgyu often plays tricks, a habit he never managed to break even well into his forties, but not when it comes to these things. Not when it comes to their children. Not when it comes to Soobin. He knows how much Soobin means to Yeonjun.

"He.. did?" Yeonjun can't bear to voice the other questions bubbling up in him. He doesn't want to awaken whatever beast lies those questions will bring.

"Yeah, hyung. He got back at like nine, I think? The house was empty and he panicked when you didn't answer his calls, so the kid called me, and I told him where you were. What's this about?"

"Nothing, just.. Soobin told me he came home at dawn. I don't remember anything." Yeonjun shakes his head. "Anyways, I forgot you're in a hurry, Gyu, you should go."

"Riiight," Beomgyu sounds unconvinced. "We'll talk about this after my trip if you want, yeah?" He pauses. "For what it's worth, he's probably just trying to help you save face."

"Right, yeah." Yeonjun sounds weak even to his own ears. "Thanks, Gyu. Have a safe trip, say hi to your family for me."

''Okay, byeee. Love you, hyung. Say hi to Soobin from me too."

"En, bye. Love you too."

The line clicks.

Yeonjun slides down further in his corner, heart pounding loud enough to reach his own ears. He covers his mouth with his hands, hoping it can muffle the sobs that have escaped his throat. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. No. No. No. There's no way. There's no way. There's no way. There's no way. There's no—

A knock on the door startles him out of his misery.

"Mom? You done? Dinner's ready." Soobin's soft voice calls out from the other side.

"Okay, baby. I'll come out in a bit."

Yeonjun exhales with a quiver, glad that his voice didn't crack. He stands up on shaky legs, sparing a few seconds to check himself in the mirror and make himself presentable, cleaning up his tear streaks with the sleeves of his sweater. He can't have Soobin worrying.

Soobin. Fuck.

Yeonjun walks out into their dining room and quietly sits down across from his son. His baby, his whole world, who is smiling sweetly at him, presenting the food he made for Yeonjun.

"Who was it?" Soobin asks, placing Yeonjun's favourite sides on his bowl. His own bowl is still empty, ever so dutiful, his beloved son.

"Ah, it's your Beomgyu-samchon," Yeonjun says around a nervous laugh. "He's going on a family trip to Jeju, I think, since the twins are on a school holiday. He says hi."

Soobin smiles—the big, charming one that shows his teeth and makes his dimples bloom, the one he uses to pull of discounts in the fish market.

"Should we go on a trip, mommy?"

"Hey! Choi Soobin!" Yeonjun makes a face, gesturing at him with his chopsticks. "You have the money now, you take me on a trip! Heaven knows this poor parent of yours have worked hard enough to feed you."

"Sure, mom. I'll take you anywhere you want." Soobin ducks down with a giggle, digging in into his food with unrestrained joy. Yeonjun's words seemed to have renewed his spirits. The tips of his ears are red.

Looking at him like this, happy and healthy, Yeonjun can't help but forgive him, the way he always did—the way he always will. He will forgive Soobin for mistakes he has yet to make.

They enjoy their dinner in relative silence, content with each other's presence.

Maybe that's what prompts Yeonjun to ask.

“When will you bring someone home, by the way? I’m getting old here.” Yeonjun chuckles, shoving another bite into his mouth.

Soobin looks up so quick Yeonjun is almost afraid he might have gotten a whiplash.

He raises a brow. “What do you mean?”

“A girlfriend, a boyfriend, or however they identify.” Yeonjun reaches over the table to pat his baby’s cheek, full from the food he’s chewing. “You’re so handsome, don’t you have anyone you’re seeing?”

Soobin is quiet, swallowing down his food, before speaking again. There’s a calculative glint in his eyes that pricks at the back of Yeonjun’s neck. Yeonjun has never seen him look like that.

“Why would I need them?” Soobin says patiently, face impassive. It looks out of place in his usually serene face, like his expressions were never meant for something seemingly so cold. “I have everything I need at home, there’s nothing I can do with them that I can’t do with you.”

“Soobin-ah,” Yeonjun calls softly, but his heart leaped at the strange wording of the sentence. Still, he forces a light laugh at the next sentence. “You’re grown now, I shouldn’t have to educate you about sex. I think your university orientation already covered that years ago, no?”

“You really want to do this now, mom?” Soobin replies, something shifting in his tone, and Yeonjun’s blood runs cold. “Amuse me. What can I do with them that I can’t do with you? What can I do to them that I haven’t done to you, mom?”

Yeonjun’s hands shake, his chopsticks drop to the bowl, clattering harshly.

“Soobin-ah,” he whispers. “You don’t actually mean—”

“I do. And I know you know.” Soobin sets down his chopsticks gently, ever his graceful boy. His head tilts, something Yeonjun used to dub as puppy-like, but now just seems like a wolf in disguise. “Was it not okay? Did I not prep you enough, or was it too rough?”

"S-Stop, Soobin—"

"I told you, didn't I?" Soobin continues calmly, relentless of the turmoil raging inside of Yeonjun. "I warned you that I will never be the same again, but you told me that you're all mine for the taking."

"Because I thought you were your father!" Yeonjun exclaims, marking it the first time he's ever raised his voice Soobin's way. Guilt instantly washes over him.

On the other hand, Soobin isn't the slightest bit fazed. It even seems that he's expecting the outburst. He's sitting back on his chair with his arms crossed, face contemplative, like he's pondering on how to soothe a child in the midst of a tantrum. Yeonjun feels humiliated.

"What's the difference, really?" Soobin waves a hand condescendingly, idly inspecting his fingers under the lights.

"You can hide all his pictures but I know that sometimes when you look at me, you see him. I saw it in your eyes. You didn't used to do that, not when I was young. I look more like him now, don't I?" He pauses, looking straight at Yeonjun when he continues, "What's the difference? When I come from him, look like him, and possess the same desires he did towards you? I guess you can say I'm—what do you call it? Ah. Representing him." He grins mockingly, looking up at the ceilings. "Don't worry, daddy. I'll make sure to fuck mommy well in your absence."

Yeonjun breaks, burying his face in his hands. Sobs wreck through his body. He doesn't know where the devastation begins, but it feels endless.

It’s so, so hard to see his son and think of him as the same person who took advantage of Yeonjun’s helplessness—but deep in his heart, he knows he has nothing to be surprised about. Beomgyu's statement already provided the proof, this is just the long-awaited confirmation. The dam that's been begging to break.

Perhaps he’d been too indulgent of his baby, too dismissive of the little moments, allowing it to slip by without much thought on how it would carry to adulthood. Perhaps he'd unconsciously projected his longing for his late lover, in Soobin's early years, that it had affected him so thoroughly.

He hears footsteps. Then, a large hand running over the back of his head, gentle and warm.

"Finish your dinner, mom, and go to sleep. You need rest."

Yeonjun lets out a weak cry of anguish, but otherwise says nothing.

Soobin places a feathery kiss on the top of his head, and then the touch is gone. Yeonjun can hear Soobin going into his own room.

Yeonjun doesn't know how long it took for him to stop crying, but once he does, he swallows the rest of his dinner the best he could.

He can't let Soobin's cooking go to waste.

—

The air around their home is tense.

They go about their routine as usual, they still bicker and complain and vent to each other, but something else has shifted. Touch between them used to be casual, something to seek for comfort and familiarity. Now, whenever any part of Soobin slightly brushes against him, Yeonjun recoils.

Yeonjun sees the hurt and frustration in his eyes, but keeps his mouth shut. Maybe they can keep up this ruse a little longer. There's no need to pop the bubble when all this will pass. Yeonjun has already forgiven him, as he always does, so all they need to do is to forget the incident and leave it behind them.

It seems that he had underestimated Soobin's own desire to change their very dynamic.

The first time it happened, Yeonjun had only gotten home from a gathering with his old friends from school. He’d told Soobin he was leaving, and the boy only replied with a grunt and a dismissive wave of the hand, shutting the door to his room.

When he came home, Soobin’s door was slightly ajar, and Yeonjun was prepared to ask if he wanted dinner—only to be served by the sight of his only son fisting his cock, the waistband of his shorts tucked under his balls, long legs spread out on the bed. He had returned Yeonjun’s stare with a challenging look, daring Yeonjun to say something—to do anything.

“Welcome home mommy, sorry I’m a bit—ahh,” his sentence was cut off by a moan, hand picking up the pace around his massive cock, spurting precum into his hands, “preoccupied.”

Yeonjun had said nothing before promptly shutting the door on him, heart beating like mad inside his chest. Shameful desire coursed through him, squeezing his thighs together so tight as if it could change the fact that he’s already disgustingly soaked from the sight alone.

His silent rejection seemed to only encourage Soobin further.

He would start doing it all over the house, taunting Yeonjun. He’d sit in the living room couch and spend the entire time with his cock in his hands, thumbing over the slit and rubbing the shaft while the other hand reached down to fondle his balls. He’d throw his head back to the cushions, dragging out his moans and letting out little gasps that made Yeonjun’s stomach feel tight; begging Yeonjun to help and sweetly calling out for “mommy” as he came all over his hands and stomach.

“I miss your cunt, mommy,” Soobin groans out loud, leaving his door wide open, displaying himself for Yeonjun to witness from where he’s seated in the living room, clutching at the TV remote so hard it might crack.

His daring son, with that filthy mouth Yeonjun didn’t know he had, continues, “So warm, so tight, so perfect around me. It’s almost like I was born to fill you up, mom. Did you raise me to be your fucking dildo? Sure feels like it, like your tight pussy knows the shape of me, or is it because I came out of it?”

Soobin laughs, cruel, and continues stroking himself, tonight with a slower pace, as if he’s savouring the act—both the gratification and depraved taunting toward his own mother, like flaunting how fucked up their relationship has become is an act of edging on itself.

Yeonjun swallows, disgusted at his lovely son for his capability to be so sick; disgusted at himself, at how much his cunt is dripping, and knowing that Soobin is right, his baby did fill him up well, better than anyone else and even his own damn father ever did.

He wants to throw up, filled to the brim with self-loathing, because despite it all—the knowledge that Soobin was the one who took advantage of him—Yeonjun still spends every night shamelessly masturbating to the thought of it.

If he doubted it before, he now knows he will never get to see heaven—because the previous fantasies of a faceless stranger fucking him has been so easily replaced by the handsome face of his own son. He rubs his clit and thinks of Soobin between his thighs, cherry-red lips shining with slick and dimples on full display; he fingers himself and remembers how Soobin’s longer fingers had been able to brush against his g-spot easier, imagines his boy’s pretty smile as he leans down to kiss Yeonjun while teasing along his walls.

Soobin throws his head back, and the noises that come out of his throat are almost pornographic. Yeonjun nearly chokes.

He snaps his head back forward, gazing at Yeonjun with half-lidded eyes while his hands steadily pump his cock, and implores with a pout. “Don’t you want to take care of me, mommy?”

Yeonjun tears his gaze away from the drag of his balls above his perineum, shame crashing over him at the thought of taking them into his mouth, wondering if they’d feel as heavy on his tongue as they looked hanging on Soobin.

Of course, Soobin caught on.

He smirks, one corner of his mouth curving up almost wickedly. One of his hands, previously working on his shaft with the other, goes down to cup at his balls, lightly squeezing.

“You’d be such a perfect hole to empty these into, mommy—nh, they’re so heavy—you can even pick where. Do you want me to empty them into your mouth or your cunt, mom?” His words are cut off by little gasps as he massages his sac, beads of precum spurts out and glides down his shaft in response.

"I used to have—ah, ah—this little fleshlight. Would fuck it almost every night, used to pretend it was your pussy." Soobin bites down on his bottom lip. "Used to pretend I was fucking you so deep my cum would stay for days, would probably fuck you pregnant. Fuck—" he gasps, his strokes getting faster, rougher. "—won't let you keep the baby, though. Can't have anyone else stealing your attention."

Yeonjun can't stand it.

He marches inside Soobin's bedroom, and it's clear Soobin isn't expecting it from the way his eyes widen, almost comically. It's like all the bravado leaves him. He stops stroking, tracking Yeonjun's movements with bewilderment.

Yeonjun climbs up on his bed, furious and ravenous. He leans down and grabs Soobin by the hair.

"Prove it." He snaps.

"Mom?"

Soobin's eyes are already glassy, taken over by lust, much like that night when Yeonjun pried him away from his cunt. This close, Yeonjun is reminded of his devastating beauty, the light above them highlighting his smooth skin under all his handsome, sharp lines.

Heavens, how did Yeonjun not instantly realise that it was him? When his divinity is carved by Yeonjun's own hands?

“You want to be inside me? You want to be back inside so we’ll never be apart, just the way it was when I carried you?” Yeonjun hisses, yanking Soobin’s head back further.

"I need it, I need to be inside you." Soobin paws at the buckle of Yeonjun's belt, begging all wet and messy like a dog. “We’re meant to be together, mom,” he murmurs plaintively. “I was a part of you, and I always will be.”

"Shut up." Yeonjun swats his hands away, vehemently ignoring Soobin's kicked dog look, and lowers himself further, until he's laid between Soobin's spread legs, face to face with his dripping, fat cock.

Yeonjun feels his underwear start to grow damp.

Yeonjun exhales, bracing himself.

"Mom, what are you—"

His question is cut off by a moan as Yeonjun gives in to his curiosity, acting on the primal instinct that has plagued him ever since Soobin started being shameless around him. He gives experimental licks around Soobin’s perineum, nosing at his balls, smiling wickedly in the sudden squeak that slips from Soobin’s mouth.

“Next time,” Yeonjun starts, mouthing at his taint. “Don’t shave.”

“Fuck.” Soobin shudders, cock twitching in Yeonjun’s hand. “Didn’t know you’re a freak like that, mom.”

Yeonjun hums, offering no reply, and takes his balls into his mouth. Big and hanging low on Soobin, they’re heavy on Yeonjun’s tongue as he expected, stretching his mouth wide, filled with Soobin’s seed. Yeonjun feels slick trickling down his hole just at the thought of it. He switches between licking and sucking, one after another, tonguing the underside as Soobin lets out a steady string of expletives and praise, hips bucking up.

Yeonjun spends the next few moments lavishing them with his full attention, his tongue and mouth enacting the fantasies that have piled up inside of his head, accompanied by Soobin’s wanton moans, one after another. The heavenly sound goes straight to Yeonjun’s crotch, filling him up with waves of lust.

Soobin is close, Yeonjun can feel it. He's already on edge from playing with himself for so long, and Yeonjun's sudden involvement must have spiked his arousal, sending him to almost a feverish state.

It doesn't take long for him to finally come, with Yeonjun's languid strokes along his shaft and the mouth on his balls, his release leaks out of his tip in globs of white, thick and plenty, sliding down the sides of his shaft and onto Yeonjun's fingers. Yeonjun licks them all up through Soobin's post-orgasm aftershocks, cleaning him up the way he did that night in the club.

This time, fully conscious of who he is pleasuring.

"You're all talk," Yeonjun teases, laying his head on Soobin's thigh after he's done, Soobin's spent cock still twitching slightly with the leftovers of his release, spurting thin ropes onto the sheets.

Yeonjun drops a quick, impulsive kiss to the side of his cock before leaning back again.

Soobin is staring at him, still visibly catching his breath. Yeonjun isn't excited either for how his own body will protest tomorrow, but for now this position is comfortable.

"Well, it's not everyday that your dreams come true." Soobin rolls his eyes, fondness tinting his voice.

He's looking down at Yeonjun like he's his sole purpose of living. Perhaps he is. It may as well be true in reverse. Soobin is Yeonjun's reason, his only purpose.

"You dreamed of me sucking your balls?"

"I dreamed of you touching me out of your own volition." Soobin gasps, scandalised. Like he didn't just bait his own mother into a scene straight out of a porno. "Don't be so crass, mommy."

"Hey! Did you forget how you talked to me earlier? Where die you learn to talk like that?" Yeonjun admonishes and nips at his thigh, Soobin yelps.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?" Yeonjun responds sleepily, he's afraid he's going to fall asleep right there and leave Soobin to cramp. At this age he really does need that sleep.

The question comes out small, hesitant. "Are you going to go back and play pretend again?"

"What do you mean?" Yeonjun brings himself up to a sitting position, pulling them closer together by sitting properly between his legs.

Yeonjun slings an arm around Soobin's shoulders, reaching to swipe his sweaty bangs away from his forehead. Soobin's own hands settle on Yeonjun's waist, taking his time to come up with the response. In the meantime, Yeonjun fusses over his son's hair. When was his last haircut? Yeonjun tuts. It's not unusual for him to be slightly lazy when it comes to his hair, still Yeonjun expected better at his age.

"It's just—it hurts, mom." Soobin frowns. "It feels like you're just using me because I remind you of him, and I'm scared that you'd discard me when I no longer live up to that."

His words are like a punch to the gut.

Yeonjun is, admittedly, still having a hard time reconciling the sweet boy he raised with the Soobin in front of him, the adult that's gritting his teeth so hard it must hurt. His jaw, so sharp now, is locked in anger, the lines of his eyes are harsh, staring at Yeonjun like he doesn’t know whether he wants to yell at him or consume him whole.

Instinctually, Yeonjun reaches out with a shaky hand, despite the threat of Soobin snapping and biting. If Soobin will bite the hand that feeds him, so be it. Yeonjun brought him into this world knowing damn well the risks that come with it.

They asked him if he would accept the child whatever their gender was, asked him if he would accept the baby if it was sick, if the child was not like other children. He said yes, and they doubted him. If only they could see Yeonjun now—within the gaping maw of the beast he raised, offering tenderness that only he can give.

Yeonjun’s palm makes gentle contact with the skin of Soobin’s cheek, and it’s like all anger melts out of him. He shivers, leaning into the touch with his eyes closed.

Yeonjun looks at him and sees in him his father’s wide, round eyes, the gentle slope of his nose, and the perpetual pout that seems to be the only thing he inherited from Yeonjun. Soobin is already older than his father ever will be, and the resemblance haunts Yeonjun with every year that passes by, knowing this is what his lover would’ve looked like.

Soobin inherited close to nothing from Yeonjun. Yeonjun guesses it’s only natural that he would inherit the same love his father used to have for his mother, too.

His son. His Soobin. His greatest and now, only love.

"It's all you." Yeonjun whispers, the first crack toward shattering Soobin's glass of self-doubt. "I do it for you. Not because you look like him. I know you're different people, and I choose you."

Soobin's eyelashes flutter, damp from tears. "Really?"

"He loves mint. You hate mint." Yeonjun begins, hesitant. Maybe it's time he faces this, too. "He hates ice cream, but you love them. He doesn't laugh often, but when you laugh it's like your surrounding laughs along with you. He can't cook, but you're brilliant at it. You procrastinate, you complain a lot."

He grins at Soobin's pout, giddy. He taps his cute nose and continues, "You love watermelon and soft animals and watching anime until late in the night. All the traits he didn't possess. I've known you longer than I will ever know him. Of course you're different than him, baby. I watched you grow into yourself with my own eyes."

"I love you." Soobin murmurs, like a prayer.

Those three words, the one sentence he's uttered a million times since he learnt how to say it. The words Yeonjun taught to him, now thrown back in his face—no longer innocent, but an intent of devotion. His declaration of love.

This makes it the first time Yeonjun doesn't say it back with his own words. He allows Soobin to lean down and capture his mouth into a kiss, only hoping it'd be enough to convey all he couldn't say.

After, Soobin undresses the both of them, reverent in his touches, and carries him to their bath, despite being the only one truly needing it, but Yeonjun obeys him regardless. Soobin lowers him gently into the water before getting in behind him.

“We stopped doing this a long time ago.” Soobin snakes his arms around Yeonjun’s waist, sounding melancholic.

“You were growing bigger.” Yeonjun rolls his eyes, leaning back to settle on Soobin’s chest. “I had to start teaching you how to wash alone, and it would’ve been inappropriate.”

One of Soobin’s large palms slides down Yeonjun’s stomach, disappearing under the water, stopping right over his cunt, cupping the folds. “And this isn’t?”

Yeonjun shivers as Soobin’s fingers circle gently around the lips of his cunt, arousing him but not quite stimulating. The tease that he is.

"Stop teasing and get on with it." Yeonjun snaps, lust steadily crawling over him.

"Mmm, not yet. I think I'll take my time. Let me return the favor, hmm?" Soobin's voice drops lower, Yeonjun can feel the vibrations from his chest on his own bare back, and it breaks him in a way that he never thought was possible. Yeonjun feels like a doll in his hands, just waiting to be undressed and played with.

Soobin tips his chin up with his free hand and captures his mouth into a lazy kiss, taking his sweet time with his tongue in Yeonjun's mouth, his other hand finally giving in to rub circles around Yeonjun's vulva with two fingers. Yeonjun gasps into the kiss and bucks up from the sweet sensation, water splashing as he thrashes, but it only serves to tighten Soobin's hold around him, fingers rubbing against his clit in a more aggressive manner.

He brings Yeonjun to completion like that, touching and teasing and toying with him like he's spent years mapping Yeonjun's body. Yeonjun sighs into his mouth as he comes, body going lax in Soobin's hold. Soobin pulls away and kisses him on the temple, pulling him slightly lower into the water. 

Yeonjun lays with his back on Soobin's chest, content with the warm silence.

"Yeonjun." Soobin calls. There's no hesitance in his voice. It's warm, it's commanding. It's loving. It's laced with a thousand years of longing. "Yeonjun-ah."

Something inside of Yeonjun shatters, and mends, and shatters and mends and shatters and mends—

So this is the day.

"Let's move away, Yeonjun-ah." Soobin murmurs, nosing against the skin of Yeonjun's shoulders. "Let's go somewhere nobody knows us."

Yeonjun swallows, mind reeling with endless thoughts, fighting to be seen. Does Soobin no longer consider him a parent anymore? Does Soobin still need him? Has Yeonjun fallen so far out of grace that he will allow this? What will this do to their relationship? What does it say about Yeonjun if he admits that he likes it?

"What about Beomgyu?" Is the only question that makes it out. "He will ask questions." And Yeonjun will miss him unlike anything else.

Beomgyu, who's been by his side since they were teenagers. His best friend who selflessly helped him raise Soobin when he was submerged in grief, only settling down with Kai once Soobin was old enough to finally understand that the world didn't only belong to him.

Beomgyu, who's as much a parent to Soobin as he is, but only Yeonjun got the brunt of his perverse desires. He still wonders what went wrong. Was it him?

"You can still call him." Soobin shrugs. "We're just going to.. lessen our frequency of meeting him."

"Aren't you going to miss him? Them? You're so close with the twins." Yeonjun needs to know whether Soobin still holds any sentiment towards them.

"Of course." Soobin's response is instant, easing the tightness around Yeonjun's chest, his voice is soft around the syllables as he continues, "I love Beomgyu-samchon and those punks, they're my little sisters. I'm going to miss Kai too. I'm just—" he pauses, sighing.

"Greedy?" Yeonjun finishes his sentence with a weak smile.

"That." He chuckles, mouthing at Yeonjun's nape. "And a million other things that I'm not ready to say to you just yet."

Yeonjun inhales. Exhales.

"Okay."

—

Soobin buys them a house.

With what money, Yeonjun doesn't know. He's not keen on finding out about Soobin's pastimes, either. It seems that recently he keeps discovering more and more things about the son that's been glued to his side for over twenty years.

Beomgyu had sent them off at the airport with his family. Kai didn't cry, but he uttered sentiments that had made Yeonjun tear up, and the twins dramatically cried over their Soobin-oppa, just second to Beomgyu crying over his own Yeonjun-hyung.

Soobin wished the twins luck for university, slipping no small amount of money into each of their palms, and they'd quickly hidden it before Beomgyu could see. Kai held back a snicker and pulled Soobin aside to encourage him privately; Yeonjun couldn't butt in even if he wanted to, because Beomgyu had been clinging to him like a leech.

Beomgyu was rightfully sad, he'd planned for them to grow old and die living next to each other, but he'd been supportive of Soobin's "promotion" and encouraged him to go even higher. It took a boarding announcement for Beomgyu to finally let him go, sending Yeonjun off with a promise to text and call him everyday.

Yeonjun had looked back until they were out of sight. And then, Soobin. Again, always. Soobin had been staring at him with fondness, waiting for him to look back. Yeonjun smiled, and took his hand in his own.

Their new home is far. From where they lived previously, it would take day-long rides and several transits if they use public transportation. It can be shorter by plane—which means it would be costly, and despite his seemingly endless amount of money, Soobin would provide any excuse to limit their visits to at maximum two times a year.

Yeonjun supposes it's fair. He wouldn't know how to hide it—hide them—from Beomgyu. They've known each other longer than Soobin has been alive. That stubborn man would have found out if they had continued living in close proximity, especially with his tendency to barge in unnanounced.

Soobin is convinced his plan is foolproof. Yeonjun thinks he's just delaying the inevitable. Soobin doesn't want to hear it. Yeonjun must admit he did spoil him, but he doesn't know where Soobin got the rest of that amour-propre from.

Is it because you're fatherless? sometimes Yeonjun wants to bite, but knows that it would be futile, because if there’s another thing Soobin inherited from him, it’s his sass; and the boy wouldn’t hesitate to bite back with the fact that Yeonjun’s transition cancels that.

Besides, it’s not like Yeonjun’s entirely to blame. The few times he suggested the idea of finding a partner had been met with vehement resistance on Soobin’s part, and the last time he discreetly brought back a possible boyfriend, his son had lost his appetite for an entire week.

At least now he knows the reason.

“I had a reason to hate all of them, though.” was his only defence when Yeonjun finally got around to asking about it.

“Okay, well. Lay it out.” Yeonjun crosses his arms, raising his chin. He's well-aware that Soobin is indulging these questions only because he's in a good mood: Yeonjun is sitting on his lap, warming his cock.

Soobin scrunches his nose. Cute. “The first one was straight up fucking weird, he was so overly curious about the house and your habits.”

“Second one?”

“Creep. I stalked him for a week, he was fucking around with other people and meeting up with more.”

While Yeonjun was glad he avoided the possibility of getting an STD, “What do you mean you stalked him? You were fourteen!”

“And I was already a head taller than he was.”

Yeonjun remembers the moment clear as day. Soobin can be so irritating when he wants to, something he has never quite grown out of, but was especially worse at fourteen years old. In an effort to bond with Yeonjun’s beloved son, the man had invited Soobin to go fishing with him, and the boy had responded with a cheerful “No thanks! You can go, though. It’s a good weather to drown.”

Yeonjun had hoped the earth would swallow him whole.

Alas.

The man broke up with him through text, and now, nearly a decade later, Yeonjun has his son’s cock buried in him. Interesting how life goes.

“Fine. Third?”

“He was decent actually, very nice to me,” Soobin admits gently. “But I already knew what I wanted from you, and I wouldn’t let just anyone take you away from me.”

“His promotion.” Yeonjun narrows his eyes. “His sudden move. Did you do that? You weren’t even eighteen.”

“And what does age have to do with it?" Soobin sneers. "I would’ve shouldered the sky if you asked me to, even then.”

Yeonjun’s breath catches in his throat.

He flattens his palms against Soobin’s bare chest and leans forward to drop a gentle kiss to his pink mouth. He takes his time with it, licking at the boy’s bottom lip as he processes through his surprise. Soobin reciprocates with palpable delight, opening his mouth to give Yeonjun access to lick into his mouth. They spend some time there, kissing each other breathless.

“My baby,” Yeonjun coos once they break apart, running a hand through Soobin’s hair. Soobin keens, leaning sweetly into his touch.

“My every breath is dedicated to your happiness, how could I ever ask that of you?” He murmurs, pressing another peck to the corner of Soobin’s mouth.

“By the way, I keep forgetting to ask.” Yeonjun starts, eyes narrowing again, “You, my darling, are suspiciously good. How do you even know how to fuck?"

Soobin turns his face, which effects are diluted by the fact that he’s still buried balls deep inside of Yeonjun, as if being apart would kill him instantly. It amuses Yeonjun to no end. If he wants to act like this he might as well return inside Yeonjun’s womb.

“What do you know about what constitutes as good anyway?” He huffs, crossing his arms.

Yeonjun refuses to rise to the bait, they will get nowhere if he falls into Soobin’s side of jealousy-imbued bickering. Still, Yeonjun shifts, circling his hips with an excruciatingly slow pace until he pulls a small gasp out of Soobin’s mouth, and stops as soon as he feels Soobin’s cock start to fill up again inside of him.

Soobin frowns at him. “Why’d you stop?”

“So you’d look at me,” he hums, catching Soobin’s chin in his fingers when Soobin flushes red and attempts to turn his face away again. “Now, don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping around while I worked my ass off to pay your tuition?”

It probably says a lot that Yeonjun is more pissed about him sleeping with others than about the damn tuition. Knowing what they’re doing now, Soobin could’ve just fucked him; and while that wouldn’t have spared Yeonjun from the headache of expenses, at least it would’ve eased the rage of the green-eyed monster that resides in his chest, boiling him from the inside with jealousy.

“My GPA was near perfect!” Soobin balks, the exclaim betrayed by how quickly he melts under Yeonjun’s touch, caressing the base of his throat with the pad of his thumb.

“Yes, and what was the one class that you nearly failed in?” Yeonjun leans down, nosing on his cheek.

“Greek Mythology,” Soobin relents. It was an elective, Yeonjun knows because he had gushed about it, only to end up hating it.

“Because you argued with the lecturer about?” Yeonjun knows, he just wants to see Soobin’s face when he admits it.

“...Oedipus,” he mumbles.

Yeonjun bursts into laughter.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t know he plucked his eyes out at the end, that wasn’t the part that resonated with me!”

“There is nothing there for you to resonate with, actually!”

“Stop with him already.” Soobin rolls his eyes, gently pushing Yeonjun to lay down on his back.

Yeonjun allows himself to be manhandled without a fight, deciding to simply stare at Soobin’s handsome face as he arranges the both of them to a more comfortable position, caging him in, preparing to fuck into Yeonjun again.

It strikes him how surreal everything is, bickering with his own son like they’re lovers, tangled sweetly in the dark of the night. It feels, briefly, like Soobin is someone he would’ve tried asking out in college and immediately fallen for, and not the boy he raised with his own hands for the past two decades.

“Besides,” Soobin whispers, mouthing at Yeonjun’s bare clavicle, almost reverent. “You preoccupied my every thought, my every dream. You still do. Whoever I was with, all was so I could learn to please you the way you deserve.”

He kisses a trail upwards the column of Yeonjun’s throat, all the way to his jawline, worship follows with every touch from his lips. “I was born loving you, and I will die with that same love still burning in my chest, too. The heavens gave me to you, and to you I shall always return.”

Yeonjun sighs under Soobin’s gentle handling, content with being adored. Soobin starts moving, rocking into him with shallow, slow thrusts, balls flush against Yeonjun’s skin; as if unwilling to allow any inch of him to slip out of Yeonjun. Silly boy.

Made for him. Yes, it always seems almost as if Soobin is made for him, born simply to be his.

Yeonjun does wonder what the heavens must think of them. Surely, they understood. Surely, they must have known. They couldn’t have given him Soobin—his clever, gorgeous, loving boy; his perfect son who grew up to be the passionate godliness woven straight from Yeonjun’s deepest dreams, and not expect him to return Soobin’s love?

Soobin comes with a muffled declaration of love uttered on the crook of Yeonjun’s neck, pressing close as he spills deep inside of him. Yeonjun is too overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled to comprehend what Soobin said, turning his head to press a butterfly kiss on Soobin’s hair in place of apology and reciprocation.

Soobin pulls out of him, and Yeonjun lets out a mindless whine, clenching around the sudden emptiness and lack of orgasm. His legs drop to the mattress, his son’s seed trickling down his inner thighs and onto the sheets.

Soobin responds by leaning forward to tap the head of his spent cock on Yeonjun’s sensitive cunt, eliciting a gasp from him; then he starts rubbing his shaft, covered in cum and slick, between Yeonjun’s wet folds, coaxing a moan after another from him.

Yeonjun comes like that, arousal peaking from the sensation of Soobin’s cock rubbing against his clit, and the very sight of Soobin hovering above him—sweaty strands stuck to his forehead, broad shoulders bare and littered with marks from Yeonjun’s teeth, one large hand spreading his leg as the other works Yeonjun to his climax. So unbelievably handsome, a beauty of Yeonjun’s own making.

“Soobin-ah,” Yeonjun calls weakly, one hand reaching out to circle over Soobin’s nape.

Soobin goes down obligingly, pretty eyes fluttering shut as the tip of their noses touch. Nearly every inch of them are still connected, bare skin against one another. Still, Yeonjun doesn’t feel that it’s enough.

“Gorgeous.” Yeonjun praises, stealing a brief kiss from his pouting lips. It’s followed by a kiss to each of his cheeks. “Handsome, so so handsome.”

Yeonjun caresses his beautiful face with his hands and simply looks at him, adoring. Soobin has been silent throughout, blinking at him in wonder, lower lip failing to voice what seems to be a question. He’s so pretty it makes Yeonjun’s heart hurt.

“My boy,” he whispers. “All mine.”

—

Their neighbours aren’t as nosy, this time around. The kind of people who nods in acknowledgement, or spares a timid smile whenever they pass by each other, then they’d go along and mind their own business.

Yeonjun, unused to it, thinks it’s slightly cold. Soobin, on the other hand, loves it. He goes around introducing Yeonjun as his spouse, glowing with joy, and Yeonjun is too influenced by the sheer happiness he’s emitting to actually feel the bile rising up his throat.

At night, Yeonjun surrenders himself to the beast he raised, body and soul. Soobin likes trying out new things, new methods, shifting and manhandling Yeonjun’s body as he likes. Yeonjun allows him, the way he’s allowed his dearest heart to have anything he wants throughout his entire life.

When Soobin wanted him, what was Yeonjun supposed to do but give in?