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Han thought he was homophobic.
It started subtly. Just a tightening in his chest, a sudden wave of nausea every time he caught JL glancing at a guy on the street. Then, two weeks ago, Han had walked into their shared apartment to find JL kissing someone. A tall guy with sharp cheekbones and a stupidly expensive-looking jacket right by the door. Han had frozen, his stomach lurching violently. He barely made it to the bathroom before retching into the toilet, dry heaving until his ribs ached.
His roommate is gay.
And Han didn’t know how to feel about it.
He tried to act normal. He kept his distance. He avoided eye contact. He skipped meals when JL invited his friend over. But the discomfort only grew, coiling in his gut like a venomous snake. It wasn’t that he hated JL. He’d never felt that. If anything, the opposite. But the thought of JL touching someone else, kissing some guy… it made him feel like his skin was crawling off his bones.
Panicked and confused, Han finally broke down and asked Jeongwoo and Woongki, his closest friends, and a disgustingly happy couple, for advice over coffee.
"I think I’m homophobic," Han confessed, voice low, eyes fixed on his cup. "Every time I see JL with a guy… I feel like I’m gonna throw up."
Jeongwoo tilted his head. Woongki exchanged a knowing glance with him.
"Han," Jeongwoo said gently, "have you ever actually felt disgusted by gay people in general? because you seem fine around me and woongki's affection.. Or is this problem just… JL-specific?"
Han frowned. "I don’t know. I’ve never had a problem before with anyone. But with him…" He trailed off, jaw clenched.
Woongki leaned forward, his voice soft. "Sounds less like homophobia and more like jealousy."
Han scoffed. "What? No. That’s ridiculous." Or is it really?, Han thinks.
The seed was planted.
Back at the apartment that night, Han found JL curled on the couch, scrolling through his phone, barefoot and shirtless in worn sweatpants. Han’s throat went dry. He tried to walk past, but JL looked up, his dark eyes locking onto Han’s with unsettling intensity.
“You okay, hyung?” JL asked, voice quiet. “You’ve been… distant.”
Han swallowed. “Yeah. Fine.”
JL set his phone down. “You know… I broke things off with Minho.”
Han blinked. If the news delighted him, he tried his very best for it not to show. So he asks, “Why?”
A slow, knowing smile curved JL’s lips. “Because I realized something. Every time I kissed him… I kept wishing it was you.”
Han’s breath hitched. His pulse roared in his ears. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” JL stood, stepping closer until there was barely a breath between them. “You’ve been acting like I’m poison ever since you found out I’m gay. But I think you’re not scared of me being gay… I think you’re scared of the fact that you like me too.”
Han’s chest heaved. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to run. But JL’s gaze held him captive.
JL moves closer, testing limits “Are you still uncomfortable,” JL murmured, tilting his head, eyes glinting with challenge, “with me kissing a guy?”
With JL looking like a dream and a thread away from him, Han’s restraint shattered.
“No,” he growled, voice rough, desperate. “Not if it’s me you’re kissing.”
And then he crashed his mouth against JL’s.
It was fire and hunger and months of denial exploding in a single, bruising kiss. Han’s hands fisted in JL’s hair, yanking him closer, his tongue demanding entry. JL gasped into his mouth, melting instantly, arms wrapping around Han’s neck, pulling him down onto the couch.
They tumbled onto the cushions in a tangle of limbs, mouths fused, breaths coming in ragged bursts between frantic, open-mouthed kisses. Han kissed him like he was trying to erase every other kiss JL had ever given—deep, possessive, almost punishing in its intensity. JL moaned, arching into him, fingers scraping down Han’s back as Han’s hand slid under his shirt, burning hot against bare skin.
“More,” JL panted between kisses, nipping at Han’s lower lip. “Han hyung, more…”
Han groaned, his control snapping. In one fluid motion, he hauled JL onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him like steel bands, crushing him close. Their hips ground together instinctively, and Han finally buried his face in the crook of JL’s neck, breathing him in like he’d been drowning and JL was air.
But JL wasn’t done. He tilted his head, lips brushing Han’s ear. “Kiss me again,” he whispered, voice trembling with need. “Please.”
The front door creaked open just as Han’s tongue traced the seam of JL’s lips for the third? fourth? time in as many minutes. They were a mess of tangled limbs on the couch, Han’s shirt half-unbuttoned, JL’s fingers desperately clutching the fabric at his shoulders, both of them lost in the dizzying heat of each other.
“—and I swear, if he cancels dinner again, I’m gonna end him—” Jeongwoo’s voice cut off mid-sentence.
Han’s eyes flew open just as Jeongwoo and Woongki stepped fully into the living room, grocery bags in hand, both freezing mid-step.
Han’s brain short-circuited. His face burned so hot he was sure steam was rising off his skin. He tried to lurch backward, but JL, still blissfully dazed JL, whined at the loss of contact and clung tighter, nuzzling insistently into Han’s neck. He didn't stop showering Han with kisses.
“Don’t stop,” JL mumbled, voice thick and dreamy, completely oblivious. “Just… one more kiss. You taste so good… feel so good...”
Han made a choked, mortified sound, burying his crimson face deeper into JL’s hair. “Jeongwoo— Woongki— I— we weren’t—”
Jeongwoo’s eyes widened, then crinkled at the corners with pure, unadulterated delight. Woongki covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"Oh my god,” Jeongwoo breathed, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “So Han isn't homophobic, just homo."
Woongki finally let out a giggle. “Should we… come back later? Or just pretend we live in the kitchen for now?”
JL finally lifted his head, blinking slowly at their friends. He looked utterly unbothered, his lips swollen, his cheeks flushed, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his kiss-bruised mouth. He glanced at Han’s mortified expression, then back at their friends, and simply shrugged.
“Nah,” JL said, his voice still husky. He turned back to Han, ignoring Jeongwoo’s amused snort, and brushed his thumb over Han’s lower lip. “We’re not stopping just because they walked in.” He leaned in again, whispering against Han’s mouth, “Are we?”
Han’s resolve, already frayed to nothing, snapped. The embarrassment melted under the sheer, overwhelming rightness of having JL in his arms, wanting him, being wanted. He silenced JL’s next words with another searing kiss, deeper this time, pouring all his frantic need, his possessiveness, his dawning joy into it. JL melted against him with a soft moan, fingers tightening in Han’s shirt.
Jeongwoo cleared his throat loudly. “Right! Okay! We are definitely going back to the grocery! Very loudly! To discuss… soy sauce prices! For a long time!” He grabbed Woongki’s arm and practically dragged him away, both of them giggling like teenagers.
But Han and JL were already lost again, the world shrinking to the couch, to the taste of each other, to the frantic rhythm of their hearts.
They didn’t stop at the couch.
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind them, Han’s hands were on JL again. Urgent, trembling, as if afraid he’d vanish. He backed JL against the door, caging him in with his arms, and kissed him like he was trying to rewrite every confused, lonely night they’d spent side by side in this apartment. JL melted instantly, fingers tangling in Han’s hair, his breath hitching as Han’s teeth grazed his lower lip.
“Han—” JL gasped between kisses, voice already unsteady. “Bed. Please.”
Han didn’t speak. He simply lifted JL effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing and carried him to the bed. He laid him down gently, but the moment JL’s back hit the mattress, Han was over him, pressing slow and wet kisses along his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. JL arched beneath him with a soft whimper, his fingers clutching at Han’s shoulders.
“Tell me,” Han murmured against his skin, voice rough with want. “Tell me what you like.”
JL’s breath came in shallow bursts. “You… just—you… everywhere…” His voice cracked as Han’s palm slid under his shirt, calloused fingers tracing the dip of his spine, the curve of his hip. “Hyung—”
Han peeled the shirt off him, tossing it aside, and lowered his mouth to JL’s chest kissing, licking, nipping just enough to draw a broken sound from JL’s throat. He mapped every inch with worshipful attention, learning the places that made JL’s breath catch, the spots that drew soft, breathy moans. When Han finally wrapped his hand around him, slow and sure, JL cried out a vulnerable whimper that shattered something deep inside Han.
"Look at me,” Han whispered, lifting his head.
JL’s eyes fluttered dark, glassy with pleasure, fixed on Han with terrifying trust. That look undid him completely.
Han moved with deliberate slowness after that, every touch reverent, every kiss a promise. JL clung to him, trembling, whispering Han’s name like a prayer between shaky breaths. When Han finally joined their bodies, JL gasped, his back bowing off the bed, a choked sob escaping him. Not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming rightness of it.
“Han… Hyung, I—” JL couldn’t finish. His words dissolved into soft whimpers as Han moved, each thrust deliberate, deep, anchoring them both to this moment, to each other. Han buried his face in JL’s neck, breathing him in, one arm locked tight around his waist, the other tangled in his hair. He kissed JL’s temple, his cheek, his lips anywhere he could reach. He kept murmuring broken reassurances, praise, "You’re so beautiful, so perfect, all mine.”
JL came with Han’s name on his lips, a shattered whisper followed by a long, trembling sigh, his body going pliant beneath Han’s. Han followed moments later with a groan muffled against JL’s shoulder, his entire frame shuddering as he emptied himself into the only person he’d ever truly wanted.
But it wasn’t enough.
Even as their breathing slowed, Han couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He stayed nestled inside JL, forehead pressed to his, thumb brushing away the tears clinging to JL’s lashes. And when JL still floating reached up to pull Han’s mouth back to his own, it was Han who whispered, voice raw, “Again?”
JL just nodded, pulling him closer, legs wrapping around Han’s waist like he never intended to let go.
One round was never enough for years of yearning and denying. In the quiet aftermath, with JL trembling in his arms and dawn still hours away, Han felt something new, a need to cherish.
He didn’t pull out. He couldn’t. Not yet. Instead, he shifted just enough to lie beside JL, cradling him against his chest, skin slick with sweat, hearts still pounding in uneven rhythm. JL’s eyes were half-lidded, dazed, lips parted as he panted softly, his fingers tracing idle lines across Han’s sternum.
“You okay?” Han whispered, brushing damp hair from JL’s forehead.
JL let out a shaky breath that was almost a laugh. “I’m… more than okay.” He tilted his head, meeting Han’s gaze, eyes soft and open in a way Han had never seen before. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”
Han’s throat tightened. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to JL’s lips. “Then you’ve got me,” he murmured against his mouth. “All of me.”
JL’s breath hitched. He kissed Han back, slow and searching, his hands sliding up to frame Han’s face. The kiss deepened, not with urgency, but with a quiet, aching sweetness that made Han’s chest ache in the best way.
When Han finally shifted to pull away just enough to look at him, JL made a needy sound, his fingers tightening in Han’s hair. “Don’t stop,” he whispered, voice rough. “Please. I need… I need to feel you again.”
Han didn’t need to be asked twice.
He rolled them gently, settling between JL’s thighs, bracing himself on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush him. He kissed him again deep and drugging while his hands explored with new patience: tracing the dip of JL’s waist, the sharp jut of his hipbones, the smooth plane of his stomach. JL arched into every touch, his breath coming faster, his whimpers growing softer, more plaintive.
“Han…” JL’s voice trembled. “-Hyung... I want you. Inside me. Again.”
Han’s control frayed. He kissed JL’s neck, his shoulder, his collarbone, each kiss a vow before reaching again for the lube on the nightstand. His movements were careful, deliberate, his eyes never leaving JL’s face as he prepared him, watching every flicker of pleasure, every flutter of eyelashes, every bitten-off moan.
“Look at me,” Han whispered when he finally pushed back inside.
JL’s eyes flew open, wide, dark, filled with trust and heat. He gasped, his back arching off the bed, a broken whimper spilling from his lips. “Han!"
Han stilled, letting him adjust, pressing kisses to his jaw, his temple, his forehead. “You’re so perfect,” he breathed. “So fucking perfect for me.” Then he began to move.
This time was slower, every thrust deliberate, drawn out, as if they had all the time in the world, which Han realized with a surge of fierce joy, they finally did. JL clung to him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingers digging into his back, his whimpers melting into soft, breathy moans that echoed in the quiet room. Each sound unraveled Han a little more, winding pleasure and devotion together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Hyung, I’m close—” JL gasped, his voice trembling on the edge.
Han leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss as he reached between them, wrapping his hand around JL just the way he liked it. JL cried out into the kiss, his body tightening around Han, his hips jerking helplessly. Han followed him over the edge moments later, burying his face in JL’s neck with a groan that was half-sob, half-prayer.
They stayed like that for a long time afterward, foreheads pressed together, breathing slowly syncing, Han still inside him, JL’s arms looped loosely around his neck.
“I love you,” Han whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. But he didn’t regret it. Not for a second.
JL’s eyes filled with tears. He smiled, soft and radiant. “I love you.”
Han finally pulled out gently, then gathered JL into his arms, tucking him against his chest. JL nestled in without a word, his face finding its place in the curve of Han’s neck, his breathing already slowing into the rhythm of sleep.
Han held him close, tracing soothing circles on his back, his heart so full it ached.
He didn’t sleep. Not yet. He just lay there, counting JL’s breaths, marveling at the weight of him, the warmth of him.
Han was just drifting into that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep, JL a warm, breathing weight curled against his chest, when he felt it. A shift. A slow, deliberate movement against him. He opened his eyes just in time to see JL push himself up onto his elbows, his dark eyes gleaming in the low light, a new kind of fire burning in them.
“Your turn,” JL murmured, his voice rough with sleep and something else. Dettermination, tenderness, pure intent.
Before Han could ask what he meant, JL was moving. He slid down Han’s body, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his neck down to his stomach, his hips. Han’s breath caught, his fingers instinctively tangling in the sheets. “JL—”
“Shh,” JL whispered, kissing the inside of Han’s thigh. “Let me.”
And then JL was wrapping his hand around him, slow and sure, his thumb swiping over the head, and Han bit back a groan, his hips lifting off the bed. But JL didn’t stop there. He met Han’s stunned gaze, held it for a long, heated moment, then leaned down.
The first touch of his mouth sent a jolt of electricity straight through Han. He gasped, his back arching, his hands flying to JL’s hair not to push him away, but to hold on. JL took him deeper, slow and steady, his eyes never leaving Han’s face, watching every flicker of shock, pleasure, surrender.
“You have no idea,” JL said between slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, his voice muffled but clear, “how long I’ve wanted to do this. To make you feel this good.”
Han couldn’t speak. He could only watch, awestruck, as JL. His JL, usually so playful, so teasing, worked him with focused, loving attention, his cheeks hollowing, his hand moving in time with his mouth. Every sensation was magnified. The heat, the wetness, the sheer intimacy of it. Han had never felt so wanted, so utterly cherished.
“JL— I can’t—” Han choked out, his hips jerking helplessly.
JL pulled off with a soft pop, licking his lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he whispered, crawling back up Han’s body, straddling his hips. He leaned down, kissing him deeply, letting Han taste himself on JL’s tongue. “I want all of you. Every sound. Every shudder.”
He reached between them, guiding Han inside him in one smooth, controlled motion. Han groaned, his hands gripping JL’s waist, but JL stilled him with a firm look.
“Let me,” JL repeated, his voice firm but soft. “This time… it’s for you.” And then he began to move.
Slow, rolling motions of his hips, taking Han deep, then rising just enough to make him gasp, before sinking back down with a soft sigh. He braced his hands on Han’s chest, his head tilted back, eyes closed, a look of pure, focused pleasure on his face. But he wasn’t lost in his own sensation. He kept checking in, watching Han’s face, adjusting his rhythm to draw out Han’s ragged breaths, his bitten-off moans.
“Look at you,” JL whispered, leaning down to kiss him again, his movements never stopping. “So beautiful. So mine.”
Han’s hands slid up JL’s back, pulling him closer, his fingers tracing the delicate knobs of his spine. He’d never felt anything like this, being taken care of. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. JL wasn’t just giving him pleasure; he was giving him permission to receive it, to be vulnerable, to be loved without reserve.
“Just feel, my love." JL breathed against his lips, speeding up just slightly, just enough to make Han’s breath hitch.
And Han did. He let go. He let JL’s rhythm carry him, let his touch unravel him, let the love in JL’s eyes fill every empty space he’d ever carried. When he came, it was with JL’s name torn from his throat, his entire body shuddering, his vision whiting out. JL followed moments later with a soft cry, collapsing against Han’s chest, his breath warm against Han’s skin.
They stayed like that for a long time, hearts pounding in sync, sweat cooling on their skin. Han held JL close, his face buried in his neck, his arms wrapped around him like he’d never let go.
JL traced idle patterns on Han’s shoulder, his voice sleepy but satisfied. “Still think you’re homophobic?”
Han let out a shaky laugh, pressing a kiss to JL’s temple. "Nope. Just the homo part."
JL smiled against his skin. “You,” Han finally murmured, voice rough with sleep and satisfaction, “are going to be the death of me.”
JL let out a soft, breathy laugh, nuzzling deeper into Han’s neck.
And as JL finally slid off him, curling into his side with a contented sigh, Han pulled the blanket over them both, tucking JL against his chest. His face found its place in JL’s neck, breathing him in like he’d done a thousand times in his dreams.
Now, finally, it was real. And he never wanted to wake up.
Their apartment wasn’t just shared space anymore. It was a testament to the love they’d been too afraid to name. And every time Han buried his face in JL’s neck, breathing him in, he knew: this was where he belongs. Unafraid and free.