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Cracking his eyes open to the sun trickling through the blinds, Hyunjin rolls over onto his back and stretches, groaning as his muscles strain, his bones popping and clicking into place.
The sunlight is warm, casting the room in a pleasant golden glow, and despite the heat steadily starting to creep up under the duvet, he's tempted to close his eyes and go back to sleep. Instead he reaches up with a hand and rubs the sleep out of his eyes, blinking several times before his vision is clear enough that he can see anything.
A minute passes in pure silence. Hyunjin finally kicks off the duvet and sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and planting them on the cool floor. He scrubs a hand over his face, combs his fingers through the tangled mess that his bedhead has worked his hair into over the course of the night, and tries to get rid of some of the cotton in his mouth by smacking his lips together and swallowing a few times.
Another minute passes. Hyunjin blinks. He frowns, pulls his hand away from his face and stares at his palm, turning it to either side in the hope he'll discover something different. Anything at all.
He flings it forward, but his hand doesn't burst into flames, he doesn't glow like a lightbulb. Nothing starts mysteriously floating around the room or breaking apart into a million pieces at the flick of his wrist. The armchair sitting in the corner doesn't move.
Absolutely nothing happens.
Hyunjin's frown deepens. His mouth flattens into a straight line, and he repeats the action, throwing his other hand forward with the same results – or more precisely, lack thereof.
"What..." he mutters to himself, confused, and pushes himself up and off the bed. "This doesn't make any sense," he continues as he stomps over to the mirror and spends an absurdly long time studying his reflection, tilting his head, watching closely for the slightest shimmer of a spark, the briefest flicker of magic.
It doesn't come.
He isn't an X-Men, he isn't Spider Man, his skin hasn't changed color, his body hasn't gained a tail or some other mutant limb. His teeth haven't become razor sharp, he hasn't sprouted claws, there aren't red eyes staring back at him in the reflection.
The only sight that greets him is a sad, pathetic one. A twenty one year old man, pouting like a child who's just been told Christmas has been canceled because they've been naughty, black hair messy and sticking up every which way, big round eyes brimming with a sort of disbelieving desperation, looking like a wounded puppy.
He feels a little insulted, to be honest.
Hyunjin puffs out his cheeks, blows out a long breath, and turns on his heel. He makes his way back to the bed and flops down on his front, burying his face into the mattress with a miserable whine.
This isn't how he imagined this moment. As a kid he'd spent years upon years daydreaming about the kind of superpower he would get, wishing it would be something worth writing a book about, something like what he saw in superhero movies. Maybe lightning powers like Thor, maybe invisibility or super-speed or teleportation, something epic, something extraordinary.
As an adult he'd spent months waiting in anticipation for this day to come, imagining it would be some magical moment, wondering if he'd feel anything different the second it hit, the moment the clock ticked over. He'd pictured it as something of a cliché, a gust of wind, or a surge of energy, or even some kind of burning sensation that would light him up and leave him transformed.
In all honesty, Hyunjin had expected a lot of things. The thing he hadn't expected was nothing, and nothing is what he got.
His chest is heavy with a strange weight, like the knowledge of his disappointment has a physical presence in the pit of his stomach, like the nagging thought of being stuck in an average life while being surrounded by people with amazing, life changing abilities is eating him alive. It makes his skin crawl.
It isn't as though Hyunjin wants to be some kind of famous vigilante. He doesn't want the spotlight, doesn't need fame, doesn't wish for his life to be recounted in some Hollywood blockbuster or for him to have a spot in the history books as a renowned superhero, someone who did good and was revered for it. He doesn't want any of those things, really.
It's just... a power would have been nice. That's all. It would have been cool to gush about, awesome to show it off to his friends and family.
Even better to reveal it to Changbin and see his eyes widen in wonder and awe, his lips spreading into that gorgeous, heart-stopping smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, his cheeks bunch up and his nose scrunch adorably, and hear him squeal with delight in that high, endearingly squeaky voice of his that Hyunjin finds far cuter than he cares to admit.
Every day ever since Changbin's birthday, Hyunjin has been so incredibly grateful that the older man's ability hadn't turned out to be mind reading, or God only knows Hyunjin would have been completely and royally fucked, unable to hide anything from Changbin without his traitorous brain giving him away.
Anyways.
Hyunjin's phone buzzes on the bedside table, startling him out of his thoughts, and he rolls over onto his back again with a groan, reaching for it blindly until his fingers close around the smooth plastic of the case.
He swipes across the screen, opening up a series of texts from Jisung, all wishing him a happy birthday in an assortment of ways – ranging from cute to cringe-worthy to downright ridiculous, complete with several emojis that he has no idea how to interpret.
And, of course, the million dollar question of what power he received, because Jisung is nothing if not a gossip-hungry hound, a true reporter to his very core.
For a few seconds, Hyunjin wonders how in the world he is going to answer that, knowing full well he'd be in for relentless teasing about it for at least a month if he were to be honest. Jisung would never let him live it down if he said nothing at all came of this supposedly earth-shattering day, and come to think of it, neither would anyone else, for that matter.
So, in true Hyunjin fashion, he lies through his teeth.
Hyunjin takes advantage of Jisung's somewhat preoccupied state by telling him an elaborate tale about how he needed some time alone to test his powers, a fantastic story about bright, white-hot light shooting behind his eyelids as soon as he gained consciousness, a blinding, searing heat spreading from his head to the tips of his toes.
The lie is elaborate enough to be believable, but vague enough to leave plenty of room for interpretation and questions that will hopefully buy him enough time to figure something out.
Luckily, it seems to work. Jisung buys the fiction hook, line, and sinker, typing out a stream of excited messages, mostly consisting of, "Tell me more, tell me more!", in capital letters followed by a dozen or so question marks.
Despite everything, Hyunjin feels a smile pulling at his lips, and he bites his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning at the idiocy of his best friend.
Second to Changbin only, of course.
Just as he's about to hit the little phone icon at the top of his screen to call Jisung and talk to him directly instead of typing out an entire book, the doorbell rings, and Hyunjin almost drops the phone on his face. Very gracefully, might he add, even though he's alone and no one is there to see it or judge him for it.
His heartbeat picks up instantly, and he shoots up into a sitting position, wide awake now, eyes zeroing in on the bedroom door. It isn't a stretch to guess who's waiting in the hall outside, considering the somewhat of a tradition they'd developed since their friendship had established itself as a solid, unbreakable bond – Changbin always comes to Hyunjin's house first thing in the morning on his birthday, and the same goes for Hyunjin, when it's the older's special day.
This time, however, the circumstances are different. So different that Hyunjin doesn't know how to deal with them, whether to play pretend and act like he doesn't feel absolutely crushed inside, or to be honest and admit he feels like a failure for being, or so he believes, the only person in the world who got stuck with no powers whatsoever.
Either way, he knows he can't hide in his room forever.
The doorbell rings again, twice this time, and Hyunjin shakes himself out of his stupor before pushing himself up off the bed with a heavy sigh.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," he mutters under his breath, making his way towards the door. He grabs a discarded sweater from the backrest of his desk chair, slipping into it on his way out, and takes a deep breath before pulling his bedroom door open and stepping into the living room. "No need to get your panties in a twist, Binnie."
As he expected, Changbin is standing behind the front door, a bright grin plastered on his face and an obscenely colorful birthday bag hanging from one hand, complete with a big yellow ribbon tied at the top. His dark bangs are pushed back out of his eyes, which are glittering with excitement, and he's wearing that leather jacket Hyunjin loves so much on him, the one that makes him look like the bad boy, punk-prince protagonist of some young adult rom-com movie. He looks amazing, like he always does, and Hyunjin's heart squeezes painfully in his chest, because this is the last thing he needs right now. To have a stupid, useless crush on his best friend on top of everything else.
Changbin's eyes light up even more the moment they fall on Hyunjin, and he doesn't wait to be invited in before shouldering his way past the younger and making himself at home by toeing his shoes off at the entrance and dumping his gift on the kitchen counter, and Hyunjin just sighs and closes the door behind them.
He watches as Changbin shrugs off his jacket, revealing his toned arms and his broad shoulders and his muscular back and– yeah, Hyunjin really doesn't need this today.
"Happy birthday, Jinnie!" Changbin chirps, spinning around to face Hyunjin, arms stretched wide like he's expecting the taller man to rush forward and hug him. "So..." he waggles his eyebrows suggestively, which would be funny on any other day, but today it's actually concerning to an extent. "Care to spill the beans and tell me what you got?"
The words die on Hyunjin's tongue, the false statement he'd made up for Jisung's sake this time sounding almost impossible to speak. Like the lie is too heavy, his vocal cords refuse to cooperate and it feels like his mouth is too full of sand, or like his throat is swollen and on fire.
Any other day, Changbin would have been the first one to know about it, the first one to hear whatever incredible or embarrassing thing he had to say, just because Hyunjin values his opinion over anybody else's, and Changbin's word to him means much more than anyone else's. His comfort zone has always been when it's just the two of them, just Changbin and Hyunjin, surrounded by no one, and somewhere along the way, lying to Changbin had started to feel as bad as eating old, rotten kimchi right from the fridge.
Especially with the birth of Changbin's power, which pretty much put the entire purpose of lying to him in jeopardy the moment it came to light.
"Don't even try to lie, Jinnie. You know I'll see right through it," Changbin quips with a smug little smile, his eyebrows raised high in a playfully accusatory manner. "Or did you forget?"
Hyunjin scoffs. "I didn't."
He could never forget, not when his entire relationship with Changbin could unravel at the seams within the span of a few heartbeats, after a single lie spoken out loud, one he wouldn't be able to take back.
"Then what are you waiting for?" Changbin asks, and Hyunjin can see him trying to keep his composure, but his excitement is so palpable it's almost a physical presence in the room. "You know I've been dying to know what you'd get!"
It all happens in the blink of an eye, in a whirlwind of a moment that seems to last an eternity.
One second, Changbin is on the other side of the room, smiling brightly and looking at Hyunjin expectantly, and the next he's standing directly in front of Hyunjin, invading his personal space like he always does, crowding up against him and leaning forward, way too close for comfort like he always does, his smile still there and his eyes sparkling with undeniable joy, and Hyunjin's heart flutters in his chest like an ensnared butterfly, the air trapped in his lungs threatening to burn a hole in his ribcage, because Changbin is just so, so beautiful and just so, so close and–
‘–pretty. Fuck, he's so pretty, and so cute, and he looks so good today. I swear to God if he keeps staring at me with those eyes I'm gonna go crazy.’
The instant Changbin's hand makes contact with Hyunjin's arm, the thought echoes inside his head, loud and clear.
Loud and clear and unmistakably, irrevocably uttered in Changbin's voice.
There's no one else it could possibly come from, no one in the room with them, and no way in hell could anyone be talking directly into his brain.
Hyunjin blinks – once, twice, three times. His heart stops beating for a terrifyingly long second, the world stops turning, the ground seems to disappear from underneath him as he gawks at his friend, speechless.
‘His lips are so red. How does he do it– how does he make them look so soft? I just wanna... I just wanna touch them so bad and... fuck, he's so pretty, how is he so gorgeous, it should be illegal, it–’
"Holy fuck," Hyunjin breathes out, eyes darting left and right, taking in Changbin's worried expression as he scans Hyunjin's face.
"Uh? What's wrong?"
The words seem distant, distorted, almost muffled, like his head is filled with water and he can't make them out, like they're being spoken to him through a wall, but Changbin is so, so close he can feel his warm breath on his own skin, can count every single eyelash framing the dark brown irises he'd always found so stunning, can smell the scent of his favorite cologne, and–
"What?" he blurts out, unable to formulate anything more eloquent.
"What? You didn't hear me? Are you okay? What's wrong, Jinnie?"
The same, worried, confused Changbin repeats the question, looking even more worried now, but Hyunjin doesn't miss the way his gaze lingers on his lips before shooting back up to meet Hyunjin's eyes.
For a fleeting moment, they stare at each other, unblinking, Hyunjin frozen to the spot, his heart pounding a mile a minute in his chest, mind reeling with the enormity of everything that just happened.
There's so much information packed in such a short amount of time, Hyunjin feels like his brain can't keep up with it, he can't make sense of it all because it's impossible, it can't be real.
It has to be a dream, right? A vivid, delusion-induced dream, brought on by the disappointment that had eaten at him just moments ago, right? Some twisted kind of nightmare, like the ones where you're naked in public, or have to give a presentation in front of your entire office without remembering a single word, and yet somehow, even then, this seems like a step further, an upgrade in levels of crazy and life-altering.
But the way Changbin is staring at him, wide-eyed and confused, a deep crease between his brows, and the fact that Hyunjin can still feel his hand wrapped around his bicep, his fingers slightly squeezing, ever so warm and solid, and unbelievably real proves that no, this is not a dream. This is not his imagination.
This is all too real, very much happening, and he has to do something about it.
A part of him – the one that's been harboring a doomed, futile crush on Changbin for years – whispers in the back of his mind, over and over again, telling him to seize the opportunity, to stop overthinking and start acting, because what Changbin is feeding into his brain is nothing short of an invitation to leap for it and make a move, not to waste the golden ticket he's being offered here and grab the bull by the horns – or whatever the proverb is.
Another, much larger and perhaps more level-headed part of him, however, is screaming at him to get a hold of himself, shut his mouth before he says or does something stupid and embarrassing.
After all, what if he's wrong? What if he's somehow misinterpreting Changbin's thoughts, what if he's jumping to conclusions that aren't there to begin with? What if this whole thing turns out to be a terrible, awkward, humiliating mistake, and he ends up losing Changbin as a friend in the process?
The silence stretches out between them, and Changbin's worry visibly grows the longer Hyunjin doesn't answer him, which only makes the younger panic more and more, his brain short-circuiting in a loop of questions and half-baked answers that he can't seem to focus on long enough to properly work through them.
But then he hears Changbin's voice again, right inside his own head, so loud he can almost physically feel it scraping along the inside of his skull, and any possibility of restraint or logical thinking leaves Hyunjin completely.
‘I shouldn't– I really shouldn't, I shouldn't do it, damn it, I shouldn't be thinking about him like this when he looks so worried and upset, what am I doing, why am I– fuck, I want to kiss him so bad, oh God, this is bad, this is so fucking bad, so bad, I can't believe I'm–’
"Hyung."
The single word breaks free from Hyunjin's lips before he even has time to fully decide whether he's going to be stupid or smart about this, and there's nothing he can do now that it's out there, so before his rational side gets to kill him first, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut and throws all caution to the wind.
"I can... I can hear you, hyung."
"Uh? Well, yeah, I assumed but–"
"Inside my head. I can hear you. Think again about what you were thinking of just now... what you've been thinking about me. Right now. Try to think about it, but don't... say it out loud. And I– I'll..." Hyunjin lets out a long, slow breath and fights to stop himself from stuttering too much. It isn't easy when he's so nervous he might puke, when his mouth feels dry as a desert and his limbs as weak as boiled noodles. "And I'll repeat it."
Changbin remains perfectly still for several long, excruciating seconds, and there's so much open turmoil written all over his expression that Hyunjin is starting to consider running away and changing his name, moving to another country and living under the cover of a fake identity until all of this blows over and he manages to forget about the fact he most likely just royally fucked up a once-in-a-lifetime friendship.
He's moments away from making a run for it, but Changbin's fingers are still wrapped around his arm, holding onto him, keeping him trapped in place, and so he stays exactly where he is, waiting – with his heart thumping a hole in his chest and his stomach twisting painfully with anxiety – for the mess in Changbin's brain to sort out enough for any clear thought to shine through.
"... You're not lying."
It's a statement, not a question, said with a firmness and certainty that would usually have Hyunjin admiring and gazing at Changbin in awe, but not now, not when those two words are probably going to be his doom. "You're not lying. You– you can..." the shorter man's throat visibly bobs up and down with the force of his swallow, the movement mirrored by Hyunjin's heart working its way up his esophagus as he sees realization finally dawn on Changbin's annoyingly handsome face.
‘He can hear me. He can hear me. He…’
"You can hear me," Changbin repeats his thoughts out loud. "Hyunjin, I–"
"Yeah," Hyunjin nods, huffing out a shaky little breath, eyes cast downwards, onto the mismatched patches on the hardwood floor. "I can."
"So you heard me– heard what I just..."
There's a faint rustling noise as Changbin moves his hand away from his forearm, and the moment his grip disappears, a new silence – deafening, endless, a yawning chasm – takes over his consciousness, so expansive Hyunjin can physically feel its absence, and he misses the touch like a lost limb, like he's an amputee.
"I can't– I can't hear anything now," he blurts out, before he has the time to change his mind and clam up again. "Not when we're not touching."
It's like gravity, in a weird, inexplicable kind of way. Like a magnetic pull tugging at his very soul, the need to connect with Changbin making every part of his being shake with the urgency to touch him, to feel his skin under his palms, to re-establish the link, to hold on as tightly as possible for as long as he can before it’s ripped from him once again.
Hyunjin blinks his eyes back into focus, forces himself to raise his gaze off the floor and looks up at Changbin, and he hates that he's already missing his powers, that not being able to peek behind Changbin's walls and figure out what he's thinking about is messing with him so badly he feels almost sick with it.
"And if you touch me... you'll be able to hear everything again?" Changbin asks, voice shaking and barely above a whisper, and the way he's looking at Hyunjin, with a mixture of wonder and fear and something else, something that makes his eyes seem impossibly dark and shiny, has the taller shifting on the spot, rubbing his own arms to soothe the goosebumps that have risen over his skin.
"I– Yeah. That's what it seems like."
One slow nod.
Two, then three of them in quick succession, Changbin seemingly taking the time to mull his response over, and despite his best efforts, Hyunjin can't quite keep himself from fidgeting anxiously, picking at the edge of his own shirt over and over, because this is it, this is the moment everything between them hangs on a thread, a string suspended in midair, a pendulum that could go either way and bring Hyunjin either happiness or heartbreak.
"Okay," Changbin whispers eventually, and the amount of emotion saturating the single word goes straight to the other's heart, makes it jump and kick like a startled rabbit. "Okay, then… then, let's try it out."
He doesn't give Hyunjin the time to process the words properly, and suddenly he's right in his space once again, so close, so impossibly close that Hyunjin can count the specks of golden in his irises, can see the little acne scars and pores littering his skin like freckles, can feel the warmth his body is radiating even though his own is freezing cold with nerves, and Changbin’s eyes are fixed on him, locked onto him with a level of determination that would be petrifying if it wasn't for the tiny, near invisible tremor in his gaze that betrays his apprehension.
Changbin’s hands follow closely after, a feather-light touch on each side of his neck, soft and almost shy, the pads of his thumbs gingerly applying the barest of pressure, stroking his skin in a motion that sends sparks of electricity zipping up his spine and to the top of his head, in a pattern that feels like reverence and marvel all at once.
The instant their eyes meet, Hyunjin's heart skips another beat.
The instant their gazes interlock, the echo of Changbin's voice seeps into his brain once more, much softer than before, more hushed and private, a secret meant just for Hyunjin.
‘Hyunjin,’ Changbin doesn't say. ‘Hyunjin-ah... can you hear me?’
His mouth has gone so dry his throat feels stuck together, and all he can do is keep looking at Changbin, nodding his head slowly, as if any movement stronger than this would shatter the moment, scatter it like sand between the cracks of stone.
‘This is crazy,’ Changbin thinks, and it's not quite awe, and it's not quite terror either, but something in between the two, something deep, almost visceral that runs straight to Hyunjin's core and ignites something molten inside him.
"Yeah... it is crazy," he replies. His voice shakes, but he manages to croak the words out anyway, because Changbin deserves answers, and Hyunjin will do his best to provide them.
His mind is a big cloud, wrapped in a cocoon made of cotton candy, and nothing around him matters. There's nothing in the entire world apart from him and Changbin and the feeling of his fingers around his neck and the breathless haze falling over them like a curtain, and with every exhale and inhale and passing second, a new kind of awareness fills the gaps between them, as palpable as it is unspoken.
Changbin's gaze flickers down, lower and lower, until he's looking at Hyunjin's lips once again, until his thoughts start flowing out of him like liquid, slow and ineffable, and Hyunjin feels every single one of them enter him and make his own heart vibrate like a struck string, and–
‘You heard this too, didn't you? That I…’ Changbin's mind wavers, skitters to a halt for an instant, only to accelerate right after, like a runaway train without a controller or operator. ‘That I want to kiss you.’
Changbin swallows, hard, and a shiver runs through Hyunjin's entire body, zings through every nerve and synapse like he'd just been electrocuted, like an entire bucket of ice cold water has just been dumped on top of his head.
‘That I want to kiss you really, really bad.’
And just like that, all of Hyunjin's caution gets thrown to the wind.
He moves before Changbin can do anything, can even think of doing anything, and leans forward, throwing his arms around the shorter's neck, pulling him into a clumsy, crazed kiss. There's no finesse or technique to it, only pressure and desperation, only the need to experience the truth of Changbin's words for himself.
He feels a sharp spike of shock at first, feels the way Changbin freezes completely for a heartbeat, and the tiniest sliver of dread pierces through him. It only lasts for a second though, before Changbin returns the action with force, almost flinging his whole weight at him, grabbing onto him with equal ferocity.
A moment later Hyunjin is being pressed against a wall, his back flush to the hard surface, strong arms around his waist and a solid, overwhelmingly warm body bracketing him, with Changbin's teeth sinking into his lower lip like a ravenous animal, and his mind turns into an echoing chasm of white-hot delight, all his senses singing in a haze so thick it should be scary, should have him running for the hills, and yet all he wants is to drown even further, to keep sinking and sinking into Changbin's thoughts and never resurface.
Changbin's mind is like a supernova, an explosion of feelings and emotions and sensations, bright and warm, ebbing and flowing in a cacophony of melody and noise so intense that Hyunjin almost cannot take it, barely able to distinguish his own feelings from Changbin's as their bodies collide again and again.
There's wonder and surprise and arousal all mashed up together, swirling like a whirlpool, feeding off each other, making them bigger, faster, fiercer, and it's all too much and not enough at the same time, like trying to fit an ocean inside a teacup, like holding a hurricane in his hands, and Hyunjin has no idea how long they spend like that, glued to each other, connected at the mouth, Changbin's hands slipping under his shirt and pressing into his flesh and his own fingers digging into the shorter's shoulders like claws, but eventually, he has to come up for air.
They part with a wet, filthy smack, a sheen of saliva on both of their mouths as they gasp for breath, and Changbin looks wrecked – pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen, hair messy from where Hyunjin's fingers ran through it over and over – and he's looking at him as if he's some kind of magical creature, some kind of deity sent down to land to grant him all of his wishes, and he's so stupidly, spectacularly handsome Hyunjin barely manages to stop himself from leaping right back in for another round.
He doesn't get a chance to act on the impulse, though, because Changbin moves first, resting his forehead against the side of Hyunjin's neck, burying his face against his collarbone, nuzzling into his skin with a low, content sigh that feels like the aftermath of a volcano eruption and the prelude to another blast all at once.
"Hyunjin-ah..." Changbin sighs, voice a bit raspy and sounding deliciously ruined, and Hyunjin thinks he'd be more than happy to keep hearing it like that, forever and ever, until the end of time. "What does this mean? For us?"
A good question.
An excellent question.
The answer isn't as obvious as one would imagine, though. The answer entails a lot of thinking and a lot of soul-searching, and the two of them parted from each other's mouths but a few seconds ago, and considering how scrambled their brains currently feel, now is probably not the most convenient time for rational thinking.
Then again, Hyunjin thinks as he raises his hands to stroke through Changbin's hair – short, soft strands between his fingers, the perfect length for grabbing and pulling at, and the pleased rumble the motion extracts from the shorter man is another hint in the growing pile of evidence that Hyunjin is so beyond screwed – maybe delaying the inevitable would be worse than just diving straight into the unknown.
So he closes his eyes and inhales deeply, breathes in Changbin's scent, sharp and masculine and reassuringly familiar, and basks in it for a while, tries to soak up as much of him as he can, tries to convince his brain that what he's feeling is not just a temporary bliss, something fleeting and temporal that will fade the moment they separate.
It's not easy, battling away the demons of his own insecurity and pessimism, it has never been and it probably will never be, but he's willing to try, because Changbin's body pressed to his feels like perfection, like everything he's ever wanted and everything he's always wished for, and even if it's scary, even if a part of him still desperately clings to every self-destructive belief and conviction he's carried in his chest for years, he wants to fight it all and try his hardest to believe in what Changbin is making him feel.
He pulls away, just a little, enough to make Changbin lift his head and look at him, and the pure adoration in his expression makes his heart skip a beat, makes him want to melt, want to kiss him all over his stupid, pretty face, want to press into him and never let him go.
"It means," he murmurs, tracing a finger along the line of Changbin's jaw, reveling in the way the touch makes him shiver, "that I really like you. A whole fucking lot. That I have liked you for years, and have wanted to do this–" he punctuates his sentence by dipping down for another kiss, a small, gentle one, barely more than a press of their lips, "for just as long, if not longer. It means that I... really, really didn't want to lose you as a friend, and I never thought I could have you like this, so I didn't say anything, but– if this is something you'd also... be willing to give a try to, then– fuck, please. I don't want to run anymore, hyung. I'm... done running."
‘Hyunjin-ah…’
It's strange. Hearing someone else's voice inside his head when they're standing right there, inches away, breathing in the same air.
It's strange, especially because Changbin is a riot, a whirlwind, and the sheer strength and weight and warmth of his mind almost has Hyunjin drowning, but it's exhilarating in a way, because even if the link is something that will take some getting used to, something he's still not sure he completely understands or knows what to make of, it's a bridge of sorts, and that makes his entire soul sing.
He's still scared, will probably be scared for a long time, but now that he's gotten a glimpse of Changbin's feelings, a small sliver of light has slipped into his heart, and despite everything, Hyunjin thinks he wants to take a leap of faith and try to be brave, even if that means the fall might be harsh.
"If... this is real, and you want it too," Hyunjin whispers after a few seconds, stroking Changbin's face, watching the way his eyelids flutter in response, the way he pushes into the touch as if he cannot help it, "then I'm all in, hyung."
There's a heartbeat of silence, then another, and Changbin's entire mind seems to vibrate in his ears, an echo chamber of disbelief and happiness and giddy relief, and in the next second Hyunjin has an armful of Seo Changbin, the shorter man hugging him tight, nuzzling against him, breathing in his scent and planting tiny kisses all over his face and neck, and Hyunjin's heart swells like a balloon, floats up to his throat and leaves him completely unable to do anything except giggle in delight.
"Hyung! Ah, that tickles–"
Changbin ignores his weak protests, only clings harder, buries himself deeper, and Hyunjin knows he has lost this battle.
It's not like he minds all that much.
"Of course I want it, you idiot," Changbin mumbles at some point, and the fact that the words and the sentiment actually hit the air instead of spilling straight into his brain, carried by Changbin's consciousness, makes him tingle all over, a swarm of butterflies roaming from his neck to his stomach. "I always thought I was being obvious about how I feel and that you simply didn't like me back and didn't want to reject me directly... I didn't realize you needed me to literally get into that thick head of yours to finally get a clue."
Another small peck is delivered to his skin, on the edge of his jaw, closer to his chin.
Hyunjin shivers.
"You should know," Changbin continues, voice lower than before, "that I really like you too. Like… a whole fucking lot. Have for a while now, and am planning on having it last a long, long, long time, so– sorry if you were worried or afraid, but... you're stuck with me now, for better or worse. You'll have to deal with it."
The last sentence is mumbled against the base of his throat, Changbin's lips a sweet, delicate caress against his pulse point, and the sensuality of it all combined with the warmth in the shorter man's voice is too much, is way more than Hyunjin can handle without combusting on the spot, and so he does the most sensible thing in such a situation.
He holds Changbin's face in his hands and leans forward to slot their mouths together again, hoping that will shut the shorter man up, and moreover, hoping that the kiss will communicate at least half as well as Changbin's mind is doing that, in the future, Hyunjin would not mind being stuck with him for the remainder of his days, that he, too, wants that, has dreamt of it, has imagined it, that he has quietly, secretly hoarded his feelings in his chest for so long it almost feels surreal to let them free, to just express them without fear, knowing they will not be unrequited.
"That's the plan, hyung," he murmurs when they break apart for a second, exchanging shallow breaths and feather-light pecks in between sentences. "In case I was not clear enough... I'm crazy about you. Would very much like to date your dumb, handsome ass, and also be naked with you as soon as possible. No take-backs."
Changbin breaks into laughter at that, a full-blown, roaring kind of chuckle, his face illuminated by pure, joyful delight, and all Hyunjin wants is to hear and see and feel him like this, open and carefree and bright, forever and a day.
"No take-backs, you say?" Changbin asks, still grinning like a fool, but when Hyunjin nods, his smile fades a little, gets a little wicked, a little cheeky, and his eyes darken with the promise of something delicious and positively dangerous. "Well, in that case..."
All of a sudden, Hyunjin is up in the air, legs wrapped around Changbin's hips on instinct, Changbin's hands a strong, secure grip on the back of his thighs, and his own heart has leaped into his mouth, beating wildly as the two of them embark on the short journey from the wall to the kitchen counter, where the gift bag Changbin had placed there earlier is lying forgotten and still untouched.
Once there, Hyunjin is gently, carefully lowered onto the granite surface, Changbin fitting into the space between his spread knees and slotting their bodies together as close as humanly possible, before kissing him once, twice, ten times, and each press of their lips makes him burn hotter, a roaring flame inside his chest spreading until it feels like it's engulfing the entire apartment, the entire universe.
"Since I'm no longer allowed to leave," Changbin murmurs, a pleased purr against his mouth as Hyunjin's hips buck up on their own accord, and a deep, rich, honey-smooth satisfaction pours into Hyunjin's body like the finest, most extravagant of wines, making his head feel light, making him want to claw at Changbin's back to drag him even closer, to drink him in more, to devour and be devoured. "I guess the birthday present will have to wait a while longer. I have some... urgent matters to take care of."
Heat crawls up Hyunjin's neck, pools down his abdomen and right into his groin, and it takes every ounce of his will not to let Changbin rip off his clothes and take him then and there, dirty and fast and messy, on top of his own kitchen counter. Or vice versa, to be honest, because now that he's touching Changbin's mind, now that the connection is heightening his senses to previously unknown levels, he feels insatiable, needs every inch of Changbin's body to himself to the point it almost hurts.
"R-right," he breathes out, desperately clinging to the last shred of clarity in his brain, because he doesn't want their first time to be a quickie on the nearest surface. He wants to savor it, to spend hours worshiping Changbin's body, to learn every plane of his skin and every line of his muscles, and memorize it all with his hands, mouth and tongue, wants to carve out a space for himself in Changbin's chest and never leave.
But fuck is it hard, because Changbin is smothering him with his thoughts, is filling his own mind with images that are downright filthy and scorching, is kissing his neck and his chest and his shoulders, leaving a trail of blazing touches where he's nudging his shirt aside to map out the bare, sensitive skin below, and all Hyunjin really wants to do is melt and let Changbin have his way with him, consequences be damned.
Through the fog in his brain, he bites down a whine, presses his nails into the expanse of Changbin's back through his shirt, and tries to get a grip, tries to center his breathing and stop his heartbeat from galloping a thousand miles per hour, but it's a tough job, especially when Changbin seems very keen on wedging his thigh between his and grinding it up against his awakening cock, and the small, deliberate movement seems to send an earthquake through his entire body and bring an avalanche crashing down his resolve.
It's fucking maddening, it's fucking unfair, and the way Changbin's entire mind sings with success and excitement makes it even more so.
"Hyung," Hyunjin manages to moan as his hips start moving on their own, an unstoppable reflex, and Changbin's answering grunt sounds like a reward and a punishment all at once. "Not fair..."
"What's not fair, baby?" Is the response he receives, whispered right into the base of his throat, before a tiny nibble and a wet kiss are dropped onto his Adam's apple. "This?"
Another thrust of Changbin's leg and Hyunjin yelps, chokes on air and digs his nails into the shorter man's shoulders. "Or this?"
Hyunjin has to bite on his lower lip to keep another mortifying sound inside, but the sharp sting does nothing to quell the fire swirling and pulsing under his skin, it does nothing to diminish the thick waves of pleasured thoughts rolling off of Changbin's mind and slamming into his own, and every pass of the shorter man's hands along his torso is torture, every brush of their lips and tongues is gasoline poured over an already burning flame, and Hyunjin feels lost, overwhelmed, desperate.
"Hyung," he pleads, again, aware that he must sound delirious and wrecked but unable to do anything about it. "It's you– you are being unfair, please, let's… not here–"
He is about to continue, to say more, but the words get stuck in his throat as Changbin abruptly leans his head away, his gaze finding his, the look in his eyes so heated, so heavy with emotion that Hyunjin thinks he's going to be incinerated on the spot, burnt into a pile of ash right here on his kitchen counter.
He shivers.
‘You don't want to continue?’
There is worry at the edges of the link, a shadow of uncertainty, and despite the mess inside his head and his currently melted brain, Hyunjin will not have any of it. "D-don't make me punch you, hyung, you know I do, just–"
"Hm," Changbin hums out loud, lifting a hand to stroke along Hyunjin's cheek, while the other remains on his arm, and his touch is soft and gentle despite the tension in the air, a gesture so tender and affectionate that Hyunjin wants to turn into a puddle and let Changbin soak him up and carry him away, never letting him go. "Just...?"
It takes him a moment to find his voice, to re-learn how to use his vocal chords, but after a while he manages. "Let's... do it properly, please? It's– fuck, how do I say this without sounding like a complete loser? I mean… today is my birthday, I got an amazing power, and it's all super great, and I'm happy and you make me happy and I don't think I ever thought it possible to be this happy, but I– I don't wanna... regret the first time we have sex because we did it too… casually, y'know? I really want to savor it and cherish it and make sure it's all perfect and romantic and–"
A sudden kiss stops his blabbering, a deep, toe-curling press of lips, a long, drawn-out swipe of tongues, and by the end of it, Hyunjin's cheeks are ablaze, his lungs feel empty, and Changbin is looking at him as if he’s something precious, something dear and special and sacred, something that should be protected at all costs.
It's both flustering and thrilling, and it makes something small and fragile flutter in his stomach.
‘God– I love you, I love you, I love you so much, you adorable, sweet idiot.’
The words, and the sentiment behind them, slam into him with the force of a bullet train, and it takes a few seconds for Hyunjin to re-assemble the scrambled pieces of his consciousness back together and get himself under control enough to understand, enough to truly process what the thoughts had revealed.
Love. Changbin loves him.
Changbin loves him.
His entire world narrows down to that, and everything else is secondary, a distant memory, a hazy concept.
Hyunjin feels dizzy. With joy, with disbelief, with astonishment.
"You–," he croaks out, lifting trembling hands to frame Changbin's face, to pull him closer and rest their foreheads together. "Changbin hyung," he whispers, heart swelling and bursting at the seams, spilling light and hope and euphoria into every inch of his being. "Say it out loud, please. Tell me again. I want– I need to hear you say it. Please."
Changbin smiles, strokes his hair, kisses his nose and the corner of his eye and the underside of his jaw.
"Hwang Hyunjin," the shorter man murmurs, his breath warm on his lips and his mind so full of beautiful, perfect colors that Hyunjin feels like he's being granted a glimpse into the very wonderland his soul has always longed for, but could never find, "I love you."
"Again, please," Hyunjin begs, and the small, pleased noise Changbin makes as their lips meet in the middle for a myriad of delicate pecks is heavenly, the words the other man speaks and repeats over and over like a mantra in between their kisses are divine, and the happiness bubbling in his chest is all-encompassing.
"I love you."
"One more time?"
"I love you, Jinnie. I'm in love with you. I'm madly, hopelessly, absolutely crazy about you, and I can't even imagine my life without you, and I don't want to. Hyunjin, I love you, and I'll say it however many times you want or need to hear it to get it into that thick head of yours that it's true and it'll be true tomorrow and next month and next year and ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred years from now."
Tears well up in his eyes embarrassingly quick, but he can't help it, because this is exactly the kind of stuff Hyunjin has consistently secretly dreamed about but was convinced he'd never get, this is exactly what his stupid heart has always yearned for without success, and to hear the very man he resigned to keep his feelings hidden from utter those same words, with a sincerity and depth that is both humbling and exhilarating, is so much, almost too much to handle, almost more than his poor soul can fathom, but–
But Hyunjin has always been stubborn.
"Me too," he chokes out, fingers stroking through Changbin's hair and soon coming back down to frame his cheeks and the column of his neck, palms flat and firm against the skin, because Hyunjin is done letting the opportunity pass by without at least trying to reach out and fight for it.
He's done waiting.
He wants it all, and he'll make sure he gets it, and keeps it.
So through the thin film of his tears, Hyunjin takes a deep, steadying breath and stares into Changbin's eyes, refusing to back down.
"I love you too. So much so that I don't think it can even be expressed in words, hyung. You don't even know– it's– you're so beautiful and good and pure and lovely, and you treat me better than anyone else ever has, and your mind is the most charming, kindest place I've ever touched, and– and you listen to me when I ramble on and on, and you watch sappy romcoms with me, and you tease me for being emotional but still take such good care of me and comfort me when I cry, and– and– fuck, hyung, it's you, it's always been you, and– and it'll always be you, I've wanted you for so long that I don't even know how not to anymore, I–"
A sob bubbles in his throat, cuts off the rest of his speech, and he is not even ashamed of how openly teary-eyed and clingy and desperate he is being, is instead emboldened and encouraged by the way Changbin is looking at him, is shining through with warmth and pride and overwhelming affection.
With gentle care and consideration, the older man reaches forward and wipes his cheeks and the corners of his eyes with the pads of his thumbs, before tucking an unruly strand of hair behind his ear and dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose and the center of his forehead.
"If I had known our confession-fest would get you crying all over the place, I would have waited at least a little bit longer," Changbin quips softly, his lips curling into a playful grin as his strong, steady hands slide down Hyunjin's sides and move to circle his waist, squeezing and holding him close, and Hyunjin sort-of wants to swat at him for the dumb joke, but also sort-of wants to wrap the shorter man into a bear hug and never let go. "My sweet, sweet dumpling... I'm sorry for making you wait for so long. I'm sorry for being a dumbass, and I promise to make it up to you forever, okay? In as many ways and as much as you want. Just name it, and I'll do it."
"Forever is a long time, y'know?" Hyunjin hiccups as a couple of droplets race down his cheeks and are quickly wiped away by deft, attentive fingers, and the chuckle that spills from his mouth next is a watery one when he feels Changbin's hands immediately return to their original spots and tighten around his midsection, as if to make sure he doesn't fall apart and crumble to the ground.
"I know, and I still mean it. Forever, Hyunjin. My life is yours."
The words hit him hard, slam straight into the deepest recesses of his chest and pry his ribs apart, and the whirlpool of feelings swirling within his soul makes it impossible for him to breathe.
He knows. He can see it all, he can feel it, and it's like a dream.
But he won't wake up this time, won't open his eyes to realize he's alone in his bedroom, won't have to swallow down the disappointment and pretend to be fine when his friends come and ask him if he's okay, and there will be no more pining and suffering in silence.
This is not a dream, not a hallucination.
Changbin loves him. Changbin wants him, has been wanting him, and is planning to never let him go, is promising him eternity and Hyunjin is taking the pledge with greedy, shaky hands, is reaching for the oath and keeping it locked within the safe, most private corners of his mind, his soul, and his heart, is branding himself with the memory of those words, those looks, those touches and vows.
"What if I want you to take me to bed right now and make love to me for the rest of the day?" he manages to ask amidst the storm raging in his chest. "What if– what if I want you to take me apart, bit by bit, until I'm completely undone, until I'm so gone I can't tell what's you and what's me anymore?"
He's still talking through tears, and the salty taste on his lips is strong, and the embarrassment he's sure to feel later will be inevitable, but right now– right now Hyunjin can't stop, can't hold back.
"What if I want you to... what if I want you to never leave my side, ever again, hyung? Stay by me, keep me, have me. Live with me. What if– what if this... If this is all I want and need? Would you give me that? Make me yours, please, make me yours and don't leave, don't ever let me go, please, I don't think I'd be able to–"
His voice breaks, the sentences and questions come out in broken, stuttered fragments, and his breathing gets harder and harsher to control with every passing moment, and in the end he all but feels ready to either pass out or fall to pieces.
But Changbin wouldn't let that happen.
Changbin, loving, sweet, patient Changbin, wouldn't ever let him suffer alone by choice.
"Hyunjin," the older man calls, his voice so tender and affectionate that it sends Hyunjin's already out-of-control heart into a tailspin, his rapidly beating pulse skyrocketing and his lungs stuttering and skipping, "take a deep breath and look at me."
Hyunjin tries his best, tries to get a grip, close his eyes and focus on inhaling and exhaling, filling his lungs to the brim and then letting it all out, willing the air to calm him down and bring him to his senses.
It works, to a degree.
His tears slowly stop flowing, his chest doesn't burn so badly anymore, and the strength in his arms and legs return, and eventually, he is able to blink his eyes open and stare at Changbin properly.
"I love you," Changbin murmurs, "and I want you. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I'm here to give it to you, Hyunjin. I told you, didn't I? Forever. If you want me to move in, we can plan the logistics later. If you want me to spoil you to bits, you only need to ask, baby. And if you want me to take you to bed, right this moment, I'll carry you and lay you out and kiss every inch of your body so thoroughly that you'll forget what time or space or even your own name are, as long as you remember mine. I'll stay with you. I'll never, ever leave. You have me, Jinnie."
A hand lands on his cheek, a thumb strokes away the remnants of the moisture under his eye. Skin to skin, mind to mind.
‘Hyunjin, darling. I'm here. You have me, forever.’
How? How can he be so perfect? What has Hyunjin done to deserve him? What great deeds has he accomplished in a past life to get such a privilege, such a blessing, such a magnificent gift in this one?
Hyunjin can't fathom, but he'd be damned if he doesn't try his best to keep it, now that he has it.
"Show me, hyung. Show me, please."
The kiss Changbin bestows upon him after that is a taste of heaven on his lips.
To Hyunjin, love is like rain.
Love soaks into your skin, melts into the fabric of your clothes, seeps into your flesh, penetrates the very core of your being.
It falls, so easily, in all its complex simplicity, envelops you and fills up the empty spaces, the shadows and the cracks, with a splash of purity and light.
To Hyunjin, love is like rainfall.
There is no control over it, no power to command or foresee where it will go, what it will do, when it will pass, how it will end.
It's a force of nature, an entity independent from any kind of reasoning, a presence that obeys its own logic and pattern. You have no say in how or when it will find you, reach you, trickle onto your head and streak down the length of your face, drip off your chin and disappear beneath the soil.
So Hyunjin closes his eyes and lets it pour, all around and over him, head thrown back and mouth parted and gasping as he willingly drowns in its tide, savors the pressure of the water splashing against his skin, the cool touch of droplets and the sensation of the liquid sinking into his bones and lapping at the deepest parts of him.
In the midst of that downpour, he can hear the sound of Changbin's soul whispering to him, his mind projecting a series of words and images of such vivid clarity and striking detail that Hyunjin can't help but reach out and try to wind his own core around them, envelop the imprints with tendrils of light and affection until they seem to bleed together, melt and mix into an abstract, indistinguishable puddle.
Sticky warmth engulfs his length, snug and tight and wet, and Hyunjin cries and clutches at the sheets helplessly, spine bending off the bed and mind slipping further and further into the hazy fog of the pleasure licking through him. Fingers, calloused but gentle, promptly pin his hips into place, keep him still as their owner takes him deeper and deeper still, moves, circles his tongue around the shaft and hollows his cheeks and sucks, licks into the slit at the head to coax out precome and taste the salt and the musk of Hyunjin's arousal.
He can feel the heat of the other man's inner cheeks, the soft puffs of air being breathed out through his nose and tickling the sensitive skin and sparse hair at the base of his cock, and the pleasant wetness and intense suction wring desperate little noises out of him, embarrassingly needy moans and cries tumbling forth as Changbin strokes along the underside with his tongue, plays with his balls, rolls them in between nimble digits and then draws back to kiss the tip, before swallowing him down once more and going back to bobbing his head with renewed fervor.
‘Goodgoodgood, so good. Taste so sweet, Jinnie. My beautiful baby, mine, gorgeous– all mine, so pretty, so delicious, I want you. Want you so much, I love you so much. My life, my everything, my Hyunjinnie.’
Hands slide up and down his torso, leave behind a trail of goosebumps as they work to awaken every nerve ending from his neck to his navel, and his skin is alight with sparks as Changbin flicks his nipples and caresses his chest, palms his stomach and smooths over the jutting bones of his pelvis, presses into the insides of his thighs and gropes the swell of his ass.
‘Wanna make you feel good. Want you to come down my throat, wanna taste you, make you see stars, make you scream, make you happy, Hyunjin, baby– My precious, perfect Hyunjin–’
The voice never stops, the whispers never fade, and the hands never leave.
Hyunjin drowns in it all.
Drowns in the physicality of it, in the raw sensations and the endless give-and-take, in the push and pull, in the way Changbin's thoughts unravel and intertwine with his like threads of silk. Drowns in the power of that infinite well of affection and adoration, and how every new sliver of devotion gets wedged within the gaps of his ribs, until they fill every crack, every shadow, every recess of doubt, and bloom into bright, vibrant flowers.
Love, falling and soaking into him, like warm, pouring rain. Love, flowing within him, like a torrent rushing through his veins and rejuvenating his cells, illuminating him inside out.
Soaked all over, and so completely, desperately, hopelessly in love, Hyunjin is sure no amount of living will ever be enough, will ever get him used to the novelty of getting rained on by Changbin, experiencing him in his full, unbridled, glorious entirety, bare in both the figurative and literal senses, splayed out for Hyunjin's eyes only, lost in him and with him and consumed by him.
The other man looks radiant under the haze of the morning sun, prone on his stomach with his upper body laid out between Hyunjin's spread legs, his naked back and the twin dimples resting above his rear on display for hungry eyes to feast on, sweat making the defined lines glisten and shine like gold. His lust-darkened, half-lidded gaze is focused intensely on Hyunjin, on his reactions, on his hitched breathing and flushed face and parted lips and twitching body, and those dilated pupils burn and pierce, make Hyunjin want to hide away, but also never stop looking.
He is so exposed. So naked. So vulnerable and helpless.
Changbin could break him, destroy him, turn him into dust.
He has Hyunjin's entire soul and heart cradled in his palms, has the power to rip into them and tear them to pieces with a simple snap of his fingers, could squeeze them and crush them to bits if he so wished.
But Changbin would never do that. Changbin wants him. Changbin loves him.
Changbin's thoughts are his, and Changbin is his, and their souls are tangled around each other so tightly, so permanently, that there is no hope of ever unraveling the knots or escaping from this – this maddening, mind-numbing, heart-fluttering, breath-stealing, forever-spanning entrapment.
Hyunjin would rather die than leave this.
A particularly hard suck snaps his focus back to the present, makes his spine arch off the mattress and his hands shoot down to grip onto Changbin's hair, and the older man gives a loud moan that vibrates around his cock at the sudden pull, sending ripples of electricity down Hyunjin's spine.
"Hyung," he sobs, voice shaking, and he wants to apologize, wants to take his hands away from the older man's head, but Changbin merely tightens his own grip around Hyunjin's thighs and doubles his efforts, swallowing him deeper still until Hyunjin's entire length is nestled in his mouth, until his nose is brushing the curls of coarse, dark pubic hair and Hyunjin can feel himself touch the back of the other's throat. "Hyung, 'm close, so close, I'm, 'm gonna come, hyung, please–"
It's too much. Changbin feels too good. Changbin is perfect. Changbin is ruining him. Changbin is taking him apart and re-molding him from scratch, and Hyunjin will let him, he will. He'd do anything. Be anything.
Anything Changbin wants, as long as Changbin doesn't let him go. As long as Changbin takes him, keeps him, loves him.
‘I've got you. Come for me, Jinnie. Come for me, love. Let me taste you, my sweetest, come. It's okay. You're so pretty like this, so beautiful, my life. Want you so bad, so bad, let go, darling. Come for me.’
Changbin's voice rises up in his mind like a wave, washes over him and pulls him under, and it only takes a couple more flicks of his tongue and a little more delicious friction before the pleasure crests and spikes up, overwhelming him in a rush, and with a cracked cry he thrusts his hips upwards and spills right into Changbin's waiting mouth, moans increasing in volume as Changbin swallows around him, laps up the leaking release and milks him dry.
Velvet-soft walls clamp around him, trap him in a world of hazy bliss, and Hyunjin loses his bearings for a moment, sinks in the flood and surrenders himself to the storm. He lets his mind float in the sea of Changbin's consciousness, bathe in the warm afterglow of the older man's absolute happiness and satisfaction, his ecstasy.
Once he comes down from his high enough to fully register the world around him again, Changbin is quick to crawl up the length of his body and settle on top of him, aligning their hips and chests and locking their mouths together, the mingling of spit and salty-bitter come thick on their tongues and teeth as they kiss and kiss and kiss. Hyunjin holds the other as close as he can, winds his arms and legs around the shorter man's frame and inhales the scent of his sweat and his skin, revels in the feeling of their two bodies joined and undulating against one another, his spent, sensitive cock and the other's still hard, untouched member sliding together against his stomach with every grind of the older's hips.
"Hyung, please," he drawls, words sticky and slow in his mouth. Changbin hums against his lips, licks into him and strokes his palate, cards gentle fingers through his hair, and tucks locks of messy fringe behind his ear, and Hyunjin shivers at the taste of his own come and the loving affection the gesture drenches him in.
"Please what, baby?" the older murmurs, pulling back just a fraction to trace the seam of Hyunjin's lower lip and cupid's bow with his tongue, graze the corner of his eye and touch the slope of his nose with his thumb, and Hyunjin watches him through lidded eyes, heart clenching at the image before him, and marvels at how unbelievably gorgeous Changbin looks like this, gleaming with sweat and glowing with his post-blowjob flush, mouth and chin glossy with Hyunjin's release, eyes made of liquid fire. "Tell me what you want, Jinnie. Anything, love."
He loves Changbin so much.
"Want you," Hyunjin mumbles, breathy and unsteady, and he brings his own hands up to mimic the way Changbin is cradling his face, trying to map and memorize every crevice and expression line, his jawline, his cheekbones, the apples of his cheeks, his eyelids and the arch of his brows. He's always found Changbin beautiful, ever since they first met, ever since his crush on his best friend evolved into something deeper and all-consuming. "In me. Want you to take me, hyung. Please, I'll be so good for you, promise. So good for you, all for you."
The soft touches falter, and there's a slight catch of breath, a hitch in the motion of Changbin's throat as the man swallows, and Hyunjin latches onto the sudden onslaught of thoughts that his words seem to bring out of the other, sharp and vivid against his skull, like tiny pinpricks of light.
‘Christ. Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart, no fucking clue, my life– the things you say, the things you make me feel, I can't–’
"What am I making you feel, hyung?" Hyunjin whispers, can't help the smile that tugs at his lips as the praise and adoration pour out from the cracks and dive right into him, flutter within his chest and lift his heart.
There's a quiet chuckle, a barely-there rub of Changbin's nose against his own, and Hyunjin knows the answer even without Changbin having said it out loud, can taste the emotion like it's his own, sweet and visceral on his tongue.
"Crazy. You're driving me crazy, Hwang Hyunjin. Absolutely insane."
"Good or bad kind of crazy?"
"Good kind of crazy. The best kind."
"Then why are you not inside me already?" There's a slight whine that creeps into his voice, and it makes him sound a little petulant, a little desperate, but the way Changbin groans and breathes out a curse against the shell of his ear, before attaching his mouth to the side of his neck, is worth it. But the way the older man's cock gives a jerky twitch and leaks a bead of precome on his abdomen at the words, is even better.
"Shameless brat," Changbin huffs with no real heat, nibbling at the sensitive skin he'd been sucking on just a second prior, and the small traces of pain only serve to arouse him, have him grinding up into the older man's stomach, despite how he'd just come and how sensitive he still is. "Need to prep you first, baby. Don't want you getting hurt, my sweet."
Hyunjin throws his head back at the imagery, a soft gasp stuttering out of his parted lips, and Changbin immediately latches onto the column of his neck again, marking the skin and licking a long, wet stripe from the base to the underside of his jaw, and lavishes the spot where his pulse is fluttering frantically with the flat of his tongue.
"Please," is all Hyunjin can manage, his grip slipping from Changbin's face and sliding down his shoulders, his sides, to eventually grab a hold of the other man's round ass and knead the plump cheeks, digging his nails into the smooth muscle, pulling him in closer, tighter, until their cocks are locked between their bodies and rubbing deliciously against each other.
Hyunjin could probably come like this again, could probably reach his peak if Changbin just rutted into him like this for long enough, until the raw friction drove him insane and sent him spiraling out of control, but he wants more. He wants to feel Changbin. Wants to feel him deep and hard and bare, wants to give himself completely to the older man, and wants to have Changbin give himself fully and willingly to him.
"Baby, we need lube," Changbin groans, and the low rumble makes Hyunjin moan and wriggle his hips, nuzzle his face into his shoulder as he gets lost in the rapid stream of the older's thoughts.
‘So beautiful, so perfect, mine, can't wait to see you come again, Hyunjin-ah. Gonna get you so soaked, so wet and messy for me, make you take me so well, so gorgeously, gonna fill you up. You'll be so tight and so full, and it's all for me, all of you, my life, my light, all of you belongs to me. Belongs in my arms, in my heart, on my cock–’
"In the drawer, 's in the top drawer," Hyunjin manages to choke out through the surge of Changbin's arousal and the heat building back up in his own groin, and Changbin gives one last filthy suck under his jaw, before backing away and out of his reach, causing Hyunjin to whine at the loss of touch, even if he does appreciate the new view of Changbin kneeling above him, biceps straining as he reaches for the nightstand and searches for the bottle of lube among the clutter.
"I know, just a second, Jinnie. Be patient, sweetheart.”
It's impressive, really, how Changbin is still coherent enough to form actual sentences, when his consciousness is filled with nothing but Hyunjin and desire.
Desire for Hyunjin. Always for him, always about him. Changbin's mind never wanders far from him. His presence lingers even in the spaces that aren't physically occupied by him, emanating from that single point of contact where Changbin's knee is pressed against his side.
"Can't. Hurry up," he urges, and his voice and his tone would make him cringe, feel humiliated and embarrassed, if he was with anyone else. If he was with a different person, someone who doesn't love him unconditionally, doesn't know him intimately and doesn't accept every flaw of his, doesn't find everything about him utterly, overwhelmingly, blindingly perfect.
Changbin, of course, accepts him, and doesn't leave him wanting. Changbin would never.
"I'm here, baby, I'm back. It's okay, I got you, relax, Jinnie," the older murmurs, finally returning and crawling between his spread legs once again, and the bottle of lube is discarded somewhere on the sheets, so that Changbin can lower himself on his elbows and take both of Hyunjin's hands in his, lace their fingers together and bring their joined palms up to rest above his head, giving him something to squeeze and ground himself on. "You're safe, love. It's okay."
He needs it. The reassurance. The anchor.
But mostly, he just needs Changbin, and he whimpers in confirmation and bucks his hips, opens his thighs wider to grant the other better access, and Changbin lets him, pecks his lips in appreciation and keeps his wrists pinned with one hand when he starts trailing a slow, torturous path with his mouth down his chest and stomach, lips gliding over heated skin and stopping occasionally to deliver a few licks and drags of his teeth, leaving more blooming pink and red bruises in their wake, laving at his nipples before dipping into his belly button, and repeating the process over and over again.
By the time Changbin eventually releases him and moves back up to briefly kiss his lips again, Hyunjin is trembling and squirming, anticipation and need simmering under his skin like molten lava, and the muscles in his abdomen are clenching and unclenching in expectation and with the promise of what's to come. His cock is hard and flushed again, leaking and resting wet and heavy against his lower stomach, and Changbin must have pulled one of the pillows down at some point, because it's being slid under his ass to raise his hips slightly, offering Changbin a better angle to work with.
He feels a slight chill against the crease of his ass as Changbin spreads his cheeks apart, hears a soft sigh of admiration and the cap of the lube bottle clicking open, and then there's the sudden rush of cold fluid pouring down onto his entrance, and the blunt pad of the older man's finger pressing gently on the sensitive ring of muscle, followed by sweet, comforting words as he inadvertently hisses at the cool temperature and tenses up.
"Relax, Jinnie. It's just me, baby."
"Mhm," he hums weakly and tries his best to follow the instruction, to keep his body pliant as Changbin slowly massages and warms up the gel around his twitching rim, thumb spreading it up and down his crack, before gradually sliding his fingertip in, inch by inch, careful and slow, until the short length of it is buried knuckle-deep inside him.
"God, you're so gorgeous," Changbin groans as he pulls the digit out and instantly pushes it back in, fucks him slowly and rubs against the walls with quiet attentiveness, crooking it in as far as he can go and twisting it on the way back out.
It's torture, it's not nearly enough. Changbin's thumb can't possibly reach as deep as Hyunjin wants, can't brush against that patch of nerves and can't have him writhing and his legs shaking in a matter of seconds.
But Hyunjin knows he has to be patient, and he bites back on his complaints.
He can feel it, he can hear it directly in the older's thoughts, how much Changbin is enjoying watching him like this, only one finger in and already panting and sweating as he arches his back and chases the sensations, unable to stop his hips from rolling or his fists from clenching and unclenching around fistfuls of bedsheets.
And so he takes it, lets his mind fill up with Changbin and Changbin alone, and drowns out his own need for more as Changbin continues to ever-so-tenderly work him open on a finger alone. He lets himself fall under the spell of the older man's love, lets it encompass him completely, wrapping him in warmth and adoration, and basks in the feeling of belonging, silently wondering how he was able to survive this long without a single glimpse into Changbin's mind, without the ever-present pull of his affection or his desire, without the bone-deep security and stability it so easily provides.
It's only after what seems like a small eternity that Changbin finally pulls out his thumb and replaces it with his index and middle finger, coated and slicked generously with lube, and though the intrusion comes along with a fleeting discomfort and slight burn as the digits stretch his rim, Hyunjin welcomes the larger girth enthusiastically, the fullness so addictive he doesn't even try to contain his high-pitched mewls of approval.
With a satisfied groan Changbin goes right back to showering him with praises, and the older is kissing his cheek and his jaw, breathing hot and heavy into his ear, littering butterfly pecks over his nose and temples, and they're tender and loving, his words and his touches and the rapid flow of the shorter's consciousness, and Hyunjin squeezes down experimentally, whimpers a little louder when he realizes he could still take more, could be fuller, could have Changbin closer. The other man seems to know exactly what he's thinking, as he quickens the pace of his thrusts until he's properly fingering Hyunjin open, twisting his wrist and curving his digits and scissoring them apart.
"Bin–" Hyunjin whines, grinding down in response, and then there's a hand cradling his face, sifting gently through his hair and cupping his head and keeping his neck steady. It's so tender, so affectionate, and his heart gives a strong, powerful pulse at the loving gesture, and he just wants more, more, more, even if there's no more to take. "Please, please, please, 'm ready. Gimme more, Bin. Please?"
He's not. Maybe he is. Whatever semblance of coherent thought he still possesses isn't sure. All he knows is that there's still emptiness, and it needs to be filled. Emptiness is dangerous. Emptiness leaves him vulnerable, so he clings to the mind currently holding his attention captive, burrows his nails into Changbin's biceps and rocks his hips harder, ruts down onto the two fingers lodged deep inside of him and tries to fuck himself on them, groaning in desperation and relief all at once.
There's a choked gasp, and it's followed by a string of erratic words mumbled into his brain and into his shoulder as Changbin nips at it with his teeth.
‘Absolutely filthy. So desperate for me, so needy and insatiable, my sweetheart. Can't get enough of me, Jinnie? Fuck– you're mine, so fucking beautiful and mine–’
"All mine, sweetest treasure, gonna worship you like the little deity that you are, the god of my life, only ever want you."
‘No one else compares, no one, never will, love you so much. So, so much, you have no idea, my Jinnie, my miracle, mine, mine, mine–’
"Am yours. All yours, hyung, always have been," Hyunjin moans breathlessly, back arching again as the fingers in him curl in the process of Changbin's incoherent, on and off rambling, and graze over the swollen bump of his prostate for the first time since he's started opening him up. "A-ah! Yours to do anything with. Let me– let me have you, please, can't wait anymore– need you now, hyung."
"But– fuck, we're only at two, baby," Changbin grunts in a strained voice, and his thrusting pauses, which is definitely the worst possible decision, because Hyunjin immediately wails in distress, loud and shameless as he starts grinding his ass harder and more shameless onto Changbin's hand. "You'll tear if I go in right now, Jinnie. You're not– love, I don't want to hurt you."
Hyunjin has enough clarity of mind left to feel a surge of overwhelming fondness for the other man, despite his current state, and it's the fondness that gives him the energy to stop his relentless momentum, unclench one of his fists and lift it up to cup the older man's face, smiling at him weakly, before dragging him down until they're close enough to press their mouths together, their noses bumping and their breaths intermingling.
"I know," he murmurs between kisses, licking his way into the shorter man's mouth and wrapping his tongue around Changbin's, groaning a little when he feels the digits still buried inside him give a lazy thrust at the same time. "I don't care if I can't walk for days. Wanna feel it, Bin. Wanna have you inside me tomorrow, wanna remember, and every time I move, or sit down or lay in bed, or have to go out somewhere, I want to feel it, wanna feel you. Don't care if it hurts. Don't care if you break me, just need you. Need you, Bin."
"God, you're so–" Changbin's words get lost in a low, rumbling growl, and he attacks Hyunjin's mouth with a newfound passion, bites and licks and sucks and steals all of his air and all of his thoughts, and then he's pulling his fingers out, leaving him feeling bereft and empty, and it's fine. It's okay, because Changbin's moving away only so that he can kneel back and reach for the lube again.
He watches as Changbin squeezes an abundant amount of the cold, slippery gel straight onto his palm and strokes his length with it, pumps it along the shaft, his eyes falling shut and his lips parting on a gorgeous moan as he coats himself from root to tip, and it's positively the sexiest thing Hyunjin has ever seen in his life.
Then, as soon as he's done and wipes the excess against the sheets, the shorter man goes to settle in his space once again, but Hyunjin somehow manages to be faster, stopping him with a hand to his chest and using the temporary distraction to push him backwards, following the movement until Changbin is the one on his back against the pillows, and he's unsteadily climbing onto the older man's lap, thighs on either side of Changbin's waist and his fingers resting against the tanned curves of his broad chest.
He's aware Changbin could stop him if he so wished. If the older wanted to, he could simply pick him up and place him back on the mattress and go on to fuck him into the mattress, like he'd previously intended to do, could pin him down and ravage him however he deemed fit.
But Changbin doesn't do that. Instead he remains in place, doesn't move at all, and stares up at Hyunjin with eyes filled with surprise, lust, adoration and pride, his mind a hurricane of thoughts too rapid for Hyunjin to process in the whirlwind that's already occupying his senses.
The rush of power and control the sight inspires in Hyunjin, the thrill and excitement he gets out of holding his lover down like this, at having the other man so willingly at his mercy, are almost as arousing as the sensation of Changbin's cock gliding thick, hot and slick between his cheeks, the precum and lube not quite enough to make the drag frictionless and wet enough, but it's still perfect. It's exactly what he wants, exactly what he needs, as he sits back on his knees and wiggles a little lower so that the head of Changbin's dick catches on his rim and pulls at the puffy, sensitive ring of muscle, but not enough to fully penetrate him, not yet.
"Can't wait anymore, hyung," he pants, delirious with need as he feels the throbbing, red, scorching heat of it brush up and down along his hole. "Let me ride you? Can I, please? I'll be so good, I'll make you feel so good. Please, hyung?"
"Holy fucking shit," Changbin bites out, his expression quickly turning feral as he nods, jerky and sharp, his hands rising up to clutch at Hyunjin's hips, his gaze so intense Hyunjin doesn't doubt it could leave bruises on him to go along with the existing love bites. "Yes. Fuck, baby, yes. Want to watch you, wanna see you bounce on my cock all pretty and drooling and out of it, want you to wreck yourself for me, angel."
And Hyunjin can't possibly keep them waiting any longer, can't keep his mind and his body apart from his Changbin, so he lifts up and reaches a hand back, gripping the base of Changbin's leaking length, his own erection pulsing as he holds the thick shaft steady and lines it up with his entrance, and then, as slowly and steadily as he can manage, sinks down on it, moaning loudly as the swollen head unsteadily breaches his hole.
It hurts.
The pain is excruciating, overwhelming, almost unbearable. It burns and it makes his ass feel like it's being split in half, because Changbin was right, two fingers could never be enough to prepare him properly for this.
And yet, Hyunjin loves it. And yet, Hyunjin feels euphoric, like the sting is simply an extension of the fire and the storm taking up residence in his veins, and he can't get enough.
Doesn't ever want to be rid of it. Of the exquisite agony, the struggle that is making Changbin fit, that is seating himself inch by inch, pushing himself down and forcing himself to take it, take every bit and every pulse. Even as it makes his thighs quiver and his arms shake and his lungs ache with the exertion – this sweet torture –, Hyunjin can't and doesn't ever want to stop, wants to have it, have him buried so deep, so completely, wants it to break him every single day of his life.
By the time he's fully sitting in Changbin's lap, balls-deep and flush with the older man's body, they're both dripping with sweat and Hyunjin's hair is stuck to his temples, his forehead, falling messily into his eyes and tickling his skin, and there are trails of tears he didn't even realize he'd shed running down his cheeks. By the time he's fully sitting in Changbin's lap, his rim is spasming around the stretch, clenching wildly and burning inside and out, and Hyunjin is no stranger to the feeling of having a cock all the way in him, but god, this just might be what it feels like to die, to be consumed by hellfire.
And he doesn't think he'd want it to be any different.
He's not sure how long he spends just like that, eyes shut and trying to get used to the thickness spearing him open, breathing in and out, in and out, in and out, chest tight and throat sore, swallowing around the lump that's lodged itself there and just trying so, so hard not to cum immediately, and feeling small and fragile and precious under Changbin's tender touches. He's not sure how long he spends basking in the gentle caress of the shorter man's hands over his waist and lower back, a soothing balm for the shake in his muscles, feeling the comforting whispers filtering straight into his head, the way the older man's consciousness wraps around him, encases him in its safety and warmth, and shields him from the pain.
All the while, Changbin doesn't rush him, doesn't thrust or move or buck up, simply remains a stable, secure anchor against and under him, letting him have complete and total control of the situation, of him.
Only when Hyunjin feels confident enough to do so, he moves.
Just a little at first, nothing more than the smallest of shifts and wiggles, rolling his hips ever-so-slightly, getting acquainted with the shape and girth, testing his limits and tasting his own reactions to the sensations, and it's slow, it's gradual, it still hurts and burns and throbs, but it's so worth it, the reward so much greater than the price, so Hyunjin doesn't stop.
It gets easier the more he moves. The pain starts to dull a little, the discomfort easing to a more tolerable degree, until it's manageable enough for him to lift himself up a little, rise to his knees and drop back down, and he's still careful, still cautious, but it's a fraction of the earlier difficulty, so he keeps at it, continues to grind his hips in small, experimental circles, picking up speed gradually as he goes.
"Fuck, you're so gorgeous," Changbin praises in the meanwhile, his voice warm like a placid summer, his touch never ceasing, his fingers dancing delicately over the surface of Hyunjin's burning skin, mapping out the bumps of his ribs and the ridges of his spine, sliding over the expanse of his thighs and squeezing and releasing in a rhythm that's so distractingly in sync with the rocking of his hips.
Changbin's mind is a mess of words and thoughts, some Hyunjin is able to understand and others he isn't, but they're all equally underlined by a praising and loving tone, all reverent and adoring, and it's so much, too much, and not enough all at once.
Never enough.
So Hyunjin eventually ups the pace and starts lifting himself up higher, until he's close to pulling off of Changbin's cock completely, and then letting himself fall all the way down, again and again, harder and a little faster each time, his movements still a little wobbly, a little unsteady, but the pain is starting to mold and melt into molten arousal, and he's so turned on he can barely stand it, his entire existence reduced to the pounding of his heartbeat, the boiling of his blood, the overwhelming fullness and warmth pooling in his stomach and spreading to the tips of his toes.
"'m full, hyung," he lets himself babble after a few repetitions, mouth hanging open and spit glistening on his lips, his tongue heavy and clumsy in his mouth. "So... 's so much, so big, hyung, can't even, nnngh– Mmmh, can't– fuck, can't breath, hyung... Feels good, feels so, so good, I can't–"
"Yeah? Is it good, love?" Changbin grunts, and it sounds like it's coming through gritted teeth, like the older man is barely holding back, like he's still being so careful not to lose it and break him apart, but Hyunjin wants to be broken, wants the older to come apart and to take him with him. Wants him to unravel, to fuck into him and fill him up until he can't possibly contain anything more and he's dripping wet with it, wants Changbin to break him until there's nothing left to break, just a mess of frayed nerves and scattered thoughts.
"Ye-yeah, hyung, 'm..." he whimpers, vision swimming with tears, with the effort to keep going, to continue riding the other man with the erratic rhythm he's built up. "M'tight, can you– can you feel, ah! Ah, can you feel me, hyung?"
"Yes, yes, shit, baby, love... So hot and perfect and tight, fuck, squeezing me so good, so fucking wet, too... Shit, angel. You're breathtaking, holy shit. Wish you could see yourself," Changbin pants, and it's raspy, harsh, strained. "Wish you could see what I see."
"Can feel it, hyung. Can hear it–," he breathes, "you're in my head, 's loud, it's– mmh... it's, ahh, it's... s'loud," he stutters out, his ability to speak degrading by the second, because he's so focused on trying to bounce faster and faster, the burn now an inferno, the ache a distant echo in the back of his mind, and there's only Changbin and his pleasure, the slick sounds of his cock pushing in and out of his abused rim, and the sinful squelches that resonate throughout the room every time he takes Changbin's thick length in and out of him.
"Wanna move, sweetheart, want to hold you so badly, let me– can I–"
And it's so nice, so considerate and patient and gentle and it makes his chest bloom and burst with the amount of fondness he feels, so he nods, unable to articulate himself further. He lets out a high, breathless, broken cry as Changbin securely grips him by the waist with one hand, while the other travels from his thigh to his back and wraps firmly around his shoulder, and then the shorter man is finally fucking into him, meeting each and every one of his own downward thrusts with a sharp slam of his own.
It's jarring, the sudden force of it, and it knocks the air straight out of his lungs. He can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but grip onto Changbin's chest for dear life as the older fucks him on his cock like Hyunjin is nothing but a doll, like he weighs nothing at all, and he loves it, can't get enough, doesn't want it to ever stop, and his mouth opens wide as he wails with every thrust, with every drive and drag, his thighs shaking and his knees weak, and it's all he can do to hold on and take it, take it, take it.
He doesn't know how long they go on like this, how long Changbin drives into him and fucks him raw, how long he forces his body to push through the exhaustion to bounce on Changbin's dick, until the tears are all he can see, until he has to blink them back repeatedly just to catch a glimpse of Changbin's beautiful face, of the sweat rolling down the older man's forehead and dripping into his eyelashes, the redness in his cheeks, the way his teeth dig into his own bottom lip so hard it looks painful.
But it's okay. It's all okay. Because Changbin is close, he can tell. He can feel the older's thoughts going even more haywire, lose all coherency and logic, until it's simply a loop of Hyunjin's name and the words close, close, close, close on repeat, the emotions attached to them just as frantic, desperate, until the urgency grows and boils into a crescendo in the background of Hyunjin's skull.
And there's the angle, changing and tilting as Changbin frantically searches for the perfect spot, and when he finds it – when the blunt tip of his cock strikes the bundle of nerves inside of him that makes him scream –, he keeps driving against it and hits it dead-on with a focus so intense it borders on terrifying, and Hyunjin can't even hope to hold back the fresh wave of tears that pool in his eyes and run down his cheeks, because every stroke is like a bolt of electricity shocking its way up his spine and attacking his brain.
"C-Close, hyung, 'm–mnh, I'm gonna, gonna– 'm gonna, a-ah," he sobs. "Hyung," he cries out, feeling the coil in his stomach tighten, growing taut and tense and ready to snap. "Come– come in me, p-please, need you, n-need it, hyung."
It's his final wish, his last prayer.
Changbin fulfills it beautifully.
Just a few more punishing thrusts, a few more perfect hits to his prostate, a few more seconds to the song of his moans and sobs and groans, and then Changbin is coming, releasing himself in thick, heavy spurts inside of him, and the sensation of it filling him up is enough to rip Hyunjin's orgasm right out of his body and send him over the edge but a beat later, trembling from head to toe as he paints their abdomens white and tacky with his own release.
He doesn't know if it lasts minutes or hours, doesn't know what time is and doesn't care to find out, but the tidal wave does eventually quieten and recede until it's little more than a warm, comforting splash of calm lapping softly at the shore, and he's floating on a tranquil sea of blistering heat.
And it's only then that he realizes he's wrapped up in a pair of arms, that he has, at some point in the past however long, fallen bonelessly into Changbin's chest, his face buried into the older's neck, the stream of his tears slowly dying down and drying on the sun-kissed skin there, as he takes comfort in the warmth and shelter of it and also registers the soft hands stroking up and down his back.
He feels pleasantly drowsy and sluggish, exhausted and sore, both inside and out. Changbin's cock is still nestled inside of him, and while it's softening, the older still hasn't pulled out. A part of Hyunjin hopes he never does, wants to stay joined like this forever, full and satiated and surrounded by him. Protected.
Changbin's mind seems to echo the sentiment.
The silence that settles over them is not uncomfortable, is one that bears the weight of words unsaid, thoughts shared through a bond too strong to contain, the ghosts of questions unasked and answers ungiven lingering in the space between their chests and in the beat of their hearts. They know what there is to know, have exchanged it all freely and without reservation before falling into bed together.
They will talk about it, in depth. They have time.
For now, Hyunjin is content with staying like this, sated and sleepy, safe and cared for, Changbin's cum leaking down his ass and thighs, dripping into the sheets in a mess they'll have to deal with later, but not right now, because right now he can barely keep his eyes open, his body heavy like lead as he struggles to cling to consciousness.
"Sleep, love," it's Changbin's voice that breaks the gentle reverie they'd been sharing, and there's a tender kiss planted on his cheek, a new rush of warmth that he greedily absorbs into his core. "I'll be here when you wake up."
"You better," he mumbles quietly, letting his eyes fall shut and slowly giving in to the fatigue. "You still have to give me... my present..." he slurs. "Y'can't leave 'til you give it to me."
"I won't."
It's simple, the way Changbin promises. Determined and final, like an anchor in the sea, unmoving and steady, or like an island of stable ground amongst a field of moving waves. He will remain, waiting, Hyunjin knows.
Always has, even when Changbin was no more than a best friend.
The last thing he remembers is a breathy, low chuckle, a gentle hand on his hair, fingers threading through his locks and settling at the back of his head. Lips on his temple.
‘Happy birthday, sweetheart,’ said amidst a mental cloud of pride, affection, trust and something else. Something bigger. Deeper. Something that is more than a word. A single thought at the back of his own subconscious.
Love.
A love that is like rain, soft and gentle, beating down on his skin, seeping through, spreading and embracing his soul, washing him clean, renewing him.
Like the most refreshing of springs, making him come alive.
It's a gift he will treasure for the rest of his life.
So, finally, Hyunjin lets himself sink into the depths of unconsciousness, protected and loved.
He falls asleep.