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It does not bother him, at first. He barely pays any attention to that detail, early cataloged as irrelevant, having more pressing matters to worry about (namely: killing any obstacles along his path).
It's not important nor comes with any benefits, at least not from a practical point of view. It is simply a minor, absurd inconvenience at best; unusual, suspicious, undoubtedly—but, in the end, not a big deal.
All in all, it's unrelated to Yoo Joonghyuk himself, so there is no reason for him to care, assuming their paths won't ever cross again in this regression after dropping the cheeky man to his death. He'll soon forget about him.
He's wrong, of course. But even when he encounters that bastard again –and again and again and again–, he ignores the blurred lines of his face in favor of clearing more scenarios; faster, harder, with single-minded determination and impeccable effectiveness, having no time to spare.
Only, after that, the rat's annoying smile follows him close behind.
(And, weirdly enough, Yoo Joonghyuk lets him. )
He has already decided Kim Dokja is an anomaly. Dangerous enough to knock him out and screw his plans. Reckless. Selfless. Extremely irritating. An idiot with a taste for self-sacrifice and stupid, if–grudgingly, he will admit only to himself–efficient strategies; aided with prophetic knowledge and an understanding of the scenarios and its hidden secrets Yoo Joonghyuk greatly desires—greatly needs.
The bastard is regrettably very useful, more so than any of his own allies had been in the past-future. So, after much, much thought, Yoo Joonghyuk reluctantly decides to keep him alive and, well, close.
But, of course, Kim Dokja screws with that plan, too, not only once but several times, dying and coming back physically unscathed. Mentally? He's not so sure. It's hard to tell. Hard to read him.
Even harder is to stop him from sacrificing himself in the name of their party's safety, all that while wearing a smile and spewing reassurances so they don't grieve him too much.
Yoo Joonghyuk gets to learn it's quite maddening not knowing what the idiot will do next. Not even his most trusted lie detection skill helps, and he's never used it so many times on a single individual in all of his regressions, which should tell him something. It doesn't. Not in time.
He pays it no mind, then.
And he regrets, oh, how he regrets it now.
He realizes much too late that he cannot read him well at all, lie detection skill or not. It's unknown if that's actually related to the mysterious reason why his face has always been somewhat obscured, distorted by powers that mess with the system, the Star Stream and even the Eye of the Sage itself, but suddenly that little detail doesn't seem insignificant anymore.
In fact, it seems very fucking important. So incredibly relevant, with big glaring neon lights pointing at it from all directions and screaming for his undivided attention.
So he does. He starts to pay close attention, to look at him and look for him. Intensely. Angrily. Going as far as following the bastard around, all in the name of answering his own unasked questions.
This only tells him they work incredibly well together, with the way they seamlessly clear all the scenarios and sub-scenarios that come their way and the impressive speed in which Kim Dokja can adapt to his pace, even with his lack of natural talent.
He is a very cunning man. Sly. Bold. But so incredibly annoying regardless of his usefulness.
In between many glares, he realizes his tailing answers absolutely nothing he didn't already know, but he doesn't give up.
Yoo Joonghyuk next tries to recall their first encounter, then the ones that followed, unnerved by the muted suspicion that arises within those distorted memories; suspicion that is quickly extinguished not even a second later, not by himself. Why has he ignored it until now? It makes no sense.
It is a big fucking deal, he admits, enough to keep him awake at night and distracted during the day, slashing monsters while looking at that bastard's glitched face, finding nothing worth noticing–it's like his own brain is telling him to pay no attention to it. To let it go. To continue pretending nothing is wrong.
Yoo Joonghyuk keeps looking nevertheless, annoyed at himself for ever falling prey to such unsubtle tactics.
All the while, Kim Dokja flinches each time he meets his gaze, making him glare harder; and even harder still as he quickly looks away, attention going to the children in his care, acting like he doesn't know a thing.
He scoffs.
Yoo Joonghyuk fails to recall another person with a similar skill–if it's even a skill, at that–with the sole purpose of maintaining the user hidden. And no matter how much he tries, he cannot picture Kim Dokja's face, not even in the depths of his own mind. Even his characteristic smile and shifty eyes are vague and unfocused, like watching him from behind a stained, fogged mirror, or a fractured piece of glass.
What's worse is now that Yoo Joonghyuk is aware, he can't stop thinking about it. About him.
And that knowledge doesn't sit right with him. In fact, it pisses him off a great deal. Just why?
That Yoo Joonghyuk is not the only one unable to recall Kim Dokja's face doesn't help. He is not like the rest, he is far stronger, has been through way more shit–so it only fuels his irrational, unjustified anger, making him snap at the man more than once, going for his neck as default.
(It's like it's made for his hand to hold, slightly squeeze, leaving behind red fingerprints on white skin.)
Though perhaps unfair, the inability to accomplish something seemingly so simple is driving Yoo Joonghyuk insane, to the point where he almost wants to beat the answer out of him; dig it out and drag it with the tip of his tongue, sinking his teeth in to make sure the bastard doesn't swallow it back, but he reigns in the urge.
Truthfully, Yoo Joonghyuk is almost sure there must be a reason for this whole secrecy bullshit, but he cannot reach it no matter how much time he spends on it, rolling the thought around, from side to side and upside down, all to no avail.
It gets him close to failing more than one scenario, to which the Secretive Plotter in particular has a fucking blast laughing at him and making sure he knows it, going as far as sponsoring him useless coins when his messages go mercilessly ignored.
It's a shameful performance on his part, no doubt.
And yet, to Yoo Joonghyuk's own disbelief, he doesn't actually want to kill the bastard—not even for the relief of making his frustrations disappear by the ancient art of eliminating the source of all his problems with a clean slash of his sword—at least not anymore, which is a first.
(Kim Dokja's life is his to take. Kim Dokja's life is his… and yet he gives it away so easily.)
Yoo Joonghyuk is vaguely aware of his unhealthy hyperfixation with this man, the way his thoughts always end up returning to him somehow, even in the most casual of situations. But Kim Dokja makes him so fucking angry all the time, his very existence so damn irritating—the regressor has no time to gloom around; there is no room for depression or the need to restart when things don't go his way. Which can be counted as one of the very few benefits of Kim Dokja's presence.
(His annoying anchor. His… companion. For whom Yoo Joonghyuk would give up his life if it meant the idiot didn't have to.)
But why? Why is it only him censored? Was it always like that, or did it happen after he became a Demon King? Or earlier still, a full Constellation? When he was lost to them, drifting apart outside of the scenarios? When they thought he'd died for good?
Kim Dokja's little moniker comes to mind then, unbidden, and Yoo Joonghyuk frowns. The Ugliest King, was it? He's heard it enough times, and he curses himself for not paying attention to the motives behind when the name stuck and people all around the Stream started to use it. No. Something is definitely not right.
It has nothing to do with him wanting to see his face. His real face. The entire picture behind that annoying, infuriating, teasing smile of his.
Absolutely unrelated.
So, like the real protagonist, as Kim Dokja likes to call him behind his back when he thinks he's not close enough to hear him, Yoo Joonghyuk decides to do something about it; before the constant distraction ends with him accidentally dying and therefore regressing again.
His plan is pretty simple: to confront him when they're alone and be civil about it.
Of course, Kim Dokja ruins it by being an absolute asshole. Nothing new there, but still, he expected better of him. A mistake on his part, perhaps.
History has already taught him that things never go his way when the rat is involved. They always become so much more complicated, unnecessarily so. He would have been impressed if it wasn't so damn tiring.
It's like he does it on purpose, which is somehow worse.
Kim Dokja never stops being a fucking menace. Though, if pressed, Yoo Joonghyuk will admit to himself that perhaps he overreacted this once. Why of all times his words got the better of him when he was ready to interrogate the man, he does not know.
He cannot even recall what it was the smaller man jokingly told him (it was about him dying, again, so nonchalant about it, the moron), but the next thing he knew, Yoo Joonghyuk had him by the neck, pressing him hard against the wall of the abandoned house they were scouting in search for inane clues for a scenario of his own making.
Hard enough to crack the concrete, towering over him and so so close.
Well, shit.
He skillfully ignores the pings that come with the alarmed messages from their usual viewers, eyes dark and fixed on Kim Dokja's own. This is not how it was supposed to go.
And yet.
And yet.
The universal truth is this: Kim Dokja never fails to get under Yoo Joonghyuk's skin.
The reasons behind that statement vary; the time spent getting to know him making Yoo Joonghyuk uncertain of his own self-restraint.
What is it about this man that makes him lose his temper? That makes him react with so much violence?
He's supposed to have better control than that. But all his well crafted walls get smashed down when Kim Dokja approaches him, confronting the regressor with eyes that seem to know him better than he knows himself; better than he should as a simple prophet.
But it's not only the eyes. He's even armed with words that are undoubtedly designed to rile him up and comfort him in the same sentence—always taunting, teasing; challenging him while also being reassuring and steadying. So soothing, too, it's making him dependent and vulnerable to that now familiar voice, and so very human, which is not a nice feeling at all. He hates it. He craves it. He does not understand.
It tests his patience, makes him glare harder, words poisonous and ready to strike at this man in an act of self-defense; so angry at his own helplessness, never willing to show him his heart.
That is, until now.
Yoo Joonghyuk exhales through his nose, brows furrowed as the rat bastard squirms in his hold.
"Let me go, you crazy sunfish!" Kim Dokja wheezes, barely able to breathe and clawing at the gloved hand squeezing his neck quite uselessly. Yoo Joonghyuk loosens his grip, but keeps him there, pinned, gaze searching.
Even this close, he cannot discern his features, which only contributes in making him angrier. What are you hiding? Why are you hiding from me ? He swallows his questions, teeth aching with a want he has yet to acknowledge.
"Kim Dokja," he says at last; it's a name that comes to him quite easily now, but the rest of the words do not come out.
He shifts his hand to hold him by the chin instead, fingers unforgiving, ignoring his own struggles by moving his face this way and that. It doesn't change. He cannot see behind whatever is blocking him.
"What's gotten into you...?" Kim Dokja asks him, his tone worried, after a few seconds of confused, awkward staring; slightly breathless and already resigned to his miserable fate, if the drop of his shoulders is any indication to his mental state.
He's really going to let Yoo Joonghyuk do as he pleases with him, it seems. The reckless fool.
He doesn't even consider calling for help, or using his own strength. Not even putting those pretty wings to good use and fleeing the scene.
Well, that works for Yoo Joonghyuk.
The regressor considers him for a moment, wondering what exactly he can do, and ultimately comes to an absurd yet not completely useless idea, more and more appealing the more he thinks about it.
So he says: "Do not try to escape," a command and a warning, his voice stern and laced with the threat of imminent danger, giving him absolutely zero insight.
"What does that even mean…?!" the bastard grumbles under his breath, letting out a tired sigh—but there is trust in the way Kim Dokja relents and stays silent, no longer attempting to regain his freedom.
Yoo Joonghyuk waits until Kim Dokja reluctantly acquiesces, a soft okay, fine, whatever; dread and suspicion evident in the way he's still tense and full of energy, no matter how much he tries to hide it with fake bravado and confidence.
It's almost… cute, how eager he is to please him while simultaneously pretending to hate every minute of it. But maybe that's his own delusion.
Yoo Joonghyuk disregards that pointless thought, ready to start–yet he finds another problem before that.
His free hand hovers between them, nearing Kim Dokja's face yet not touching him, leather suddenly constricting and obnoxious.
He looks at the gloves he's wearing; a constant, now. They're all black, soft, nice looking and useful, purchased at an exorbitant price from the Dokkaebi bag with the intention of keeping his hands clean at all times; particularly for when he has to cook, which is often—even enhanced with a skill for that very same purpose.
He glares at them now. He can't do what he wants with the gloves on, otherwise they will hinder his progress. But the idea of releasing his hold on Kim Dokja to take them off has him scowling. Yoo Joonghyuk has no doubts that if he gives the bastard a chance, he will take it and run away, no matter what he's agreed to do for him.
Then he won't give him that chance.
With his right hand returning to Kim Dokja's thin neck, he makes sure to hold him in place, almost encircling him with just the one hand and squeezing softly: a reminder.
Kim Dokja curses him at that, rather angrily, telling him to be quick about it, whatever it is, since he is such a busy man. As if.
Still, a second later, Yoo Joonghyuk does exactly that.
He raises the left to his mouth, biting softly into the material and dragging it off with a slow pull, to then carelessly drop it, unconcerned. Idly, he can feel the rat's quickening pulse where his thumb rests over an artery, probably thinking of something idiotic. Or perhaps he's nervous, recalling their past experiences.
Yoo Joonghyuk almost wants to pet him, tell him it's okay, there's no need to be so nervous, I won't hurt you. Which is contradictory to the cracks on the wall behind him and the way he has him covered with his own body, blocking him from view and therefore limiting his escape routes, were he to attempt a vanishing act.
Instead, he exchanges the hand holding his neck and pulls the right glove off, making sure to follow the beats of his heart at every moment, for reference, a comparison. It is… interesting.
He flexes his bare fingers to enjoy the cold air and not because he needs a distraction, left thumb gently stroking where it touches, an action he does not notice.
His body tingles with anticipation. He ignores it by thinking about something else.
It doesn't work.
And he's apparently stalling too much. Now Kim Dokja is looking at him with increased suspicion, something akin to scepticism flashing in his eyes.
It makes him want to squeeze a bit harder, but he is not that petty.
He lets out his own sigh. It's honestly a bit risky and stupid, what he plans to do, but Yoo Joonghyuk hasn't felt any presence besides them in the building since before they arrived; he even picked this one for that very reason, actually, knowing no one would follow them in.
He was adamant on finding out the truth, going as far as fabricating excuses to be alone with Kim Dokja, where even Biyoo wouldn't be able to easily follow, unwilling to tolerate any kind of interruption in what he assumed would be a long talk.
This is no talk, but perhaps it works better that way. Yoo Joonghyuk has never been good with words anyway, actions speaking louder for him.
So with actions he goes, unconventional as they may be.
He lets go of Kim Dokja's neck, eyes closing slowly. Only then he directs both hands to the smaller man's face, freely touching him. Finally.
Kim Dokja splutters, hands flailing at his sides –Yoo Joonghyuk can tell just by the sound–, but he doesn't attempt to pull away, not that he can, too shocked to do anything but obey. Good.
Once again, Yoo Joonghyuk can hear a myriad of pings from his neglected messages, certain Uriel is one of them. Perhaps more than one of them. He ignores that as well, implications lost on him.
His full attention is already somewhere else.
It isn't exactly a skill, the act of willingly immersing himself in sensory deprivation, but soon both sounds and visuals vanish; all of his focus going to the feeling of Kim Dokja's elusive features.
Absent-mindedly, he notes his skin is surprisingly soft, no signs of blemishes or even the hint of facial hair making it rough, just softness. Mn. He stores that thought for later consideration and keeps going.
Yoo Joonghyuk very lightly traces the curve of thin brows, touch soft, almost tentative; following the path to his cheekbones, drawing little circles there that brush against his surprisingly long lashes before continuing.
Down to his jaw, tracing over the jawbone on each side until his fingers connect by his chin; lingering for a second and then skipping up to his nose, following the bridge up, up, up to his brow again, then his forehead, each touch very gentle and unlike what he's thus far presented of himself.
It's what he needs to do, anyway. A case study.
He must be methodical and delicate in this attempt to memorize the shape and engrave it into his brain, Yoo Joonghyuk tells himself, slowly putting the pieces together; each swept getting him closer to completing this puzzle of a tragic man who just won't leave his thoughts alone ever since he met him, one way or another.
He can almost picture him. He's so close. Just a bit more.
Idly, he licks his own lips when he finally gets to his mouth.
The regressor pays special attention to the corners, where that infuriating smirk of his often takes place, now tense and quivering; caressing them with his thumbs for just a bit longer than necessary, just because he can, feeling the minute shifts under the skin.
Yoo Joonghyuk decides then to trace his lips, and perhaps that's a mistake.
Instantly, he can feel Kim Dokja gasping, face already overheated, lips parted; the air leaving him as if it were punched directly out of his lungs.
He's shivering, Yoo Joonghyuk notes, little puffs of air colliding with his bare, battle-rough fingers. Mn. Not exactly the reaction he expected, it makes him wonder...
He only needs one hand to trace their soft shape, so he drops his left to the smaller man's chest, slowly splaying long, steady fingers there, overwhelming with power—all to feel the rise and fall of Kim Dokja's erratic, frantic breathing. It is quite labored by now, yet he isn't trying to run, which is unusual, knowing him.
Perhaps he's listening, for once.
What a good boy, Yoo Joonghyuk almost wants to compliment him for doing what he's told.
The catch in Kim Dokja's breath at the thought almost makes him believe he's said it out loud, but his own lips remain sealed. Weird.
He holds the bastard's lower lip between two fingers in retaliation, even if he has no basis to think he should chastise him; softly pulling and squeezing the flesh there with morbid fascination at the choked, muffled sounds he gets in response—and somehow now Yoo Joonghyuk can't help but think biting him would be a better punishment.
There is a foreign warmth curling in his gut. He ignores it, too amused by the bastard's reactions to reconsider what he's doing.
And, well, with both his pointer and middle finger already so close, Yoo Joonghyuk abruptly decides to truly explore his mouth. For scientific reasons. And immersion.
This is received as well as expected, with Kim Dokja immediately biting the intruders in an attempt to make him take them out. He's not using enough force for it to be painful, so Yoo Joonghyuk simply traces the edge of those sharp teeth with his fingertips, interest picked, making contact with his tongue in the process.
Very unexpectedly, the bastard responds by licking his fingers then, perhaps thinking it will make him recoil in disgust. When that doesn't work, he sucks , dragging them deeper into his mouth, almost greedy, tongue flickering in between and tracing the shape of them inside his mouth.
And Yoo Joonghyuk... stops moving. Swallows, heart doing a complicated little thing in his chest, lungs feeling compromised, making it very hard to breathe.
Kim Dokja, always a bastard, seizes this chance and tries to push him away, clearly annoyed by his late actions—even applying more force into his jaw, yet still not enough to hurt.
The regressor can feel his little fists clenching against his chest as he pushes; can also feel him hold onto his clothes, tightly, almost desperately, like he doesn't actually want to get away from him. Like he wants to be held in place.
Kim Dokja lets out a frustrated whine, half choked by the fingers still in his mouth.
And wow.
Yoo Joonghyuk's mind blanks at that. He slowly–so slowly–opens his eyes, almost having forgotten what he was trying to do in the first place. It doesn't matter. He's caught him.
As he adapts to the returning light, the image he has conjured slowly uncovers what's always been hidden in front of his eyes, overwriting whatever that censor has been doing to him—though perhaps his vision now is much better than whatever he could have imagined.
Rosy cheeks, teary eyes and an inquisitive little frown; trembling, glistening lips around rough, thick fingers, coated in drool. A straight little nose and a glare that could clearly mean anger were it in someone else's face, but with the blush it loses its desired intent. It becomes tempting, instead. An open invitation.
For what, he wonders. He has some ideas he wants to try. Hopefully later.
For now, Yoo Joonghyuk greedily drinks him in, the pale skin making a beautiful contrast with his own much more tanned one.
Although the dark circles under his eyes he could do without, and he certainly needs to gain more weight, judging by the hollowness of his cheeks, but...
Kim Dokja is absurdly, unconventionally pretty.
It is not the shocking, face-slapping beauty of magazine models, often artificially created, but something more quiet, gentler and genuine; easily judged as average with the lack of care displayed—but there is no mistake about it.
The lines of his face are pleasing and soft, painted with care by a lovesick artist.
Perhaps that is why Kim Dokja needed a censor.
He is so pretty it hurts.
And he looks even better sucking on his fingers.
He moves them around experimentally, stretching his lips around them, unwilling to break eye contact. Such a tiny mouth. He wonders what else he can fit there and his cock throbs at the thought.
Kim Dokja bites him harder then, face red, eyes sparkling, shadowed by a hint of madness. Or perhaps panic. Maybe both.
He seems like he wants to say something and has completely forgotten the Midday Tryst is a thing, the fool.
Yoo Joonghyuk finds him adorable.
…
Mn.
. . .
Well.
. . .
Is he…? There's no fucking way. He's not. He's not in love with this idiot.
Kim Dokja chokes on his fingers, tears actually falling down now, and...
Okay.
So he has terrible taste in men.
This is… incredibly unexpected. And probably the worst thing to ever happen to him.
Then again, he wonders if it's actually unexpected, this little realization. He knows this is not just lust. Certainly not when it's about Kim Fucking Dokja, no matter how damn pretty he is, but he's not sure when it happened, or why.
(That's a lie. He knows why. There is no way he wouldn't love this self-sacrificing fool, he just didn't know it was that type of love; was simply not aware of his own feelings, perhaps unconsciously ignoring them, but it makes sense. )
This greatly complicates things, but it also makes them easier.
"Kim Dokja," Yoo Joonghyuk says, noticing now the fondness in his own voice.
Okay.
I love you. No big deal.
Kim Dokja is still protesting, tearful eyes looking anywhere but him, bite now considerably more vicious. He's probably bleeding, going by the little sting he can feel. Compelled to check, his eyes drop to Kim Dokja's mouth and, indeed, he can see a bit of red mixing with his saliva.
It stirs the heat in his gut, makes him want.
Yoo Joonghyuk catches his tongue between those same fingers, to another panicked look on that wrecked face. Cute.
Still, they do need to talk.
He very reluctantly releases him, taking his hand back, and barely resists the urge to lick his own fingers, slick and cold and bereft now that they're not inside of that warm mouth.
The teeth marks look nice, if too tiny, barely breaking skin. He hopes they leave scars.
But that is not his concern for now.
Squinting, Yoo Joonghyuk locks Kim Dokja in place before he can run away, this time with his arms at each side of his face, caging him to the wall.
"What the… that… what the fuck was that?" Kim Dokja sounds breathless, his eyes shiny, unfocused; his cheeks are still so red. He's touching his mouth, using the back of his hand to wipe it a few times.
Yoo Joonghyuk tilts his head, admiring the view now that he's privy to the whole thing, preferring to observe him in silence. His expressions are so much better now, even the anger.
"What? You do all of that and you can't even answer me, you asshole? I don't even know wh-"
Still annoying, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks, rather fondly, and then he kisses him, effectively ending his useless diatribe.
It is not a gentle kiss, but it's not frantic, either.
It is slow, demanding, searing.
Kim Dokja is paralyzed the first few seconds, seemingly unable to understand what's happening to him, lips frozen and uncooperative, but Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't mind. He simply coaxes him to move, taking his time; biting and licking and pulling, until Kim Dokja is gasping for breath, unwittingly allowing his tongue in and then shivering at the foreign feeling–trying to pull away and stay in place simultaneously.
It's cute, how bad he is at this. Like this is the first time someone has kissed him.
Something dark and possessive stirs at the thought. Mine, it murmurs, ready to claim. He ignores it, for now, in favor of licking the inside of Kim Dokja's mouth, going much deeper, easily taking command. He can taste a hint of his own blood as he explores, which makes him feel inexplicably pleased, almost enough to purr.
Still, his little bastard doesn't even know what to do with his hands, clenching and unclenching them into little fists.
He ends up with his fingers hooked on the belt covering Yoo Joonghyuk's chest, holding on with enough force to break them, were it any other material. It doesn't, though he wouldn't really mind if it did. It'd be less clothes to worry about, easier access to skin against skin.
Yoo Joonghyuk drops his own hands to Kim Dokja's waist and presses them there, hard, wanting to mark him; paint him in purple, blue and red hues. A claim no one would dare challenge, not if they wanted to keep their heads attached.
But… he pauses. Squeezes. It's so tiny. Why so? Yoo Joonghyuk clearly needs to feed him more. If he tries hard enough, he can almost connect the tips of his fingers in a circle, engulfing him completely in just his hands.
It is both disturbing and incredibly arousing, the evident difference in their sizes. He wonders what else is different, what else is there to compare he can't obviously see right now. He wants to study it, do some meticulous research, map him with his hands, his mouth, his tongue; use them all as reference to take his measurements. He wants to–
He needs to calm the fuck down.
Yoo Joonghyuk takes a moment to breathe, yet he never stops kissing him, little pecks and nibbles to keep him distracted, lest he makes the mistake of taking and ruining the moment as he's wont to do.
But as life will have it, Kim Dokja is a step ahead of him and uses a sneaky hand to cover Yoo Joonghyuk's lips, effectively blocking him.
He grunts, unhappy with the outcome, and gently bites those thin, delicate fingers.
"Stop, stop! Whatever this is, you don't really want this! This is not like you at all!" Kim Dokja is saying, keeping his fingers there, though it's obvious he wants to take back his hand.
Yoo Joonghyuk changes tactics, lest he bites him too hard in annoyance. He starts to slowly kiss his palm; his heated gaze never leaving him to gauge the reception.
[How would you know what I want?] He asks, and Kim Dokja's eyes widen.
Of course he forgot about that, the same way Yoo Joonghyuk forgot about the constellations watching them, though in his case it is intentional. He still pretends he does not see them. They don't exist right now.
[Why are you doing this? If you need coins I can give them to you!!]
And that is of course Kim Dokja's annoying conclusion, to which Yoo Joonghyuk glares and squeezes his waist, again, hoping to leave his handprints there so he will feel them much later and remember what they've done. Tangible proof.
Unsatisfied, he ends up licking long, slow stripes on his palm too, languidly, until the bastard finally retracts his hand like it's burned him.
"Gross!" He squeaks, clutching his own shirt and frantically wiping his palm there. His blush is more telling, the way his lips are still red and wet.
"Is it?" Yoo Joonghyuk asks him, voice dripping with amusement. There is even a little pull on the corner of his lips, smug.
Kim Dokja just looks at him like he's lost his mind. Perhaps he has. It's hard to tell. It's also irrelevant.
Yoo Joonghyuk just wants to kiss him again, and from there slowly drag his lips lower, see how far that blush goes.
[Are you okay? Did something happen? Did you get possessed or something? Is this a penalty for failing some random scenario you were too embarrassed to tell me about?]
Yoo Joonghyuk pointedly glares at that. Why is it so hard for this man to just accept things as they are?
"Kim Dokja..." he sighs, greatly pained at his own taste in men, again, and stops right there, raising an eyebrow. Are you truly this dense? He doesn't say, but the thought is loud.
Kim Dokja keeps rambling. It's like he doesn't hear him, or chooses not to. It's probably the latter. This motherfucker.
"You're making no sense," the bastard goes on, still trying to escape from his grasp, albeit more subtly this time. "Why would you even kiss me? I'm a man! Ugly! And Lee Seolhwa is right there???"
At that, Yoo Joonghyuk frowns, tracing idle patterns on his lower back while slowly coaxing him out of his annoyingly white coat. Kim Dokja is too riled up to notice, which works in his favor as the clothing slowly and silently falls to the ground.
Lee Seolhwa, huh? They were together once upon a time, but that ended with his second life. He does not care for her that way anymore. Has not thought of her at all.
He does respect her. She is an amazing woman, but she's not Kim Dokja.
So he asks, "What about her?", tilting his head to the side, genuinely not understanding where he's going.
"What do you mean 'what about her?' She's definitely gonna be your wife in the future, duh!" Kim Dokja says, rather confidently, like that explains everything he's not saying. Idiot.
"She's not my anything," Yoo Joonghyuk corrects, irritated. And then adds, curious and teasing: "are you jealous? Perhaps you want to be my wife instead?", primarily to see his reaction.
It's worth it. His whole face turns ruby red, words failing him.
"Of course not!" Kim Dokja says when he's done choking on air, indignant.
Yoo Joonghyuk just hums in response. To mess with him, he activates his skill, not expecting much—yet he is pleasantly surprised by what he finds out.
[You've used Lie Detection Skill level 6–
This answer is false.]
"Mm, are you sure?"
"That's…! Not true??? What the fuck?? I…!"
Red really looks good on him, Yoo Joonghyuk decides, enjoying his embarrassment. He's way too pleased with that unexpected answer. It's almost too good to be true.
Then again, they've danced around each other since their very first encounter, gravity pulling them together with pure brute force.
Accepting Kim Dokja as his sole companion should have been telling enough, for him. The fact Yoo Joonghyuk does not want to regress anymore in fear of not having him in his life: a blatant giveaway.
Oh, he's been rather obvious, hasn't he? No wonder Lee Jihye is adamant they belong together.
Instinctively, he drops his face to hide a smile in the jut of Kim Dokja's neck and shoulder, the slightest bit embarrassed himself.
She's right.
He wants him. He wants him so much. There is no denying it, now that he is aware of his own heart.
So he says, "I would like you to," against the milky skin of his neck, kissing him there, too; feeling the rabbit-fast pace of his heart on his tongue.
Kim Dokja whimpers. Asks: "Joonghyuk-ah, what are you doing?" with a voice so soft he almost doesn't hear him, trembling as his fighting spirit extinguishes.
He sounds lost. Tired. Uncertain. Yoo Joonghyuk does not like it.
"Why is it so hard to believe?" He asks back, nuzzling him, inhaling his clean scent. Mine, the beast whispers.
Mineminemineminemine.
Kim Dokja doesn't answer, but makes a sound that implies it should be obvious. It reverberates on his lips, tasting sour.
Yoo Joonghyuk frowns, biting his neck hard enough to bruise. The hissing sound Kim Dokja makes at that, he certainly likes much better.
Still, he takes a reluctant step back from his comfortable spot to properly look him in the eyes, unwilling to let this misunderstanding stand any longer, right hand climbing back up to his face.
He holds him gently, lovingly so, like the precious existence that he is, caressing his cheek with calloused fingers. "You are my one and only companion in life and death. There can only be you, " he ends in a whisper, a sincere confession. He knows he is being painfully heartfelt, but there is no other way.
Kim Dokja makes a pained sound after hearing that, like his world is turning upside down and nothing makes sense in this alternative reality. He eventually chokes out a "how can you say that with a straight face? Why are you doing this to me?"
But he doesn't bother to check if his words are true or false, opting to just faceplant into his chest instead.
There he muffles a groan and something that sounds like Yoo Joonghyuk's name with a curse accompanying it, and promptly starts aggressively rubbing his face from side to side, like he is physically trying to rid himself of the embarrassment.
He looks just like an overgrown cat. It's both ridiculous and adorable.
Gods, he's really in love with a full idiot.
Yoo Joonghyuk allows himself another rare smile, not caring for who can see it, and lazily pets Kim Dokja's hair; letting him sink into his pecs as they seem to bring him some kind of rare comfort, apparently.
He's still mumbling something rather incoherent, at least in Yoo Joonghyuk's humble opinion. Yoo Joonghyuk does not care.
Kim Dokja can keep cursing him, as long as he stays right there.
It's where he belongs. Yoo Joonghyuk will make sure.