He spins the both of you further into the house, his back now towards the kitchen, and you take this chance to blindly kick at the door until you hear it close behind you. You can hardly get a breath with the way Yeonjun is trying to devour you, until he is suddenly pulling his head back to see your face, swiping his thumb along the corner of your lip before pushing it inside your mouth, the thumb of his other hand which still holds your face stroking your cheekbone. He's breathing so heavy, more than he usually does in this type of situation, and you want to ask him what's wrong, but you also don't want to interrupt what's going on. His eyes, watching the way your mouth takes his tongue, look so focused but like he's somewhere else in his mind at the same time. You can't help but wonder if he's seeing you, or her.

Each of your favourite moments looks like this, the times when you are looking up at him and he’s gazing down at you, struck by something ungodly but so so beautiful. His eyes bright, the newest hair colour that you know is for her attention but you love all the same, the colour faded so nicely, it might not have made her spare a glance but you had almost lost your mind over it, couldn’t keep your hands to yourself until you were underneath him again with your hands ruining the style he’d carefully set it in.

When your mouth is empty, Yeonjun doesn't let you speak, attacking your lips with his again, his teeth grazing the flesh. His lips are no longer chilled, warmed by his tongue that had caressed them as he’d watched you. You feel his fingers at your waist, fumbling with the button on your pants, and reach for his bulge. It isn't quite ready yet. His hands move to knock yours away before they are capturing your face again, steering you to look up at him.

"You want me, don't you?"

The question is not self doubt, it's not a cry for reassurance. It's a statement, one that requires an answer. It's also an answer to your theory: he went to the party. Which means he saw the girl he has feelings for with her newly-acquired boyfriend. Which is why he's here.

"Don't you?"

His voice is quieter this time, eyes flickering between yours. You try to shut out the voice in your head that tells you he's imagining you are someone else. The answer is always the same. The only right answer. "Yes."

Your heart sinks as you see his face falter, only for a second, the sadness in his eyes coming through. But then his cheeks turn up with a small smile and he regains himself and is all action. As he peels down your jeans and underwear at the same time, the voice nags that he isn’t really here in this moment with you, he’s back at the party, finally getting his way with her. You never ask him the question back, scared of the answer, of the truth, or worse, a lie. You know the answer. You know the lie. You let him sink into you anyway, let him burry his face in your neck, because it’s the only way you can have him, even if you don’t really have him at all.

Your moans were falling freely from your lips, your head heavy in your boyfriend's lap, though it felt like it was on another planet. His long fingers were laced with yours beside your head, eyes entranced, flicking between your face and what was happening further down the bed.

"Who's making you feel good?" Soobin asked.

"Jjunie," you panted after collecting yourself enough to speak.

One of your boyfriend's hands broke away from your grip to stroke at your hair. "And who's letting him make you feel good?"

It was as if his words had to swim through a fog to get to you, his voice breaking through the thick layer of pleasure that had settled over your whole being. "S-Soobin- oh!"

Yeonjun's tongue was setting off sparks through every inch of your body, flaring off from the fireworks he was creating at your clit. His arms were wound so tightly around your thighs, knees bruising on the hard floor at the end of his bed, but he couldn't care less. The sounds he was making were sinful, and maybe if you'd had the clarity of mind to think, you might have wondered how long he'd been waiting for this, but the only two words in your head were the names of the boys picking you apart.

Oh, but Soobin knew. He knew all too well that Yeonjun had wanted you since he met you, and he knew you long before Soobin came into the picture. Maybe it was Soobin's guilt that lead to this arrangement, guilt that he had swooped in and dashed all of your mutual best friend's opportunities with you. He felt it was only fair, and once you'd agreed to it, he felt like a small weight had been lifted off his chest.

And Yeonjun, ever the gentleman despite his eagerness, had checked in with both of you every step of the way. Every are you sure? was met with a fervent nod from you and encouragement from Soobin.

"Let him know, baby," your boyfriend prompted.

Your back arched off Yeonjun's mattress as his tongue snaked past your entrance. "Jjun- Jjunie, so good!"

He can't help how ravenous he becomes, though he's tried several tactics to prevent it. Nothing stops how hot he begins to feel under his skin just before the clock strikes twelve; not cold showers, not air conditioning, not locking himself in a room away from you. Nothing silences the thoughts of you, the constant chant of your name in his mind, or the urge to be one with you.

He always finds himself wherever you are, hovering over you, sheathing himself inside you and relishing in the only source of heat that's as hot as his blood at this hour. Many mornings have you woken to find the sheets torn, his nails breaking right through the fabric from his grip on them as he drives himself into you over and over again at record speed.

He doesn't have the presence of mind to speak, nor does he wipe at the wetness that forms on his brow from the exertion. His breath comes out in ragged pants, his voice sometimes breaking through into a growl. His eyes are so dark, boring through your own as you clutch at the arm holding you down underneath him, sounds of your pleasure and cries of his name ripping from your throat.

It's not until four hours later that it begins to die down. At this point, his cock has hardly left your core, so wet and freshly tender around him. You can feel him pulsing inside you, see his eyes start to clear, and soon he's flooding you with hot liquid, shuddering hard. You're so worn, nerves buzzing with overstimulation, and he's ragged as his eyes come back to normal and his hand reaches for your cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asks, so softly you could almost miss it over the volume of your heavy breathing.

You nod, trying to catch your breath, and try to smile reassuringly. As he pulls himself out of you, you can't help but gasp at the drag against the walls of your overused pussy, wincing at the feeling of his seed leaking out onto the sheets.

Weakly, Kai climbs up the bed to lay beside you. He smooths the hair off your face despite the little remaining energy he has, despite the fact that his own hair is plastered to his skin by heavy beads of sweat. He leans over to press a gentle kiss to your mouth, hum what sounds like an apology, before quickly passing out into a deep sleep.

He began to see how often you let yourself go hungry, determined that nobody else should suffer for your existence. Without hesitation, he offers, no, begs you to feed from him when he can tell you've been neglecting your needs, famishing yourself for the sake of the safety of others. You always refuse his proposals, never even toying with the thought of blurring that line between love and lunch. Until he finds you more weak and dazed than he's ever seen you, flinching away from the scent of him as he enters the room you've secluded yourself to. He begs you to drink from him, replenish yourself, his hands caressing your face, eyes pleading just as much as his voice. 

"I know you don't want to hurt me,” he whispers. His fingers are so unfairly warm on your cheeks, luring your eyes up to look at him. “But it hurts me to see you like this.”

In the haze of your desperation, you can't keep your eyes from honing in on his jugular, on the veins that pulse just beneath the skin. He looks and sounds so sweet, and the vulnerable state you're in makes it hard to think straight. His words and his scent cause you to feel dizzy, the mix of these factors and your heightened impulses make you begin to question why you never considered tasting him before. Two states of mind battle inside you–the craze of hunger and your personal beliefs and wishes.

Beomgyu pulls you into his lap on a chair by the window, bearing most of your limp weight. He slings your arms over his shoulders before cradling your head in his hand against his neck, positioning your face at his throat. You can hear the quick thudding of his heart, the throb of his pulse—nervous or excited, you can't tell. Closing your eyes, you let yourself inhale the warmth of him for a long stretching moment. Then, with your little remaining strength, you sit up enough to look him in the eye. 

He doesn't look scared or burdened; he looks trusting and devoted. You let your chest fall flush against his to feel the beating of his heart where your own might once have been, reveling in the idea of two being one for just a moment. Kissing him softly, you feel his breath on your face, the steady rhythm of him. He's so beautifully alive, so whole and so fragile. Your rational mind seems to have remained despite the lost fight and the mania you feel as your eyes ask of his surety. 

His head nods, and you gently capture his jaw in your hands and let yourself return to his neck. He doesn't scream or cry out in pain when your fangs pierce his skin. The only sound he emits is a sharp intake of breath through his teeth and a groan that he tries to hide under said breath. His body doesn't tense with fear or unbearable agony. You have the clarity to notice these things before the erraticism floods you, faster than the taste of him floods your mouth. 

The heat of his blood warms your body as you suck it down, like gasoline on a fire. You had never let yourself imagine how he would taste, never dared to think that you would ever find out. The fire dances hungrily in your belly, crying for more, more, more, and you open your eyes to ground yourself against your instinct. You lick soothingly over the puncture you've left behind as you detach from his flesh, both to give him a break and check over him. His face appears blissful; dream-like eyes opening into yours, and lips parted with fleeting breath. You feel his hands softly grab at your waist. 

"More," he breathes out dazedly. Your lips make to rebuff him, but he's quicker to speak. "You need more. Please." 

Were you in a more stable state, you'd want to have a conversation about this. But with Beomgyu's words, your natural desire overcomes the memory of your rational thoughts. Somewhere in the back of your clouded mind, you're grateful to have someone who cares about you enough to share their life-force to keep you comfortable. Your tongue laves across the bite to lap up the blood collecting there before you dive back in to begin gently sucking again. Fighting against every urge that sings inside you, you hold yourself back from severing any veins or arteries, willing to cause as little damage as a minimal flesh wound that can be easily staunched to prevent even more blood loss.

The moan that comes from the man below you is jarring; it doesn't derive from pain. Is this normal? His thumbs anchor into the flesh above your hip bones, and he angles his head up further to give you a more advantageous angle, encouraging you. His body jolts a little, causing your fangs to sink deeper, against your intentions, delivering more of his blood to you. You swallow it down before pulling away again with a gasp, dizzy with the effort it takes to stop yourself from guzzling him down. 

"Beomgyu… I-" 

"Ride me," he whines breathlessly, his eyes as blown out as your own probably are right now. 

The sound of the words that tumble from his lips is almost enough to startle you out of your thirst. At first you're not sure you heard him right, you've been out of it for days... But then your boyfriend is closing the gap between you, nose pressing under your jaw as his arms pull your hips against him, grinding you over his crotch, brushing hard and long underneath you, the friction waking another fire inside you. 

"Ride me, baby, please." He sounds as if he's never needed anything so badly before, and he's definitely never begged for you this way. A new warmth begins pooling in your belly alongside the blood. 

Beomgyu only fumbles a few times while unbuttoning his pants blindly as he offers his lips endearingly desperately to you. Fingers hike up the material of your dress until it's bunched around your waist, grab at your panties and angle them to the side. You hadn't realised how wet you were until he pushed inside with no resistance. 

The kiss is broken as the two of you react to the slide of his cock with a gasp and a groan, your forehead dropping to meet his as he pants shakily. Arms reaching under your thighs, he pulls you along his length, then lets you sink back down, until you take over and begin to ride him. Your lips brush over the bite you've left as you move against him and he moans again, hips thrusting up to meet yours. 

A gentle hand cups the back of your neck to return your mouth to the site when you don't do so yourself, and you're so tempted to drink again, but you will yourself to believe you've had enough to keep you going until you find another source. Beomgyu is whining at your lack of action, so you settle on kissing the punctures instead, savouring the taste of him as the blood pooled at the site sticks to your lips. You feel him throb inside you at the sensation of your mouth at the area, and he shivers as if all the nerves in his body are connected to that spot. 

“Take more,” he says between shaky breaths. “Feels so good.”

“No, Gyu-”

His lips are on yours the moment you pull back from him, so quick to act and so lost in passion he doesn't seem to notice the crimson hue that slathers your lips or the iron tang that they share. His hands are soft on your face now, thumbs stroking your cheek bones; always so gentle with you, as if he were not the one that was fragile, but you. When he breaks away for air, his mouth is smudged with a faint red stain.

His eyes drink you and he looks as in love as ever, just as adoring of you as before he learned what you are. Even now, with his neck punctured and his blood settling in your stomach, he still doesn’t see a monster.

“Gyu,” your moan drags out as your hips bring him deeper inside you over and over. A "You're too good for me” slips from your mind to your lips, followed by, "I don't deserve you."

You could swear you see pain on his face for a fraction of a second at your words. Then his hand is in your hair and he's meeting your lips once again to convey everything he's too breathless to say in this moment. When the kiss is broken, you dip down, your lips travelling over the column of his throat, leaving a trail of kisses and earning more moans from Beomgyu as his head falls back in bliss. 

“Don't– ah, don't ever say that,” he struggles to get the words out. “You're… oh god. I love you so much.”

Feeling his stomach tighten beneath you, his hips push up to meet yours, plunging himself so deep and snug inside you. Sparks shoot through your whole body from the feeling and you impulsively wrap your legs around him to keep him there as you quiver with pleasure, walls clenching desperately. There's a broken wail beneath you and you're faintly aware of the sensation of Beomgyu finishing inside you, and his name being called again and again by your voice. 

When your vision clears, certain that you would be a mess of tears if you had the ability to cry, you find your boyfriend heavy-lidded and wearing a slight, delirious smile. You're so in love with this human, bewildered by the fact that you don't know what you would do if he were to go away. Or worse; inevitably succumb to mortality, a voice in your head reminds you, causing you to mentally flinch away from your thoughts and focus on your view. 

Taking his head in your hands, you try to rouse him from his euphoria. “Are you okay?” Checking him over, you find no sign of excessive dizziness, though his rapid breathing and any lightheadedness in this moment could be from the other activities rather than the blood loss. Taking a better look at the bite you’ve left, reality comes crashing down on you, a hint of panic settling in beside it. “How are we going to hide this? This will take weeks to heal–”

A thumb swiping along your bottom lip brings your attention back to Beomgyu’s gaze. His eyes look a little more focused now as he steps into a reassuring role. “It’s okay,” he coos softly, as though you’re a bird he could spook, that you might fly away, not a creature that had him at its mercy moments ago. “I’ll bandage it and say I got a tattoo.”

“You would never get a tattoo,” you huff slightly, feeling he’s not taking this as seriously as he should. “And when you take the bandage off and there’s nothing there?”

He chuckles, hands running up and down your arms in a comforting way that has become familiar to you. “Then I’ll say I got a piercing, didn’t like it and took it out.” The soft brown of his eyes are so mesmerising, so persuasive that you’re almost soothed out of your unease about the whole thing, and he throws in a kiss to seal the deal. Leaning back, he’s smiling once more. “We’re definitely doing that again.”

Incredulous, you shake your head. You try to shift on his lap and are reminded that the two of you are still connected. “No, Beomgyu–”

“Hey. Look ook at me, love, I’m fine!” 

“This isn’t what I got involved with you for,” you say solemnly. It's quite the contrast to your boyfriend's nonchalant and playful attitude, and as soon as he hears the words, he's adapting to you. If possible, his eyes grow even softer. 

“I know,” he says softly. He helps you untether yourselves, promising to continue the conversation after you're both cleaned up. In the bathroom, you notice the way he eyes the bite, inspecting it carefully. He doesn't seem phased by the mark at all, his reaction similar to if he'd just nicked himself while shaving. Opening the first aid kit, he's ready to see to it himself, but happily allows you to treat and bandage it when you offer. Once clean and in bed, he resumes the previous conversation as promised, knowing it's important to you. 

You're laying on top of him, chest to chest and able to look at him properly–one of Beomgyu's favourite things about you being lighter than humans is that he can cuddle you this way without being crushed. He strokes your hair as you begin again, trying not to be distracted by the gesture. “I don't want to risk ever losing control and putting you in danger. What if I can't stop next time?”

“I understand,” Beomgyu's voice rumbles through your body as he speaks. “But do you realise how much restraint you showed today? While you were starved? If you could handle that without draining me for every drop I'm worth, I think you can handle a sip here and there before you reach the danger zone.”

For every drop I'm worth? Your expression pulls into a cringe. “Don't say it like that.”

A grin flashes over his face before he's serious again. “I trust you. And it’s not just that it feels good, I hate to see you suffering, you know.”

You sigh deeply, too tired and bombarded by logical arguments to find a rebuttal. Now it's you who reaches up to play with his hair, something you know he loves that relaxes him. “You should sleep.”

His eyes close obediently, making you smile. Arms wrap around you, holding you impossibly closer. “You trying to shut me up?” he jokes. “You're lucky to have me.”

At first Yeonjun’s like “It’s alright guys, I got this,” but he’s in your room for two hours and taps out when you still want more. He emerges looking exhausted, clear scratch marks on his arms exposed by his tank top, wiping at his damp brow and beelining to the sink for water without uttering a word. He doesn't have to; cries of your continued desperation are the next thing to come from the open door.

You use Soobin to the point of overstimulation. They could all hear Soobin’s whining, whimpering and begging for mercy through the door after just ten minutes. Even Beomgyu, who had talked a big game before his turn, was heard moaning pathetically and at one point shrieking as if you were eating him alive instead of just using his cock until it was almost red raw.

When Taehyun steps up to the plate, they're all sure that this will be the end of it. The rest of them spoil you rotten, and though affectionate, Taehyun is the voice of reason for the others and the stern hand that keeps you in your place. And so, between his stamina and his handle on you, it's a sure thing that he'll be the one to ride out your heat, right?

Their jaws drop when it's not Taehyun who emerges from the bedroom but their beloved hybrid, scantily clad and hair wild, looking frazzled as you announce that you think something is wrong with Taehyun. The four boys shuffle to the door to see their friend, modesty covered by the sheets to their gratitude, sprawled on his back across the bed, panting heavily, eyes hazy – completely spent and dazed. "Did I break him?" you ask, your needs seemingly satisfied for now, or at least staved off by the concern for one of your loved ones.

"This is going to happen every month?" Soobin whispers incredulously to the group while you're distracted.

His mouth is as warm as his hands that freely roam your body with the same entitlement and familiarity as someone more than a part time lover. The feeling it brews inside you is intoxicating. You fight to hold on to your thoughts and not let them be carried away by the flood of chemicals his touch sets off in your brain. 

Mustering all your courage, you bid for his attention again when he eventually pulls back for air. “Yeonjun. This… This is the last time. We can't do this anymore.”

His lips leave the skin of your neck where he'd begun tracing up your throat, and your stomach sinks a little at the loss. Those cat-like eyes look up into yours and your heart threatens to begin the liquefying process. It's even worse when his mouth quirks up in his signature prideful grin. There's a hint of fondness in his eyes, as if he thinks it's cute that you're trying to end this thing between the two of you. As if he's watching a child pout and declare they don't want the toy they're offered when he knows their tough demeanour will crack the minute it's taken away. You know he doesn't believe a word even before he speaks. 

“Okay, baby.” He presses another hot kiss to your lips, so quick you don't have time to close your eyes. Even after who knows how many times you've been this close – and even closer than this – you still shiver at the feeling of his breath on your face when he says, “The last time.”

Then you're falling together onto his bed, getting lost in his touch, the most familiar and precious thing you've ever known, and of course it's not the last time. 

---

You spend the next two weeks avoiding the usual hangouts; the bars you know Yeonjun frequents, the places where you’d usually meet up, and the spots that just held too much memory of him. The cafe he’d take you to on your birthday each year for your favourite kind of cake, and the club that you’d only visited once together, which he’d left after scarcely an hour with a gorgeous girl he’d just met, leaving you heartbroken and trying not to cry on Beomgyu’s shoulder for the rest of the night. You make a new playlist; one without any of the songs that remind you of him. Then make a whole new Spotify account when it throws in your most frequently played – the very songs you’re trying to avoid.

It turns out you’re a very productive person when you focus on other things. You deep clean your apartment. Go on walks. Read one of the books from the stack next to your bed that you’ve been meaning to start for too long in a single day. You realise clubbing isn’t really for you, and it never was. You’d started attending the night life, and drinking altogether, because Yeonjun enjoyed it. Because Yeonjun was there, you were there. You dressed to catch his attention, did your makeup the way he liked. Once, you even stood up a guy that he didn’t like. It was sad when you thought about it; that you’d let him dictate how you spent your time, even if that time would have just been spent at home in your quiet apartment. But you’d come to enjoy the quiet, now that it wasn’t filled with wondering what Yeonjun was doing or who he was with.

Instead of going out at night, you see your friends during the day. It’s easy to catch up with them without Yeonjun since he spends most of the sunlight hours in bed, nursing a hangover or busy with his own “friends.” Beomgyu and Kai take you to an arcade you haven’t been to since you were all in high school, and it reminds you of good times. It’s a lot easier to enjoy their company when you’re not looking over your shoulder every few minutes, anxious about a certain someone, and you haven’t laughed so much in, well, longer than you can remember. Taehyun occasionally joins you on your walks. It helps him get his steps in, he says, but it’s also nice to see you so unburdened. His words and the sincere look in his eyes that accompany them hit home. You begin to recognise just how all-encompassing your feelings for Yeonjun have been, not only on your life but on your friends and their interactions with you. You inwardly cringe as so many memories surface of your friends trying to distract you during their evening out when they should have been having fun; worried about you, sympathetic looks on their faces that you never noticed at the time, too swept up in your own drama. Soobin dancing with you in an attempt to lighten up your mood, and you spending the whole time consumed with Yeonjun, who was standing at the bar with a girl called Bridgette, a model who’d just come to town, and trying to steal glances at them. Beomgyu’s gentle voice as he’d driven you home after Yeonjun had bailed, as you stared vacantly out the window at the lights flashing by, not hearing a word as you let hot, heartbroken tears finally escape.

They don’t ask, and you don’t tell them that you’re avoiding Yeonjun, or that you’re not doing the things that you usually do together, though you’re not sure how much they know about your relationship with him. But they definitely notice a change, and it seems they’re happy for you in your new outlook. And, surprisingly, you’re happy, too.

---

Soobin knows you're Yeonjun's fuck buddy. But he also knows that the two of you aren't exclusive, what with Yeonjun always making out – amongst other things – with a new girl almost every other night. And maybe he’s a little more in tune to Yeonjun's feelings about you than Yeonjun is himself. After all, you're the only girl he's slept with more than once or twice – many times more. That doesn't stop him, though. 

“So pretty,” he says, a hand brushing your hair back from your face as you look up at him from under your eyelashes. You've got him so deep in your mouth that your eyes have gone hazy, and he can't get enough. No other girl has ever taken this much of him before. Yeonjun is an idiot if he's not going to keep you for himself.

You keen at his praise, a vibration in the back of your throat that makes his back arch against his seat. He's got no self control left, drunk on the high you're giving him, and before he can think otherwise, he's fished his phone out of the pocket of his jeans on the bed behind him and is pointing it at you. 

With his free hand he reaches down to cup your cheek as you drag your mouth back up his shaft, and he traces your jawbone with his long fingers. You look straight up into the camera with no hint of embarrassment or discontent about the recording happening. When your eyes move past the phone to meet his own as you reach his tip and begin to suckle on the head, the way he likes as you've learned tonight, tongue sweeping back and forth under its ridges as you do, he can't hold back his moan. He can't quite remember how he ended up in this scenario, but he's not in a state to question it. 

“This your girl, Yeonjun?” Soobin's deep lustful voice asks the camera, with a hint of a snigger trailing quietly off the end. He's unaware of how referring to you as Yeonjun's causes a fresh flux of wetness between your legs. Sliding back down his length you take him in again, as far as you can manage, showing off how good you are for him to Yeonjun, who you can only assume this recording will be sent to. Some small part of you hopes he sees it. “Fuck–” 

His hand moves from your face to curl around the side of your neck, warm fingers under the hair at the back of your head. You think of Yeonjun watching and feel your core flutter. It hits you then: until Soobin brought him up, you hadn't thought of Yeonjun all night. For the first time, when you stumbled into someone else's bedroom tonight, you were fully present, attention undivided. You hadn't wondered if Yeonjun was currently with someone else, or lingered on the fact that you hadn't heard from him, or even unintentionally compared this moment to a past one with him. It was a satisfying feeling, and you felt a sudden swell of pride. It spurred you on, and you put all of your effort into making the man in front of you feel amazing, pushing the video and the other male from your mind entirely. 

“Oh- oh god…” Soobin's fingers fumbled and dropped the phone as his face crumpled in pleasure at your determination, his eyes closing. His now free hand threaded into the hair at the top of your head; not guiding you or forcing you forward, but seemingly just to be touching you, to anchor him through his orgasm. “Oh, good girl. So good. Shit-” 

You don't bother to look to see if the red “recording” icon is still on the screen as the phone lay nearby on the floor. You have better things wanting your attention.

---

The loud knock at the door startles you in the cosy silence of your apartment. Groaning at the intrusion, you contemplate not getting up and pretending you aren’t home in case it’s your elderly neighbour wanting you to show her how to turn her cell phone on. Again. But in the time it would have taken you to drag yourself out of bed and make two steps out of your bedroom, there are another three thumps on the front door. 

Regretfully pulling yourself from the warmth of the covers and desperately hoping this will be quick and you’ll be back before they’re cold, you hurry out to answer it. You're stunned by black hair ending at sharp brown eyes as the door opens. Yeonjun. He's never out of the house at this hour unless it's to crawl home from someone else's bed. Before you can say a word, he's stepping towards you, over the threshold and into your personal space the moment the door is open wide enough to let him through. 

“Morning,” you just manage to get out before his hands have your hips in their grasp and he's pulling you towards him. “Hey, we can't do this any–”

His eyes leave their target of your lips to meet your eyes. “What? We can't do this? Why?” Lips halfway to full pout, he argues, “I don't get to have you but Soobin can?”

You start to panic for an explanation as to why you're backing out of the benefits part of your friendship that doesn't reveal your feelings, but he doesn't give you a chance to speak. 

“Does he know your body the way I do?” he asks, reaching to lift your leg and drape it over his hip, squeezing your thigh before stroking the inner side teasingly. The action brings so many memories flooding back at once; so many moments he's touched you exactly like this, and you know what it leads to. 

“It's not about that, Yeonjun, I–”

“Did he please you?” he presses on, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s asking this because of that night you’d told him another guy had failed to give you an orgasm. Would he even remember that? Does he think that he’s the sole person that can push you over the edge into pleasure? Well, isn’t he? He's concentrated on your body's reactions; the ones you're trying very hard to ignore. A sinking feeling creeps in that you’re fighting a losing battle. “Or did he just take it all for himself?”

“Yeonjun…” you start to say aimlessly. Your head grows hazy as soon as you feel his fingertips over the material between your legs. Now that he's here, now that he's touching you, you feel all the progress you thought you'd made slipping away. You feel yourself reeling back into that mind space that you've always fallen into when it comes to him. It feels as though you're a recovering addict coming undone at the first sight of temptation; an ex-cult member found by the cult leader and being brainwashed all over again. 

“Don't I take care of you?” There's something in his eyes that wasn't there a moment ago. Defensiveness? Jealousy? Hurt? You can't tell if it's real or if your mind is just trying to see something in him that you've always hoped to find there. 

“Yes,” you reply in one exhale. 

“Don't you want me anymore?”

The question makes something in your chest tighten with a familiar ache. “Yes.” It feel as though you're being hypnotised, and when you feel the full length of Yeonjun's fingers run along your sensitive core over the fabric of your pajama pants, all the nerves in your body light up like a Christmas tree. “Jjunie,” slips shakily from your lips, an automatic response to the sensation. 

“Baby,” he answers with a tone of relief before his mouth captures yours. 

You know that pet name has crossed his lips a thousand times, and not just to you. How often have you heard him call some other girl the same thing on the phone, seen it fall from his lips across the club as he smoothly picks up another new girl? 

Does it matter? Denial and bargaining whisper to you. Does it matter if you're not the only one? Isn't sharing him better than never having him at all? 

You don't seem to care that you're relapsing back to being putty in his hands. Your rational mind is left dormant in the shadow cast by the sparks of his touch. His hands guide your arms around his neck and your fingers sink into his hair, and this is all you need. It's ludicrous to think that you ever planned never to touch him again, never to feel his kiss or his fingers on your skin. 

He expertly makes quick work of your pajama top, and soon it’s on the floor. As you reach to wrap your arms around him again, your eyes catch the fading love bite bruises on the skin of his neck. You steel yourself, not giving your mind the time or space to think about it; it’s always the over-thinking that leads to suffering. You can not care, you tell yourself; if it’s so easy for him not to care, then it should be the same for you. But your mind drifts distractedly over the thought that you wish Soobin had left some marks on you, something to remind Yeonjun that you can play the field too. Suddenly you wonder whether he saw the video, or if he just heard about your night together. You’re not sure which you would prefer.

Guilt creeps into your mind. Should you feel bad about being with Soobin? Sure, you and Yeonjun weren’t exclusive, and he went around with anyone he wanted, but never any of your friends. And Soobin was one of his best friends. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Yeonjun grins, taking it as a reaction to his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. “You missed me, didn’t you?” He asks confidently, as if he knows the answer. When your pants are pooled around your feet, you realise he’s wearing too much. His grin is full of ego when he adds, “I didn’t think you could last that long.”

You wish he’d just shut up. That’s one thing he’s never been good at, and it’s usually a turn on for you in the bedroom. Fingers curling beneath the hem of his tee, you pull it upward and he aids you in getting it over his head. Your hands automatically make contact with the skin of his shoulders, chest, stomach, running anywhere and everywhere. He has the smoothest skin of anyone you’ve ever touched, and you can’t help yourself. You have missed it. His head tips back slightly like a cat being stroked before your hands are moving on to unbutton his stupid ripped jeans. 

“Have you missed me?” You turn the question around, hoping to take the spotlight off of yourself. Your fingers intentionally rub against the stiffness behind the material as you work to free him of his jeans, stroking teasingly. It’s a rhetorical question, since you know that if he had missed you, he would have called or shown up sooner. Instead, there was no contact until he found out you’d slept with Soobin. You feel bold now, fueled by the time you proved you could be without him, and say exactly what’s on your mind. “Or were you too busy keeping your cock wet with your long queue of girls?”

He groans when your hand dips inside the now open waist of his jeans and into his underwear, meeting his hard-on with a slow and drawn out stroke. His eyes droopy and slow, he finds your face again. “You know you’re my favourite,” he says when he recovers.

You can’t help but laugh wryly as you shove the denim down his legs. “I know you say that to all the girls, Choi Yeonjun.”

His mouth crashes back down on yours as if you’re the one that needs shutting up. You hadn’t even noticed he’d backed you against the sofa until he was guiding you down onto it. Your hands reach out blindly for his waist again, but Yeonjun’s hands grab your wrists and move them away before his fingers find your panties and pull them down your legs. His eyes hold a determination about them when he moves away from your lips, not breaking eye contact as he travels down your body. Your breath catches in your throat as you recognise his intent. He’s never done this for you before. 

Hands circling your ankles like perfect-fitting cuffs, he angles your legs apart. You almost feel a little shy at the intimacy of what he’s about to do, despite the fact that he’s probably done it a hundred times before, and the fact that he’s seen you as naked as you came into the world more times than you could say, touched the deepest parts of you over and over again. But somehow, you feel vulnerable about this. Maybe it shows in your eyes, because Yeonjun leans up on his knees to stroke his thumb reassuringly over your lips before questioning with his eyes. 

These two actions take you out of time, astonishing you to the point where you forget how very vulnerable you were feeling merely seconds ago. Because those are the two things that he did the first night you ever crossed the line into being something more than just friends. He’d traced his thumb across your bottom lip, his drunken gaze drinking in your lips as though he’d never noticed them before, and the shiver that ran through you had nothing to do with the cold night air of the party's terrace. Then his eyes had looked up into yours so earnestly, so inquisitively, as if asking for permission, before the kiss that had started everything. It was the same reassurance and permission he’d sought from you not an hour later, when you’d ended up in his bed. 

You wonder if he remembered the gesture from that night… No, you doubted that very much. With a steadying inhale you nodd, and Yeonjun sinks back to sit on his heels between your thighs. 

The second his mouth is on you, your whole body comes alive. Your back arches into the sofa and your lips part to let out a stream of sounds you could never hold in. You want to look down at him, want to see his eyes, watch what he's doing to you, but you can't. Your head is swimming, your eyes won't stay open, and you think you might float away completely if you didn’t have so many nerves singing in your body from his touch. It's ll too much, but you don't want it to stop. 

At some point, your hands reach out for him, searching for something to keep you grounded other than the arm of the sofa that you’ll regret the claw marks in later when you sober up from the stars that are exploding through your whole being. He must have caught your hands in their venture and threaded his fingers through yours, because when you're aware enough of reality again, you notice you had been squeezing his hands. You feel a new sort of tired – a kind of overwhelmingly blissful fatigue that only comes with having your whole world rocked – as you force your head up to look to where Yeonjun’s mouth is still attached and lapping at your wet center. 

“Yeon–” you try to call out, but your voice is so wobbly. “Jjun– can’t.”

Your eyes are filled with tears from the new pleasure you’ve just experienced, and when Yeonjun’s arms aren't weighing down your lower half, your legs tremble and you find you can't make it stop. You don't let go of his hands, and by this point it feels like your fingers and his might be melded together indefinitely. He doesn't let go, either, until he has to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand – which you would be embarrassed about if you weren’t so high up on cloud nine – then he's cupping your face, inspecting your glossy eyes. 

“Don’t cry,” he says softly, brushing the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, even though no tears had escaped. 

“I’m not,” you almost laugh, but it doesn't come out in your weakened state. You still feel breathless, but it's the best kind of breathless you’ve ever known. “That just felt so… wow.”

His brow crinkled. “No one’s ever done that for you before?” His thumb is softly playing at your lips again, and you wonder if it's going to become a habit. Or maybe it had already, while you were avoiding him. Maybe it wasn’t as special as you held it in your memory to be.

“No,” you answer with a content sigh. You can still feel the waves of pleasure rolling out through your extremities from your core like ripples that just kept stirring.

Yeonjun makes a disapproving face. “What asshat guys have you been sleeping with?”

A laugh bursts out of your chest, and his laugh follows. He knows he makes up ninety-five percent of the pool of guys you’ve ever slept with. 

“You were hiding this skill from me, huh?” You drag your index finger lazily down his lips. His grin comes out at the compliment.

In this moment, you feel so warm, and this is the most light hearted you’d felt around Yeonjun in a long time. You can't help but think ahead and wonder what will happen after the bubble of this moment bursts. What will you go back to after all that progress you’d made without Yeonjun around? How bad will it hurt now to see his revolving door one night stands with other girls? After all, hadn’t he only come here because of Soobin? You want to hold all those thoughts at arms length for now. You’ll deal with the fallout after all is said and done. For now, you just want to think about this moment. 

“Your turn,” you declare. Yeonjun watches for a moment as you reach for the fabric still hugging his waist. He makes no move to aid in their removal, and when you're about to struggle through it on your own, he takes hold of your wrist. 

“Not today,” he says. You look quizzically at him. “Not after the sounds I just heard you make. Not after how good I saw I can make you feel.” He stands to peel off his underwear. “If you’ve got your breath back enough for more, then lay down.” 

You're not going to argue with that. 

This is a scene you were familiar with – Yeonjun hovering over you as he stripped – but it never gets old. Each time you still feel the same way, the same rush of feelings of adoration, anticipation, even now that you don't feel so desperate for him to finally,  miraculously see you in a different light. To love you. For it to mean something. 

“What?” he asks with a cheshire cat smile when he looks up, breaking you out of your maze of thoughts. You don't feel embarrassed to be caught staring at him, either. 

“Nothing,” you reply with your own smile. “Just… you know…” You open your legs wider, subtly but pointedly, as if telling him to hurry up.

“Look at you,” Yeonjun laughs light-heartedly as he crawls back over you, sounding impressed. “Where did all this confidence come from?”

It isn't a question that requires an answer. Especially when a second later he's pushing inside you. It feels like it's been so long and no time at all. Somehow it's so familiar and yet feels better than it ever had before, though you could probably chalk that up to the earth shattering, tear-inducing orgasm you’ve just had. Yeonjun himself is just as loud as you when he fully seats himself inside you. 

When he moves his hips, it's s a familiar rhythm, and it’s sweet relief. Your hand wraps around his bicep instinctually as you move against him, wishing he’d go faster, but also wanting it to last. Yeonjun must be feeling the same, because his hips pick up their pace – not too much, but enough to make your focus haze.

You swear you're louder than you've ever been, and somehow it feels as if it's been years and not only a few days since you were filled. Every thrust feels like electricity spreading through your whole body, like hot blissful fireworks ignited and fizzling, just waiting to explode. You don't even realise you've closed your eyes, your head fallen back and eyelids squeezing, fingers clinging to the poor couch cushion for dear life. Yeonjun is calling your name, seeking your attention, but he sounds far away behind the moans that can only be coming from you and the pleasure that's taken over your being. 

His hips slap harder against you, almost rocking you back and forth on the plush seat, and you feel absolutely gone, pulled under a wave of intense pleasure. You can just make out Yeonjun's words through it all. 

“Tell me you like me more than him.” All you can do is cry out at the speed he's bucking into you. His fingers grasp your chin and when you open your eyes, he tries again. “Tell me I'm better than Soobin. That you want me more.”

It takes longer than it should for your brain to translate the words into meaning. You know you're supposed to formulate a reply; his eyes are holding yours expectantly. Somewhere in your fuzzy mind, it clicks. “Yeon- mmh…!” It's hard to speak when you're feeling this euphoric. “I've always… you, always you…”

Yeonjun smiles as he watches you struggle to get words out, watches you fight to keep your eyes on him and not let them blur or roll back in ecstasy. It's a losing battle. The pad of his thumb traces down your cheek. “There’s my girl.”

You can feel yourself clench around him at those simple, familiar three words.  “Don’t- fuck, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” he asks with a chuckle, and you can hear his cocky smirk without even seeing his face. “It always gets you gripping me so nice.”

Because you don't mean it, you think, but you don't say it. 

It's a wonder he can hold a conversation at the pace he's thrusting into you, especially with the amount of effort it's requiring of you to wring out any words at all, but you suppose he's had a lot of practice. 

You're starting to get breathless, the pleasure peaking as your hands reach for Yeonjun, scrambling for his chest, his arms, but you can't find him. Looking up to meet his eyes, you see him understand. His hands leave your hips and take yours, eyes never leaving your face as he watches you ready to tip over the edge because of him. 

“I've got you,” he says. One of his hands brings your palm to his mouth, and his soft lips brush against the skin there. Your legs instinctively hike up his hips and wrap around him, moulding yourself closer to him. “There you go, baby,” he says as your orgasm hits. 

Yeonjun's hips don't falter as you arch into him, even when he leans forward to kiss your face, chest to chest, grounding you to him as you threaten to float away. He wants you to remember he's here with you, that it's him you're feeling so good with, and he wants to hold you through it. Watching you lose yourself to the pleasure he's given you puts him over the edge too, and you haven't even recovered yet. His hands go back to your hips, eyes closing, gripping you and steadying himself. His moan brings your blurry attention back to his face, and now he's the one seeing stars and chanting your name. 

Your hands settle over his and he opens his eyes into yours. You’re smiling, and he chuckles exhaustedly. You’re both spent and panting, and you let your shaky legs relax, but Yeonjun catches them and holds them gently still around him, rubbing a hand up and down your calf absentmindedly. His eyes stray away from your face to the sofa beneath you. His expression seems a little distracted, and you wonder if he’s already planning his next move; his excuse to leave, or where he’s going next or who-

“I'm such an idiot,” he says. Feeling baffled by his sudden mood change, you don’t follow. Is he apologising for this happening again when you said it couldn’t? He’s shaking his head, his eyes back on you. His hands let your legs lower down slowly until you feel your feet touch the sofa cushion.

“Yeonjun, what-?”

His hand moves to your face. His knuckles touch the edge of your jaw, his thumb stroking at the corner of your mouth as he speaks. “How could I not see it?” Your eyes search his for the answer he isn’t giving you, some clue to what he’s talking about. “It took me this long… Baby, I’m so sorry.” The words make your heart speed up. Suddenly you’re afraid that he’s about to say this can never happen again. You deciding it was one thing, but if Yeonjun says it, it will be definite. The thought of truly never kissing him, never feeling the skin of his bare back under your hands, of never again being one with him, dangles in front of you and sinks your stomach. Even when you were determined to stay away, you knew you would probably slip up and let it happen again, so it was never really final. Now… You brace yourself for his next words, trying to commit to memory the feeling of him while he’s still lodged inside you. 

“I’m so stupid,” he laughs, and before you know it he’s kissing you. When he breaks away, he’s smiling. “You were right in front of me this whole time.”

“Yeonjun, what is going on?” you ask bewilderedly. 

“I think I love you.”

It’s the last thing you expected to hear – in this moment, in any moment, ever. For a minute, it feels like time stops, and you wonder foolishly if this is real, because even in dreams you’ve never heard Yeonjun say such a thing. You’ve never even let yourself imagine it, because it seemed too far from reality, too far-fetched. You blink dumbly up at him. “Huh?”

He takes your hand in his, a warm thumb stroking over the back. “When I found out that you and Soobin spent the night together… I felt jealous. I’ve never felt jealous of anyone. I couldn’t understand why I felt so annoyed by it. I never cared who anyone else I hooked up with was sleeping with before.” You still feel the confusion on your face as you concentrate on what he’s saying, on trying to make sense of this. “But when I saw the tears in your eyes when I was making you feel so good, it hit me. It touched something inside me, you know?”

You shake your head. Yeonjun chuckles.

“I don’t know if I’ve been suppressing it or just really dumb or what… but I’m sorry. I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve been using you or taking advantage of the fact that you like me, because I never meant to. Really.”

All you can feel is his warm eyes boring into you, his thumb stroking at your face, and dizziness at this new reality. Your head is spinning back through the years, trying to make a connection to what you’re hearing; Yeonjun smiling regretfully at you as he informed you he was leaving the club he’d brought you to, some girl waiting for him by the door; the time he dropped everything to come and pick you up when you called in a state of panic; the guys joking that Yeonjun couldn’t slide into a girl’s bed more than once, then growing quiet and looking your way awkwardly, changing the subject to spare your feelings you’d always thought. But it wasn’t true, was it? There was one girl he’d been with more than once. Just one girl he’d slept with again and again, seeming never to grow bored of her. Time seemed frozen as you thought over all these things, as you came to realisations that never seemed possible before this moment.

“You- wait,” your brain catches up, suddenly skipping back over his words to something you’d almost completely missed. “That I like you? You knew?” His face grows guilty, his bottom lip twitching in a familiar way. The hand retracts from your face. “For a while.”

“How long?” you ask.

Now Yeonjun winces, and you know it’s not good. “Since the first time we saw each other after we first slept together.”

Your mind goes reeling. For a moment, you feel hurt, before you remember. “But I told you that I didn’t mind being no strings. So technically-”

Eyes managing to look even more sorry, he reaches out for you again. His palm is warm on the side of your neck, his long fingers curling to touch your nape. “But knowing your feelings, I should have called it off anyway.”

You shake your head, refusing to let him feel sorry, and to feel sorry for yourself. Your own fingers shadow over his bicep and it seems to make him inhale deep. He seems comforted by your touch. “I didn’t want to stop. I wanted you, even if I couldn’t have all of you. So really, I was using you, too.” A smile catches on both of your lips, disappearing when his forehead dips forwards and he’s kissing you. It’s not like the kisses you know; it’s slow and long where it was always heated and rash. It’s a kiss that holds meaning.

When he pulls back, his smile has returned – that genuine happy Yeonjun smile that you love so much. “Well, you have all of me now,” his smile loses some of its shine momentarily, “I mean– if you want– if you’ll have me.” Your laugh seems to reassure him, and he kisses you again.

The sofa cushion under you has started to grow tiresome on your back, and it’s probably not faring well under the make-do position Yeonjun’s holding on his knees. You look down to where the two of you are still connected and scrunch your nose slightly. “Can we clean up now?”

Yeonjun chuckles before agreeing. “But I have to tell you one more thing, baby…”

“Oh no... Alright, how many illegitimate children do you have?” you tease.