unfiltered & unnecessary

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 — 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 — 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 — 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.

the compliment yanjun gives him then isn't really one nate has heard before in his life — 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 — 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 — 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.

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 — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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."

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 fucking—" 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 — then flitting back up to hold eyecontact. "it's, uh. i don't know. you look like sex on legs and i'm — 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 — 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.

a reblog would be much appreciated.

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 — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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."

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 — 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 — 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.

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.

gunwoo flushes, practically salivating at the thought — 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 — 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 — 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 — 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.

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 — 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 — 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 — clearly.

yanjun is a vision like this — 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 — 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.

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 — 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 — 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.

at first, yanjun just seems — 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 — 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."