The Safe Café

It wasn’t loud. Yunho wasn’t the type to slam doors or throw things, not even on his worst days. No, this was quieter than that. The kind of wrong that settled into the room like a shift in pressure before a storm. His voice carried from the living room, low and controlled, headset on, but there was no warmth in it, none of that easy, teasing charm he usually slipped into without thinking. It was clipped. Distracted. “Yeah, yeah, I see it,” he muttered, fingers moving fast over his keyboard. “Just…. hold on.” No laugh. No playful scolding at his chat. No “hey, you’re home” tossed over his shoulder the second the door clicked shut. That alone was enough to make you pause.

You toed your shoes off slowly, setting your bag down by the door, eyes already drifting toward the glow of his setup. The room was dim except for the LED lights lining his desk, casting everything in that soft blue purple haze that usually felt cozy. Tonight, it just made the tension more obvious, sharper somehow, like it had edges. Yunho sat forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees instead of leaning back like he usually did. His headset was slightly askew, one side slipping down like he’d adjusted it too many times. His jaw was tight, the muscle ticking faintly, and every now and then he dragged a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically pull himself together. That’s when it really hit you. It took a lot to get him like this.

Yunho was the steady one. The one who let things roll off his back, who joked his way through frustration, who turned everything into something lighter even when it probably shouldn’t have been. You’d seen him annoyed before, sure, but this? This was something else. Something heavier. Something sitting just under the surface, barely contained. You stepped a little closer, quieter now, like you didn’t want to spook him, arms folding loosely over yourself as you leaned against the wall just outside his camera’s frame. Close enough to see him clearly, far enough not to interrupt.

His eyes flicked to the side, toward his second monitor, towards the chat, and for a split second, something in his expression tightened further. Not anger exactly. Embarrassment, maybe. Frustration tangled up with something deeper. Your brows pulled together, concern replacing the last of your exhaustion as you studied him more carefully. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just a bad game or a rough stream. Something had gotten under his skin and Yunho didn’t let things get under his skin unless it mattered. You pushed off the wall, crossing the room slowly, your presence finally pulling his attention fully toward you. His eyes met yours for a second, and there it was, that flicker. Something guarded. Something he didn’t want you to see. But you knew him too well.

“Hey,” you said softly, just loud enough for him to hear you over his headset. “You good?” He hesitated. Just for a second. Then he forced a small, automatic smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You didn’t believe him for a second. And judging by the way his fingers stilled on his keyboard for a beat too long… he knew you didn’t. “Okay.” You don’t push. Not yet. You’ve learned that about him over the years, when Yunho shuts down like that, poking at it too early just makes him retreat further. So instead, you give him an easy out, a soft landing. Your voice stays light, casual, like you’re not clocking the tension practically humming under his skin.

“I’m gonna shower,” you add, already turning toward your room and he nods, quick, distracted, eyes flicking back to his screen like he’s grateful for the escape. “Yeah. I’ll be out here.” You leave him to it, but the weight in the apartment follows you down the hall and the shower ends up hotter than it should be, Florida heat be damned, but you need it. Need something to wash the hospital off you, to melt the ache out of your shoulders, to give your brain a second to breathe. Steam fills the bathroom, fogging the mirror, curling around you like a reset button you wish actually worked. For a few minutes, it almost does.

But even under the spray, your mind drifts back to him. The tightness in his jaw. The way his voice snapped at his chat. The look in his eyes when he glanced at you, like he was already bracing for something. By the time you shut the water off, that uneasy feeling is still there, clinging just as stubbornly as the humidity outside. You dry off, change into your usual oversized tee and soft shorts, hair still damp as you pad down the hallway toward your room. The apartment is quieter now. No stream chatter bleeding through the walls. No clicking keys. He must’ve ended it early. That alone says enough.

You barely make it two steps into your room before you hear it, his footsteps, slower than usual, like he’s thinking about turning around with every one but then there’s a soft knock against your already open door making you glance up. Yunho’s standing there, one hand braced against the frame, the other rubbing at the back of his neck. His hair’s messier than before, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times since you got in the shower. He’s changed out of his streaming hoodie, now in a loose tshirt and sweats, but the tension hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it’s worse up close.

For a second, he just… stands there. Like he’s trying to figure out how to say something he doesn’t want to say. You raise a brow slightly, sitting back against your pillows. “You gonna stand there all night, or…” He huffs out a quiet breath, something halfway between a laugh and a sigh, and finally steps in. The door creaks softly as he nudges it shut behind him, like he needs the privacy, like whatever this is… it’s not for the rest of the world. Just you. “Chloe dumped me.” It lands flat, dropped between you like it doesn’t weigh anything at all. You blink once. “Okay.” And honestly? That’s about as much reaction as he’s getting out of you. Not because you don’t care about him, you do, more than you probably should, but because Chloe? Yeah. No. You never liked her. Something about her always felt… off. Too quick, too surface level, like she was playing a part instead of actually seeing him. She’d only been around a few weeks, but even that felt like too long.

Still, you tilt your head slightly, studying him. “What happened?” Yunho exhales slowly, gaze dropping to the floor like it might have answers for him. “I don’t know,” he mutters at first, defaulting to avoidance. Then he huffs, shaking his head. “I mean…. I do know, I just…” He trails off. Yunho doesn’t usually struggle to explain things, not with you. Even when something’s messy, he talks through it, jokes through it, something. But now he’s just… stuck. Words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat as you sit up a little straighter, the shift subtle but intentional. “Yunho.” He glances up and you hold his gaze, softer this time, but firm. “Why did she dump you?”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might brush it off, change the subject, pretend it doesn’t matter. Instead, he looks away, hand dragging down his face like he’s already regretting opening his mouth. “It’s stupid.” Your eyes narrow slightly. “If it’s got you acting like this, it’s not stupid.” He lets out a quiet, humorless laugh at that, shoulders slumping just a fraction. “It kind of is,” he says, voice lower now. “I just….” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, like even saying it out loud feels like too much. And suddenly, whatever this is? It’s not just a breakup. It’s something he’s embarrassed about. Something that actually got to him.

You watch him carefully now, curiosity mixing with that familiar, protective instinct that always kicks in when it comes to him. “Yunho,” you say again, softer this time, “just tell me.” He goes still. Like the words are right there, right on the edge, and all he has to do is let them fall. He shifts his weight where he stands, like the floor suddenly isn’t steady under him anymore. His fingers curl against the back of his neck, rubbing there again and again like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. You can see the hesitation on him, thick, stubborn, sitting right behind his teeth. Which, of course… makes you lean into it. You tilt your head, watching him with that familiar look he’s known for years, the one that says you’re not getting out of this that easy.

“Okay,” you say slowly, drawing the word out just enough to get under his skin. “So it’s stupid, but you won’t say it… which means it’s definitely not stupid.” He huffs under his breath again, eyes flicking up to you for a second before dropping again. “You’re making it worse.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” you shoot back, shifting to sit cross legged on your bed, fully settling in like this is about to become a whole event. “What, did you forget your two week anniversary? Call her the wrong name? Please tell me you didn’t call her bro during…”

“I didn’t during…” he cuts in quickly, then stops himself, pressing his lips together and you catch that, instantly. “During what?”

“Nothing.”

“Yunho.”

He groans softly, dragging a hand down his face again. “Can you not do that?”

“Do what?” you ask, completely innocent. “That thing where you…” he gestures vaguely toward you, frustration bubbling just under the surface. “where you don’t let it go.” You grin, just a little. “You knew what you signed up for when you decided I was your best friend.” That almost gets him. His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but it fades just as fast, the weight of whatever he’s holding onto pulling him right back down. The room quiets again, the tension stretching between you, thinner now but sharper and you soften a little, voice gentler this time. “Hey… I’m not gonna judge you.” That makes him look at you again. And there’s something in his eyes now, something caught between embarrassment and trust, like he’s standing on the edge of something he’s never said out loud before.

“You’re definitely gonna judge me,” he mutters. “I won’t,” you say, a little too quick and he raises a brow as you sigh, holding up a hand. “Okay, I might judge you a little. But like… lovingly.” That pulls a quiet laugh out of him, the tension easing just a fraction. Enough for him to finally stop pacing around it. “She said I didn’t know what I was doing,” he admits, voice low.

“Do what?” Your brain starts running through possibilities in rapid fire. “Okay, wait…. what, like you were too rough? Not rough enough? You didn’t communicate? Yunho, please don’t tell me you just…. lay there…”

“I didn’t just lay there,” he cuts in, a little defensive now.

“Then what?”

He goes quiet again. And this time, you don’t rush it. You just watch him. The way his shoulders rise with a slow inhale. The way his jaw clenches like he’s bracing for impact. The way his gaze flicks anywhere but you, floor, wall, ceiling, like eye contact would make it worse. “She said,” he starts, then stops and your patience snaps just a little. “Yunho.” He squeezes his eyes shut for half a second, like ripping off a bandage. “I’ve never gone down on a girl before, okay?” Your brain stalls completely. Because out of everything you expected him to say…. “You’re kidding.” His eyes snap open, immediate regret flashing across his face. “I knew it….”

“No, wait….hold on,” you sit up straighter, staring at him like he just told you the sky is green. “You’re serious?” He looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. “Yes.” You blink. Once. Twice. This is Yunho.

Yunho, who’s charming without trying. Yunho, who’s had girls orbiting him since high school. Yunho, who, by all accounts, should not have this be the thing he’s insecure about. “You’ve never….” you start, still trying to process it as he shakes his head, quick and firm, like if he gets it out fast enough it’ll hurt less. “No. I just…. never did. And then it became a thing, and then I felt weird about it, and then…” he gestures vaguely, frustration creeping back in, “this!”

You stare at him for another second. Then another. And the shock is still there but something else starts creeping in underneath it. Something quieter. Something a little more dangerous. “That’s why she dumped you?” you ask finally, softer now and he lets out a humorless breath. “Yeah.” And for a second, you don’t say anything. Because that? That doesn’t sit right with you. You stare at him for another second, the shock still settling, but now it’s tangled up with something else, confusion, curiosity, a faint spark of disbelief that refuses to die down. “Okay, but why?” you ask, brows pulling together. “Like…. not in a judging way, I just… how has that just… never happened?”

Yunho exhales, long and slow, like he already hates this conversation but knows he walked himself straight into it. His hand drags through his hair again, leaving it more disheveled than before. “I don’t know,” he mutters at first, defaulting to avoidance again. Then he shakes his head, forcing himself to actually answer. “I just… never did. And then the longer I didn’t, the weirder it felt to suddenly try.” You tilt your head slightly, watching him. “Weirder how?” His jaw tightens, eyes flicking away. “Like… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he admits, quieter now. “And I don’t want to mess it up.” There it is. Not arrogance. Not lack of interest. Just… insecurity.

You shift a little on the bed, studying him more carefully now, that earlier teasing giving way but not gone entirely. “Okay,” you say slowly, “but you’ve done other stuff.” He glances at you, wary now. “Yeah.” You squint slightly, gears turning. “So… you’ve used your hands before, right?” His ears go red immediately. “Of course I have,” he snaps, shooting you a glare that’s half defensive, half embarrassed. And that somehow makes it worse. Because now you’re even more confused. You blink at him, leaning forward just a little. “Then what’s the difference?”

He opens his mouth and closes it right back. Then opens it again, clearly searching for an answer that doesn’t make him sound as out of his depth as he feels. “It’s just… different,” he finally mutters, frustration creeping back in. “It’s not the same thing.” You watch him for a second, the way he avoids your eyes again, the way his shoulders are just slightly hunched like he’s bracing for you to laugh or tease him harder. But you don’t. Not this time. Because now you get it. Not fully but enough. Enough to see that this isn’t just about what he hasn’t done. It’s about the fact that he doesn’t feel like he’d be good at it. And for someone like Yunho, someone who’s used to being steady, capable, reliable? Good at everything. That probably stings more than he’s letting on.

“You’re overthinking it,” you say finally and he lets out a short, dry laugh. “Yeah? That seems to be the theme tonight.” You hold his gaze this time, not letting him look away. “It is,” you say, quieter. “Because it’s not as complicated as you’re making it.” Something shifts in his expression at that. “Then what is it?” he asks, before he can stop himself and you lean back slightly, exhaling through your nose, buying yourself a second. “It’s about paying attention,” you say slowly. “Reading reactions. Adjusting.”

His eyes don’t leave you. “That’s it?” You hesitate. Just for a second. Because the answer is simple. But the implication? Not so much. “Yeah,” you say, quieter now. And the way he’s looking at you now, really looking, like he’s trying to piece something together in real time, it sends something warm and restless curling low in your chest. “That doesn’t really help,” he admits after a second, voice just a little rougher and you almost laugh. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him, something flickering behind your eyes now, something a little more daring than before. “What do you want me to do, Yunho?” you ask, light but not entirely joking anymore and he stills. Because now he hears it too. That shift. That dangerous little edge your voice just picked up.

“I just….” he starts, then stops, like he suddenly realized exactly how this sounds. And maybe… exactly who he’s asking. Your best friend. The one person who knows you better than anyone. The one person you’ve both been carefully not crossing that line with for years. And now? He’s standing right on it. “I just want to get it right,” he finishes, quieter. And something about that, about the honesty in it, the vulnerability, makes your heart start pounding. Because yeah. That’s Yunho. Always wanting to do things right. Even this. Especially this. And suddenly, the idea that someone made him feel like he couldn’t? Pisses you off. “Okay,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, grabbing your iPad and unlocking it. The glow lights your face as you settle back against your pillows again, tucking one leg under you like you’re trying to return things to something normal. Something easy.

You scroll for a second, half paying attention, half aware of him still standing there, still watching you like he’s waiting for something, even if he doesn’t know what. “I still don’t see what you want me to do…” you say, glancing up at him briefly, tone light, teasing just a little again, like you’re trying to break the tension instead of lean into it. Then you add, with the faintest lift of your brow, something meant to be a joke. “Show you?” But the second it leaves your mouth, the air in the room shifts, sharp, immediate, like something just clicked into place that neither of you can ignore now and Yunho freezes. His eyes snap to yours, all that lingering frustration from earlier gone in an instant, replaced by something else entirely, something caught between surprise and something much, much heavier. And you feel it too. That flicker in your chest. The one that says maybe… you shouldn’t have said that. Or maybe…. Maybe you should have.

You try to brush it off, a quiet huff of a laugh leaving you as you look back down at your screen. “Relax, I’m kidding….” But you don’t get to finish. Because he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t move on like he normally would. “What if I wasn’t?” His voice is lower. Deeper. Rougher. And that stops you. Your eyes lift slowly from your iPad, locking onto his again. “Wasn’t what?” you ask, even though you already know and he swallows, the movement subtle but visible, like he’s trying to push past his own hesitation. “What if I wasn’t joking,” he says again, more clearly this time. “About you showing me.” There’s no humor in it. Just honesty. And suddenly, the room feels a little smaller. A little warmer. A little harder to breathe in.

Your fingers still against the edge of your iPad, screen forgotten, as you hold his gaze. The teasing, the easy back and forth, it’s gone now. Stripped away, leaving something a lot more real in its place. “Yunho,” you start, a warning and a question all at once. Because this isn’t just a joke anymore. “I’m serious,” he says, stepping a little further into the room without even realizing it, like something’s pulling him closer. “I just… I trust you. And you said it’s about paying attention, right? So…” He trails off, but the meaning hangs there anyway. You can feel your heartbeat picking up now, steady but heavier, your mind racing faster than you’d like it to. Because this is it. That line you’ve both been dancing around for years? It’s right here. Right in front of you. All it would take is one step….

You shift slightly against your pillows, exhaling slowly as you study him, really study him, his nervousness, the way his hands flex at his sides, the way he’s trying to act steady but isn’t quite pulling it off. He’s not joking. He’s not playing. He’s asking you. And maybe the most dangerous part? You don’t hate the idea. Not even a little. Maybe aching for it just a bit. “You’re really asking me that right now?” you murmur and he doesn’t look away this time. “Yeah.” For a second, you don’t answer. You just sit there, iPad still in your hands but completely forgotten, your thumb resting against the screen like you meant to keep scrolling and just… didn’t. Your eyes stay on him, searching, like you’re trying to read something deeper than what he’s actually saying.

Your best friend. The person who’s been there longer than anyone else. The one constant you’ve never had to question. The one you’ve spent years pretending you don’t feel too much for. And now he’s standing in your room, looking at you like that, like you’re the only option he wants. It makes your chest tighten. Because agreeing to this… it doesn’t just risk things getting complicated. It risks everything. You swallow, gaze flicking down for a second, then back up to him. He hasn’t moved. Still watching you, still waiting, like he’s already braced himself for you to say no. And that, more than anything, tips something inside you. “You’re serious,” you murmur again, quieter this time.

“Yeah.”

You let out a slow breath through your nose, heart thudding a little heavier now, your thoughts tangling together in a way that’s hard to sort through. You should say no. You should laugh it off, tell him to look it up, send him a link, anything that doesn’t involve…. “Okay,” you say finally and Yunho goes still like he wasn’t actually expecting you to say it and your grip tightens slightly on the edge of your iPad before you set it aside on your nightstand, the quiet click of it hitting the surface sounding louder than it should in the silence that follows. You don’t look at him right away. You need one more second. One more breath. “But,” you add, lifting your gaze back to his, something a little firmer settling into your expression now, like you’re drawing a line you’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to hold. “This is just practice.”

His brows knit slightly, like he’s processing that. “Nothing more,” you continue, voice steady even if your pulse isn’t. “We’re not…. this doesn’t change anything. Got it?” The words feel a little too deliberate. A little too much like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. Yunho watches you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes as he nods. “Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. “Just practice.” But there’s something there. Something neither of you says out loud. Because if this was really just practice… it wouldn’t feel like this. You nod once, more to yourself than him, then push yourself up slightly, adjusting against your pillows before you glance toward him again. “Then… come on.”

And that’s all it takes. Yunho moves. Slow at first, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, each step measured as he crosses the room toward your bed. But there’s tension in him now, nervous energy, anticipation, something tighter and more focused than before. He stops just at the edge, close enough now that you can see the faint flush still lingering across his ears, the way his hands flex slightly at his sides like he doesn’t quite know where to put them. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Tension thick in the air. You feel it settle into your skin, into your chest, into the way your breath comes just a little slower than it should.

This is happening. Actually happening. And once you start… there’s no pretending you didn’t. Your eyes flick up to his again, steady despite everything swirling underneath. “Relax. You’re overthinking it already.” He huffs out a quiet breath at that, something almost like a nervous laugh slipping through. “Yeah… I do that.”

“I know,” you say, and there’s a hint of something fond in it, something that slips out before you can stop it and Yunho hesitates for only a second before he moves again, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he climbs onto the bed. He sits at first, stiff, unsure, like he’s not entirely convinced this is real yet, hands resting awkwardly on his thighs, shoulders a little tense. “You know you have to…” you gesture lightly toward yourself, voice calm but pointed, “take my shorts and underwear off first, right?”

“Oh…. right,” he breathes, the word coming out a little too quick, a little too flustered. A faint flush creeps back up his neck, across his ears, and you swear it spreads deeper the longer he looks at you like that, like he’s suddenly very aware of where he is and what he’s about to do. And for all his confidence everywhere else… here? He’s completely out of his depth. Slowly, carefully, he shifts forward on the bed, moving closer until he’s between your legs, his hands hovering for a second like he’s not sure if he should touch you yet, even though you quite literally told him to. “Yunho,” you say, grounding him a little. “You’re allowed to touch me.”

His eyes flick up to yours at that and something in them steadies just a little. “Yeah,” he says quietly, more to himself than you. Then his hands finally move. Tentative at first, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your shorts, like he’s testing the boundary even though you’ve already given him permission. There’s hesitation there, but also focus, the kind that comes from him actually trying, paying attention like you told him to. He hooks his fingers at the waistband of your shorts, glancing up at you once, like he’s silently asking if this is okay and you give a small nod. That’s all he needs before he slowly tugs the fabric down, careful, almost overly so, like he’s afraid of rushing it.

The movement is gentle, deliberate, and the closer he gets, the more his breathing changes, subtle, but noticeable, like the reality of it is settling in piece by piece. Your shorts slide down, followed by your panties, and for a second he just… pauses. Hands resting lightly against your legs, his gaze dropping, then flicking away, then back again like he doesn’t quite know where to look or how long is too long to be staring at his best friend’s pussy. It would almost be funny. If it wasn’t so… real. “Okay,” he mutters under his breath, like he’s trying to psych himself up and you can’t help it, a small, quiet breath of a laugh slips out of you, not mocking, just… soft. “Hey,” you say, voice gentler now, drawing his attention back up to your face. “Relax, remember?”

He exhales, tension easing just a fraction at the sound of your voice. “Right… relax.” But even as he says it, you can tell he’s anything but. Still, he shifts a little closer, hands settling more firmly now against your thighs, his focus sharpening again. Less hesitation. More intent. He’s trying. Really trying. And something about that, about the way he’s taking this seriously, the way he’s looking at you like this actually matters, almost makes you clench your thighs together because you can feel how wet you’re starting to get. Your fingers tighten slightly in the sheets beneath you, steadying yourself as much as him. “Good.”

Yunho’s hands hesitate again. Not because he doesn’t know what comes next, but because now it’s real in a way it wasn’t before. The line has already been crossed, quietly but undeniably, and there’s no pretending this is just some abstract idea anymore. From his angle, everything feels louder. Closer. The soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your legs are relaxed but not entirely, the warmth of your skin under his hands, it all presses in on him at once, making his thoughts tangle for a second. Don’t mess this up. It’s the only thing looping in his head as he swallows, gaze dropping again, slower this time. His fingers shift, brushing lightly over your thighs again. Pay attention, he reminds himself. She said to pay attention.

He notices everything. The way your muscles tense just a little at the initial movement, then ease again. The shift in your breathing. The faint hitch you try to hide. It steadies him. Gives him something to hold onto as his gaze flicks up to your face again like he needs to check in, to make sure he’s not messing up already. And what he finds there doesn’t help. Because you’re watching him too. There’s something different in your expression now. Not just teasing, not just curiosity, something heavier. You’re trusting him. That thought hits harder than anything else.

From your side, the shift is just as clear. Yunho’s not joking anymore. Not nervous in that scattered, awkward way from before, no, this is different. Focused. Intent. Like once he stepped into this, something in him clicked, and now he’s all in. You swallow, fingers tightening slightly in the sheets beneath you. “You’re doing fine.” Yunho nods once, small but firm, taking that in like it matters more than it should. And then he shifts closer and you shift slightly beneath him, the movement small but enough to break the stillness that’s settled between you. Your fingers loosen in the sheets, then tighten again, grounding yourself as much as him. “You can…” you start, then pause for half a second, like even you didn’t expect the words to feel this heavy and his eyes flick up instantly. “you can show me what you know so far.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, the air shifts again. Yunho exhales slowly, his focus sharpening all over again, that nervous energy from before narrowing into something more controlled, more intentional. His hands adjust where they rest against your thighs, grip a little firmer now, like he’s anchoring himself before he does anything else. Don’t rush. Pay attention. He glances up at you one more time, just a quick check, and when you don’t pull away, don’t second guess it, something in him steadies. “Okay,” he murmurs. The hesitation doesn’t disappear completely but it changes. It becomes quieter, tucked underneath a kind of focus you’ve always known him for. The same way he locks in when he’s working, when he’s streaming, when he’s determined to get something right. Except now… it’s you.

Your breathing changes, just slightly and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker in response. He’s paying attention. Exactly like you told him to. Slowly, carefully, he leans in closer, his movements measured instead of rushed, like he’s testing each step instead of assuming it. There’s a quiet intensity to him now as he moves. It’s not hesitant this time, not really. It’s like the moment you gave him permission to try, something in him snapped into place, and now he’s acting on instinct more than overthinking. His heart is pounding harder than he wants to admit. Every nerve feels lit up, every thought tangled together in a mess of don’t mess this up and just do something. So when he leans in, mouth closing around your clit, he goes in too fast. Too much.

You gasp, your back tensing slightly against the pillows, fingers gripping the sheets but not entirely from surprise. There’s a flicker of something else there too, something that makes his chest tighten in a completely different way. “Okay….” you breathe, voice catching slightly before you steady it, one hand coming down to lightly touch his shoulder, grounding him. “Don’t just instantly start…” you stop yourself for half a second, exhaling. “Don’t just go all in like that.”

Yunho freezes. Every muscle in him locks up, his brain short circuiting so hard it’s almost audible. For a second, he just stays there, stunned, trying to process what he did wrong and how fast he managed to do it all while trying not to groan at the taste of you now on his tongue. “Start slow,” you tell him, your tone shifting from correction to guidance, more patient than anything else. “Work me up.” He exhales, the tension easing just a fraction, and nods once against you even though you probably can’t see it. His hands tighten slightly where they rest against your thighs, grounding himself again.

This time, when he moves, it’s different. More careful. Less rushed. He takes a second to actually watch you first, your face, your reactions, the way your breathing changes even before he really does anything. He starts smaller, more tentative, like he’s testing the pace instead of trying to get it right all at once. His tongue making small licks between your folds, grazing your clit before repeating and your body relaxes slightly under him, tension easing into something warmer, more receptive. The earlier sharpness softens, replaced by something slower, something that builds instead of crashes all at once as a moan escapes you and that gives him confidence. You feel it in the way his hands settle more firmly, the way his movements grow just a little steadier, like he’s starting to understand what you meant. Not perfect. Not polished. But learning. And more importantly, listening.

A quiet moan slips from you again, softer this time, less startled, more… genuine. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely above a whisper now. “Like that.” And that does something to Yunho. Hearing you moan in pleasure due to him with his tongue buried inside you, the taste of you alone has him so hard he has no idea how he’s staying focused. He shifts again, adjusting, following the subtle cues your body keeps giving him as you start to roll your hips a bit and suddenly he’s not thinking in the same scattered way anymore. The nerves are still there, sure, but they’re quieter now, pushed aside by something stronger and your breath catches, sharper than before, your body tensing for a split second before melting into it when he thrusts his tongue as far he can, nose pressed against your clit, the friction from it and his tongue working slow strokes makes the control you’ve been trying to hold onto slip and before you can stop yourself, your hand moves.

Your fingers tangle into his hair. The contact surprising both of you and it sends a jolt straight through Yunho making his dick twitch. His hands tighten where they’re holding your thighs. Your grip tightens slightly in his hair without thinking, your body reacting on its own, shifting just enough to follow what feels good, grinding fully now, pulling at his hair when you feel groan, your walls clenching at his tongue as a loud moan tears from you. And Yunho pulls his tongue back, licking a stripe all the way back up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He’s no longer just about trying to get it right, it’s about you. The way your breath keeps catching, the way your body won’t stay still anymore no matter how much you try to hold it together. The way your moans are getting louder. Because of him.

His hands tighten again, grounding you, but it’s not enough. not when your reactions start slipping past your control. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair, your grip tightening without you meaning to, your body shifting against him in a way that’s no longer subtle and borderline riding his mouth. And you feel it building. Fast. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, moving again, chasing the feeling without thinking and Yunho shifts one of his arms, sliding around your waist, holding you in place, not rough, but firm enough to steady you, to keep you from moving too much. And this? He wasn’t expecting this. Not like this.

And the added pressure of his arm around you, the way he’s holding you steady, only makes everything feel more intense, more overwhelming, like it’s pushing you closer to the edge you’ve been trying not to fall over since he walked into your room. Your grip tightens again in his hair, a sobbing cry slipping out of you that you definitely don’t manage to hide. Then Yunho pulls back. It’s not sudden, it’s like he realizes something mid motion and needs a second to breathe. His forehead comes to rest lightly against your thigh, his breath uneven now, a little heavier than before, like he’s trying to steady himself because verything feels… overwhelming. Not in a bad way. But in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

His pause almost throws you off. Your fingers loosen slightly in his hair, your breathing uneven as you try to come back down from where he just had you, your chest rising and falling a little too fast because you were so close. “Yunho…” you start, unsure if he’s stopping or just…. he moves again before you can finish. His hand shifts, sliding along your thigh again, more confident than before, less hesitant. Your fingers tighten back into his hair, your head tipping back into the pillows as you try and fail to stay quiet as he slips two of his fingers deep, brushing them up, curving them against your g spot and you realize he definitely wasn’t lying about how he knows how to use his fingers. “Don’t…. don’t stop,” you breathe, barely managing to get the words out.

Yunho keeps his head pressed to your thigh, watching his fingers thrust in and out of you, the wet sound echoing in the room, and he can see his aching dick twitching still in his sweats, the poor thing wanting nothing more than to replace his fingers as his hand tightens again in his hair, your other gripping the sheets, your breathing uneven now, moans and cries breaking out of you as he moves his mouth back down, keeping his fingers fucking you as he moans against your clit. “Fuck….. you’re…” your thoughts are jumbled but you register one thing, he’s really fucking good at eating pussy for someone who’s never had. “Yunho…” The sound of you moaning his name makes his gaze lift again, watching you now. And that’s when it hits him. This isn’t just practice anymore. The thought lands heavy in his chest, sharper than anything else so far. Because he knows you. And right now? You’re letting go in a way he’s never seen before because of him. Your best friend. Watching you come undone, legs shaking now, toes curling, your walls clenching his fingers, because of him.

He feels it before he fully understands it. Feels you clench his fingers again, wetness building, splashing his fingers and he knows then you’re about to come and he can feel himself start to grind, against the mattress, humping a little to get friction. “Yunho…” You cry his name out again as your orgasm slams into you. “FUCK….. please…. Oh my….. fuck eat my pussy….” your words are what does it for him. Yunho lets out a low strained sound as he moans against you, you still coming, squirting on his fingers that are still pumping into you faster, harder…… he comes, coming in his sweats, leaking down his own thighs as he finally pulls his fingers out of you and removes his mouth from your now slightly overstimulated clit.

Neither of you moves right away but then your hand loosens in his hair, falling back against the sheets as you try to catch your breath, your chest still rising unevenly, your thoughts struggling to settle into anything coherent. “Yeah…” you manage after a moment, still a little breathless despite your attempt to sound normal. You swallow, glancing at him, then away again. “That was… good.” It feels like an understatement and you both know it. And hearing you say that…. does something to Yunho. He looks at you for half a second, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, jaw tightening slightly. Because now he’s very aware of himself. Of everything.

He shifts back a little, creating space, one hand coming down almost instinctively, pressing lightly over the front of his sweats like he’s trying to ground himself, to hide it, to get a handle on it before it becomes too obvious that he came in his pants. “Yeah,” he exhales quietly, like he’s trying to steady his voice and not quite succeeding. He clears his throat slightly, pushing himself up off the bed, movements just a little too quick now, like he needs distance before he does something he shouldn’t. “I’m….. uh…” he starts, then huffs a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair again. “I’m gonna go shower.” He stops before walking out your bedroom. “Thanks. For the… practice,” he adds, the word sounding a little strained now, like even he doesn’t quite believe it anymore.

Practice. Right. That’s what this was supposed to be. You nod once, a little slower than usual, still watching him as he opens your bedroom door, like he’s not fully trusting himself to stay in the room any longer than necessary. “Yeah,” you breathe, clearing your own throat. “Anytime.” It slips out before you can stop it. And the second it does you feel it. The weight of it. And Yunho pauses again at the door. His hand resting against the frame, his back half turned to you like he’s debating something, like he might say something else. “Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, then he’s gone. The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut down the hall echoes a little too loud in the apartment. And suddenly it’s just you. Lying there. Heart still racing. Body still warm. Mind spinning with one very clear, very dangerous thought…..

That definitely was not just practice.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho barely made it to the bathroom before shutting the door a little harder than he meant to. The click echoes, sharp in the quiet apartment, and for a second he just stands there, staring at nothing, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile instead of… that. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. Get it together. But it doesn’t work. Because the second he steps under the shower, water hitting his skin, everything comes rushing back at once.

The way you moaned his name.

He squeezes his eyes shut, head tipping forward as the water runs over his hair, his face, like it might wash the memory out. It doesn’t. If anything, it makes it worse. Because now he’s remembering everything else. The way you sounded when you couldn’t hold it back anymore. The way you grinded against his face. The way you squirted. How tight you were around his fingers…. “Fuck…” he breathes under his breath, the word slipping out before he can stop it as his hand braces against the tile, knuckles whitening slightly as he tries to steady himself.

He drags in a sharp breath, the heat of the water doing nothing to calm the heat already burning under his skin. His jaw tightens, his free hand curling slightly at his side like he’s trying to ground himself, trying to get a handle on the way everything is still buzzing through him….. but then he thinks about your hand in his hair, gripping and pulling…. “Stop,” he mutters to himself, like he can actually cut it off. His head tips back slightly, water running down his face as he exhales hard through his nose, trying to focus on anything else, anything that isn’t you. But it’s pointless. Because you’re everywhere right now. In his head. In the way his chest feels too tight. In the way his body hasn’t even remotely calmed down. And that’s when it hits him, clearer than before. This wasn’t just about helping him. Not really.

Because no matter how much he tries to frame it that way, tries to convince himself that this was just learning, just practice…. It wasn’t. It never would be. Not to him. Not even a little. His grip tightens against the tile again, breath uneven as he stands there under the water, trying to ride it out, trying to let the intensity burn off without thinking too hard about why it’s there in the first place. Because if he does… if he really lets himself think about it then he has to face the truth he’s been avoiding for years. That this? This has never just been friendship. And now that line? It’s gone. “Fuck me.” He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slow at first, eyes closed and picturing you splayed out on your bed only this time he’s not deep diving into you with his tongue or fingers. He’s sinking into you, dick stretching you inch by inch….

“Fuck…” his strokes pick up, imagining himself pounding into you, your walls clenching him. Your voice this time instead of “eat my pussy” being a sobbing moan of “fuck my pussy” that makes his abs clench, his dick twitch and a groaning whimper to leave him as he comes. His forehead presses against the shower wall as he watches his cum mix with the water by his feet and wash away down the drain. For a moment, it works. The tension snaps, the overwhelming edge dulling just enough for him to breathe again. But the second it’s over it hits him again. Harder than before.

He exhales sharply, head dropping forward, forehead pressing against the cool tile as the water keeps running over his back, his shoulders, his neck. His chest rises and falls, slower now, but heavier. “I fucked up,” he groans under his breath, voice rough, barely audible over the water. You. His best friend. The one person he’s spent years not crossing that line with, no matter how many times he’s thought about it, no matter how many times he’s shoved those feelings down and told himself it wasn’t worth risking what you already had.

And now? Now he knows exactly what it feels like. Knows how you sound, how you taste, how your body… he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw tightening. “Fuck…” he exhales again. Because there’s no going back from that. No pretending it didn’t mean anything. Not when it felt like that. Not when he’s reacting like this. His hand drags down his face again, water dripping from his hair, his lashes, his jaw as he tries to steady himself, tries to think of any version of this that doesn’t end in things getting complicated. But every path leads to the same place. You. “Shit….” He shakes his head because he doesn’t give a shit that Chile broke up with him. He never really did anyways. His ego was just a little bruised that’s all. Because now there’s only one thing on his mind.

He wants to have you moaning his name again.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The next morning feels… off.

Not in a loud, obvious way. Nothing dramatic. The sun still rises over Florida like it always does, warm and blinding through the blinds. Your alarm still goes off too early, your routine still runs on autopilot, scrubs, hair up, coffee barely tasted on the way out the door. But something’s different. You didn’t see Yunho before you left. His door stayed shut. The apartment was quiet in that heavy, almost deliberate way, like both of you were avoiding the same thing without saying it out loud. You paused for a second before leaving, hand hovering near his door like you might knock but you didn’t.

And now, hours later, you’re paying for it. The hospital hums around you like it always does, monitors beeping, voices overlapping, the constant movement of nurses and doctors weaving through the halls. It’s familiar. Usually grounding. Today? It’s just noise. You’re physically there, checking charts, moving from patient to patient, responding when needed, but mentally? You’re somewhere else entirely. Back in your room. Back in that moment.

Your pen hovers over a chart for a second too long, your eyes unfocused as the memory flashes again, his voice, his fingers, the way he looked at you after, the way he said thanks like that somehow made it normal.

“Hey.” A hand snaps lightly in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N.” You blink, snapping back so abruptly it almost feels like surfacing from underwater. Your eyes refocus, landing on Wooyoung standing in front of you, arms crossed, one brow raised in that way that means he’s already clocked everything. “What?” you mutter, a little slower than usual and Wooyoung’s eyes narrow slightly, studying you like you’re a suspicious patient instead of his coworker. “You tell me. You’ve been zoning out all day.”

You glance down at the chart in your hands like it might defend you. “I’m working.”

“Mhm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at that same page for, like, a full minute.” You sigh under your breath, shifting your weight slightly, trying to shake it off. “Long shift.”

“Bullshit.”

You look up at him properly this time, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?” Wooyoung doesn’t budge. If anything, he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to keep it between the two of you. “I’ve seen you after long shifts,” he says, tone casual but eyes sharp. “You’re tired, yeah, but you’re not… whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely at you. “You look like your brain is buffering.” You huff out a quiet breath despite yourself, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” he says, dragging the word out in a way that makes it very clear he does not believe you. “And I’m the head surgeon.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it as Wooyoung watches you for another second, expression shifting slightly, less teasing now, more observant. “Okay, so what happened?” You hesitate just ust for a second. And that’s all he needs. “Oh my god,” he says immediately, eyes lighting up with realization. “Something did happen.”

“Nothing happened,” you shoot back a little too quickly and he leans back slightly, arms crossing again, a slow, knowing grin starting to creep onto his face. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” You don’t answer. Because you know he’s right. And because if you open your mouth right now… you’re not entirely sure what’s going to come out. Wooyoung tilts his head, studying you again, curiosity fully locked in now. You look away immediately, jaw tightening slightly as you busy yourself with the chart again, anything to avoid his eyes.

Because how are you supposed to explain this? How are you supposed to say, I helped my best friend by letting him eat my pussy and now I can’t stop thinking about him and everything feels different, like that’s a normal thing to say in the middle of a hospital hallway. “It’s nothing,” you mutter again, weaker this time but Wooyoung doesn’t buy it for a second. He steps a little closer, voice dropping just enough to be dangerous. “Whatever it is,” he says, eyes narrowing slightly, “it’s definitely not nothing.”

You don’t answer him. Instead, you sit your charts down and grab his wrist. “Hey…. what the…” Wooyoung stumbles slightly as you yank him down the hall, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor as he tries to keep up. “Are you kidnapping me on shift right now? Because I’m pretty sure that’s illegal…”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath, not even looking back as you push through the double doors toward the labs. It’s quieter there, cooler too. The hum of machines replaces the chaos of the main floor, and for once, there’s no one around. You let go of him once you’re inside, pacing once, twice, like you’re trying to physically walk off the tension sitting under your skin and Wooyoung just stands there, staring at you like you’ve officially lost it. “Okay,” he says slowly, dragging the word out, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re either about to confess to a crime or tell me something insane.”

“I did something,” you say finally and Wooyoung’s eyes light up immediately. “Oh, I know you did. Get to the good part.” You glare at him and he holds his hands up. “I’m listening, I’m listening.” You exhale sharply, dragging a hand through your hair, already regretting this and needing to say it anyway. “Yunho came to me last night,” you start, voice lower now, more controlled but there’s something underneath it, something a little too charged to be casual which makes Wooyoung’s grin sharpen. “Your roommate Yunho? Your best friend Yunho?”

“Yes, Wooyoung, the only Yunho I know…. can you let me finish?”

He mimes zipping his mouth shut, but the excitement is very much still there as you take another breath. “He told me his newest girlfriend dumped him,” you continue. “Good,” Wooyoung cuts in immediately. “Don’t like any of them.”

“Not the point,” you snap, though you agree.

“Right, right….. continue.”

You hesitate again. “She dumped him because he’s never… done that before.”

Wooyoung blinks, confused. “Done what?” You stare at him and stares back. “You know…. eaten…. pussy before.”

“Oh my….” his eyes go wide, his entire posture straightening like he just got hit with electricity. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” you mutter as Wooyoung lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “No way. No way that man made it to twenty six without…”

“I know,” you cut in, already pacing again. “That’s what I said.”

“That’s insane,” he says, almost impressed. “That’s…. wow. Okay.” You stop again. Because this is the part. The part where you either keep it surface level… or don’t. “He asked me how to do it,” you say, quieter now and Wooyoung tilts his head, still following, still amused. “Okay… that tracks, I guess. You’re you. You’d know.” You don’t respond right away and that’s what makes his expression slowly change. “Why do I feel like that’s not the end of the story,” he says slowly.

You press your lips together and look at the floor. “I didn’t just tell him. Wooyoung stares at you, brows furrowed. “You didn’t just tell him,” he repeats and you shake your head. “I let him practice on me.” The room goes completely still. For a solid three seconds, Wooyoung just stares at you like his brain has short circuited. “You what?” You throw your hands up slightly, already defensive. “It was supposed to be just practice.”

“JUST PRACTICE?” he repeats, voice jumping an octave before he clamps it down, glancing toward the door like someone might hear. He steps closer, lowering his voice but not the intensity. “You let your best friend, who you live with… practice eating pussy on you?” You wince slightly. “When you say it like that….”

“How else am I supposed to say it?” he demands, incredulous. “That’s exactly what it is!” You drag a hand down your face. “I know, okay? I know. It just… it didn’t feel like a big deal at first and then it just… happened.” Wooyoung stares at you, eyes wide, trying to process. “And?” he presses.

“And it wasn’t just practice,” you admit.

“Define wasn’t just practice…” he says carefully and you exhale slowly, your gaze dropping again. “It was… good,” you murmur. “Like…. really good. And he…” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is… it felt like more.” Wooyoung doesn’t interrupt this time. He just watches you. “And now I don’t know what the hell to do,” you finish, finally looking back up at him. Wooyoung studies you for a second, all the teasing gone now. “You’re in love with him,” he says flatly.

Your stomach drops as Wooyoung exhales, running a hand through his hair, processing everything all over again but this time with a completely different lens. “And you let him do that,” he mutters, more to himself now. “I didn’t plan it,” you shoot back. “I know,” he says quickly, holding up a hand. “I know. I’m just…. wow. Okay.” He looks at you again. “What did he say after?”

“He…. thanked me,” you say, almost bitterly. “For the practice. Then went to shower.”

“Oh, he’s stupid,” Wooyoung sighs. And despite everything, a small, incredulous laugh slips out of you. “You think?”

“Yeah,” he nods, dead serious. “Because if he thinks that was just practice, he’s either lying to himself… or he’s about to have the same crisis you are.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

A couple days later, things feel… normal again. Or at least, they look normal.

From the outside, nothing’s changed. You and Yunho fall back into your routine like it’s muscle memory, passing each other in the kitchen, sharing late night takeout, sitting on opposite ends of the couch while something mindless plays in the background. You still talk, still joke, still exist in that same comfortable orbit you always have. But there’s something underneath it now. Something neither of you touches. You don’t bring it up. He doesn’t bring it up. So it just… sits there. Unspoken. And the more you both pretend it didn’t happen, the louder it gets in the silence.

Now Yunho’s alone. The apartment is quiet in that hollow way it only is when you’re not there, no soft background noise, no movement in the other room, no you. Just him, the faint hum of his setup, and way too much space for his thoughts to bounce around in. He texted Chloe. Thought maybe he could smooth things over, fix it, prove to himself that nothing had changed. That what happened with you didn’t mean anything more than what you both said it was.

So he met up with her. Told himself it was fine. Normal. But the second things started getting even remotely close to that territory again… it felt wrong. Not bad. Just… off. From Yunho’s perspective, it was like trying to follow a script he suddenly didn’t believe in anymore. The way she talked, the way she reacted, it all felt rehearsed somehow, like she was performing instead of actually feeling anything. And the worst part? He couldn’t stop comparing it to you.

The way you sounded, unfiltered, unplanned. The way you felt. The way you trusted him enough to let go like that. The sound of his name like sin and honey on your tongue. And no matter how much he tried to ignore it, it just… kept getting louder. Even the small things. The way Chloe moved. The way she responded. The way everything felt… It didn’t match. Didn’t even come close. And for some reason, he couldn’t shake it. By the time he left, he felt worse than before. More confused. More frustrated. Because now it’s not just about what happened with you. It’s about the fact that nothing else feels right anymore unless it’s with you.

When he got home, Yunho dropped onto the couch, dragging both hands over his face with a frustrated exhale. “What the hell is wrong with me…” he muttered under his breath. It’s not just that it was good with you. It’s that it felt different. Like something clicked into place that he didn’t even realize was missing before. He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, jaw tight as he tried to piece it together in a way that makes sense other than the obvious.

He’s in love with you. Always had been.

“Fuck,” he exhales, sharper this time, one hand coming up to press against his forehead. Because he knows. He knows what the answer is. He just doesn’t want to say it out loud.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho tries to distract himself. He really does. Headset on, controller in hand, screen glowing in front of him, it’s the easiest way to shut his brain off, to fall back into something familiar where he doesn’t have to think too hard about anything outside of the game. For a little while, it works. His voice slips back into that easy, relaxed tone, laughing here and there, throwing out comments without really thinking. The rhythm of it is second nature, callouts, reactions, the occasional trash talk. Normal. But it doesn’t last. Because his mind isn’t fully in it. Not when you’re still sitting somewhere in the back of it, stubborn and loud no matter how much he tries to push it down.

“Hey,” one of the guys in his headset laughs, cutting through the game noise. “I’m telling you, bro, last night? Crazy.”

Yunho hums absently, not really paying attention. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…. she had me laid out, man. Like, fully…” the guy laughs again, unfiltered, “had me flat while she was on top riding my face like it was her mission, I’m not even kidding.” There’s a chorus of reactions, laughter, teasing, someone making a joke about him finally getting humbled and Yunho chuckles faintly at first, automatic.

But then his mind catches on it. And everything goes sideways. The thought of you like that, the way you’d look on top of him, the way he’d give in and let you have control…. his grip tightens slightly on the controller, his jaw setting as he tries to shove it away just as fast as it came.

“Yunho? You still there?” someone calls through his headset. “Yeah,” he answers quickly, a little too quick, clearing his throat as he tries to refocus on the screen. “I’m here.” But he’s not. Because now his thoughts are spiraling again, faster this time, harder to control. He drags in a quiet breath, trying to lock back into the game, but it’s useless. His mind keeps circling back, pulling him deeper into it whether he wants to go there or not. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, barely audible over the mic.

“Bro, what?” one of them laughs. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Yunho says again, but this time it comes out rougher, distracted. Because now he’s stuck in it, stuck in that loop of thoughts he can’t seem to shut off, the line between what happened and what he wants blurring more and more the longer he sits there. And the realization creeping in underneath it all? It’s getting harder to ignore. “I gotta hop off,” he mutters suddenly.

“What? We just started…”

“Yeah, I’ll catch you later,” he cuts in, already pulling his headset off before they can argue and the room falls quiet as he leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands hanging between them as he stares at the floor, jaw tight. He doesn’t just want to pretend it didn’t happen. He doesn’t just want to move on.

He wants you.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The front door clicks open as you step inside like you always do, bag slipping off your shoulder, keys dropped into the bowl by the door, the familiar weight of a long shift still clinging to you. The apartment feels the same. Looks the same. But you already know better. Because the second you walk in you feel it. That subtle tension in the air, like something’s been waiting…..

“Can you show me how to let a girl ride my face?”

Your brain doesn’t even process it at first, like it short circuits halfway through the sentence, trying to decide if you actually heard him correctly. “Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!”

He wasn’t planning to say that. Not like that. Not the second you walked in the door, still in your scrubs, barely even inside the apartment. But the thought’s been stuck in his head for the last hour, looping, getting louder, mixing with everything else he’s been trying and failing to ignore. Now he’s standing there, frozen in place, staring at you like he might actually combust on the spot. “I….” he starts, then stops, running a hand through his hair hard enough to mess it up all over again. “That… came out wrong.”

“Came out wrong?” you repeat slowly, blinking at him like you’re trying to decide if this is real or if you’re still at work and hallucinating from exhaustion. “Okay, not wrong… just….” he exhales sharply, pacing once like he physically can’t stand still under your stare. “I didn’t mean to just say it like that, I just…” He cuts himself off again, clearly spiraling. “You just got home,” he mutters, like that somehow explains it, gesturing vaguely toward you before dragging a hand down his face again. “I wasn’t…. planning to…”

“You weren’t planning to ask me how to let someone ride your face?” you cut in, incredulously and he stops pacing. “When you say it like that, it sounds…”

“It sounds exactly like what you said,” you shoot back and silence hits the room before Yunho hesitates and breaks it. “I tried with Chloe,” he says finally and your irritation fades, replaced by something sharper. More focused. “And?” you ask, quieter now, and Yunho huffs a humorless breath, shaking his head. “It wasn’t the same.” From his perspective, saying it out loud makes it worse. Because now it’s not just a thought. It’s real. He glances at you again, holding your gaze this time instead of avoiding it. “Nothing about it felt the same,” he admits, voice lower now, more controlled, but there’s something underneath it, something heavier.

“You’ve been in my head all day,” he adds before he can stop himself, the words slipping out quieter this time, less frantic but somehow more dangerous. “And I can’t—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know how to just go back to normal after that.”

“So instead,” you say slowly, heart pounding, “you ask me that the second I walk through the door?”

“Yeah,” Yunho admits, a little helplessly. And somehow, that’s worse. Because he’s not joking. Not deflecting. Not hiding behind anything. He’s just being honest. And that realization settles deep in your chest, heavy and impossible to ignore. Because if he’s being honest… for a second, you just stand there, still in your scrubs, bag hanging off your shoulder, heart beating a little too fast for how still you’re trying to look. Because you could push this deeper. You could ask him what he meant, why he’s thinking about you like that, why he can’t let it go. But that would mean admitting you can’t either.

“Well,” you say, exhaling through your nose like you’re brushing it off, even though your chest feels anything but calm. You drop your bag onto the chair by the door, kicking your shoes off like this is just another normal night. “Come on.”

“Come on?” he repeats, like he’s not sure he heard you right. You glance at him over your shoulder, already heading toward your room, that same dangerous calm settling into your voice again. “You asked, didn’t you?” you say simply and his brain stalls for half a second before his body catches up, pushing off the wall and following you without even thinking about it. There’s tension in his steps now, something tighter, more focused, because this is happening again. You feel him behind you before you even see him, the weight of his presence making everything feel smaller, warmer, more charged than it should.

You step into your room, turning to face him as he stops just inside the doorway, that same mix of anticipation and nerves written all over him as you cross your arms loosely, leaning back against the edge of your bed. “For the record,” you add, a little more casually than you feel, “I’ve only done this once.” Yunho’s brows pull together slightly. “Yeah?” You nod once, gaze flicking away for a second like you’re debating whether to say more. “With my ex.”

Yunho’s jaw tightens without him even realizing it, something sharp flashing behind his eyes at the mention of him. He never liked that guy. Not even a little. “Of course it was,” he mutters under his breath and you huff out a quiet humorless laugh. “Yeah, well… it didn’t exactly go great.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug, but there’s an edge to it now, something a little more honest slipping through. “I mean he barely let it last five minutes before he started complaining.” Yunho’s expression darkens. “Complaining?” he repeats, incredulously. “Yeah,” you nod, rolling your eyes slightly. “Said it was weird. Too much work. Told me to stop before I could even….” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter.” But it does. Because now Yunho’s not just thinking about what he wants. He’s thinking about that. About someone else being in that position with you and not even trying. Not paying attention. Not caring enough to let you actually come. “That’s…” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

You glance at him, a small, almost amused smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “Yeah. I figured that out.” But the way he’s looking at you now? It’s not amused. It’s focused. Intent. Like he’s already decided something. “Well,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed slightly, that same teasing edge creeping back in just enough to mask the tension. “Guess you’ll have to do better than him.”

Yunho huffs out a quiet breath, something almost like a disbelieving laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah,” he says, stepping further into the room, gaze locked on you now. “I think I can manage that.” You have to keep your thighs from clenching when you see his eyes darken. Your hands go to the waistband of your scrub pants, fingers brushing the fabric as you try to keep your breathing even, your expression neutral, like this isn’t a big deal, like this isn’t the second time you’re about to cross a line you’ve both been avoiding for years. The fabric shifts as you push your scrubs down, the movement simple, routine, something you’ve done a thousand times before after long shifts.

Yunho’s watching, quiet, still, but completely locked in. And there’s something different about him now. The hesitation from the first time? It’s still there, but it’s buried under something else, something more focused, more certain. His gaze tracks every small movement you make, every shift of fabric, every breath you take like he’s trying to memorize it. You step out of your scrubs, pushing them aside, leaving you standing there in your bra and panties for a second longer than necessary, like your body hasn’t quite caught up with your brain yet.

Yunho exhales quietly, like he’s been holding his breath without realizing it and you glance up at him, finally meeting his eyes, and for a second neither of you says anything. Because you both feel it. That shift. That this isn’t the same as the first time. “You still sure you want me to show you?” you ask and he answers without hesitation. “Yeah.” You shift your weight slightly, forcing yourself to stay grounded, even as everything about this feels anything but steady. Your gaze flicks over him once, quick, almost instinctive, before you look away again, like if you stare too long you’ll start thinking about it too much. “You should probably take your shirt off,” you say, voice coming out calmer than you feel. “It could get… messy.”

The words hang there for a second before Yunho blinks and huffs out a quiet breath, something almost like a nervous laugh slipping through, even as his hands move without hesitation to the hem of his shirt. “Right,” he mutters as his fingers catch the fabric, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion, something he’s done a thousand times before, something you’ve seen a thousand times before. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s never been a big deal. You’ve seen him like this before. Late nights, lazy mornings, passing each other in the apartment like it’s nothing. It’s always been easy.

Your eyes flick back to him before you can stop them, catching on the way his shoulders shift as he drops the shirt somewhere behind him, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the tension sitting just under his skin like he’s holding himself together by a thread. Your breath stutters just slightly, and you have to look away again after staring way too long at his happy trail, swallowing as you try to pull yourself back together. You’ve seen this before. But your brain doesn’t believe that anymore as he steps a little closer, not rushing, but not holding back either, closing some of the space between you like he’s done thinking about it and just… moving forward now.

“Okay,” he says, voice a little rougher than before and you climb onto the bed first, shifting back toward the headboard, giving him space. Yunho follows a second later, slower this time, not unsure, but aware. More aware than he was that first time. He watches you as he gets on, like he’s trying to read every movement, every decision you make. This time, he doesn’t sit. He lays back and settles against the mattress, head near your pillows, eyes still on you, chest rising and falling a little heavier than normal. “If you need me to get up,” you say, a little more careful than before, “just let me know.” Yunho’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Okay.”

Your fingers hook at the waistband of your panties, your breath catching as your mind tries once more to catch up with what you’re about to do. This is a bad idea. The thought flickers but you ignore it. Because the second you glance at him again, really look at him, the way he’s watching you, the way there’s no uncertainty left in his expression, just something deeper, something wanting…..

You push your panties all the down, tossing them on the floor and Yunho’s hands come up without thinking when you move closer, settling at your thighs again, firmer than before. Not stopping you. Not guiding you. Just… holding. Grounding himself in the reality of what’s happening. Your fingers grip the headboard above you, steadying yourself, your breath uneven as you settle there, every nerve suddenly aware of him, of the space, of the fact that this is happening again but not in the same way. Not even close. Because this time you’re not just showing him. And he’s not just learning.

You start to lower yourself slowly. Your fingers tighten around the headboard, grounding yourself, keeping control of the pace as you hover just above him once he lays down. Your breathing is uneven now, chest rising a little faster as you try not to think too hard about what you’re doing. About who you’re doing it with. You keep your grip firm, easing down carefully, deliberately holding yourself there, not fully committing yet, like you’re still giving both of you one last second to back out and Yunho’s hands tighten on your thighs without warning, grip firm. stronger than before and before you can fully control the pace anymore he pulls you down.

The sudden movement steals the breath right out of you, your grip on the headboard tightening instantly, your body jolting at the unexpected shift. “Yunho….” his name slips out before you can stop it, sharp and surprised. He starts slower than you expect. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you in place, holding you steady like he doesn’t trust you to stay there on your own, not anymore. Not when you’re already reacting like this the second his tongue thrusted up into you. And it hits him almost immediately. That difference. That clarity. He wasn’t crazy. You taste so good he feels his eyes roll back and a moan, deep and almost growling leaves him, vibrating against you.

“Oh… oh my….” You’re whimpering now, still gripping the headboard, legs feeling heavy where they are caged around his head. His nose is rubbing at your clit, tongue curving up into you…. then you start to move. Not even on purpose at first, just instinct, chasing the feeling, trying to stay grounded and failing at it completely and a low, rough sound slips out of Yunho again before he can stop it, something deeper than before. It sounds like he’s gone as his hands tighten again, pulling you even closer, not letting you pull away, not letting you control the pace anymore.

He exhales sharply, tongue pulling out to move up, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and keeping it there as you cry out and really start rocking against his face. “Fuck…. right there… Yunho… don’t stop” your begging and pleading seems to only make him more pussy drunk. His dick is hard, he can feel it twitching, precum leaking and staining his sweats. And before he can even register what he’s saying, he pulls back just enough to mumble, “your pussy taste so fucking good.” Then he thrusts his tongue back into you, moaning loud at the taste of you. And his words make it build faster.

You can feel it, tight , overwhelming, impossible to ignore now. Every movement pushes you closer, your grip on the headboard turning almost desperate as your body stops listening to anything except the need to chase it. You’re not thinking anymore. Not about the line you crossed. Not the fact your best friend is eating your pussy like it’s his last meal. Not about anything except the way everything is pulling tighter and tighter….. and then you glance down. Just for a second. And you see him. The way he’s completely gone, hands gripping you, holding you there like he doesn’t want to lose this, like he doesn’t want to lose you in this moment. The way his chest is rising unevenly, the tension in him obvious, unhidden now.

And the moans he makes… low, deep and unfiltered….. and then you look back, see the length of him hard in his sweats, watch his dick leaking against the fabric, twitching… your hands drop from the headboard without thinking, tangling into his hair instead, gripping tight as everything finally breaks. Your breath shatters into something you can’t control, your body tensing hard as the feeling crashes over you all at once. “YUNHO…” you pull at his hair as you come, riding it out literally. Your hips move, grinding frantically against his face and he lets you. Loves it.

You’re barely coming back down when, thighs shaking, when you hear him let out the whiniest, neediest sound you’ve ever heard. Because just the feel of you riding his face, the taste of you dripping on his tongue, he feels his dick twitch once, twice….. and then he’s coming too. Untouched and aching. It’s overwhelming in a way he didn’t expect, his thoughts completely scattered, his body reacting before he can even process it, the intensity of the moment pulling everything out of him whether he’s ready for it or not. Fuck.

He groans again under his breath, quieter this time, but no less affected, his forehead pressing against your inner thigh now as he tries to steady himself, tries to come back down from something that hit way harder than he was prepared for as you slide away first. The movement is slow, almost reluctant, creating space between you where there hadn’t been any moments before. The room feels strangely quiet now. Not peaceful. Just… full. Your pulse is still trying to settle as you sit back against the headboard, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Across from you, Yunho remains exactly where he is, sprawled on the mattress, staring at the ceiling like he’s forgotten how to move. For a second, you almost laugh. Not because anything is funny. But because he looks completely dazed. “Yunho?” You glance down and see that obvious stain on his sweats, his dick still hard despite the orgasm that ripped out of him. His chest rises and falls slowly as you feel your heart ready to run from your body. “Yunho, you good?” A knot forms low in your stomach. “Hey.”

This time his eyes close briefly. Not avoiding you. Just bracing. When they open again, something has changed. The uncertainty that’s followed him for days is gone. The nervousness. The excuses. Slowly, he sits up and the mattress shifts beneath his weight as you watch him carefully. “Yunho?” His gaze finds yours, voice low and hesitant. “It isn’t practice anymore.” The words land between you like a dropped match and your breath catches as your brows furrow. “What?”

For a second, he looks away and you see his throat work as he swallows. And suddenly the confident, easygoing Yunho you’ve known for years looks terrified. Not of you. But of telling the truth. “I didn’t need to practice that,” he says quietly and the confession sounds almost ridiculous now that it’s out in the open and a humorless laugh escapes him. “Not really.” Your heart pounds harder. “Then why…”

“I just…” He stops and runs a hand through his hair. “just wanted you again.” The world outside the room might as well not exist anymore after that confession. You stare at him as he stares at the floor a minute before his gaze lifts back to yours. “I tried to pretend it didn’t mean anything.” His voice is rough now. Honest in a way you’ve almost never heard before. “I tried to go back to normal. I met up with Chloe….. and all I could do was compare everything to you.” The admission leaves him looking almost angry. Not at you but at himself. “Every conversation.” He laughs once, short and bitter. “Every stupid thing.” His eyes lock onto yours. “And I realized I didn’t care that she dumped me.”

Your breath catches as Yunho stands and walks until he’s close enough that neither of you can pretend this conversation is casual anymore. “I’ve spent years telling myself not to do this.” His voice softens. “Because you’re my best friend. But I think I’ve been in love with you for so long that I forgot what it felt like not to be.” The room goes completely still. And suddenly every excuse you’ve both been hiding behind falls apart at once. No more lessons. No more practice. No more pretending.

For a moment, you don’t say anything. Not because you don’t have an answer. Not because you don’t feel it too. But because your brain completely short circuits. You’ve imagined this conversation before. More times than you’d ever admit. Late nights. Long drives. Quiet moments where Yunho smiled at you a certain way and you wondered. But those were fantasies. This is real. And somehow, reality hits harder.

Yunho watches the silence stretch. One second. Two. Three. Long enough for doubt to creep in and you see it happen. The way his shoulders tense. The way something guarded settles over his expression. Like he’s already preparing himself for the answer he doesn’t want and his gaze drops as he lets out a quiet laugh that sounds painful around the edges. “Right.”

“Yunho….”

“It’s fine.” It isn’t. You can hear that immediately as he takes a step back. Then another. Putting distance between you before you can even process what’s happening. “Just forget I said anything.” The words hit like a punch and your eyes widen. “What?” He shakes his head. A small smile appearing on his face, but it’s all wrong. Forced and tight. The kind people wear when they’re trying not to let something hurt. “We can just go back to normal.”

“Yunho….”

“I’m serious.” His voice is quiet now. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Then he turns and walks out, bedroom door staying open behind him. And for a second, you just sit there. Frozen. Staring after him. Your heart pounding so hard it feels impossible to breathe. Because what just happened? The realization crashes into you all at once. Yunho loves you. Yunho is in love with you. And somehow, because you were too shocked to speak, he thinks you don’t feel the same.

“Are you kidding me?” You scramble off the bed so fast you nearly trip over the sheets. Your discarded panties are still scattered on the floor from. You snatch them up and pull them on while practically hopping across the room. “Idiot.” You aren’t even sure if you’re talking about him or yourself. Maybe both. By the time you reach the doorway, your pulse is racing. The apartment suddenly feels too big. Too long. Too far away. You find him in the living room.

Yunho is standing near the couch with both hands planted on his hips, staring out the window like he’s trying to figure out how to survive the next ten minutes. He doesn’t turn around when he hears you. Which hurts more than it should. Because Yunho always turns around when it’s you. “Yunho.” His shoulders tense as you march farther into the room. “Yunho.” This time he exhales slowly.

“You don’t have to say anything.” The quiet resignation in his voice makes your chest ache as he finally looks over his shoulder. And the look on his face almost breaks your heart. Because he’s already convinced himself. Already decided what your silence meant. Already started mourning something he never even got a chance to have. And suddenly all the shock leaves your body. “You absolute fucking idiot.”

His brows immediately pull together. “Excuse me?”

“I was in shock.” Now it’s your turn to be frustrated. “You just told me you’ve been in love with me for years! I didn’t know what to say!” He stares at you, frozen, trying to process. And when he doesn’t respond immediately, you throw your hands up. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?” The room goes completely silent. And Yunho’s expression changes. First disbelief. Then hope. “What?”

Your heart pounds. But now that you’ve started, there’s no stopping. “No, seriously.” You laugh once. “I have spent years trying not to be in love with you.” This time it’s Yunho who goes completely speechless and just stares at you. Like his brain has completely stopped working. Your confession hangs between you, raw and impossible to take back as you cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing in the middle of your apartment wearing just your bra and panties and a racing heartbeat. “Honestly?” you scoff. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

His brows knit together. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” you say, throwing your hands up, “I’ve been trying to get your attention for years.”

Yunho blinks. “Years?”

“Yes, years.”

His expression shifts from stunned to suspicious. “What are you talking about?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Five months ago.” The second you say it, something flashes across his face. Recognition. “You remember.” His jaw tightens. Of course he remembers. A week before you’d finally broken up with your ex. Yunho had come home earlier than expected. Walked through the apartment door. And immediately wished he hadn’t. The memory hits him with perfect clarity. The television running in the background. Your moan. Your ex under you while rode him on the couch. The way you’d looked up when the door opened. The way Yunho’s stomach had dropped so hard he’d thought he might actually be sick.

He remembers forcing a smile. Muttering something about grabbing food. Pretending none of it bothered him. Pretending he hadn’t spent the rest of the night locked in his room trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about you. Or how he wanted to snatch your ex up and throw him out the window. His eyes narrow. Slowly. Dangerously. “What about it?” You hesitate for the first time since chasing him out here. Then you sigh. Because apparently you’re both doing honesty tonight. “I knew you were coming home.”

Yunho goes completely still and heart immediately starts pounding harder. “So?” he asks. The word comes out lower than before. Dangerous. Dark. “So I wanted you to see. I wanted…” You wince. “I wanted you to get jealous.” Yunho’s jaw clenches. “What?” Your confidence evaporates instantly. “I don’t know!” you snap, mortified. “I wasn’t thinking clearly!” His eyes remain locked on yours. “That was your plan?”

“It was a terrible plan.”

“It was a terrible plan.”

“I know!”

“You deliberately….”

“Yes.”

“To make me jealous.”

“Yes.”

The silence that follows is almost comical as Yunho drags a hand down his face. Then another. Like he’s trying to process the level of insanity he’s dealing with. And when he looks at you again, there’s something different in his expression now. Something darkly amused. Something that makes your stomach flip. “Five months.” You point a finger at him. “Don’t.”

“Five months,” he repeats.

“Yunho.”

“You spent five months thinking I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, you never said anything!”

“And your solution was psychological warfare?”

Your mouth falls open. “I was desperate!”

That does it. A laugh finally escapes him. Short and disbelieving. He shakes his head. Then his gaze drags slowly over you. And suddenly every bit of humor fades from his face. Because now he understands. All of it. The mixed signals. The frustration. The years of almosts. The fact that the two of you have apparently been running in circles around each other for ages. His eyes meet yours again and his voice drops. Low enough that it catches you completely off guard. “You fucking brat.” The second the word leaves his mouth, Yunho sees it. That tiny reaction. The way your breath catches. The way your eyes widen for half a second before you try to hide it.

And because he’s known you for years, because he’s spent years paying attention to things nobody else notices, he catches it immediately and a slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Oh.”

“Oh?” you repeat weakly and his smirk grows. “That’s interesting.”

Heat floods your face. “Don’t.”

“You like that.”

“Yunho.”

“You do.” The confidence in his voice is unbearable. Not because he’s teasing. But because he’s right. And the worst part? He knows it. You watch him take a step closer. Then another. The distance between you shrinking until it feels impossible to think straight. “A brat trying to drive me insane” he says and your pulse pounds in your ears. “Yunho…” He stops directly in front of you. Close enough that you can see every tiny shift in his expression.

“Baby, you like that, don’t you?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. No denial. No argument. No sarcastic comeback. Just silence. Because for once, you don’t have one after hear him calling you baby. Yunho’s eyes flick briefly to your lips before returning to your gaze and yhe realization hits both of you at the same time. “Fuck,” you breathe before you reach up to grab at the back of his neck. Yunho barely has time to look surprised before you’re pulling him toward you.

The kiss happens somewhere between impulse and inevitability. Years of frustration. Years of wanting. Years of bad timing and missed opportunities crashing together all at once. For a second, neither of you seems to know what to do with the fact that this is finally happening. Then Yunho’s hands find your waist automatically, hands gliding down as your tongue starts fighting with his own. His hands reach your ass, gripping and landing a slap on your right cheek getting him a moan into the kiss out of you from it. “Fuck me…” he grabs you, lifting you and letting you wrap your legs around his waist and a laugh escapes you. “You are such an idiot.”

Yunho lets out a disbelieving laugh of his own. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“You had an entire secret jealousy operation.”

“It wasn’t an operation.”

“It absolutely was.” And despite everything, you both start laughing. And somehow that feels right. Because after all the tension, all the confusion, all the years spent circling each other… It’s still the two of you. Just finally honest this time as Yunho holds you tightly against his chest, lips finding yours again in a slow, claiming kiss that deepens quickly, tongues sliding together as his hands roamed down your back.

He brakes away only to trail hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. His fingers hook into the cups of your bra, tugging them down so your breasts spill free and he latches onto one nipple immediately, sucking hard while his tongue flicks over the hardening peak, then switches to the other, licking and sucking with growing hunger. Teeth grazing your nipple as he kisses and marks you, leaving red blooms across the curves of your breasts that would darken later as he carries you towards the couch and you slide down him until your knees hit the floor in front of him.

You reach up before he can ask and yank his sweats down in one motion, freeing his dick which bobbed heavily, still rigid and glistening with the evidence of his earlier release. The sight made your mouth water, he was thick, veined and longer than you had imagined, the tip flushed. You look up at him with a teasing smirk. "Twice now you've come just from eat me out. That's cute." Yunho's ears turn red but he doesn’t look away as you lean in without hesitation, tongue dragging along the underside of his dick to clean away the sticky cum clinging to his skin.

You take your time, licking broad stripes from base to tip, sucking the tip into your mouth to draw out every trace until he was clean and shiny with your saliva. Only when you had finished did he reach down, gripping your shoulders to pull you up to your feet, eyes locked onto yours, dark and searching. "You love me?" You answer by crashing your mouth to his, kissing him deep and messy and he groans into it, tasting himself on your tongue, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Of course you idiot," you murmur against his lips. Then you shove him backward onto the couch cushions. Your panties gone again in seconds, kicked aside as you climb into his lap, straddling his hips.

Yunho's hands grip your waist, his mind flashing to every time your ex had been here with you on this same couch. He was going to fuck those memories right out of the fabric. You didn't ease down. Both of you were too far gone, years of wanting crashing together in one desperate rush as you sank onto him in one smooth motion, taking every inch until your ass met his thighs and a shared moan filled the room. You started moving immediately, too impatient now, lifting and slamming back down in hard, hungry strokes that made the couch creak and Yunho's head fell back, fingers digging into your hips as he begged, "Take it, fuck, take all of me."

Your pace grew frantic, pounding yourself onto him with wet, slapping sounds filling the air. Each descent stretched you perfectly, his dick hitting deep. Pleasure coiled tight and then snapping. You cried out as you squirted hard around him, hot fluid gushing over him and soaking his lap and the sight undid him. Yunho flipped you in one swift motion, laying you back on the cushions and grabbing your legs to fold you in half, your ankles at his shoulders as he sank back inside you with a groan, thrusts starting slow and deliberate, building in force with every roll of his hips. “You're mine… I'm yours… Fuck…" The words came out strained as he watched your face, then looked down between your bodies.

The sight of you creaming his dick made him moan louder and pick up the speed, pounding into you relentlessly. "Say it… say you're mine." You were a trembling mess beneath him, words fracturing on your tongue. "I… I… I'm…" Yunho saw you unraveling and thrust harder. "I know baby… fuck you feel so fucking good." You sobbed his name, body locking up as your orgasm ripped through you, clenching around him, screaming as you squirted again, spraying between you.

Yunho followed right after, pounding through your climax before burying himself to the hilt, pulsing deep inside you, flooding you with thick ropes of cum that overflowed and leaked out around his dick. He stayed pressed there, grinding through the aftershocks, filling you until it was dripping down your ass onto the couch.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

A couple hours later, the apartment is so quiet it almost feels unreal. No tension. No confusion. No years of unresolved feelings hanging over every conversation. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic as you stand at the kitchen island wearing one of Yunho’s oversized shirts that hangs halfway down your thighs. The sleeves swallow your hands every time you reach for your cereal.

Across from you, Yunho leans against the counter in nothing but boxers, absently eating from his own bowl. It’s ridiculous. After everything that happened. After years of pining. After confessions and tears and fucking on the couch then again in the shower after finally getting everything out in the open. This is what you’re doing. Eating cereal. The realization makes you snort into your spoon and Yunho immediately looks up. “What?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s just…” A laugh escapes you. “We finally admit we’re in love with each other and somehow we’re standing in the kitchen eating Lucky Charms.” Yunho glances down at his bowl then back at you. “It’s a very emotional cereal.” You stare at him and he stares back. And then you both lose it. The laughter comes easier now. The kind that leaves your stomach hurting and feels like relief. When it finally settles, Yunho shakes his head and points his spoon at you. “By the way.”

You narrow your eyes immediately. “Whenever someone starts a sentence like that, something annoying follows.”

“You really thought making me jealous was a good plan?”

You groan. “There it is.”

“No, seriously.” He sets his bowl down. “I need to understand.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You absolutely do not.”

Yunho is already smiling. That dangerous smile that means he’s enjoying himself. “You knew I was coming home and thought, You know what’ll fix this situation? Emotional devastation.”

“I was twenty five and stupid.”

“Five months ago.”

“Details.”

He lets out a bark of laughter and you try not to smile and fail miserably. “Do you know what I did after that?” he asks and your grin fades slightly. “No.”

“I sat in my room for three hours.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Three.” He holds up three fingers. “Hours.”

“Yunho…”

“I ate an old bag of chips because i didn’t want to leave my room and I’m pretty sure they were stale.”

You choke on your cereal. “No, you didn’t.”

“I absolutely did.”

“Oh my God.”

“And then I convinced myself I was being ridiculous because you were allowed to date whoever you wanted.” The admission is casual. Like he’s only comfortable saying it now because everything’s already out in the open. And something soft settles in your chest. Because suddenly that memory looks completely different. Not from your perspective. From his. A man hopelessly in love with his best friend trying to pretend it didn’t hurt.

Your expression must change because Yunho notices immediately and his own smile softens. The teasing disappearing. “You know,” he says quietly, “I think I would’ve told you eventually.” You lean against the counter. “Yeah?” He nods. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Okay, definitely.”

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sudden knock at the door makes both of you freeze. You glance at the microwave clock. 11:47 pm. Yunho looks at you. “Who the hell is that?” you ask.

“No idea.”

Another knock echoes through the apartment and you set your spoon down while Yunho pushes away from the counter. “Maybe Wooyoung got drunk and lost his key to his place again.” You snort as Yunho heads toward the front door and he opens it. And immediately stops.

You notice it before you even see who it is. The way his shoulders lock. The way his expression changes.

“What?”

Yunho doesn’t answer as you walk around the kitchen island. Then you see her. Chloe. Standing in the hallway. “Oh.” Chloe shifts her weight, nose turned up at you. Yunho still hasn’t said a word as she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I overreacted.”

Yunho blinks. “Chloe…”

“No, let me finish.” She holds up a hand. “And maybe I was kind of a bitch.” You cross your arms. Kind of? “Maybe I shouldn’t have said all that stuff.” Yunho opens his mouth again but Chloe keeps going. “And I get why you left suddenly earlier today.”

Yunho’s brows furrow. “What?”

Chloe sighs dramatically. “I mean… obviously you were nervous.”

You nearly choke on a laugh. Oh she has no idea.

“Nobody leaves mid going down on someone unless they’re nervous.”

Yunho looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. And before either of them can continue, you make a decision. You walk straight across the room and Yunho barely has time to register what’s happening before you’re standing beside him. Then closer. Then somehow even closer than that as you loop an arm around his and Yunho immediately knows you’re about to cause problems. The grin on your face gives it away.

“Sorry, Chloe.” Both of them look at you as you smile sweetly. “Yunho’s on a new diet.”

Chloe blinks in confusion. “A diet?”

“Yeah.” You nod completely serious. “It’s me.” The silence that follows is magnificent. For one glorious second, Chloe’s brain visibly buffers. Then realization hits and her eyes widen as your smile grows.

Yunho makes a strangled noise beside you that sounds suspiciously like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Are you….”

You gently push the door shut. “Have a good night, Chloe.” You stand there with your hand on the doorknob, looking very pleased with yourself. While behind you, Yunho is completely quiet until you turn around and then he is bent over laughing. Not a polite laugh. Not even a chuckle. But full on losing it. “Oh my God.”

You point at him. “She showed up uninvited.”

“I know.”

“And I handled it.”

“You absolutely handled it.”

You try to maintain your dignity but fail immediately when he starts laughing harder. “You called yourself a diet.”

“It was funny.”

“It was.”

“It was hilarious.”

Yunho wipes at his eyes still laughing. Then he looks at you and the amusement softens into something warmer as he shakes his head, smile pulling at his mouth. “God, I love you.”

And for the first time in years, neither of you has to pretend that those words mean anything less than exactly what they do right now.

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