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@junebye
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nate's been manipulative and unabashedly awful in past relationships, fearful to give up even an inch of control or give away the shattered pieces of himself he had left that made him somewhat whole, but this felt different. he's reluctant to put a label on it, even though nate knows he wants something more than a casual arrangement, brimming with too much want and intensity to settle for less. but his relationship with yanjun looks and feels so much different than what nate's been lead to believe a relationship between two men could be β there's no aggression, no fucked up power plays or imbalances. he almost wishes that were the case, because the tenderness and quiet understanding between them erodes his edges, softens him into a different kind of man. maybe the person he could've always been, if his circumstances and upbringing had been different. his breath hitches when yanjun says he'd like to know everything, good and bad, his chosen family and the family nate had been born with, thrown off-kilter once again. nate's lips part, gaze doing an elevator sweep over the soft contours of yanjun's face and for a wonderful moment, the world seems to stand still. it goes quiet, baited breath, and nate allows himself the indulgence of fantasizing of what a life with yanjun at his side would be like. a home made and shared, one that didn't feel so cold and isolating with expectations that were impossible to meet or neglectful. yanjun's palm caresses his cheek, fingertips skimming over nate's undereye circles β like he's something precious and worth protecting. it's overwhelming and unfamiliar. "i'll ask you, too. there's so much more i want to learn about you, yanjun. can i call you jun?" he asks, his hand coming to wrap around yanjun's wrist as if to keep his palm there, a steadying anchor. nate doesn't want him to leave, or move an inch. it's selfish. but it might be the closest thing to love nate has come to know as of yet. his eyes flutter shut, humming thoughtfully. "chosen family.. i might have something like that. but i've fucked up a lot in my life, so it'd be embarrassing if i named them and they didn't consider me the same way." he huffs a laugh, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. nate doesn't know, really β maybe rue, these days. they were both trying to be friends, trying to better people. most of his relationships, the love he's been given, felt conditional. nate licks his lips, his gaze once again focused on yanjun, unwavering. "when did you first know? that you weren't straight." it might be easier for him to answer, if he hears yanjun's experience first. nate's was .. complicated, to say the least.
there is nervousness still, tension and residual anxiety easing messy to the floor β but they are at a point of transformation, the bridge of some long repetitive melody breaking into a key change. and what yanjun's once known or assumed of nate, is ripe for editing. he nods, "sure. well. it sounds cliche, but i think i've always known. i was predictably rebellious, i liked things stubbornly, and i'd spent enough time feeling squeezed empty to recognize a good thing when i felt it. or maybe i just did it rebelliously." (it was often impulsive. he wasn't an angel of a child, not difficult because of his queerness but in spite of it; loud and headstrong and certainly naive at times. because there wasn't much of a plan, save for making decisions for himself over and over and over again β some kinder than others, some necessary and some painful.) "if you're asking exactly when β i probably felt it when i saw some pixelated image of two boys kissing, but i think i knew it the first time i was physically intimate with another guy. it wasn't... romantic per se, i don't think it could've been way back when, under such a β restrictive household β but he was handsome. brown hair, hazel eyes, shorter than me but muscular." he was also terrified of coming out, and thus came with his own share of violent tendencies. desperate to be seen and desperate to be accepted, but swallowed up by religious institutions and familial expectation. perhaps not unlike nate, if yanjun had only met him a decade prior. the nostalgia is short-lived anyway, the past more riddled with thorns than roses β and so as quick as the reminiscing arrives, it leaves, slipping gratefully past splayed fingers. he focuses on nate's expression instead, on how full and confident and safe he feels now. "overall, i think i kept learning about myself in increasingly risquΓ© scenarios. but it suits me, right?" yanjun teases, lips tilted then into something affectionate. "what about you then? walk me through the awakening of nate jacobs."
they've talked a lot about their backgrounds, their respective upbringings and yanjun's estrangement from his family. it's funny, because nate is almost certain they're looking for what they both lack in each other. nate's never had the opportunity to live for himself, except for when he was pretending to be someone else. he hasn't had much time to consider what that might look like for him since highschool β except objectively, nate knows he has had plenty of time. it's easier to buy into the lie, to sell and market the appearance of a successful real estate man with a blonde haired blue eyed wife. the american dream, apple pie and white picket fence, arguably less palatable to be a successful man with a gay partner and a reputable father that's a convicted sex offender. nate's always been smart, or so his teachers, his coaches have always said. but he's not smart or brave enough to prevent himself from making mistakes he's aware aren't true to himself, not wholly healed enough to not self-destruct. he's intentionally ripped the sutures out of a decade old wound that's never quite healed right, retraumatizing it over and over until he's left with a scar that's visible and reflective of the damage that's been done. yanjun is so visually striking, and communicative as well as patient when it counts. it's not exactly difficult to be infatuated with him, given how independent and unabashedly himself yanjun is β traits nate can't help but envy. it's a relief that yanjun seems to take this admission in stride, almost grateful for it, but what's eating away at him and what's been eating at nate seem to be two separate issues. he swallows thickly, but doesn't avoid yanjun's gaze and nods, holding out his hand. "yeah. i'm sorry if i .. well. i'm sorry about a lot of things. it's recent, and i felt like β i had to," nate murmurs, huffing an incredulous laugh as he spins the band around his ring finger, gnawing on his bottom lip with an averted gaze. it's difficult to put into words, that expectation, all the history that preceded this unwise decision. then nate glances back up, gaze fixed and unwavering as he slides it off, weightless into his palm. "is that a deal breaker for you?" nate asks, voice soft and quiet. cassie had meant something to him once, nate thinks, although that could've been the head trauma altering his brain chemistry, a false memory. they've been more in lust than they ever have been in love, of that nate is certain. nate deposits the ring onto the coffee table, then slowly bridges the distance between them on the couch β crawling forward to take yanjun's hands into his. a silent plea to stay, slender and calloused fingers gently stroking over the back of yanjun's hands. "i can tell you about her, about all of it, if you want. how it came to be, how i think it'll end. i can also avoid it, if that β if you'd prefer that." his expression is open and vulnerable, all cards on the table.
ridiculous as it is, yanjun believes him. he nips back a smile, apologetic when it shows up brief upon his lips β because nate talks about the end with such inevitability, sincerity wet against his eyes, and on prayerful knee. he doesn't doubt nate's offer to explain it all. he doesn't even doubt that the marriage itself might've been one of necessity. considering the history he's been privy to, one heavy and traumatizing even in summary, yanjun imagines every decision that follows these memories, come either forced or guided. and he feels protective again, sweet over him, a little naive when his hands turn to meet nate's, stroking in return. he doesn't know how to wait. "...i'd like to know everything. not just β the marriage, but everything with your father, the ins and outs of your family β chosen or otherwise. your childhood, your favourite memories and your worst ones. when you learned you also liked men, when you felt happiest. whatever you're willing to share with me, i'd like to know." yanjun's aware as he speaks, thumbs caressing roughened skin, that the ask feels akin to a proposal, and that their once laissez-faire relationship has begun to rotate 180 degrees, feelings dialed from fifty to a thousand. he's scared to admit that the more he learns about nate's idiosyncrasies, the more certain the adoration, the more exclusive and unbidden the fondness. because yanjun prods with this knowing, assuming a future too dangerously swift when he does so. he's felt alone with his independence too long, an indigestible thing that cannot live contained. (though nate only ever seems to admire this fire of his.) he swallows. then shyly, yanjun lifts his left palm to the curve of nate's cheek, the heel of his palm smooth against growing stubble. his index runs over the darkness, skimming exhaustion and fatigue from under anxious eyes. "it's not a dealbreaker, if it means you'll ask me these things too." higher up, he brushes a stray hair from nate's face. "if you'll let me take care of you sometimes."
@planetsorbit: βΒ no one is meant to be all alone.Β thatβs not how humans are built.Β you donβt need to do all this on your own.Β Β β ( nate & yanjun / could be in any setting probs !! yanjun caring for nate . perhaps even via phone call after smth Horrible / violent happens ....... and he doesnt know the context of why nate sounds Rough on the phone but . offering his help and company . )
nate hadn't been looking to date anyone, really, because his circumstances are beyond fucked to consider such a thing, but nate brings too much intensity to any arrangement that's originally intended to be casual. that'd certainly been the case with their first date, as well as the second β but when they'd arranged for a third meetup nate had called him, said something had come up. he had tried to be vague about why he needed to cancel, intentionally flaky and sounding like a flight risk, but nate knew from the get-go that yanjun wasn't the type to accept bullshit lying down. so it's not much of a surprise when yanjun comes over to the fucking mcmansion that he's needed to sell and downsize since a few weeks ago, looking poised and effortlessly put-together in a way nate can't find it within himself to be right now. nate's five o'clock shadow has already grown back, his shirt haphazardly unbuttoned and deep circles under his eyes when he greets yanjun at the door. they end up perched on his couch, nate sitting with his knees folded and anxiously steepling his fingers together in a way that's almost child-like β unbecoming for a man of his stature. he feels like the little dutch boy with his fucking finger in the dam. "okay, so. there's no easy way to say this," is nate's opening line, practiced and foreboding β one he's used in various other contexts, mostly with women whenever he's tried to tip them off. except, yanjun is yanjun, and nate's nervous as hell because he knows his usual lines won't work. the revelation is comforting and simultaneously frightening. "my dad, uh. he can't go within a thousand feet of any schools. mandated by law, and i was the catalyst to make that happen." he swallows around nothing, shooting yanjun a wary glance to see if he can pick up on what nate is building up to. probably not. it's a lot, it's too much for most people β which is why he's always tried to keep the tightest fucking lid on this subject. there's an unwarranted, kneejerk response in nate that he has to fight back, the clarification of 'but he never touched me' not making it past his lips. nate's swallowing it down, the way he washes down a beer, the way he drowns out everything. he's sure yanjun is waiting for him to keep talking, to get to the point of how that relates to him, to their situation. the wedding band around his ring finger feels like it's choking him, too tight even though it was perfectly sized, and he slides his hands underneath his thighs. "when i was in highschool, he kind of β fucked a friend of mine. recorded it without her consent. and there was, a lot of shit before that i stumbled upon. it's really messed with my head, but i'm working through it," nate admits, but he doesn't know that it's entirely the truth, how well he's working through it or processed all of it despite endless attempts at being therapized. he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, once again redirecting his gaze at yanjun to see if this has been enough to scare him off yet. seeing if yanjun is sizing nate up to see if he's worth the trouble. so far, yanjun hasn't run for the fucking hills and nate is confounded by this, can't understand why. even the gentle understanding and patience makes nate ache in a way he can't articulate. "i really like you. so i just, wanted to tell you, because i know you were expecting β casual. i don't know if i can do that, and i don't want to waste your time." conflicting messages, nate's well aware, but he's trying to be as honest as he's capable of being despite how fundamentally confused and conflicted he is. there's a beat, a car alarm going off in the far distance, followed only the sound of nate's ragged and anxious breathing. "i don't want to hurt you."
nate drips open onto the marble flooring, not wholly exposed but hurt enough to trickle red into the cracks. each confession a new cut, each worried look a bruise, and yanjun finds himself staring, sympathetic and flustered and overwhelmed. it isn't even the complexity of nate's background that pins him like an anchor, but the sweetness. he's had his fair share of flings prior β most especially in his early years post estrangement to the family; kissing shallow men and having sex with the nameless ones, occasionally inebriated enough that one exchange would bleed into another. he's safer now, grown up and steady, kinder to his own body. but nate's proposal frightens him. he likes nate enough to hesitate, and he's clearly attracted to and even protective of him β but there is so much left unknown, so much he needs still (in affection and answers and a lack of judgment), that his eyes eventually tear from the tenderness on nate's face. "...you're not wasting my time, nate." he can admit this upfront, at the very least. he's staring at their legs slotted side by side, their bodies and countenance ever contrasting, responsibilities and expectations on opposing ends. and when his gaze flickers, focus dragging up to the glint of nate's ring, then the light upon his profile, yanjun swallows, weak and exposed himself. "thank you for telling me. about your struggles, about your shit dad... and how you feel about me." uncharacteristically, he blushes a deeper red. if he's honest with himself, he's not a stranger to romantic daydreams. he's thought about it before, more often on a weeknight when yanjun's up late scrolling in the quiet, dishes unwashed, nate's texts pinging like welcome company in the silence. the chemistry is rather undeniable, and the pre and post-coital conversations come shockingly easy, comfortable β so it shouldn't be entirely unexpected. there is precedent here. still, he can't react as enthused as he'd like, because the elephant blinks at him, shimmering and symbolic in its vision: "...are you married?" he's staring properly now, some twist of bitterness and shame hiding out in the middle of his ribs. jealousy maybe, embarrassment over their shared and intentional ignorance as well. "i just. i figured early on that you might be β but we've never really talked about it. and if you mean what you say... we might have to."
nate nearly chokes on his sip of prosecco, and he coughs before levelling yanjun with a shy grin. if yanjun appreciates nate's transparency, then nate definitely appreciates his bluntness. "yeah. it might seem otherwise, but i'm actually a pretty sexually confident person. i've just got β certain hangups," he admits, choosing not to expand on that. those hangups didn't come from a lack of confidence in his physique, that's for sure, he's confident he could carry yanjun with one arm and fuck him against the wall until he comes untouched. something about yanjun gives nate the impression he's intuitive enough to read between the lines, his experience not exactly uncommon β queer raised in a conservative family, along with a secret third thing that's made him ashamed and repulsed by his desires. nate has done plenty of things to be ashamed of, to made to be guilty for, but he feels less of that now, not about this. nate cuts and spears a bite of his own steak, making appreciative noises as he chews, either from the taste or yanjun's praise β likely both. praise was yet another thing that felt kind of foreign to him, that he was good at something, or wholly good in general. "oh yeah? so i haven't struck out yet? once you're done with eating, i can guarantee you won't go home disappointed or undernourished. nutritionally or otherwise," nate murmurs, reaching across the table to wipe away some melted cheese that clings to yanjun's lips with a thumb, his gaze naturally following before flitting back up to meet his eyes with a cocky smirk. not one to be wasteful or messy, nate sucks his thumb clean of it. "curious to learn more about your portfolio, aside from being beautiful and incredibly charismatic." nate's trying not to rush things, but it's difficult not to when yanjun is sitting across from him with full lips saying sweet things he hasn't heard in a long while. one appetite is sated, but the other gnaws at him and begs for attention, inclined to greedily devour as soon as he's allowed.
"not yet." he repeats, reassuring and teasing alike. nate meets him toe to toe, flustered response to flirtatious counter, and though he intends to finish what he's already been offered (it's rude to waste a good meal after all) β nate tempts him in broad and blatant strokes. and yanjun's plenty self-aware, he knows what he likes, knows when lust strikes and how swift turn arounds, from short greetings to cocksucking, hit him sweet between the legs. the waiting game can be all too sadistic, the build up like a gradual inebriation, disorienting and expensive and slow. but yanjun finds himself seated for the present chase. he's taking bites in-between batted lashes, laughing flattered and fond when nate near whistles with his words. his right shoulder lifts, pleased and flirtatious. "aren't you a gentleman. thank you. i try." with another bite gulped back, yanjun rests his chin against the ball of his palm, elbow perched against the surface. "my portfolio β well, i'm also a good kisser. but i don't think i'm a natural in the kitchen β a bit of a coordinated mess, if i'm honest," he explains, toothy, "but i'd say i'm stylish. or that i have good taste. i can tell, 9 times out of 10, if someone's worth my time in the first β say β minute of meeting them." needless to say, even with nate's figurative book partially closed, he's presently passing with flying colours β excelling even. then, in true yanjun fashion, he adds: "and unless i'm proposed otherwise, i like to swallow."

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the compliment yanjun gives him then isn't really one nate has heard before in his life β he's always been socially calculating, a man of few words, a byproduct of being raised in a household where emotions are suppressed with alcohol and distractions rather than discussed openly. despite how tame and mundane it is in the way of compliments, it flusters him merely because it might've been something he needed to hear. nate doesn't respond verbally, but he dips his head low to avert his gaze to his feet and bites back a smile. hearing that sentiment is a first, but it seems like yanjun is going to be a first for him in a multitude of ways and it's a relief to know he hasn't already fucked it up by putting his foot in his mouth or offending yanjun. "i am. i can make you an aperol spritz, if you want a proper cocktail. my parents loved their alcohol, and i did β do too," nate admits, then course-corrects because he's more of a social drinker now. it's a layered admission, one that likely won't be followed up on because nate needs to keep this flirty and light if he has a snowballs chance in hell of this arrangement working out. nate opens the lid of the grill again after a few minutes to flip the steaks, setting the tongs aside to check the internal temperature with a meat thermometer β 140 fahrenheit but he goes ahead with removing the meat along with the grilled asparagus from the grill. the proximity of heat makes sweat bead at his hairline and he dabs it away with his forearm. he retreats to the kitchen for a moment to plate it, sprinkling some parmesan and minced garlic on the asparagus, along with a squeeze of lemon he'd already used for the steak marinade. nate returns with the two plates in hand, a grin dimpling his cheeks as he sets the plate down in front yanjun, then joining the table at the seat opposite of him. he hums, toeing off his flipflops under the table to teasingly brush his foot along one of yanjun's calves. "i mean.. i've cooked for other people, women, with the same intention but yeah. i must be really transparent. probably not what you were expecting, but it's not like we met on grindr." nate swallows around nothing, then says, "would you have preferred that? liked that more?" this time he doesn't look away, gaze fixed with an intensity as if he's trying to see right through yanjun, undressing yanjun's body and his soul with the prolonged eyecontact.
as if preening, he holds nate's gaze. "if we skipped the niceties and fucked instead?" there's heat skimming the length of his calf, eyes tracing him up and down β the unspoken, whispered thing simply transmitted into something audible and defined. they've already kissed, already lingered past it. it's only natural that their conversation circle the tension apparent, and yanjun thinks each nervous proposition cuter than the next. he straightens his posture then, sitting upright to cut himself a beautifully dressed bite of the steak, before piercing it through with a fork. "you're right in that this isn't what i was expecting," β when he pops the meat past his lips, he does it with a gaze unwavering. he doesn't rush the process, nor does he intend to prolong the wait β but he's careful with tasting, thoughtful when he eventually swallows, savouring. it's good, well-spiced, tender, and pink where it counts. (sure, yanjun isn't particularly picky nor obnoxious with his food, but he knows a practiced habit from a first. there are enough notches on his belt to differentiate the careful from the reckless, the wary from the obtuse, and so far β nate appears to him the former.) he taps shortly against the steak in question. "mm β if this was terrible, i would've said yes. but you're making all of this, makeout and meal β very worthwhile. tall, handsome, a good kisser and a natural in the kitchen? that's quite the portfolio," yanjun teases with a wink. he's earnestly surprised underneath it all, a little curious too when he thinks about why a man like nate appears single in the first place. had he gotten here, intentionally celibate, by choice? did he recently come out? or was it something else entirely β something tragic or nefarious or both? assuming is of no benefit in the long run however, so he bites off a string of cheesy asparagus. (it's similarly delicious.)
the exchange is electric and nervewracking, anxious butterflies batting their wings against his ribcage at a frenetic pace. despite this, nate fully melts into it and gasps into the seam of yanjun's lips when fingers tighten into the hair against his neck β like an unsocialized animal being picked up from the scruff. they come up for air, and nate's tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, breathing labored and more riled up than he has any right to be. nate flusters, mouth forming a surprised 'o' shape before his hands retract from yanjun's waist and back. "shit, sorry. you're β i mean, you are distracting actually, but the steak is marinating in the fridge. are you hungry?" nate has never particularly thought he was bad at reading social cues, but he can hardly be objective. he realizes he's probably giving yanjun very mixed signals. "i just β y'know, didn't want you to think that i wasn't interested," he admits, soft and quiet as he pulls away. nate won't push, he enjoys the chasing and tension just as much as the intimacy itself. he holds up an index finger to motion for yanjun to wait, turning on his heel to grab the prepped steak and asparagus along with some tongs, then he leads yanjun to the patio β nudging the sliding door open with his foot before setting everything down. the propane tank is full, so nate fires up the grill and waits for it to heat up before heading back inside to grab some plates and cutlery. "do you mind bringing the drinks out? i'll handle everything else, you can take a seat and rest." it isn't excruciatingly hot, but once nate opens the top of the grill to toss the steak and asparagus on, it's enough to make sweat dampen the back of his white tanktop. nate closes it and then turns to face yanjun, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "how do you like your steak? medium, medium-well? it's rib-eye, so it should be tender either way. you can tip me later."
the smile that meets nate is a patient one. "i appreciate how you're communicating that. it's hot." there's a tinge of blush there, a swipe of pink that yanjun admires and finds himself enticed by, so he hopes he can be forgiven for plucking again at the tension shared. together they pull at it slow and performative, stretch it sticky and warm like fingers through molasses β tenderizing, making it malleable enough to mold as they desire. (he thinks about nate flustered and desperate, on his knees, that tongue of his doing good and eager work.) for now yanjun swallows, goes through the motions, slipping past him with a brush of knuckle, a slide of palm. "medium then. you're drinking the same?" he takes both bottles to his arms, cradling them past the grill (past nate's broad back and exposing arms) to the small wooden deck table where cutlery follows. he makes himself at home, long and skinny denim clad legs crossing as yanjun rests against a cushioned backing. he's admiring with a glass of prosecco, interest dripping from the half-lidded look in his eyes. he wants to make a joke about good service, about tipping and the varying ways he's capable of showing his appreciation β but the atmosphere, the smell of expert cooking and taste of bubbly, paints a romantic picture. nate's efforts do not go unnoticed, and yanjun forgoes the pickup line for inquisition instead: "you're new to this, you've said β does that include the wining and dining?" his lips are upturned, expression soft and pleased. "am i the first guy you've cooked a steak for? β with the intention of getting to know me more... intimately after?" (this, his eyes glint at, a drop of heat in-between the platonic curiosity.)
nate told yanjun to make himself at home, and nate's happy he took that to heart but once the faux-fur coat is discarded and he gets a glimpse of yanjun's toned back dimples, his eyes go as round as saucers. he's about as far from a prude as they come, all things considered, but there's still an audible hitch in his breath at the sight. "jesus fuckingβ" nate murmurs low under his breath, then clears his throat and quickly recalibrates with a nod, making a tactical retreat to the kitchen to open the fridge. he looks back over his shoulder at yanjun, impulse winning out over fear as he hollers, "prosecco? sparkling water?" he asks just to ask, because nate ends up grabbing both to set down on the kitchen island before grabbing some glasses, pouring for them both. nate flushes at the blatant flirtation, a sheepish grin dimpling his cheeks as he hands yanjun his glass. the alcohol is more for his benefit than yanjun's, and the water was within arm's reach. "i can, yeah. would you like me to?" there's warmth in his gaze, an offering to escalate the palpable tension between them as he takes a deep pull of the wine. it's crisp and fruity, but nate imagines it'll taste better drank from yanjun's mouth. his eyes follow that thought, as subtle as a freight train β then flitting back up to hold eyecontact. "it's, uh. i don't know. you look like sex on legs and i'm β new to this. but we don't have to get into all of that. or talk. if that's not what you were expecting," nate reassures, wary that his inexperience and potential baggage might finally send yanjun running. but nate seems more of a flight risk than he does, and despite the nerves, he wants this. he places the wine down and takes a tentative step forward, then another until he closes the gap completely and cradles yanjun's small face with his hands β the first brush of lips exploratory and sweet, the way you'd kiss a crush and not a one night stand. once nate finds his proverbial footing, his hands drop down to the pinch of yanjun's waist while the other teases underneath the alluring ribbon and he licks into yanjun's mouth with a soft choked-off noise, crowding him against the counter. he wants, so much, feeling overwhelmed and desperately trying not to think about what all it means. it only means something if they let it, and yanjun doesn't know what he's seen or done, surely he can let himself have this.
nate crowds him, a towering 6 foot something β "you're nervous," yanjun whispers, acknowledging it with a teasing fondness so apparent in the tilt of his lips. his unspoken assumptions are correct this time; inexperience and anxious attraction, though clearly not so jittery to then withhold. nate seems self-aware at minimum, certain of his orientation (if not, this specific arrangement) β and yanjun welcomes the tenderness with mild surprise. he smiles into the kiss, right arm lifted then to cradle a palm over the back of nate's neck. his thumb strokes, smooths repetitive and reassuring when the peck becomes something deeper, soft lips opening up for curious muscle. he lets him play, lets him feel and taste the difference, then with a roll of yanjun's wrist, combs through the soft baby hairs into a careful grip. it isn't punishingly tight, but intended to be grounding, responsive. when the kiss and slip of tongue drags long enough, yanjun tilts forward, foreheads and noses bumping. he inhales, eyes batting through the sigh that follows. "i hate to interrupt this very welcome physical introduction of yours β but does your steak need any attention?" it's a genuine ask, though he's sheepish when he peeks, wetting his lips when he grins over it. "i just don't want to distract you from your original plan β even if this revised one where you tongue me and potentially hold me up with one arm, is a top tier pivot."
( Β β Β ) FREE CONTENT.
click source to #343 medium size gifs of XU MINGHAO / THE8 of seventeen ( 1998, chinese ) as himself in YOUTH PERIPLOUS ( 2023, random eps. ) Β
a reblog would be much appreciated.
@planetsorbit: there's something on your mind. i can see it now. ( yanjun & nate / vibrant femme whose ability to navigate turmoil means intimate relationships with an ever struggling nate ... relationship of infatuation and "casual" labels and vulnerability ... )
nate first met yanjun at a house party in the suburbs, and the mere sight of him reawakened conflicting feelings that nate hasn't had since he graduated. california was diverse and a melting pot of culture, so yanjun is hardly the first american born chinese nate's met, but he's certainly the first that looks like that. all long limbs and model like proportions, a rounded button nose with pouty lips. yanjun seemed very comfortable with his gender expression, because the painted nails and subtle gloss adorning yanjun's lips had, unfortunately, not escaped nate's notice. guilt and shame gnawed at him, stomach flipping with anxiety because the last time he felt such a strong attraction to someone non-conforming, it didn't end well. he'd fucked it up irreparably, no matter how hard and misguidedly nate had tried to make amends. even after five years of therapy, nate still had to down several shots of vodka before he worked up the courage to go up and talk to him β with an incredibly juvenile and lame opening line of liking his style. despite this, yanjun must be able to sense his sincerity because he hadn't absconded and even gave nate his number. nate gives it a few days before reaching out, tells himself it'll be different this time, he's not seventeen and terrified anymore β and nate is a lot more charismatic over text when he needs to be. there's a knock and when nate opens the door to see yanjun, pretty and unassuming but with all the power he doesn't seem to be aware he possesses, it throws him off-kilter. nate's throat bobs, collecting himself and he offers an easy smile before showing him inside. "hey, make yourself at home. d'you want a drink? i've been marinating some steak that i was about to toss on the grill," he murmurs, feigning nonchalance as his gaze does an elevator sweep over yanjun's figure. there's a lilting tug at the corner of his lips, teasing. "if you even eat meat, that is. you're β really stunning, but if you're one of those mega-woke vegans it's a dealbreaker for me." the pretense is thin, and nate is certain they both know what he really called yanjun over for, but he's not going to fuck him and not offer to feed him. he's a closet case, not a fucking animal β and even if he were, nate's a type of traumatized shelter dog that's bark is worse than it's bite. yanjun makes him incredibly nervous. "no, uh. not thinking about anything. you're just intimidating."
yanjun is, predictably, flirtatious from the start: all twinkling glances and knowing grins, a soft faux leather jacket shrugged off to reveal even more of his lithe frame. he's slender in structure, pinched tighter still by the cut of his blouse. and though his sleeves are long with a cuff of white lace, collar conservative and trim and modest up front β the backing runs deep, a sharp v with a ribbon criss crossing it to the low of his waist. he's dressed to maim, and dolled up to soothe. "i'll eat anything. but i'll take something sparkling if you have it." he pivots to face nate then, bemusedly raking over the stretch of his figure when he thinks the attention obvious. he knows a curious and appreciative expression when he sees one β knows the shy and tentative nature of nate's initial proposal proof only of inexperience. the attraction is much too glaring to ignore after all, the confession that follows too cute to argue otherwise. he's nipping at his bottom lip, gnawing away a laugh when he responds: "intimidating? why would i be intimidating?" (there is plenty to assume here, nate himself too handsome and shaken to be wholly out, or even wholly single. but yanjun knows better than to hypothesize on his own. he's curious but patient, experienced but open enough for the both of them.) "you're tall. and cute. and you look like you could carry me with one arm."

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gunwoo raises a brow, biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile. "yeah, don't worry, i kept one more rare in the fridge. i know you like it raw, but maybe i should come on it first. might make it more flavorful," he taunts, leaning in to smell yanjun's hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead, sweet and fleeting despite the lewd suggestion. gunwoo had wanted to do this in the right order, but yanjun is already toying with him, has gunwoo wrapped around his pretty little painted fingers. he nods, stepping away to turn the pan off the heat before taking yanjun's hand to intertwine their fingers as gunwoo leads him to the bed room. "you can put it down here, or where ever, but i'm curious to see what you brought," gunwoo instructs, pointing to the floor next to his bed β untying his apron to toss over on the back of an armchair. he'd figured there wasn't a point in dressing up to the nines, wearing a black tanktop and basketball shorts. "you look good too, by the way. always do," he says, sincere as he moves to brandish yanjun's face with a palm, greeting him properly with a kiss. gunwoo strokes the soft skin of yanjun's cheek with a thumb, tongue sweeping over soft lips, and gunwoo thinks he tastes even better. he pulls back, gaze hooded with a soft little smile on his lips, thumbing at the corners of yanjun's mouth. "are you hungry? do you want to eat first, or be eaten out?" gunwoo wouldn't be upset with either choice, but he'd forgotten about all the things yanjun offered to bring, and his dirty mind is running a mile a minute. he's impatient, and likely will continue to be unless yanjun demands otherwise. "because i really wanted to wine and dine you first, but i think you'll need to eat to replenish your stamina once i'm done with you," he admits, voice full-bodied and deep β a promise. gunwoo stares, unabashed, and picks yanjun up from underneath his thighs to deposit him on the bed. he swallows, throat bobbing, working up the nerve to speak again. "can i see?" gunwoo's gotten a proximity high from yanjun already, palming gently over the front of yanjun's sweatpants, his breath hitching when it's confirmed there are more layers than meets the eye. his mouth goes slack. "oh." fuck dinner, there's a full course meal right in front of him.
he laughs, light and airy and affected, all warm limbs and warmer insides. "i mean, when you put it like that β this makes perfect sense," he hums, half-lidded and seductive eyes scanning over gunwoo's figure, ever sturdy and handsome and picturesque over him. he wants him naked, wants to trace every muscle with the point of his tongue, wants to feel him thick and heavy enough to bruise. and when gunwoo touches him, palm seeking heat and a gaze obsessive, yanjun's spine arches into a performance, sultriness filtered over when he parts his thighs. "feel it?" he slides a palm over gunwoo's fondling, cups over it like a guide, before using his free hand to wring his hoodie up. it sits just above his chest, rumpled and contrastingly casual from the blush of his nipples. " β i got a set. if that's something you're also interested in. otherwise..." the same offending right pinches the band of his sweatpants and tugs it just enough to share a sliver of pink. contrary to the confidence and charisma dripping from yanjun's current smirk, this is a first. he's only confident because gunwoo's incapable of a dishonest response. if he likes something, it shows, if he doesn't it shows. if he's hard and lusting, it shakes vibrant and clear like the wag of a tail. so yanjun performs, greedy when he wets his thumb with the hollow of his mouth and smears it seductive over a bud, sighing as the spit cools over sensitive nerves. he's building up on existing heat, toying limbs focused then on the waistband of his sweats. "otherwise... you wanna see?" a rhetorical question clearly, because yanjun doesn't wait for clarification, dragging it down and over his knees, then peeling the grey away entirely, to leave nothing to imagination. he's just rousing, not hard nor entirely unaffected, but where yanjun would usually don grey boxer briefs that sit somewhat loose around his hips β he's instead hugged in pink. his cock sits obscenely in the panties, a bulge to stretch the hearts scattering the fabric, and when yanjun graces gunwoo with parted thighs β the cotton is short enough to expose the underside of his ass. "what do you think?"
yanjun was a fucking menace. it's not that gunwoo was unaware of this, but he feels like it's been dialed up to the hundredths. he can't help the way his body responds to the vivid imagery yanjun paints for him, and before he can argue against it yanjun is turning on his heel and leaving, prompting gunwoo to stare at his ass with a sigh in the process. "you know i hate to see you go, but i love to watch you leave," gunwoo yells out after him, and then shakes his head with a wide grin, gnawing on his bottom lip as he quickly retrieves his phone to text yanjun the address. after taking his own leave and returning from a quick grocery trip, gunwoo is lighting tealight candles all throughout his apartment, changing out the scent in the air diffuser he keeps by his bed. everything is tidied up, no laundry on his cream-colored couch or dishes visible in the sink. gunwoo is about to create some, anyway. he pulls out two cuts of filet mignon to rest on the counter while he goes to shower, returning once he's freshly dressed and cleanly scrubbed, hair soft despite the vigorous blow-drying he'd put it through. gunwoo slides on a beige apron, tying it around his waist before picking up one of the steaks to sear in the pan, then basting it with butter and aromatics. he'll cook this one medium-well, and the other medium, just in case. after a temp-check, gunwoo plates it and right as he's about to work on the second he hears a knock on the door. gunwoo's going to be immensely disappointed if it's not who he thinks it is, so he doesn't even bother taking off the apron in his haste to check, opening the door and beaming at the sight of yanjun's face. "come in. i was just thinking about you, and how you like your steak," gunwoo admits, a shy smile tugging at his lips as he steps back. he was thinking about a lot more detailed scenarios than that, but gunwoo suspects yanjun knows that anyway. gunwoo places a palm at the small of yanjun's back to lead him inside, shutting the door behind them.
the shopping trip is only slightly mortifying. he's convincing in his argument that the purchase is for a fiancΓ©e to be, and it helps that yanjun himself is slight enough that the sizing isn't a suspicious giveaway. he doesn't toil for long; he'd thought up a checklist on the way over, something sweet, arguably pink or baby blue, something with bows or a delicate pattern of white, and if there's any lace at all β that it stay far enough from his inner thighs lest it itches. the preparation helps, and yanjun settles rather swiftly on a pink cotton set with small white hearts, and a decorative bow in the front. he only puts on the bottom half β though he brings the bralette along, in the off chance gunwoo yearns for it. he doesn't even spend much time ogling himself in the bathroom β too busy then to pack away some toys, a pack of batteries, a change of clothes, his toothbrush, and a terribly obvious ziploc bag of joints and rolling papers. a mere glimpse into yanjun's backpack and his intentions for the night could be predicted with 99% accuracy, degeneracy all too evident. still, he isn't worried. he's thrilled β brimming with anticipation, fluttery throughout β and as yanjun rounds the stairwell, and steadies the thrum in his ribs, he recognizes the excitement pointed not simply at sexual opportunity, but genuine company. gunwoo greets him perfect, smelling of garlic and thyme and butter, of bodywash and conditioner too, arms delectable from the neat pinch of an apron. he looks like a proper husband, and he surely acts it as yanjun finds himself urged in, gentle palm on the low of his spine. "hi. already thinking of how i like my meat?" he tilts his chin back, teasing. " β medium rare sometimes, medium sometimes. also, you look good." with his backpack still hanging from the crook of his right hand, yanjun's left smooths down the strap of gunwoo's apron, fingers lowering still to where the knot sits. they haven't been long apart, and still he clings like it's been otherwise. it doesn't help that on the occasional swivel of hip, yanjun can feel the cotton underwear, egregiously short, slip between his cheeks. he isn't even wearing anything particularly tight β denim often felt like a nightmare to wring out and hang dry anyway β so he'd forgone jeans for a casual pair of sweatpants. they're deceptively loose, hardly form fitting. clearing his throat, yanjun lifts his backpack briefly. "can i drop this off in your room? β i'll help with dinner, if you need an extra pair of hands. it smells incredible already."
gunwoo flushes, practically salivating at the thought β because yanjun makes a very good point. there was no need to compromise. they could have it all. his throat bobs, swallowing around nothing, nodding his head eagerly. "then you won't be. i'll make sure you're not. but bring a change of clothes, underwear, things you might need," gunwoo suggests, a hooded gaze flitting over yanjun's features. it defied logic, how quickly yanjun is able to rile him up again when he's come already and should be satiated. "fuck, yanjun-ah. i want, yeah. do you β do you have panties? that you could wear?" gunwoo's tan skin takes on an even redder hue as he asks this, tongue darting out to wet his lip. they should stop talking about this, refractory period be damned, because the picture yanjun is painting for them later tonight sounds far more appealing. gunwoo's breath hitches, squeezing tight around yanjun's waist as he's kissed, reciprocating by kissing yanjun slow and deep β tongue licking into his mouth. his lids flutter, and then gunwoo pulls back to admire the pretty shape of yanjun's lips, the flush of his complexion. "yeah. i'm very down, but do you want me to pick you up, then, baby? or i can send you my address," gunwoo asks, unbothered either way. gunwoo's apartment was clean for the most part β but this way he has enough time to go home and scrub it spotless, as well as light a few candles. he wants yanjun to have it all, the romance, the wining and dining as well as the tender fucking that follows it. gunwoo smiles at him, fondness in his gaze. "what do you want to eat? or should i surprise you?" he already has some ideas brewing, but he doesn't know much about yanjun's dietary habits. gunwoo's already excited, pleased at the mere possibility of them spending the night together instead of sporadic quickies at the organization's headquarters for once.
gods, he's cute. yanjun's resisting the urge to chuckle, gnawing away a giggle when gunwoo responds with as much enthusiasm one can muster β eyes almost visibly hazy with the mere hint of further intimacy. he's sweet on the tongue as he is on the eyes, warm from head to toe, and if he wasn't determined to arrive well-prepped for their shared fantasy, he'd suggest gunwoo whisk him away this instance. instead, he shakes his head. "just the address works. i'll surprise you, and you surprise me. besides β i don't want to be a distraction when you're on the road. god forbid i flash you and we cause some four-way collision," yanjun teases, the slant of his eyes arching further into a grin. (and if, for whatever reason, a fellow member of theirs comes knocking at gunwoo's apartment, yanjun's car is proof that he wasn't there to stay. the truth of the matter is that however earnest he is about their budding relationship, details like this matter, and yanjun's interest in fucking gunwoo shouldn't blind him from prioritizing their safety. β to a point. he can't bring himself to propose they stop having sex at their place of work however, hypocritical as that sounds. the optics are even worse in these scenarios, but yanjun's never been good at math.) with a general plan in place, their limbs unfurl from the figure opposite, and though his arms stay draped around gunwoo's shoulders, and his legs feel like jelly β the disappointment in parting is quickly coated by the excitement of their untitled date. he kisses him again at the corner of his mouth, smitten and comically half-aroused. "now you need to stop looking at me like that, or i'm gonna ride you on this table again, and we can't have that." leaning in, yanjun noses gunwoo flirtatious and honeyed, "need the time to wear something cute and lacey for you after all. something that'll make you want to tug it aside and fuck me in it," he drawls, sadistic in his bluntness as yanjun pulls away, tongue skimming the seam of his lips when he dresses himself hurried and mean. the wink is a promise, the bob of his throat a mirrored attraction. "text me."
@junebye: β weβre running out of space? Itβs impossible. this building is enormous. β ( yanjun & gunwoo / mafia!au ; post-coital chat in which they keep fucking around by the organization instead of braving the line that is: visiting each other's private homes for the first time ... crossing a new boundary in their ~relationship~ )
it's funny, the nature of addiction. the fact that you can pick up a cigarette one day to try it and end up craving it for the rest of your life, feeling all out of sorts and wrong without it. a dependency forming. gunwoo had been naive to think this way about yanjun too, to think that he could get his fix of him and stop wanting more. gunwoo had thought yanjun was dangerous at first sight, and it wasn't because of his terribly imposing physique β although gunwoo liked the differences there too. yanjun had a november face with a february chill, outwardly cold but warmer the closer gunwoo got. they've had their fill of each other in multiple different positions as well as locations by now, reveling in how much yanjun trusts him to take him apart and piece him back together each time, committing every sight and sound to memory. but then his ears will catch wind of the sound of yanjun's laughter, airy and mischievous, and gunwoo ends up wanting him all over again. gunwoo grins, cheeks dimpling as he brushes back damp fringe away from yanjun's face. "i'm serious. we've christened every surface worth fucking on. the bathroom stalls, the rooftop, the poker table," he rattles off, which definitely wasn't everywhere β but gunwoo is clinging to this excuse. the thrill of sneaking around was fun, sexy and exciting, but gunwoo's come to learn that the most enticing part of the equation was yanjun himself. gunwoo hums, a hand moving to the dip of yanjun's waist, coaxing. "you should come back to mine. i want you to. and wouldn't it be nice to not have to worry about stifling your noises? i can cook for you too," gunwoo adds, to sweeten the deal, his gaze wide and expectant. "it'll give me the opportunity to take care of you properly, yanjun-ah." and if, or when they get bored of domesticity and safety, they know where to go to get their fix of adrenaline. gunwoo wants to try it all, if yanjun is involved. maybe he just wants to wake up to the sight of yanjun's sweet sleeping face. what's so wrong with that? "just think about it. and if you get bored, we can always come back and i'll fuck you stupid while we're both off our faces on molly," gunwoo muses, a crooked smile on his lips, a scenario he'd already given some thought β clearly.
contrary to criminal stereotype, yanjun isn't afraid of commitment. in fact, gunwoo's domestic proposition laced up with the implication of exclusivity is enticing for these very reasons. he's only toeing the line because it's endearing. because if gunwoo is anything like yanjun himself β the chase is part of it, the tailing, the teasing and inevitable build, a precious and necessary bump in the road. he's milking the tension, squeezing at gunwoo's yearning like he does each toned muscle and hard prick; wants to drive him a little crazy, wants gunwoo obsessive (and in turn, yanjun obsessive on his own) before he braves the confession already stirring in his gut. it does backflips under gunwoo's gaze, spins hurriedly when yanjun's met with alluring phrases. he pats the red of gunwoo's cheek, face rosy in between catching breaths. "yeah? β i mean, do i have to be bored? what if i like it at yours but i also want you to fuck me while we're blasted?" he's greedy but he's a smidge too confident that gunwoo will sever any and all rules β including the ones self-made β if yanjun merely asks. he brackets it with another touch, thumb and forefinger rubbing tenderly over the shell of gunwoo's ear, ankles sweetly locked against his lower back. " β we can though. tonight, even, if you're free. (however much yanjun comes in the moment, he's rarely too exhausted to go again that same night.) i can bring... stuff, if you want. fun things, experimental things, whatever it is you're curious about. toys. edibles. rings or clamps." his eyes narrow here, the playful grin now splitting into a wanton breath. they have quite the sexual appetite, but considering the often impulsive nature of their meetings β yanjun hasn't been able to learn about gunwoo's alternate kinks or specific desires. not without doubling the risk of being found out. so forgive him for being overtly enthusiastic and a bit of a whore, but with a newfound privacy comes a spread of opportunity. and the anticipation shows amusingly sharp, as yanjun nips against his bottom lip, eyes wider than usual. "could be fun. β only if you're down."
yanjun is a vision like this β more than that, gunwoo can't believe he's real, clenching tight and wet around his length while letting out the prettiest noises that send sparks of arousal straight to his gut. he's lost in the sensation, in the experience of it as he bucks his hips up and holds yanjun flush against his chest, but then yanjun is crying out and seizing tight around his cock. gunwoo moans, gaze flitting over yanjun's face contorting with pleasure as his body trembles, worked muscles and sensitive nerve endings spasming around him. he pauses just so he can take it in, and then gunwoo is huffing an incredulous laugh. "fuck, baby.. so greedy for it. does this mean i fucked you well enough? i was good? i can come inside?" gunwoo teases, but the hunger in his gaze belies that he's actually serious, heart set on it. he lets yanjun catch his breath, and then he's quick to comply, resuming his pace with what would seem like a boundless amount of stamina if not for the way beads of sweat rolls down his forehead and back. the stimulation is too good, too heady and with a few more measured thrusts, he's coming hot and wet into yanjun's puffy and well-fucked hole with a sharp groan, as if it's caught him by surprise. gunwoo gasps, and then he's riding it out with lazy rolls of his hips, leaning in to kiss yanjun tender and sweet. a soft kiss to the bow of his lips, inevitably turning messy when his tongue swipes over yanjun's philtrum β uncoordinated and desperate. his chest is heaving as he pulls away, staring at yanjun with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, lips kissed to an unnatural shade of pink. "fuck, you were.. really sexy. i liked that a lot," gunwoo confesses, canines prominent as he grins and presses a fond kiss to yanjun's cheek. he steps forward to deposit yanjun down on the closed lid of the toilet, gradually pulling out. gunwoo flushes, swallowing thickly at the sight. "sorry. we made a mess. wait here, i'll wet some papertowels to clean you up with," gunwoo murmurs, ignoring the come that's made its way on to his own body and quickly getting dressed, slipping out of the stall to run the tap at one of the sinks. he returns a moment later, with a handful of wet papertowels and some dry, shutting the stall door behind him before bending down to wipe the inside of his thighs. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then gunwoo glances up to meet yanjun's eyes as he cleans the sensitive skin between his thighs. "next time, we should skip the thrill and discomfort of all of it, and you should just come back to mine." he clears his throat, flushing. "if you want," gunwoo hastily tacks on.
contrary to the enthusiasm and whorish noises echoing the stall β yanjun doesn't often do this: have public sex for one, and more importantly, get fucked without a condom. the reasoning is obvious, the logic goes without saying, and still the foreign sensation of being filled, being made wet and sticky with gunwoo's arousal β feels better than any moral argument. his toes curl reflexively, limbs stiff with residual sparks, and when gunwoo kisses him through the aftershocks, yanjun practically melts. he's liquefied, a bowed spine now collapsing doll-like as he hums, whining pleased and hot in the embrace. even the ache of sensitivity is merciless to yanjun's greedy calves β to fingers pulling gunwoo close, along a sweaty nape and down the muscles of his back. "yeah?" breathless, he gazes up endeared and satiated by both the best fuck he's had, as well as gunwoo's earnest compliments. "you made me come so hard i nearly passed out." yanjun's only just catching onto the soreness between his legs, and the inevitable bruising against his back β the spots higher up where he'd been practically rammed against the door. it's beginning to hurt, but it hurts wonderfully; he likes it enough to chuckle when gunwoo cleans him up, one knee lifting then to set a teasing ankle over gunwoo's shoulder. he's exposing himself for easy access, but he imagines he looks as wrecked as he feels β hole winking and shiny and red. "already thinking about a next time?" it's cute β the eagerness apparent in gunwoo's tenderness, the sudden bashfulness taking over as soon as they surface, clearheaded. he thumbs the sweat from gunwoo's temple, appreciative and adoring. he hadn't expected this either: the once sexual interest morphing itself into something sweeter β attachment sprouting when implications of time apart are raised. and in a strange set of circumstance, yanjun misses gunwoo as soon as they're promised another day. not because the anticipation is inherently negative but because everything else begins to colour itself grey and bland. it feels sudden, like falling asleep in his bedroom and waking up in a field miles from home. it also makes him blush. "...hm. yeah, i'd like that. your bed should be more comfortable than a public toilet," yanjun teases, or at least tries to, when the hand skimming gunwoo's face drops to an exposed shoulder and he wills himself to lower the offending ankle. returning to normalcy is jarring, to say the least, so he postpones it as much as he can: "how're your arms? β not cramping from holding me up?"

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gunwoo is chasing the heat with his hips, feeling the way yanjun tightens up around his cock and squirms in his hold β delightful and fucking perfect. if he had an ounce of shame, wasn't so far gone in the act and drunk on yanjun's proximity as well as his breathless noises of pleasure he'd be covering yanjun's mouth with a palm, but gunwoo doesn't care if it's obvious what they're doing right now. in fact, he hopes someone with a full bladder walks in and sees the ferocity and feverish way they're going at it only to turn on their heel, too stunned to admonish them. gunwoo would likely end up throwing hands if anyone was stupid or brave enough to interrupt them, anyhow.
especially now that yanjun seems keen on accepting his offer of making it good, telling him exactly what he wants from gunwoo and what he expects, the only thing arousing enough to have him stilling his hips and dropping everything to accommodate. gunwoo groans, nodding feverishly as he pulls out. "shit. you're β really driving me crazy now, yanjun-ah. like being used? want me to make you take it?" gunwoo's gaze is heated and fixed, warm brown eyes eclipsed by a endless sea of black as he turns yanjun back around to face him, sliding his hands underneath yanjun's pale thighs to lift him with his core body strength and steadying him. they're chest to chest, gunwoo letting go of one thigh to wind his bicep around yanjun's back to hold him flush against himself, leaning in to capture his mouth with enthusiasm. gunwoo is too gone on him not to, kissing the sweet bow of yanjun's lips and penetrating the heat of his mouth with his tongue β euphoric and heady. then he's focusing, pulling away with a tender peck to yanjun's chin before lining himself back up to the wet stretch of yanjun's hole, breaching the tight muscle again and gradually bottoming out, his mouth going slack because this angle was dangerous. it's startlingly good, and gunwoo is being considerate of the both of them to give them time to adjust because yanjun feels even tighter than before, clenching around his cock needily. gunwoo holds him close to ensure yanjun can't get away even if he tried, drawing back to thrust up into the wet heat at a steady pace. "hah, fuck, you look even better than you feel, holy shit. there we go, put your arms around my neck, baby," he coaxes, so turned on he can barely form a coherent thought but gunwoo feels endeared and fond enough to talk them through this, to tell yanjun what a sight he is to behold right now. there's sweat beading at his hairline as he pistons his hips, the lewd smack of skin on skin reverberating within the confined space of the stall and gunwoo is losing his mind at the little noises he's pulling out of yanjun, legs dangling precariously around his waist as gunwoo fucks into him raw and deep. "sucking me in, so tight, needed this so much," gunwoo babbles like he can't help it, nuzzling into the crown of yanjun's head as he kneads at the swell of yanjun's ass with his free hand, his other arm drawn taut around yanjun's back.
he hadn't specified that they do it facing each other, but once it's arranged, and gunwoo is fucking him against the door, legs a treacherous distance from the tiles below β yanjun doesn't want it any other way. he's burning up from the inside out, gasping and stuttering under the buck of gunwoo's hips, and clammy arms instinctively cradle the broadness of his shoulders. the nails come with, clawing, curling briefly into fists, sweaty and eager. "fuβck, oh β feels good, feels perfect gunwoo," the environment, the context, the danger falling away. how's he expected to think of anything else when he's being stretched deeper than he's ever been, and deliriously palmed by a face he's grown rather attached to? as often as their paths cross, their schedules are constantly shifting, and working, technically, as criminals β exclusivity and domestic relationships haven't seemed very probable. doubly so as a gay man. and yanjun isn't admiring the possibility simply because the sex is good (though, christ is it good) but because gunwoo conveniently gets it. who else would sympathize and understand his unique plight than another man in a near identical situation? a man who, at this very moment, seems to be determined to make him come devastatingly quick. maybe gunwoo's passionately spurred by the confession, or maybe he's perfect, and every second or third thrust intentionally hits yanjun squarely at the sweet spot, but either way, it is unfortunate and yet glorious β that he comes in a minute. it sneaks up on him when he's at his fullest, ass flush to gunwoo's lap, as yanjun cries out, thankfully stammering. "fuckfuckfuck β ah, yeah β yeah, m'coming, m'coming!" it's a garbled mess immediately following, each pitchy sound a choked one as his hole clenches, shuddering through wave after wave of sharp pleasure. the angle has yanjun shooting high up to his chest, thick ropes of spend painting the broad expanse of his torso with translucent white. and though he isn't particularly short (yanjun's above average in height), the additional fright of being maneuvered earns him another wave of arousal. his thighs are shaking, eyes bleary and mouth ajar when his nails dig into the muscles of gunwoo's back. greed and some arguable interest in masochism has him pleading, " β more, keep going, keep fucking my β my sensitive hole, want it. want more." it stings and his hips are flinching, but yanjun is dripping like a tap, the blushing end of his cock twitching incessantly.
at first, yanjun just seems β confused, which is fair enough of a response, gunwoo supposes, but then he's laughing at him and gunwoo's face flushes a deep hue of pink. fuck, he probably thinks gunwoo is an idiot. and it's not that yanjun is wrong to think so but he hates that he's proved him right at the most unfortunate of times, since it really doesn't reflect well on him. gunwoo is tempted to reassure yanjun that he doesn't really do this that often, but it'd sound too practiced, a likely story even if it was true. he can understand the assumption, but well, most of his cohorts were the macho wannabe tony montana or wan kuo-koi types, so all of this to say β none were pretty like yanjun. none were clearly as generous and forgiving either, and gunwoo swallows thickly, audibly relieved. "i'll make it up to you," he promises, a fast learner as he rolls one of yanjun's nipples between his thumb and forefinger as he was instructed as his other hand flexes to keep fucking yanjun on his fingers, a lewd squelch from the spit and lube as he pumps them in deeper. gunwoo nuzzles the hard line of his cock into the dip of yanjun's waist, thick and throbbing with arousal. a reminder of what a good and patient boy he's been this entire time he's been waiting for yanjun. "i can fuck you as hard as you want, whether it's carrying you and bouncing you in my lap or against the stall door, however you want it. i'll make it happen," he mutters, voice deep and thick with arousal but with an equal amount of chivalrous sincerity that should probably sound misplaced. to gunwoo, it doesn't. he pulls out his slick fingers, along with the hand toying with yanjun's nipples to drag them back down to a hip, the other palming open his crack to let out an appreciative little noise from the back of his throat. then, he lets go to guide his length to yanjun's slick wet rim to breach the cockhead past the circle of muscle, sinking in gradually to the pull of tight heat. the prep had clearly done it's job, or yanjun would be letting him know otherwise but yanjun still feels so tight that he already fears he might not last long. gunwoo bottoms out and gives yanjun some time to adjust, but probably not enough considering how fast he squeezes yanjun's waist, drawing back like the arc of a bow before pressing into him again, bicep wrapping around yanjun's waist to keep him in place. at times, gunwoo can be a bit of a perfectionist. "that's it, princess, just like that," he purrs, thrusting deeply into the tight heat. "you drive me fucking crazy."
the description drives him a little crazy is the thing. "oh fuck." yanjun's head tips back on instinct, body obediently bending to accommodate gunwoo's guiding hand, and then a perfect heat snaps inside him and he shudders, from quivering lashes to a jumpy right knee. he doesn't come but gunwoo moves and every nerve fires, sparking up the curve of his spine. "oh! β oh fuck me," yanjun pants, more a passing expletive than a demand, though the latter comes true either way when a rhythm arrives, fixed and impossibly hot. he wants gunwoo to carry him honestly β his brain had melted from the initial suggestion; even now, with the brace of large palms, he feels primed to take him, to take all of him. perhaps it just comes to mind like an unthinkable position, and yanjun is so used to needing control, that gunwoo's suggestion blends logic and planning and expectation from his head. he wants it a delirious amount, and the only hesitation he has is born of stubborn greed. he's nervous about coming too quick, about ending the intimacy within minutes β so the offer his scrambled thoughts come up with is, naturally, still a greedy and reckless one. "can you carry me? and β just do it until you come? even if i," yanjun swallows, red from the tips of his ears down to the clench of his toes, "come first? i might... i might come too fast, and i wanna feel it still β want you to make me ride your cock." the emphasis on transferring power sinks into the heat of his gut, and yanjun feels the shame cuddle up against the arousal. it's a feeling he doesn't entertain much, but under gunwoo's hands and unwavering gaze, he feels strangely safe to lift it, curious. "please. i'll tell you if it's too much."